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“I care about you, Brittany.”
“Great.”
“No… I mean… I don’t want to think about any other man touching you.”
“Whatever, Fletcher.”
I throw his door open and stomp around the front of his car to open the door separating his garage and his house. I can hear Pistol barking inside. He gets so excited when Fletcher comes home and he’s finally too old to jump up on me and knock me over — his favorite hobby.
Fletcher doesn’t follow at first, but I can hear him taking his boots off and muttering something to himself. I push the door open to enter Fletcher’s living room with a pounding heart. Pistol waddles up to me and sniffs for a bit. I reach down to pet him, ignoring the pit in my throat.
He didn’t give me a choice — he just dragged me here. Fletcher’s a guy I grew up with, but he’s also a man — a very attractive man. When he wants a woman, he just takes her. That’s his way, isn’t it? I could take my phone out and call my dad, or one of my friends, or I could even call Rob… but despite my pounding heart, I don’t want to leave.
Fletcher emerges in the door, blocking my viable exit. Pistol wanders over to him for a few head scratches before returning to his sleeping spot on the living room couch. Fletcher never takes his eyes off me.
“Are you still pissed off?” he says. “I couldn’t not bring you here.”
“Yes,” I hiss, ignoring his very annoying double negative.
“Do you still want to leave?”
He gives me the most pleading look I’ve ever seen on Fletcher’s face. Why is he acting all jealous? Why the hell is Fletcher acting this way?
“No,”I whisper. “I don’t. But whatever’s happening between us–
“It hasn’t started yet,” he says. “I know what I’m risking touching you and I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t let you out of here, Brittany. I can’t let you try to get Rob out.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“He was using you.”
“He just wanted my help.”
Fletcher’s face reddens dramatically. He walks closer to me, giving me room to dart around him and run for the door. I won’t be running for the door tonight. I swallow slowly as Fletcher closes the distance between us, shaking his head.
“No,” Fletcher insists. “He doesn’t care about you and I know that because I’ve spent my entire life caring about you. You’re all grown up now, and it’s very fucking confusing to be around you.”
“Shut up, Fletcher.”
“No,” he says. “I can’t. Because I can’t ever watch you kiss another guy again. I can’t stand it.”
He pushes my hair out of my face and the slight brush of Fletcher’s fingers sends a forbidden thrill straight through me. No, Fletcher. We can’t. We never could and we know it. Any stolen glances or forbidden feelings or dirty thoughts we had could never happen and we both know it.
“I have to watch you flirt with other women,” I whisper, even if it’s not the same and we both know it.
Fletcher smirks. “Flirt, but never date. I couldn’t. I still can’t.”
“You are so confusing Fletcher.”
“Then let me make it less confusing,” Fletcher says, holding my face and forcing me to look at him. He has the most gorgeous jawline. His lips are a soft rose color, like a young Brad Pitt. His cologne smells divine. He’s too old for me. He’s my dad’s best friend and we shouldn’t do this.
Fletcher clears his throat and speaks in a deep, clear voice. “Brittany Reddick… I’m so stuck on you it hurts. I tried not to notice how grown up you’ve become and I swear… I swear I never looked twice at you before… I just… You’re the only woman who gets me in this fucking town. You and Harry have always been my family and I can’t stand the thought of you becoming someone else’s.”
It feels like getting slapped in the face. I don’t want to be melodramatic about it, but it’s huge news, and it’s coming from Fletcher. He doesn’t belong to anyone. He has that fierce, untamed energy that no woman could ever dream of holding down.
How the hell can Fletcher Sweeney be stuck on me? I’m just… his best friend’s daughter. I’m nobody but a kid who tagged along with him when he probably would have preferred to be making dick jokes and fart jokes or whatever guys talk about when they aren’t single dads.
Fletcher’s face doesn’t budge and I’ve seen enough of his face to know when he is serious. His seriousness scares me, but I don’t peel his fingers away from my face. I keep looking at him like I want him to kiss me because it’s what I desperately want more than anything.
