A Better Man by Candis Terry Read Free Book Online Page A

operated as a tourist destination with a few first-­class restaurants and elegant spas for couples to come for a weekend, relax, and get away from the grind of the big city.
    The last of the shops on Main Street was Kid’s Station School Supplies, which brought back one single tho ught.
    Lucinda Nu tter.
    Holy shit.
    A s a precaution, Jordan headed to the baby dragon’s lair armed with a bag of sweets from Sugarbuns. He knocked on Nicole’s door and got no resp onse.
    Big surp rise.
    As much as everything inside him just wanted to shake some sense into her, he wanted this discussion to go well. Wanted to handle it right. Wanted his sister to know she could count on him and that he had her best interest at heart. Then again, he’d never done anything of this magnitude before, so who the hell knew how it would reall y go.
    Hoping to keep his temper in check, he knocked again and waited for the delayed, grumbled acknowledgment before he turned the knob and entered Nicole’s girly haven. Walls of deep purple could have been depressing were it not for the white iron bed covered with a black and white print comforter. A crystal chandelier hung above the bed, and prisms of colored light sparkled on the white ceiling. All accents in the room were either lace, feathered, or spa rkly.
    On the white Provincial dresser were perfume bottles labeled “Pink” and “Juicy.” Two words a brother never wanted to put together when it came to his baby si ster.
    Everything in Nicole’s room indicated that as the only daughter and the youngest in the family, she was probably a bit on the spoiled side. Still, she was a young girl who’d just lost both her parents. And as much as the son of those parents wanted to hide away to grieve, life still needed to be reckoned with.
    â€œWhat do you w ant?”
    Well, that was hardly the greeting he’d hoped for.
    Stretched out on her bed with her feet on the wall above her headboard, Nicole tapped frantically on her glittery pink smartphone. No doubt she was looking for a rescue from having to talk with the dreaded big bro ther.
    â€œI brought you cookies.” He held up the bag, not that she was looking to no tice.
    â€œSeriously?” She huffed, still not looking at him. “You think I’ll fit into my skinny jeans if I eat that garb age?”
    â€œI think you look fine. And a cookie now and then isn’t going to kill you.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a lemon-­frosted sugar cookie, hoping to entice her. “Look, they’re not very big. Try one.”
    â€œI’m not touching that after you’ve had your fingers all over it.” She finally sat up. Unfortunately it was to turn her back on him and keep tex ting.
    â€œNicki. Could you please turn around so we can t alk?”
    â€œNothing to say.”
    Accustomed to handling loud, obnoxious hockey players but highly unused to dealing with teenage girls in a snit, he wanted to g roan.
    Lo udly.
    â€œThere’s plenty to say.” He bit into the cookie. “And these are really good. You’re missing out.”
    She made a noise that fell somewhere between a scoff and a s niff.
    Late afternoon sun beamed through the lace-­covered window and danced across her long dark chocolate curls. The stiffness in her shoulders might have frightened weaker men, but Jordan faced two-­hundred-­pound sneering opponents on a daily basis. One little bit of a girl wasn’t going to scare him away.
    â€œI’m trying to be nice h ere.”
    â€œWhy?” She spun around; narrowed those dark blue eyes that snapped with anger, hurt, and confusion; and aimed her daggers in his direction. “Everyone knows you’re leaving, so why bot her?”
    Whoa.
    Tempted to take a step back from the force of her anger, he did just the opposite and stepped forward. “In case you didn’t hear me, I said I was all in.”
    â€œFor as long