Chapter Five

"Hi."

The beer was lifted halfway to his mouth. His brow furrowed with a frown, but he didn't greet her back. Just took his time sipping his beer while regarding her with wariness rather than welcome. He placed the glass down. "Hi."

She waited for some dazzling conversation to woo her, but he just swerved his attention back to the television. Maybe she had to do all the wooing since he was such a hot commodity. "I'm Aspen."

He nodded in acknowledgment but didn't respond. The man was even sexier up close. It was like his features had been arranged as a gift to women. Just a hint of stubble framed his full lips. His brows were dark and fierce, blending with the thick strands of hair falling messily over his forehead. Long lashes made his eyes even more intense. God, he even smelled good, like fresh-cut grass and clean cotton sheets from the dryer. Sierra had said he smelled like cookies, but Aspen found this scent much sexier. She had an awful impulse to lean in and sniff to see if it was his clothes or skin but managed to control herself just in time.

Aspen wasn't used to pursuing men, but if this was to work, she'd have to push past her discomfort and commit. "What's your name?"

"Brick."

"From Cat on a Hot Tin Roof ?"

That got her another look, longer than the first. Was that a touch of boredom? "Yep."

"I think parents should sign a contract before they name their kids." She paused, waiting to see if he seemed interested in her finishing. His brow quirked, so she went on. "It would say once their kid reaches twelve years old, they get to change it without needing parental permission."

A beat passed. Another. "Why twelve?"

"It's old enough to know if the name suits and young enough that they wouldn't have to revise a long paperwork trail. Plus, kids aren't possessions. They should get a say in their name."

"Would you have changed yours?"

"No, I like it. Even though I hate skiing. Would you change yours?"

"No."

She hoped for an explanation, but he seemed done. Pushing his plate away, he reached for his wallet and threw his credit card onto the counter. The bartender scooped it up, shooting her a sympathetic glance. Aspen winced. Ouch. Trying to pick up a hot guy in a bar was hard work. She suddenly sympathized with all the men who'd taken shots and gotten cut down.

"I'm visiting my sister, Sierra, for the summer. Do you live here?"

"Yep."

She swung her high-heeled foot back and forth. He didn't seem very charming so far. Perhaps she'd caught him at a bad time. "That's nice. Maybe you can recommend some places to check out while I'm here. Any must-dos?"

The bartender placed the bill in front of him. Brick took the pen, added a tip, scrawled his name on the bottom, then pocketed his card. "The beach."

He didn't even smile when he said it. This guy was kind of a jerk. Frustration nipped at her. Was she just not his type? It should've been easy if he was a serial dater. Plus, she was a tourist, which fit into his parameters. But he was getting ready to leave, and she was desperate.

Aspen leaned forward with her most enchanting smile. She knew she looked good tonight. Her hair had been ruthlessly tamed by endless products and Sierra's heavy-duty straightening iron. The air-conditioner kept the strands crisp and in place. Her outfit was cute, and her shoes gave her extra height to show off her legs. Her makeup accented her assets and minimized the length of her nose. Even Sierra had said she was a smoke show tonight. Her voice dropped to a throaty invitation. "Maybe you can help me out? I'd love a tour of the area. I mean, when you have some time available."

He stopped and suddenly gave her his full attention. Carved features reflected a hard mask. Full lips pressed together in a straight line. Those baby blues held little emotion .

"Aspen, I hope you have a great summer with your sister. But trust me, I'm the last man you'd want a tour with."

Tipping his head, he strolled past her. She reacted without thought, reaching out to stop him.

The quick motion made her lurch forward. Her heel caught on the metal bar of the stool base, and she tumbled off in slow motion.

Brick threw his arms out to catch her, and she fell against him.

A sizzle of electricity shot through her system, catching her off guard. Aspen jerked back, which made his arms tighten to keep her balanced. A slight gasp fell from her lips at the intense connection of his bare skin brushing hers. Within seconds, her entire body lit up as if recognizing something it desperately needed, and her fingers encircled his sinewy wrist, hanging on for dear life.

Her gaze shot to his. Those eyes narrowed, delving deeper, straight to all the secret parts of her soul.

Lips parted in surprise, body curving softly against his hard muscles, she waited for his mouth to lower to hers in a blistering kiss.

Brick stepped back and removed his hands.

Then walked out of the bar without a backward glance.

WTF?

Wait. Had that encounter just happened, or was she caught in the middle of a book scene and had made the whole thing up?

Her head spun from the rejection. Humiliation skittered through her. She'd so obviously wanted to kiss him—a complete stranger—and he'd coldly dissed her. While her body had exploded like a firework, his had remained unaffected.

The bartender stopped in front of her, her voice dripping with sympathy. "Need a drink?"

"Umm, no thanks." Feeling her face redden, Aspen slowly walked back to her group, who watched with horror and respect. "What'd he say?" Sierra whispered frantically, grabbing her arm as if to reassure herself that Aspen was still in one piece.

She blinked. "He rejected me."

The women all stared. "Tell us every single word," Inez demanded.

Aspen repeated the entire encounter, caught between feminine hurt and fascination at his parting words. It seemed so much more than him not being interested in her or that she wasn't attractive to him. It was almost as if…

Her mind seized on the answer at the same time Sierra practically shrieked out the words .

"He was trying to save you!"

Brooklyn nodded. "She's right. That was an obvious warning. He threw out the lifeboat and practically demanded you grab it. He knows he's a dickhead and doesn't want to hurt you."

Inez jabbed her finger in the air. "Yes, agreed. That was too weird of a sentence. Maybe he finally realizes he's poisonous. Maybe he's getting therapy."

"Or maybe because you're my sister, he knows he'd be watched." Sierra let out a breath. "At least, that's over. Got to give the man some credit for admitting his assholery and trying to protect you. Now, you can get on with your summer and leave Brick behind you."

The women seemed to happily agree, launching into a dissection of his past exploits and what must've brought him to his truth. Aspen heard it all from a distance. Her ears roared, her heart beat fast, and something bigger than disappointment, frustration, or hurt grew to monstrous proportions inside her, demanding to be front stage.

Sheer determination.

He would not safely walk away and try to save her from heartbreak.

Aspen needed it. She needed him to dazzle her, make her fall in love, and then destroy her. She needed every shred of painful emotion so she could translate it to the pages of her new book.

He didn't get to be a martyr. Aspen would do anything required to grab his attention, seduce him, and fall into a blistering affair that would eventually blow up her world.

She had no choice.

And neither did Brick.

Brick let himself into his grandfather's house and heard the eager click of nails on the floor. Locking the door behind him, he turned to greet Dug, who wiggled his fat butt in greeting. Brick smiled, shaking his head at the ugly dog before him. Dug was always thrilled with his company, though Brick was normally grumpy. Grandpa Ziggy had a wicked sense of humor. Besides inheriting a bankrupt business, Brick also got Dug—the dumbest dog he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Brick patted his head, inciting a happy grunt. "I'm going to be mad if you pooped in the kitchen again. "

Dug grinned, dripping a generous trickle of saliva. Yeah, he'd done it. No matter how often Brick put him out, the dog didn't seem to realize potty had to be done outdoors. And it wasn't like he'd learn it soon since he was already ten.

"You know what I dreamed of for years?" Brick said to the dog. "A lab. Well trained, intelligent, and energetic. A dog that's a symbol for America. But I got you instead."

Dug's strange, stubby tail wagged.

Brick grinned. Anyone who first looked at Dug wondered if he was crossbred with a rodent. He still wasn't sure what his breed was. Part poodle, part Chihuahua, and part beast, Dug had been found walking the streets, happily trying to introduce himself to any stranger he came across. Ziggy said he wasn't scared, even though he looked like he'd dropped from a horror movie and was a dirty bag of bones. His grandfather had taken him home, given him a bath, fattened him up, and kept him. He loved the Disney movie Up and named him after the lovable, not-so-intelligent Dug in the film, yet this one looked nothing like his namesake.

This Dug had poodle-like hair in spotted black and gray, a tiny, stubby tail that moved only an inch or two, and a long, anteater-like snout. His ears stuck straight up from his head, and one flopped to the side. His overbite was shudder-worthy, and his tongue stuck out, doling out trickles of drool. The vet said something had damaged his leg, and it healed wrong, so he walked with a shuffle like a country two-step that just confused onlookers. He was terrible at commands, and even when Brick tried to firmly discipline him, Dug just happily drooled and took his punishment with sheer ignorance.

Brick had given up after a few weeks of trying to smooth out his rough edges. Once, he'd taken the dog to work, but any interested tourists that stopped in quickly left. Maybe it was Dug's deep breathing, which sounded like beastly snorts because of his teeth. But over the months, a bond had developed between them, and he liked that Dug was a link to Grandpa Ziggy. It was nice to be with another soul who'd loved Ziggy. There was no one else left to remember his legacy.

Walking into the run-down, shabby house, Brick clicked on the television for background chatter and let Dug out into the backyard. He grabbed some paper towels and Clorox wipes to clean up the small log left on the floor, then freshened up the water bowl. Settling in for the rest of the evening, Dug pressed tightly to his side, Brick's thoughts shifted to the woman from the bar.

Aspen .

He'd immediately felt the weight of her girlfriends' stares and hoped to shut her down politely and quickly. He was no longer interested in being the subject of female gossip or bets. Constant come-ons by giggly women hoping for a quick roll in the hay so they could run back to their friends with a scorecard left him stone-cold. He'd sensed their shocked whispers while he was finishing his beer and knew the game well. It was his punishment for being locked in a small town after a touch of infamy. Now, he was an expert at turning women down, preferring his own company to the eventual drama of another breakup.

What surprised him was the flicker of regret he felt as he sent her away.

She'd been…interesting. Nothing jumped out at him that made her extraordinary. She was attractive, with pretty, doe-like eyes and shiny, brown hair. Her face was heart-shaped with a pointy chin. Her lips weren't bee-stung, and her lashes weren't extravagant. She didn't have Caribbean-blue eyes or sculpted cheekbones. Her body wasn't full of drop-dead curves, though her figure was trim and her legs long. Separately, Aspen shouldn't have been able to hold his attention for longer than a conversation. She wasn't his usual type—he had a weakness for blondes. But he kept replaying their discussion.

She was witty. Direct. She reflected a no-nonsense manner in her attempt at a pickup, and he admired it. Brick had a feeling she didn't take bullshit nor needed to be treated like blown glass. He'd gotten used to being with women who were too easily hurt, and they'd begun to affect him.

It had been a while since he'd had sex, which was ridiculous since his so-called exploits were still going strong. Apparently, women also lied about getting laid. Instead of being home with Dug on Memorial Day weekend, he'd heard he'd been breaking in Mia Hawthorne, the local vet, then dropping her after forty-eight hours of orgasms.

Good for him.

Brick groaned at the entire situation, settling in to watch the baseball game. Dug's awful snoring competed with the announcer, so he raised the volume and pushed Aspen out of his head.

He probably wouldn't even see her again.

Which was for the best.