Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) Elise Faber (most read books of all time txt) 📖

Twenty-Three

Brad

He was just finishing up the last bit of design for the latest website when there was a knock on his apartment door.

His eyes flicked to the clock on his computer screen, saw it was past seven.

And blinked.

Because shit, it was past seven.

After quickly saving his work—a habit that had taken just one time of losing copious amounts of data to become engrained in him—he stood and hurried to the door.

Heidi was on the other side.

“Shit, Heid,” he said. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I did call.” She smiled, lightly poked his chest. “But I think you pulled a me and turned off your phone.”

Closing the door behind her after she’d come in, he went to the counter and picked up his cell. It was on. He’d just been so engrossed in what he was doing that he hadn’t heard it go off. Grimacing, he set it back down. “I’m sorry, baby. I lost track of time.” He snagged her hand, brought her close. “Let me grab my shoes, and then we can go meet your friends.”

“Our friends.”

He smiled at that then dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Not sure if my brother can be considered a friend when he tries to order me around all the time.”

A well-placed nudge with her elbow. “That ordering gene must be engrained in the Huntington DNA because you’re sure good at it.”

He affected innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She laughed, and just like every other time he saw her happy, he felt the jagged pieces settle inside him. He lived for that sound, for her joy, more than he’d ever thought possible. It had been a month since that night at her place, since she’d told him she loved him, and it had all been . . . bliss.

More hikes—though not predawn, per her request. They’d gone to dinner, to the movies. He’d convinced her to do another touristy thing and take a ride on a cable car—which they’d both enjoyed much more than Alcatraz, him especially so, since she’d gotten cold on that foggy morning and had cuddled close to him as the rattling streetcar went up and down the hilly streets of San Francisco. Last week, they’d driven down to Santa Cruz and visited some absolutely huge redwoods in the morning then had taken a very bumpy ride on an old wooden roller coaster in the afternoon. And just yesterday, Heidi had taken the day off from the lab, and they’d driven a few hours north to a tiny lighthouse perched above a beach filled with sea glass.

And in between, they’d spent almost every night together, with the odd girl’s night thrown in. On those evenings, he’d hung with Jaime, with Tanner, and occasionally, with a few of Tanner’s friends, Sebastian and Devon Scott. The brothers were cool guys, and the tech worker and former hockey player, respectively, had nicely rounded out the group when they’d brought Max Montgomery along one night. The current skater for the Gold was married to another one of Heidi’s friends, Angie.

It probably should have been overwhelming—that he’d gone from spending so much time by himself to constantly being with people. But instead of too much, every time he opened up, every time he accepted another person into his life, he felt . . . bigger.

No. More complete. Fulfilled.

Like he was finally fully part of the land of the living instead of alone.

And that was fucking incredible.

Even more incredible was that Heidi was just as happy as him. They’d gotten into the habit of mostly staying at her place—frankly, it was nicer, but beyond that, it was also closer to her lab and both highways on which they often began their journeys. He didn’t mind. He loved her place, loved seeing how proud she was of the life she’d built for herself. So on the weekdays, he’d work until she got off then meet her there, and they’d cook dinner or order in. They’d spend the evening together, watching TV—yes, plenty of her reality shows, but he’d also managed to convince her to watch Vikings.

Which she liked for a completely different reason than he did, of course.

He was in for the battles, the politics, the suspense.

She liked all that . . . and the male lead.

Though, if he were being completely truthful, when she’d woven “Viking braids” into her hair a few days ago, he’d certainly been able to see the appeal. So much so that they’d spent a very pleasurable evening on the faux fur rug she had in front of her fireplace.

But more than just spending time together, no matter how pleasurable it was, he enjoyed finding all the different ways to take care of her. They could be small, from setting her coffee pot to brew so she’d have it first thing in the morning to taking her trash out, to filling up her car with gas when she’d mentioned it was getting low. Or they could be larger, more time-intensive, like when he’d spent the better part of an afternoon under her kitchen sink because the garbage disposal had gone out.

He understood now that these were all things he’d avoided like the plague when he’d spent the majority of his time traveling—the strings that would tie him more closely to another person, would make him vulnerable, would put him at risk of being hurt if they left or got sick or, God forbid, died.

But he didn’t feel scared with Heidi.

Because she was in just as deep.

And because she took care of him in her own way.

He’d found throw pillows on his couch the other day. They were in a “manly” (her words, not his) shade of burgundy that went perfectly with the fuzzy blanket she’d gotten for the foot of his bed. She’d had lunch delivered to his place when she’d known he’d been working on a particularly large project with a deadline looming, had texted him a link for hidden places