Read Online Anyone but Alex (The English Brothers Book 3) by Katy Regnery - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katy Regnery
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the exception to that rule. Her heart clenched painfully as she wondered if she’d be stood up.
“More’s the better,” she declared crisply, thinking of her brothers, who’d be a massive complication to her “friendship” with Alex.
From the very un subtle comments her brothers had made at Sunday dinner about Alex—Preston coughing the word “manslut” every few minutes was especially delightful—she knew that Cameron had shared the news of her balcony rendezvous. She hadn’t confirmed or denied, or even acknowledged, their suspicions, but it was amply clear that if they found out she was spending time with Alex, the proverbial shit would hit the proverbial fan tout suite . And since they all moved in the same social circles and their family estates were next door to each other, keeping their friendship a secret would be next to impossible.
“So, good. He didn’t want to be your friend in the first place. He’s probably not sending a car anyway. You haven’t a thing to worry about.”
She snapped her laptop shut and shoved it across her comforter, looking at it with distrust and disdain.
Jess was so ridiculously infatuated with him, she’d made a major tactical error. She’d spent all of Monday and a few hours of Tuesday morning surfing Alex English online.
She’d kept up with Alex’s colorful and prolific dating life over the years, of course, but from the distance of England and the improbability of ever knowing him again, she could review the news and accompanying photos with a lot of fascination, a good bit of wistfulness, a little bit of voyeurism, and a pinch of defensiveness. Back in Philly, after a dance in the moonlight, with a lunch date on the table (maybe), it was harder to feel removed from Alex’s shenanigans.
There were several stories about women claiming he fathered their children, though when she cross-referenced these claims with “DNA testing” none came up with any verification. There were women moaning and crying about Alex promising them things: cars, jewelry, apartments, a wedding. All of these women made their claims loudly and bitterly then disappeared soon after, leading Jessica to assume they were paid to stay quiet and wondering—as many others did—if pay-offs were an admission of guilt, or just a way to silence false claims against the English name. There were several other dramatic stories that included pictures of Alex asleep in boxers and one of his bare ass aired out for all the world to see. Sighing, Jessica grudgingly admitted she had looked a little longer at those pictures than was necessary to ascertain his probable lack of consent.
Cameron had described Alex as a “dog” and a “ manwhore” and yet, despite the fact that Alex was obviously a prolific womanizer with no evidence of ever having had a short or long term girlfriend, Jessica couldn’t quite accept that description as the sum and total of his character.
She leaned back against the pillows on her bed, her face softening with yearning as she thought about Saturday night. He’d been so concerned, so conflicted about her offer of friendship, as though even sharing a lunch with him could somehow hurt her reputation or her heart. Despite her obvious attraction to him, he had looked deeply into her eyes and refused to take advantage of her. More than once he insisted that he wasn’t any good for her, and she’d seen the regret on his face when he assessed how different he was from what she was looking for.
How could she reconcile the Alex she knew with the man splashed all over the internet? With the man about whom her brothers were so passionately against her dating?
She kicked the laptop with her foot and hopped out of bed, crossing the plush pale pink carpet of her room to her dressing table, which had a full skirt covered with pink cabbage roses. She sat down on the puffy stool and looked at herself in the same mirror she’d stared into all those years ago when Alex was a freshman
“More’s the better,” she declared crisply, thinking of her brothers, who’d be a massive complication to her “friendship” with Alex.
From the very un subtle comments her brothers had made at Sunday dinner about Alex—Preston coughing the word “manslut” every few minutes was especially delightful—she knew that Cameron had shared the news of her balcony rendezvous. She hadn’t confirmed or denied, or even acknowledged, their suspicions, but it was amply clear that if they found out she was spending time with Alex, the proverbial shit would hit the proverbial fan tout suite . And since they all moved in the same social circles and their family estates were next door to each other, keeping their friendship a secret would be next to impossible.
“So, good. He didn’t want to be your friend in the first place. He’s probably not sending a car anyway. You haven’t a thing to worry about.”
She snapped her laptop shut and shoved it across her comforter, looking at it with distrust and disdain.
Jess was so ridiculously infatuated with him, she’d made a major tactical error. She’d spent all of Monday and a few hours of Tuesday morning surfing Alex English online.
She’d kept up with Alex’s colorful and prolific dating life over the years, of course, but from the distance of England and the improbability of ever knowing him again, she could review the news and accompanying photos with a lot of fascination, a good bit of wistfulness, a little bit of voyeurism, and a pinch of defensiveness. Back in Philly, after a dance in the moonlight, with a lunch date on the table (maybe), it was harder to feel removed from Alex’s shenanigans.
There were several stories about women claiming he fathered their children, though when she cross-referenced these claims with “DNA testing” none came up with any verification. There were women moaning and crying about Alex promising them things: cars, jewelry, apartments, a wedding. All of these women made their claims loudly and bitterly then disappeared soon after, leading Jessica to assume they were paid to stay quiet and wondering—as many others did—if pay-offs were an admission of guilt, or just a way to silence false claims against the English name. There were several other dramatic stories that included pictures of Alex asleep in boxers and one of his bare ass aired out for all the world to see. Sighing, Jessica grudgingly admitted she had looked a little longer at those pictures than was necessary to ascertain his probable lack of consent.
Cameron had described Alex as a “dog” and a “ manwhore” and yet, despite the fact that Alex was obviously a prolific womanizer with no evidence of ever having had a short or long term girlfriend, Jessica couldn’t quite accept that description as the sum and total of his character.
She leaned back against the pillows on her bed, her face softening with yearning as she thought about Saturday night. He’d been so concerned, so conflicted about her offer of friendship, as though even sharing a lunch with him could somehow hurt her reputation or her heart. Despite her obvious attraction to him, he had looked deeply into her eyes and refused to take advantage of her. More than once he insisted that he wasn’t any good for her, and she’d seen the regret on his face when he assessed how different he was from what she was looking for.
How could she reconcile the Alex she knew with the man splashed all over the internet? With the man about whom her brothers were so passionately against her dating?
She kicked the laptop with her foot and hopped out of bed, crossing the plush pale pink carpet of her room to her dressing table, which had a full skirt covered with pink cabbage roses. She sat down on the puffy stool and looked at herself in the same mirror she’d stared into all those years ago when Alex was a freshman
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