Rob snorted.
“I do,” he insisted. “I miss you so much. These past six months without you have been pure torture, baby.”
“Don’t you dare call me that! And forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say.”
His expression took on a pleading light. “I mean it. You’re all I can think about.”
“Wow. Really? Did you also think about me when you cheated on me?”
“I…” His Adam’s apple twitched as he swallowed. “I already apologized for that. I was drunk, okay? I didn’t know—”
“What you were doing?” she finished. “Yeah, I’m sure you were totally incapacitated when you unzipped your pants and stuck it in some other girl.” She planted both palms on the countertop, needing to ground herself, fighting the increasing urge to hit him.
She’d found out about the cheating after they’d broken up, and the knowledge was as humiliating now as it had been then.
And having her big brother hear how she’d been played for a fool only intensified the embarrassment scorching her cheeks.
“You need to go,” she muttered. “We’re not together anymore. I don’t want you in my life.”
“Brett, please—”
Rob cut in with a death glare. “You heard my sister, asswipe. Get lost.”
Silence crashed over the room. Her ex-boyfriend looked from her to Rob, then down at his feet. Several seconds ticked by before he spoke again.
“I’m not drinking anymore, Brett. I cleaned up my act, went to rehab, got my shit together. I just want another chance to prove to you that I’m the man you fell in love with.”
“Not interested,” she retorted.
Unhappiness clouded his face. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
“You can reach me at the shop. I don’t have my cell anymore.”
Yeah, because he never paid his damn bills.
“I’m working on getting a new one, though,” he said hastily, as if reading her mind. “Please. Just give me another chance.”
Brett didn’t answer. Simply cocked her head at the door and transmitted a silent get the hell out.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” Troy said sadly, edging away from the counter.
“Then you’ll be waiting a long time,” Rob told his retreating frame.
A moment later, Troy was gone.
Far too mortified and ashamed to meet her brother’s eyes, Brett inhaled a ragged breath and picked up her sketchbook with trembling fingers. “I need to finish this drawing,” she mumbled.
A warm hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Another deep inhalation, and she was finally able to lift her head. “Thanks for sticking up for me, but you didn’t have to. I can handle Troy.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to. That prick needs to learn that he’s no longer part of your life. In fact, someone ought to send him a message, just so he’s clear on that.”
Alarm skittered up her spine when she glimpsed the severe look on her brother’s face. “No. Don’t you dare rustle up Mike and Jordan and go after him. Troy knows where I stand. He won’t come back.”
Rob’s jaw tightened. “Do you truly believe that?”
“Yes. But it doesn’t matter what I believe. I don’t need or appreciate your interference. I’m a big girl, Rob. I can take care of myself.” She exhaled in a rush. “Please. Promise me you’ll back off.”
A beat of hesitation, and then he sighed. “Fine. I won’t send a message.”
Relief swept over her. “Thank you.”
“But”—Rob was quick to voice a caveat—“if he comes around again, I can’t make the same promise.”
“He won’t,” she said firmly.
But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.
Troy’s unexpected visit had left Brett so shaken up she decided to cancel on AJ that night, but when she got home after work, she was surprised to find his Jeep already parked at the meter.
Crap. He was early.
She parked a few spaces ahead of him, then made sure her parking permit was visible on the dash. Her apartment didn’t have a driveway or garage, which meant she had no choice but to leave her car on the street. She’d used to worry that it might get stolen, but she’d learned pretty fast that nobody wanted to steal her beat-up hatchback. Fixing it up would no doubt cost more money than anyone could make selling it.
Her boots connected with the sidewalk at the same time AJ strode toward her. Since the club was closed, he wasn’t wearing his all-black bartender clothes but his preppy getup—jeans, a white T-shirt, and sneakers on his feet.
In her black leather pants, bloodred tank top and high-heeled boots, Brett knew she and AJ looked like the last two people who’d ever get together, yet when his lips touched hers in a kiss hello, their mouths fit together perfectly.
“I was going to call you to cancel,” she admitted when they’d pulled back.
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”