I perched my arm on the open window frame, letting the smoke-laden air blow through my hair, chewing on my thumbnail, letting my mind wander until the moment I saw a black Maybach parked in front of my new house.
The FJ revved before I cut the engine. I stepped out, crossing my arms and staring at the sad man sitting on my porch.
“There are two things wrong with this. First, the Maybach is not going to win you points with your constituents. You should be driving a Ford Hybrid. Second, you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky someone hasn’t called the media.”
Peter lifted his head. If I hadn’t dreaded the empty house the whole drive home, I would’ve made him leave, but by the look on Peter’s face, he didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want to be alone.
Peter and I had lived a few blocks away from each other our entire childhoods through high school, but we might as well have lived on different sides of the world. He had that Montague appeal, even though I was no Juliet. Our fathers hated each other, so we did what any kids would do: we snuck around, we were our first kiss, our first everything, we drank and smoked together, woke up in one another’s arms and defended each other when we got caught. The more they tried to keep us apart, the stronger our bond grew.
“Please don’t send me away,” he said.
I walked past him, into the house, leaving the door open. I searched the cabinets, knowing I hadn’t been to the grocery store yet. “I don’t have anything to offer you except pretzels and a half-drank bottle of Fiji from the drive over,” I called to the door where Peter stood. “I just came home to change.”
“Can I come in?”
I stepped out into the dining room, meeting Peter’s gaze. “Tell me why you’re here first.”
“To see you.”
“Why else?”
“That’s it.”
I frowned. “What would Paige say if she knew you were here?”
“She’d probably leave me,” he said, his shoulders sinking.
“If it makes you so sad, why did you agree to hire my team?”
“I told you—”
“And you lied.”
Peter’s jaw ticked under the skin. He’d never won an argument with me before, and his frustration was familiar in a way I couldn’t deny was comforting.
“What do you want, Peter. I have to change and head to Trex’s.”
Peter hesitated then approached. “I want to hold your hand,” he said. “Touch you. Anything.”
“Negative.”
He sighed. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you, and how hard it is to be this close to you now?”
“Not my problem,” I said, crossing my arms.
He looked at me, his cheeks flushed. “You were my best friend. You love me. You miss me. I know you do.”
I stared at him for a moment then shook my head. “Never like I loved Matt. You were a crush, Peter. That’s all.”
“So you’re finally talking about him in the past tense? Took you long enough.”
“I will punch you in the throat.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” he said, making his way to the door. I knew he would stop at the threshold, and he did.
Peter’s shoulders sagged, and he returned to me. “I’m glad you’re here, in a sick-to-my-stomach, crack addict kind of way.”
“Thank you.”
He walked into my kitchen and opened the empty fridge. “Do I need to send someone to the store for you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head as my expression screwed into disgust.
Peter laughed once, walking past me, briefly touching his hand to the small of my back. “Good night.”
“Bye, Peter.”
His smiled faded. “Again.”
The doorknob clicked as he pulled the door shut, and the engine of his Maybach snarled, and then he drove away.
I went to my bedroom and peeled off my work uniform, exchanging the cargo pants for heather gray sweats, the button-down shirt and tactical vest for a green USMC sweatshirt, and my boots for sneakers.
Trex was in the lobby when I arrived, but talking to Darby, so I sat at the bar.
“I’m guessing a beer? Local?” the bartender said.
“Fat Tire. Bottle,” I said, watching Trex stand awkwardly in front of the blonde bombshell behind the front desk.
“You know Trex?” the bartender asked, popping the cap and setting the bottle on the bar in front of me. He was wearing a white shirt, black bowtie, and vest. Too fancy for a hotel lobby bar.
“Yeah,” I said, taking a swig.
“I’m Stavros. Welcome to the Colorado Springs Hotel Bar.”
“Naomi,” I said.
“You’re not his girlfriend, are you?”
“Colleague,” I said.
“I believe that,” he said, eyeing me as he went about tending the bar.
“Ho-lee shit,” Watts said, sitting next to me. “Zeke isn’t going to know what to do when he sees you here.”
“Why?” I snarled.
“Did you come to see him?”
“No,” I grumbled, taking a swig.
Watts winked and elbowed me. “I’d bet that you did.”
“You’d lose.”
“Zeke?” Stavros said. “Now that makes sense.”
“I know, right?” Watts said. “He’s headed down. We just got back earlier this afternoon.”
“How was it on the mountain? Slowing down, yet?” Stavros asked.
Watts shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Hey,” Zeke said from behind me. I didn’t have to see his face to know he was shocked to see me.
“Didn’t you know, buddy?” Watts asked. “She joined the welcome committee.”
“Not funny,” Zeke said, sitting on the other side of me. “You here to see Trex?”
“What’s the welcome committee?” I asked.
Zeke shot Watts a scowl. “You don’t wanna know.”
“I do actually. That’s why I asked,” I said.
Watts leaned onto the bar with his crossed arms. “It’s a group of women who naturally start forming at the hotel during political fires.” He nodded toward a corner of the room with a dozen women smiling and chatting with hotshots.
Zeke rubbed his face. “Christ, Watts, you make us look like douchebags.”
“I’m here to meet Trex if he can quit being a twelve-year-old boy with a crush for two seconds,” I said. “And I don’t think you’re a douchebag.”
Zeke grinned, cautious. “Good.”
I pointed to him, looking at Stavros. “Get him whatever he gets.”
“What about me?” Watts asked.
“No,” Zeke and I said in unison.
I chuckled, and we met eyes.
“I was uh…” he trailed off, still staring at me. “Going to pick up some food. You hungry?”
I looked around him at Trex. “I was supposed to eat with Trex, I think.”
Zeke held up his finger then jogged to the front desk. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and Trex and Darby both looked at me. Trex waved, looking sheepish.
Zeke nodded then jogged back. “I got their order. Let’s go.”
“We’re going?” I said, chugging my beer and setting it on the table with a twenty.
“Good night,” Stavros said.
“Have fun, kids,” Watts said.
Zeke flipped his middle finger, then grabbed my hand, leading me out to his truck. He opened the passenger door and waited, making a face when I didn’t sit.
“What?” he asked.
“This isn’t a date.”
He shrugged. “I know. Why do you have to make everything so complicated? I’m starving, babe, let’s go.”
Babe? We’re not together, why is he calling me pet names? And why am I not pissed about it?
I rolled my eyes then sat, checking my cell phone just as Zeke clos
ed my door. He jogged around and sat behind the wheel. He dug into his console and handed me a brochure menu, then called ahead to Oka Ramen and placed everyone’s order but mine. “And one more, hold on…” He looked at me, patiently waiting.
“The Spicy Tan-Tan Noodles,” I said, placing the brochure back into his console.
“Good choice.” He put in my order, then put his phone away. Before he backed out, though, he fussed with the radio, settling on some backwoods country station.
“Can I call you sometime?” he asked, still staring at the radio display.
“Toss me your phone,” I said. He processed my words for a couple of seconds then pulled out his device, placing it in my hand. I looked down at the simple black phone. It was heavy, maybe the first smart phone in existence. I paused, almost changing my mind. God, that reminded me of Matt. Didn’t care about technology as long as it did the bare minimum of what he needed.
“Did you forget your number?”
I programmed my name and number then soft-tossed it at him. Zeke must have caught it because I didn’t hear it hit the window.
He didn’t say anything else, but seemed happy, driving with me next to him, singing to the same weird honkytonk shit Kitsch and Sloan listened to. He turned up the volume as if it wasn’t blasting already.
His hand met the steering wheel to the beat at every stop light, and again as we rolled into the parking lot of Oka Ramen.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, pushing open the driver’s side door.
“Here, let me give you some—”
He closed the door, smiled and winked at me, then jogged inside.
“Cash,” I finished. I waited, looked around, watched cars go by, wondering what the hell I was doing. Zeke was so comfortable around me—which threw me off—and he didn’t seem intimidated by me either. He was quickly becoming part of a very small category of men I could stand to be around.
He didn’t speak much on the way back, instead glancing over at me once in a while with a content grin. When we parked, we gathered the bags and carried them in together. Zeke’s grin grew wider, and I knew it was because just hanging out was … good, normal, natural. We didn’t have to try or fuss or worry. We just were.
The hotel doors swept open, and I followed Zeke in. The other hotshots stared for a few moments at Zeke’s large sacks, and Darby’s eyes grew as wide as saucers when she saw us coming.
“I’m suddenly starving,” she said, reaching to help Zeke. She dug into the bags, looking for her order.
“That one’s yours … and this … and this…” he said, handing her the other items.
“Thanks, Zeke,” Trex said, taking his own Styrofoam bowl. He peeled back the lid and steam rolled out. “You eating with us?” he asked. “We can go over to the table and sofas in the corner where the television is.”
“I’m actually going to go upstairs,” Zeke said, pointing up.
“How much do I owe you?” Trex asked.
Zeke waved him away. “You can get it next time.”
I didn’t want him to go alone since he’d not only made a food run but also paid. “I’ll go too,” I said.
“Yeah?” Zeke asked, his eyes sparkling with hope and surprise.
“See you later,” I said to Trex then waved to Darby. She was already eating, stuffing noodles in her mouth.
Zeke carried a sack in each hand, taking the first six stairs two at a time before slowing down. “Sorry. Habit,” he said, continuing up.
He turned right, stopping at the last door on the left. After fumbling with his key card, he held it against the black rectangle under the lever, waiting for the locking mechanism to click. The hinges complained with a high-pitched squeal as he opened the door and held it open just as he held his breath waiting for me to come in.
I didn’t realize until then that walking through his threshold was a bigger step than it should have been, and I stood frozen in the hall.
His eyebrows shot up. “Changed your mind?”
“No.” His question and my pride and spite fueled me to move forward.
His room wasn’t what I expected. No dirty clothes laying on the floor, no empty beer bottles on the corner table, and the familiar pungent stench that lingered when more than one man resided in a small space was absent.
“Well?” he asked, watching me walk slowly as I scanned the room.
“It doesn’t suck,” I said, sitting in the desk chair. “What do you think?”
“It’s several steps up from sleeping on the freezing ground.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’ve done that?”
“All seven continents, but it wasn’t always cold. Sometimes I’d want to sleep naked just to keep from soaking my clothes with my own sweat, but tropical climates tend to breed bugs and parasites.”
Zeke made a face, handing me my food. “The cold ground suddenly sounds pleasant.”
I chuckled, digging into my food.
We didn’t speak while we stuffed our faces. The silence was comfortable—as quiet as it could be with Zeke slurping noodles into his face.
“Can you tell me more?” he asked.
“No.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t think so. It’s pretty cool, though, having such a bad ass right here in my room.”
“You’re kind of a bad ass too, right? Hike up mountains and put out fires with dirt and tools? And you’re surrounded by a whole team of them.”
He sat up a bit taller. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if bringing my A game would even help.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Help?”
“You know … with this,” he said, gesturing to the space between us. When I didn’t answer, he closed one eye, already cringing at what he was about to say. “Is that a maybe?”
I wasn’t sure what it was about Zeke. He was a man and childlike, his deep voice contrasting his silliness, his strong, calloused hands opening doors for me. He was no pussy, but he had a soft inner core. Maybe too soft for me. Still, I couldn’t help but tell the truth.
“Maybe.”
He scooted forward on the bed, looking at me from under his brows. “C’mere.”
I didn’t move.
“You don’t have to be such a hard ass with me, Naomi.”
I remained motionless. I wasn’t trying to be a bad ass. I was scared shitless.
“Okay. I’ll come to you, if that’s what I have to do.” He leaned forward and grabbed the arms of my chair to steady himself as his lips touched mine.
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it, because I could feel it throb in my ears, my chest, and between my thighs. His mouth parted, and his tongue slipped inside. The way he moved was both careful and purposeful, his hands turning soft as they cupped my jaw.
He smelled and felt too good. His arms were a vulnerable place to be, so comforting and calming it was most definitely inviting pain to infiltrate just to sometime in the not-too-distant future shatter me from the inside out. His mouth moved against mine, and instead of leaning closer, allowing myself to melt into his embrace, I leaned back. Falling for him was a mistake.
He blinked, confused.
“Um, thanks for tonight,” I said, standing and straightening my shirt.
Zeke leaned back, staring up at me. “Thanks? Did I piss you off?”
“No,” I said, gathering my trash.
“Leave it. I’ll … I’ll take care of it later, just … don’t leave.”
I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I have to. Good night.”
As I rushed outside to the FJ, my phone buzzed.
Come back, Zeke texted.
No.
Please?
No.
Okay. I hope we’re still good. Thanks for having dinner with me tonight.
I couldn’t respond. There was nothing I could say to make him—or me—feel any better.
The FJ revved as I pushed the engine to the limit to
get me home as quickly as possible. It was both a relief and lonely when I walked through the door. I tossed my keys into the shallow bowl on the entry table then turned on the kitchen light, sighing at the dirty dishes in the sink.
Despite wanting so badly not to care, I kept checking my phone for a new text. When the notification finally sounded, it wasn’t Zeke.
She’s perfect, Trex texted.
I smiled. Shut up.
She wants space.
Then give it to her.
He didn’t text back, so I started the dishwasher and got undressed for bed. The moment my head sunk into the pillow, my phone lit up.
I have to, don’t I?
Yes.
Fuck.
Go to sleep, you pussy.
Fine. See you in the morning.
chapter seven
dark and daylight
Naomi
O
ur entrance to the Complex slammed behind us as we made our way to the parking lot, boots crunching loosened gravel that needed more than just a little repair. Trex walked ahead, quiet like he had been for days. I opened the door to the FJ, watching him slam his gearshift into reverse and his truck surge forward. He’d had a permanent scowl on his face for nine days. He tried not to talk about Darby, failing every two hours or so. But he was giving her the space she’d requested.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” Martinez said.
“Give him a break,” Harbinger said from between his door and his truck. “He’s in love and has no clue which way is up.”
Martinez frowned. “He needs to get his shit together. He barely ate today. How long has he known this chick?”
“Like two weeks. Maybe,” I said, watching Trex speed toward the Complex exit.
“What the hell?” Martinez said, disgusted.
“Leave him alone,” Kitsch said. “You know as well as the rest of us he’s been talking about this girl since he was a kid.”
The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 6
