Three
Carrick slammed the weights back into the rack and grabbed his towel, roughly swiping it over his sweaty face. He glanced at the oversize clock on the wall. He still had fifteen minutes left and he needed to get his heart rate up, to feel it pounding out of his chest.
Anything to dislodge the dull ache he currently lived with. Had it only been yesterday since his “thanks, but no thanks” conversation with Sadie?
Stepping onto the treadmill, he pushed buttons, looking for a high-intensity program. As the belt moved, he started to run. He would not think about Sadie, nor did he want to think about how much her rejection of him, correction, her rejection of sex, hurt. But as much as he didn’t want to think about her, he couldn’t damn well stop.
And thinking about rejection made him think about his marriage and that just sucked. It was a topic he seldom visited, preferring to leave that monumental stuff up in the past.
His story wasn’t that unusual or uncommon: he’d married in a haze of sex, fell out of love and wanted out of the marriage. He’d tried to keep things amicable, respectful. But Tam didn’t take rejection well and when she found out she couldn’t change his mind, she’d opted to punish him instead.
Had Sadie heard the false rumors about his marriage? Probably. Might Sadie be avoiding him, and his bed, because of Tamlyn? The world they operated in was a small one and filled with misinformed, malicious gossips.
It was a distinct possibility.
The urge to tell Sadie his side of the story was strong, but he immediately squashed that idea. His pride, ever vigilant, refused to allow him to explain a damn thing.
And he couldn’t forget that he didn’t know Sadie well enough, or trust her enough, to expose himself. Despite years passing, he was still embarrassed that he’d been, probably still was, talked about. Having his private life and his marriage play out in the court of public opinion had been a nasty experience, and the memories still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Grown-ups, those with any thought processes at all, knew there were two sides to a story, his and hers. Or, more accurately, his, hers and the truth. Tamlyn had some valid complaints. He had spent far too much time at the office and he had avoided going home.
But he’d never cheated on her or verbally abused Tamlyn. In fact, instead of talking to her, he’d mentally and physically withdrawn, and to someone who craved attention, that was the cruelest punishment of all. He wasn’t proud of himself. He probably could’ve handled the whole asking-for-a-divorce conversation better, but Tamlyn turned...yeah, vicious.
Tamlyn, he thought again, didn’t take rejection well. And judging by his pissy mood, neither, apparently, did he.
He’d decided, sometime during his separation from Tamlyn, not to try and combat the swirl of rumors surrounding their relationship. What other people thought wasn’t important enough to rent space in his head. He didn’t care what strangers thought about him; the people he loved and cared about knew the truth. So damned if he would explain. And he refused to break that policy with Sadie.
While it annoyed and frustrated him that Sadie might believe he was the bad guy Tamlyn made him out to be, Sadie was a temporary distraction in his life and not important enough to him to explain that very ugly period of his life.
Or, that was what he was trying to believe.
There was no point in raking up the past. There was no chance of them taking whatever they had up a level; she wasn’t interested in a relationship and neither was he. And if that was true—and he was sure it was—then why had he suggested dinner? Why had he told her he wanted to dance through her mind?
Dance.
Through her mind.
What the hell, Murphy?
But he couldn’t deny that she was an interesting woman; he liked the way her mind worked. Underneath the colorful clothes and perfect face was a razor-sharp mind. He liked interesting people and if an interesting discussion led to fantastic sex, who was he to complain?
His liking her mind, her spirit, did not mean that he’d ever think about commitment, love, putting a ring on her finger. That was just stupid...
And he was just as stupid, spending so much time thinking about Dr. Sadie Slade. What he needed to do was find another woman to drive her out of his mind...
Carrick hit the button to speed up and pumped his arms and lengthened his stride, his breathing now ragged. He lifted his hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and out of the corner of his eye saw a big hand punching the stop button on the console. The belt slowed and Carrick scowled at Ronan.
“Problem?” Carrick asked between breaths.
“Well, yeah, since I’ve called your name three times and you didn’t hear me,” Ronan replied. He tipped his head to the side. “Everything okay?”
Carrick flashed a smile at his younger-by-a-year brother. He wanted to bitch, but he felt uncomfortable talking about women when his brother was still missing his gorgeous wife. The Murphy boys didn’t have great luck at relationships, Carrick and Finn were both divorced and Ro was a young widower.
Great luck? Hell, they didn’t have any luck at all.
“I’m good.”
“Really?” Ronan looked skeptical. “Because you were mumbling to yourself and you powered through your workout like a demon, a sure sign something is worrying you.”