The Bachelor Contract Page 16

  “Brant”—Cole said his name with a hiss—“is trying to learn how to properly woo a lady.”

  “Oh, dear God.”

  “Whoosh.” Bentley swiped his hand in the air. “Oh look, the floodgates of hell just opened. Run along, Grandfather—”

  “Shut up and let an old man speak, Bentley.” Grandfather hesitated a minute then started smiling. Brant wasn’t sure if he should plug his ears or make a run for it. Judging by Brock’s and Bentley’s matching nervous expressions, he’d be smart to do both. “You live by example—and use words if you must.”

  Brock spit out his water.

  Bentley’s jaw dropped.

  And Brant couldn’t look away from his grandfather if he tried. “What did you just say?”

  “Actions always speak louder than words.” Grandfather chugged out of his water bottle and placed it back on the wooden stump. “Words have the power to hurt, people remember words first, you can’t take them back. But actions, well, actions can be excused, justified, that’s why they call it a knee-jerk reaction. So, my advice, if you really want to stop being yourself”—there the snide remark was—“you need to prove to her that your actions mean something. Words are easy, actions are hard.”

  “Like his head,” Bentley just had to add.

  “And if actions aren’t enough?” Brant asked. “Then what?”

  Grandfather frowned. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  Brock chuckled and shrugged in Brant’s direction. “The man has a point.”

  Cole’s smug grin wasn’t helping, either.

  A flame hissed in Brant’s direction. He jerked backward and nearly fell off the log.

  “Son…” Grandfather stared into the orange flames. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  There it was, the pain, burning through his chest, demanding to be dealt with. “You knew there was a fire.”

  “Yes. I knew there was a fire. I also had no idea that your wife was nearly killed in it or that she lost her sight because of it. The minute you separated, you told me that I finally got my way. That the universe was against you just like your own family.”

  Brant sucked in a painful breath of air. Those words. He’d said those words. To his own grandfather. They had been spoken out of pain, regret, hatred for the cards he’d been dealt. “And you turned into a different man. A man, I don’t even think you recognized anymore.”

  “Because it was easier,” Brant found himself saying. “Ignoring the past, walking away, doing the easy thing that I wrongly assumed she wanted me to do. She said things”—he quickly glanced at Cole and then back at the ground—“things that at the time made me so angry, so sick to my stomach, so…broken, that I didn’t think I had any other choice. I thought if I stopped hurting her, it would stop hurting me. We’d already lost so much, I was holding on by a thread and then the thread snapped. I walked away. I did the easy thing, the thing that hurt less, or at least I thought it would hurt less. When you get cut you stop the bleeding. That was my way of stopping the bleeding. I just didn’t know at the time that every single day was a new cut, a new reminder of the past, and you can’t run from it. It’s exhausting, and eventually it catches up to you even when you’re as careful as I’ve been.”

  Brant looked around. “Now look at me. I’m sitting outside a meditation tent with my half-naked grandfather, a stranger who wants to sleep with Nikki, and my brothers who keep looking at me like I have two heads. And Nikki, it brought me back to Nikki. Full circle.” Brant tossed a stick into the fire. “Running just got me back to my original state, only now I’m exhausted, confused, still angry, and”—his voice cracked—“it was a setup. All of this.” Brant sighed. “Working for Nadine, seeing Nikki again.”

  “Noooo,” Brock said in a no shit voice.

  Grandfather eyed him sadly. “The question is: What action will you take because of it?”

  “That’s not an easy answer.”

  “Then I guess you better decide if you want easy or hard.” Cole stood. “And I’d make my decision pretty damn fast, because I’ll be only too happy to sweep her off her feet once you’re done destroying the stability beneath them.”

  Brock pointed back at Cole. “Seriously. I really like this guy.”

  “Speaks jackass fluently. It’s incredible,” Bentley agreed.

  Brant stood on shaky legs and scowled at Cole. “Any other advice?”

  “Baby steps.”

  “Huh?”

  “Up until a few hours ago you’ve been a complete jackass, so now you need to do something nice—and when I say nice, I mean something that doesn’t make her yell at you or cry or run away.”

  “Easy.”

  “Hah!” Cole shook his head. “If it was easy, you would have already done it. Let’s go.”

  “God, you’re like the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

  Cole shuddered. “Hate that movie, especially the Disney version.”

  “I couldn’t knock on doors for months. I was always afraid they would come alive and swallow me,” Brant agreed.

  Cole smiled and then his stern expression was back. “All right, you’ve got a girl to win back.”

  “And you’re still doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “Hell, no. I just want to be there to watch you fail,” he said in a serious voice. “Also, I may have told Annie to add in an extra five hundred dollars to the bet if you get the black eye next.”

  “You’re going to punch me?”

  “Not me.” Shaking his head, Cole grinned. “But I wouldn’t put it past Nik. And let’s be honest—they never specified who had to punch you.”

  “Some friend you are.”

  “More like enemy with a vested interest in the next black eye you get.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was official. She was a zombie. It had been two hours since she’d walked away from Brant.

  Two hours of sitting in silence while trying to eat her feelings. The only problem with the staff room? It had about a billion types of sugary treats that promised happiness only to suck it away the minute the last taste left your lips and attached its fattiness to your body.

  She’d been moping. Feeling sorry for herself.

  The fact that Brant was a complete idiot wasn’t helping. They’d shared something in that shower this morning, and now, now it was like he wanted to just suddenly ignore the fact that they’d both been that vulnerable. He wanted to be friends.

  Twenty minutes later, she found herself sitting at the bar while George took her order.

  “IPA, please,” she said, and regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. She used to drink IPA when she was with Brant, before actually, but not since. She’d been drinking one the night they’d met.

  The night her world had changed.

  He’d approached her. He’d chased her. He’d been relentless. And then he’d announced he was going to marry her, like a complete lunatic.

  And like a hopeless romantic—she’d actually believed him.

  Because it was Brant, who could convince anyone of anything. He oozed sex appeal, and you felt confident around him just because he was so damn confident.

  She smiled to herself as George placed a cold bottle in her hands. “You okay there, Nik?”

  “Yeah.” The condensation from the bottle spread across her fingertips. “I’m good.” Not really. But the last thing she wanted to do was get drunk and then blurt out all her feelings.

  “All I’m saying”—Brant’s voice sounded to her left; did he see her?—“is that your ideas suck.”

  “Wow, let me down easy,” Cole responded.

  Brant? With Cole? On purpose?

  “Look, I know you’re her best friend, but…she’s different.” Her heart sank. “You can’t use typical ways to get her to like you. Hell, I had to trick her to fall in love with me and even then I’m pretty sure the minute she realized what a complete asshole I was—”

  “Am,” Cole corrected.

  Br
ant groaned. “Fine, what an asshole I am, better?”

  “Much.”

  “Let’s just say she probably regrets the day she gave me her phone number.”

  “Wait…” Cole’s voice grew closer, and she braced herself for discovery. “She actually willingly gave you her number?”

  “Believe it or not, I can be charming.”

  Cole burst out laughing, then quickly sobered. “Sorry, man, I thought that was a joke.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “No, you still look pissed about the tent incident.”

  “It was twenty minutes of self-inflicted torture. My grandfather stripped down naked, and I think the rest of the people in the Zen program were officially traumatized for life.”

  “Eh, that’s the program: letting go, finding yourself. The hotel guests expect it to get a little crazy. That’s why we’re the best.” Cole laughed.

  Brant didn’t respond.

  Did they see her now?

  “You know?” Cole cleared his throat. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

  Suddenly a warm hand touched Nikki’s back, and she leaned into it. She couldn’t help it.

  “Hi.” She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, but it was impossible not to react to his touch, probably as impossible as it was for him not to touch her. They’d always been that way. It had driven their friends crazy.

  Can’t you guys keep your hands off each other for one damn second?

  And Brant would answer, If she was your wife, you wouldn’t let her go either.

  But he had. He so had.

  She sucked in a breath when she felt the air move around her, and his familiar cologne floated into her nose as the sound of a bar stool being pulled closer to hers invaded her senses.

  “IPA, huh?”

  She smiled, shoving all the painful memories back inside, back where they were safe from being discussed.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe friendship was all they had to look forward to after breaking each other. Maybe it was what each of them deserved.

  “I haven’t had one in a…long time.” She was just about to lift the bottle to her lips when Brant’s warm hand pressed against hers before taking the bottle away. She imagined his lips touching the glass, his tongue lapping up the bitter liquid, catching any drops before placing it back in her hands. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah,” she croaked. Damn her memory. Damn his mouth. “Just like old times, huh?”

  She wanted to slap herself. Really? What happened to keeping the memories on lockdown?

  Instead of jerking away, lashing out, or tensing, Brant leaned in and whispered, “Admit it, you fell hook, line, and sinker.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip. “You said you were from the future. How could I resist?”

  “Okay, maybe not that part. That part was cheesy.”

  “All of it was cheesy.” She laughed. “But you know me. I like cheesy.”

  So now he was going to tense? She waited for him to say something.

  “Holy shit.” He stood. “I have to go. I have to— Do me a favor.”

  Her heart sank. “Sure.”

  “Um…” He sounded frustrated but a bit excited, too. “I need you to meet me in my room at, say…” He hesitated again. “Ten tonight. Can you do that?”

  “Brant, I don’t really think, that, um…” God, how could she even say this? “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Just as friends.” His voice dropped, it went all low and sexy, damn him. “Please?”

  “Okay.” Yup, she was an idiot, just begging to get her heart broken again by the only man capable of doing it twice. But something about his tone was different from this morning, from what it had been the past few days. Something that gave her that stupid hope again. Hope mixed with the idea that maybe they deserved friendship and the emotional closure that came with it. “Ten.”

  He left in a blur of color. She stayed glued to her seat, playing with the paper label on her bottle.

  “Haven’t seen that boy that excited since he arrived a few days ago,” George pointed out. “Could have sworn he was ready to break out in song and dance. He nearly skipped out of here.”

  “Brant?” She made a face. “Are you sure?”

  “Honey, whatever you said to him lit a fire, that’s for sure.”

  “That’s ridiculous. All I said was that I loved cheesy.”

  “Cheesy?” George repeated. “As in cheesy foods?”

  “No.” She laughed. “As in cheesy pick-up lines and dates. We were talking about the first time we met. Long story short, he was hilarious but totally lame, and I loved it.” She’d loved him.

  “I see.” George chuckled. “Well, then.”

  “What? What do you mean you see?”

  George said nothing.

  “George, I know you’re still there!”

  “Right, I’m just choosing to ignore you. Don’t want to ruin the surprise, now that man is finally drinking to remember.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  He chuckled. “I’m old. I rarely make sense to anyone. Now, why don’t you finish off that beer before you tear that label to shreds?”

  She did as George suggested and then, because she couldn’t get him to spill any more information about Brant, she wandered back into the hotel to find Cole.

  And when she finally found him—in his office of all places, something that never occurred to her, since he was usually always on the move checking on the staff—he was laughing. “You bastard!”

  “Cole?”

  “Gotta go,” he shouted.

  “Are you with someone?”

  “Phone, er, there was a person on…the other end.”

  “Typically how that specific technology works, Cole.”

  “Did you need something?” He sounded like he was hiding something, and he was one of the worst liars in the world. “I have to go check on…Carol.”

  “Carol?” she repeated. “What’s wrong with Carol?”

  “Hair dye…emergency.” He coughed. “Apparently someone wanted green, they got red, didn’t ask how, but you know it’s my job to problem-solve.”

  “Great.” She took a seat. “Exactly why I came looking for you.”

  “Nik—”

  “Cole.”

  “Fine.” He sighed loudly. “What problem am I solving?”

  “Brant invited me to his room tonight.”

  Cole said nothing.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “I heard you.”

  “And yet you aren’t throwing chairs and cursing. What gives?”

  Cole shifted against his desk. The movement was slight, but it was enough for her to notice that he had moved. “He told me.”

  “What, he called and asked permission or something?” She burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Not permission, he just…had an idea that, shock of all shocks, wasn’t stupid, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why discuss me with the enemy?”

  “My enemy, not yours.”

  “Still. You’re not making sense. Why are you even talking to each other? Aren’t you supposed to just fight with each other?”

  Cole grabbed her hands, holding them between his. “Have you ever thought that maybe the universe is giving you a second chance?”

  “And after everything that’s happened between me and Brant, you’re suddenly on the universe’s side?”

  “You look at him differently,” Cole admitted, dropping her hands to her lap. “You look at me like a friend, you look at him like—” The air crackled with tension. “You look at him like you can actually see.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She wanted to deny it, to tell him it was because he was familiar, because she’d never had closure, because he owned a part of her she’d never gotten back.

  But she couldn’t deny it.

  Her eyes, bli
nd as they were, searched for him with an intensity she’d fought for the last four years—because even when he wasn’t physically there, she still searched.

  That was all she’d been doing.

  Searching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying he’d come back.

  Did that make her pathetic? Or just hopelessly in love?

  “Look, I’m not saying you can trust him, I’m not even saying this is going to end well. I saw what happened the day you came to work for me; you were a complete wreck. I never want you going back to that place, but the thing is…” Cole cursed. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but—he looks at you the same way. A man doesn’t stare at you the way Brant Wellington does without having his reasons. It’s something I’ve never experienced or even seen until now, which makes me think that even though I want to punch him in the face ninety percent of the time—he’s the better man for you. Because he looks at you like you’re the reason he’s alive. And you look at him like you’d rather die than live without him.”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until Cole handed her a tissue and then pulled her into a tight hug. “Go tonight. Okay?”

  Nikki didn’t trust herself to speak, just nodded her head and got her tears all over Cole’s perfect shirt. “Sorry for crying.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “You are not!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Jerk.”

  “There we go…” He laughed and tilted her chin toward him. “Nik?”

  “What?”

  “Make him grovel.”

  She grinned.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  You came!” Brant blurted loudly, stupidly.

  “Yes.” Nikki laughed. “Why are you shouting?”

  “I just—” Great start, Brant. Awesome. “Sorry, I was just…” She likes cheesy, so own the cheesy. “…excited.” And it occurred to him that he really was. It wasn’t anger that was pressing against his chest, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

  It was excitement. Joy.

  Huh. Imagine that.

  “So? Can I come in?” She smiled brightly at him, and he wondered what she must think of everything.

  “Yes.” He clicked the door shut behind her. “I sent Nadine and Grandfather out to a late dinner and bribed the staff to get them drunk. I locked my side of the suite, so if they wander in…I blame God.”