The Bromance Book Club (Bromance Book Club, #1)(25)

Thea had other ideas, though. She shook her head. “Christmas.”

“That’s only a month!”

“It will be too hard on the girls if we drag it out longer than that.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Fine,” he said.

“And you have to sleep in the guest room.”

Well, that was a kick in the balls. “How are we supposed to work on our issues if we’re not even in the same room?”

“That didn’t seem to bother you before.”

There was nothing he could say to that that wouldn’t sound either self-serving or whiny. “What else?”

“Liv stays.”

Ah, Christ. “For how long?”

“For as long as I need her.”

He nodded begrudgingly, because what choice did he have? “Fine. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.”

“For now?”

The unintentional sharpness in his voice brought a tight line to her lips. “These are my conditions, Gavin. Take it or leave it.”

He was taking it. He’d take whatever he could get. Mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed hard. “When do you want me, I mean, when can I come home?”

“Wednesday night.”

The night before Thanksgiving. Two days away. “Okay.”

“You can be here when I get home with the girls from school.”

“Right. Yeah. I, uh, I can do that.”

“We’ll order pizza for dinner.”

Pizza. Sure. What the fuck? This had to be the most ridiculously ill-timed conversation of his life, yet the bizarre normalcy of it had an odd settling effect on his stomach. Somewhere in the middle of all this chaos and emotion, dinner still needed to be eaten.

“So I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said in what was clearly his dismissal.

His eyes roamed her face, and a chasm opened in his chest. She stood tall but looked small. There was a defeat in her rigid shoulders. He didn’t want it like this. Not with her acting like she’d just lost the most important fight of her life. “Thea, is this really w-w-what you want?”

“Do you want to move home or not?” she snapped, staring at a spot over his shoulder.

“I do. I just—”

“Just what? Make up your mind, Gavin.”

He let out a tight breath. “Fine. I’ll be here Wednesday.”

He thought about crossing the room and pulling her into his arms before leaving, more to reassure himself than anything else, but everything about her body language screamed TOUCH ME AND YOU LOSE A TESTICLE. So yeah. Things were off to a great start already.

Gavin settled for a small nod before trudging out to his car. He started the engine but sat in the driveway, watching as light after light went dark inside. Everything he loved most in the world was in that house, and driving away was going to be harder tonight than it had ever been. Because the next time he returned, he had just one month to earn the right to stay. Though her conditions made his task difficult, a batter didn’t get to choose his pitches. All he could do was study the field and come up with a game plan.

One month.

That’s all it had taken for them to fall in love the first time.

He could do it again.

“Okay, Lord Tight Pants,” Gavin said as he backed out of the driveway. “Tell me what to do next.”





Courting the Countess





It took two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours for Benedict to realize the fatal flaw in his starting-over plan.

His wife was not a willing participant in it.

He couldn’t very well court someone who had no desire to be courted.

Irena had not allowed him more than a few minutes of time alone with her since their wedding night, though she was clever enough to make it seem unintentional. Anytime he attempted to engage with her, she suddenly had a pressing matter to discuss with the cook or a task that needed to be finished elsewhere. Whenever he finished with the business of the estate, she suddenly became consumed with her own. And though the door separating their bedchambers remained unlocked every night, he could not bring himself to enter hers and quench his burning thirst to consummate the marriage. Not as long as she believed that allowing him into her bed was simply her duty. Not until her thirst was as strong as his.

But Benedict was not giving up. He was and would always be a risk-taker at heart—something he and Irena shared. It was, after all, how they met. When he learned that a lowly baron’s horse had beaten one of his prestigious thoroughbreds, he was shocked and smitten to discover the horse had been trained by none other than the lowly baron’s daughter herself.

Which made them both rebellious gamblers and absolutely perfect for each other in a way that Benedict had never before known was possible.

And now it was time to up the ante.

Benedict poured two fingers of brandy into a glass and positioned himself next to the fireplace in his office to wait for her. When her knock sounded on the heavy wooden door, he downed the amber liquid to calm his nerves and commanded her to enter.

She walked in wearing a day dress of pale blue and an annoyed expression. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. “You summoned me, my lord?”

He ignored her sharp sarcasm. Benedict gestured toward the sofa near the window. “Please sit.”