Lamar Gage is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. A former child star, he gave it up as he got older because he wanted to be a cop—and he’s a damn good one. I don’t know how his parents—both tied-in to Hollywood—feel about that, but as far as I’m concerned, Lamar is living his best life.
“Not serious,” he says, answering my question about Darrell. “I’m not ready for that. But he’s a friend and there are benefits.” He says the last with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.
I sigh. In the time I’ve known him, Lamar has had more friends-with-benefits than actual relationships. “Honestly, I don’t know how you do that.”
“Well, there’s this anatomical response. And just because we’re both guys, I assure you the parts match—”
“You’re hilarious. I mean, I don’t know how you can casually sleep with someone. I don’t get that at all.”
He hooks his arm around my shoulders. “That’s because you’re special, Brandy. Don’t let anyone try to shape you into anything else.”
I hip-check him like he’s being an ass, but the truth is I appreciate what he says. There are times that I wish I was made differently. More like Ellie who, before she settled down with Devlin, swore she was having a great time seeing as many people as she wanted to.
Of course, I knew that wasn’t the truth. In her whole adult life, she never had a relationship before Devlin, just sex. For the buzz, for venting frustrations. Sometimes just for fun.
I spent many years worrying about my bestie. But looking back, maybe that’s my problem. I long for the deeper stuff, but at the same time, it terrifies me. That getting close part. The inevitable revelation of all my tragic secrets. Not that my terror is the only thing stopping me from getting close. The truth is that most guys aren’t interested in dating after I make it clear there won’t be any sex until there’s something deeper between us.
Maybe I need to be more like Lamar—only in it for the fun.
Or maybe he’s right, and I should stick to being me.
I guess at the end of the day, I don’t have much of a choice. Me is all I’ve got.
I must make a face, because Lamar says, “What?”
I shrug. He studies me for a moment, then says, “Speaking of non-casual sex, what’s going on in your love life?”
This time I wrinkle my nose. “Not a thing.”
He stops on the sidewalk, and I have to tug Jake to a halt so as to not get too far away. “Oh, no,” I say. “Not you, too.”
“Me, too, what?”
I shoot him a scowl. “According to Ellie, the whole world seems to have been on the Brandy and Ronan train. Except for Brandy and Ronan.”
“So there’s no train?”
“Not one that’s left the station. We’re just friends,” I add, over Lamar’s snort of laughter.
He starts walking again, and Jake and I fall in step beside him. “And that’s a good thing?”
“Moot point since it’s the only thing.”
He pauses, looking me up and down, his gaze so appraising I actually blush.
“What?” I demand.
His smile is slow and easy. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, Brandy Bradshaw.”
I squeeze his hand. “If I haven’t told you lately, I really do love you.”
“Yeah?” he quips. “Then why are you lusting after Ronan?”
“Jerk.”
He chuckles as we continue on, now only one block away from Pacific Property. “Do you still need help getting your booth together? You know I’m cheap labor and—”
“What?” I ask, stopping beside him.
“Nothing. Just remembered something at work.” He starts moving again. “Let’s just keep walking. We don’t want you to be late.”
“There is no late. I’m just going there to meet Ellie. Lamar, slow down.” I’m practically jogging to keep up with him. “What’s the big hurry?”
But he doesn’t have to answer. I see it all on my own, and I stop dead, Jake tugging at his leash.
Ronan.
He’s in the shadow of an alley across the street, his back to me, but easy enough to recognize. He’s standing in front of a woman with flowing auburn hair. He’s caging her in, his hand against the brick of the building wall. I’m seeing him mostly from behind, but I can see part of the side of his face. He looks serious, and cozy, and his face is very close to hers.
“Brandy. Let’s just go.”
“Is he ... Who is that? Is he dating someone?” I try to sound casual, but I feel anything but. As much as I might say I don’t want a relationship—as much as I swear that I certainly don’t want Ronan—apparently that’s all a big, fat lie.
I look up at Lamar, my head spinning as I try to put this all together. “We’re friends. Why would I not know if he was seeing someone?”
Lamar looks like a kid who just lost his puppy. “Sweetie, I don’t think he’s seeing her.”
“What do you mean?”
I watch as he draws in a breath, then I glance back at Ronan again.
I snap my attention back to Lamar; I don’t want to see Ronan with that woman. “Lamar,” I urge. “What’s going on?”
“Brandy, honey, I know her. I’ve arrested her twice.”
Slowly, I shake my head. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“She’s a call girl, Bran. High class, sure, but Jacey Kane’s a prostitute.”
Chapter Five
“A call girl?” I repeat, forcing myself not to tug away from Lamar’s arm so that I can look back at the woman in question.
But Lamar keeps with the forward motion, and that’s fine. Because, honestly, I don’t want to see that, anyway. No thank you very much.
Except now I’m wondering if Ronan saw us as we passed by. And if so, what on earth will I say when I see him next?
Nothing. It’s none of my business.
“You okay?”
“Me? This has nothing to do with me. But I do need to hurry. Ellie, then the beach. And you have your date.”
“I can reschedule if you need to talk.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand. “I have the greatest friends in the world. Thanks. But I’m fine. Really.”
He eyes me like he knows better.
“Really,” I repeat.
Another moment passes, then he nods slowly. “Okay, but if you need to talk—you need anything—you call me.”
“You got it. And if your lunch date doesn’t turn into after-lunch fun,” I add, grinning as I mimic his earlier words, “you should pop by. Ronan’s coming at four to fix my sink.” I try to sound casual. “If you come by then, we can all have a drink. Maybe I’ll make cookies.”
He hooks an arm around my shoulder and gives me a sideways hug. “Hard to turn down homemade cookies. I’ll try and make it.”
“Cool. No big deal if you can’t.”
“You’re really okay?”
“Fine,” I say, even though it’s not entirely true. But I should be fine, so the answer is close enough to the truth.