Jensen:: A Military Bad Boy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

stress lately—”
    “That has nothing to do with it.”
    “I just… I can’t help but care about her because she’s our mother. Definitely not the greatest mother but how can we just sit by while she destroys herself?”
    “Let’s go to Knockouts,” Harlow says suddenly and decisively. It’s a rather seedy strip club that he likes to frequent.
    “Nah.”
    I blow off the idea. I’m glad he changed the direction of the conversation, but I don’t want to go to Knockouts.
    “What? No scantily-clad dancing ladies for you tonight?” asks Harlow. “What’s gotten into you, brother?”
    “It’s called conditions of release,” I lie. “I’m not even supposed to be in here , but a strip club is just asking for trouble.”
    “Ah man, that sucks,” Harlow complains in a whiny voice.
    Sometimes it seems he hasn’t changed much from when we were kids. Except that he has , a lot. But emotionally, he’s still our little brother, and it’s hard to separate my vision of this grown man who has been through so much— too much— with my vision of the 11-year-old kid brother who wants to steal all my video games or tag along as I try to go make out with girls for the first time.
    “I’ll go with you for a while,” Ramsey volunteers.
    He’s very protective of Harlow— of both of us, actually, but ever since Harlow’s accident he’s been particularly fatherly to him.
    I’m glad to be let off the hook. And glad that neither of them called me out on my bullshit. It isn’t really conditions of release that have gotten into me. It’s a lawyer named Riley, who isn’t my type, who isn’t even in my realm of possibility, but who won’t get out of my goddamned head.
     

Chapter 5

     
    I take the enchiladas out of the oven at 6:55, because my parents are due to arrive at seven. I can’t help but sneak a piece to test. I have to admit they taste delicious.
    Carbs are my downfall. I try to exercise and eat well but I’m very busy and I often have to eat on the run. And when I do have time to cook, I like to enjoy what I make.
    As I finish off the last bite and then set the table, I glance at the clock. My family is late, as usual, and I’m not surprised. Sometimes I wonder why they demand a nice home-cooked dinner once a month, if they can never be bothered to show up for it on time.
    For once I have nothing to do but sit down and stew. How dare they be late. How dare Brian blow me off tonight. How dare Jensen not swoop me up on his way out of the holding room and make love to me right in front of the judge.
    What the hell has gotten into me? …
    The doorbell rings, interrupting my strange thought process.
    “We were running so late, I didn’t have time to stop and pick up the cake,” my mom says right away, in lieu of a greeting. “Don’t be mad.”
    Well great. Now there’s nothing for dessert. But that seems like small potatoes compared to all the other items on my list of gripes today.
    “All right,” I tell her, and usher them in. “Who’s hungry?”
    “Well, we know you are,” quips my sister Samantha. Her latest fashion trend clothing hangs off her skinny frame.
    “Girls, don’t fight,” my mom says cheerfully.
    I bite my tongue and begin serving the enchiladas.
    “These are kind of cold,” says Samantha.
    “The microwave is right over there,” I tell her, in a tone that even to me sounds chillier than the food she’s complaining about.
    “Be nice to your little sister, Riley,” my dad says.
    I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He insists on acting like my sister and I are still adolescents, except when he demands to know my career achievements and accomplishments.
    “Where’s Brian?” asks Samantha. “Does he have cold feet already?”
    “Very funny,” I say. “He had a networking event for work.”
    “That’s nice. I guess he has his priorities in order. I might bring a guy I’ve been dating to your next dinner. He’s in finance. He’s, like, a billionaire.”
    You