by S. Ann Cole
Okay. Damn. Explains how they got so big so fast. Word of mouth is everything. “Between this kind of job and the action-y ones, which do you prefer more?”
“As boring as it is, this. More money, less work. We put our lives in danger sometimes for far less than what a simple job like this one costs.”
“So, why not take only easy, risk-free jobs like this one then?”
“‘Cause then it would be more about the money and less about why we really started. Which is to help people. To save, to rescue, to give hope when all seems lost,” he replies. “It’s sometimes less money and more risk, but the feeling you get after succeeding in helping someone in a big way is just…priceless.”
“I can imagine,” I say thoughtfully. “How do you feel, though, when one of your brothers are on an especially risky mission?”
He inhales an audible a breath, as if this is a hard one for him to answer. It takes a long time before he finally replies, “I put my trust in their capabilities and don’t think about it again until I hear from them.”
Twenty minutes later, he parallel parks behind a bright yellow hummer in a plush neighborhood in Hollywood Hills.
“Which house is it?” I ask.
“Three blocks up.”
“So how are we gonna see anything from here?”
He chuckles, low and deep. “You’d make a terrible PI.”
“Whatever.”
“Her guy arrived when I was leaving to come get you,” he tells me. “They usually start doing the deed around an hour or so after he comes over.”
“Usually? How long have you been watching them?”
“Three weeks. Our client wants proof that it’s an ongoing thing.” One corner of his mouth tips down. “Gonna be a nasty divorce.”
“So juicy!” With an excitable grin, I rub my hands together. “Who’s the celeb?”
When he pinches his thumb and forefinger together and drags it across his lips, I roll my eyes. “Like I’m not gonna figure it out once I see the evidence.”
He shrugs and drops his head back against the headrest. “How are things at the house coming along?”
“Well,”—I pop my gum—”I haven’t made any major decisions as of yet, just a few to set things in motion, so okay for now.”
“Good thinking on upgrading the security and installing additional cameras first. Smart,” he says. “Those eyes are what’s gonna help you when the place becomes overrun with workers.”
“Yeah…” I trail off and bite my lip before breaking the news about Maggie. “So, um, I hired an interior designer to help with the lipstick job.”
His head swivels on the headrest to me. “Nope. You didn’t.”
I frown. “What?”
“I specifically told you to send all potential hires to me for background checking first.”
Yikes. “Well, the thing is, you already know this person, so I didn’t think it was necessary…”
“Is it True, Tripp, Tillie, Torin, or Mom?”
“No, bu—”
“Then I don’t know them.”
Why did I think he’d be cool about this again? Maybe now is not the time to tell him she’s also staying with me. “It’s Maggie, you jerk.”
“Who?”
“Maggie,” I say with emphasis. “Magnolia Glades? My bestie growing up? Your old flame?”
His brows crinkles in a frown, as if to remember, and then he nods. “Oh, Maggie. Yeah.”
“We re-connected when I was working with Slim,” I tell him.
“I see. Well, still need to run a background check.”
“Seriously?”
“You’re too ‘cool’ with people, Lexi. Believe only this: you don’t know anyone. No matter how close you and a person might be.”
“I know you.”
His lips kick up in half-smirk, half-smile, and it’s so damn sexy and devilish I want to lean over and run my tongue across that full lower lip. “Trust me, Hellcat, you don’t.”
“Well, maybe not…” I chew on my bottom lip instead my gum. “But I know you wouldn’t hurt me or let anything bad happen to me.”
He stares at me for several heartbeats, his gaze roaming languidly over my face. Then, in the softest, gentlest voice I’ve ever heard him use, he assures me, “Never.”
A wicked heat wraps around my neck like a chokehold; it ripples, spreading onto my cheeks. I thank God for the darkness of the car, because…what the hell is this? This sudden heat? This searing under my skin. These tiny flutters in my belly?
On the verge of freaking out, I undo the seatbelt and lean forward to open the glove compartment. “I’m starving. Do you have any snacks in here? Anything to drink?”
“I don’t bring food in here.”
Slamming the glove compartment shut, I glance down to the cup holder and see a half-empty bottle of water. Without asking, I grab it up and down it all.
I can feel his gaze hot on the side of my face. “You good?”
“Yeah, just a little…” Confused. Hot. Bothered. “Parched. Peckish. You’re right, this is really boring. I don’t know how you don’t have a duffel bag of snacks in here to cope.”
“Let’s give it about fifteen more minutes,” he says. “Then we can go get you something to eat.”
Then I can get out of this damn car with you. Away from this inexplicable heat. “Okay.”
As if he somehow knows I’m antsy on the inside, he says, “Tell me about your time on the road with Slim. Why’d you ditch him? And how’d you get to this point?”
I happily oblige, anything to get my mind off of whatever the hell I’m feeling right now.
For the next half an hour, I talk about the initial thrill of counting and traveling and making hundreds of thousands of dollars. I highlight some of my favorite moments up to making the hard decision to separate from Slim, which ultimately lead to my downfall. He listens with genuine interest, until a chime from his pocket interrupts me mid-sentence.
“Time,” he mumbles, then reaches around to the back seat for a black ball cap and puts it on, pulling it down low over his eyes. “Be right back.”
“Okay.”
As he exits the vehicle and walks casually down the street, I exhale a long breath. “What’s wrong with you, bitch?” I mumble to myself. “It’s just Trent. Trent.”
Yet, no matter how many times I remind myself that it’s “just Trent,” it does nothing to abate the new, inexplicable flutter in my gut.
Something happened earlier. Maybe it was the way he looked me. Maybe it was the inflection of his voice when he whispered, “Never.” I don’t know what it was, but something happened. And now there’s this humming heat under my skin and persistent flutter that won’t leave.
Sure, he’s hot as fuck, ridiculously so, and is probably irresistible to most women. But, I’m Lexi and he is Trent. So, to me, he should be resistible. He should only be the boy who I grew up with and my ex-boyfriend’s brother. Nothing else. How do these goddamn flutters not understand that?
Placing my hand to my stomach, I grit out, “Calm. The fuck. Down. It’s not happening. Never happening. Not only is he your ex’s brother, he’s your friend’s ex. So just…stop freaking fluttering, okay? Chill.”
Trent returns in a few minutes with a small, black pouch.
“You didn’t leave with that,” I state the obvious. “What’s in it?”
“Video footage.”
“Oooh,” I say, reaching for it.
He slaps my hand away.
“Come on, seriously? You’re really not gonna let me see who it is?”
“Nope.”
“That’s hardly fair, considering I left the comfort of my pajamas to keep your crappy company. You don’t even have snacks.”
When he leans across my lap to put the pouch in the glove compartment, the flutters in my belly go berserk. I hold my breath.
“Just gonna have to read the tabloids like everyone else,” he says as he pulls back and begins buckling his seatbelt.
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“Asshat,” I grumble in an effort the cover up the quiet rush of breath that leaves me. Oh, boy. This is not good. “Call someone else the next time you’re bored on the job.”
He shifts into gear pulls out, cool and calm as ever, while I’m over here damn near out of breath and on the verge of panicking. “Okay, what do you wanna eat?” he asks.
“Um, fish tacos.”
“Food truck?”
“Uh-huh.”
Even on a weeknight, several food trucks are parked when we get there. String lights crisscross above our heads and an amalgamation of delicious aromas float on the warm night air.
As we walk to the truck we want to order from, I broach, “Oh, so…I forgot tell you. But Maggie’s staying with me for a bit.”
Better to just rip it off like a band-aid, right?
“What do you mean?”
“At the condo. With me,” I say, wincing as if I expect him to smack me on the back of the head. “She was going to rent a place to avoid the commute back and forth from Bakersfield, so I told her she could stay with me. I mean, there’s plenty of space.”
He rolls his lips as we reach the food truck, narrowing his gaze at the menu. I watch his jawline intently for signs of irritation but find none. “Just fish tacos?” he asks.
“And a diet coke.”
“Trent, my man!” the heavyweight cook inside the truck exclaims. He holds out a plastic-gloved fist and Trent bumps it. “What can I get you for?”
“Lemme get an order of fish tacos, a creole veggie bowl, diet coke, and a bottled water.”
The man shoots a gun-finger at him. “Got it.”
Trent stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down at me as we wait, and his sudden attention on me makes my belly flip.
I shift on my heels. “It’s fine that Maggie’s staying at the condo, right?”
He just shakes his head at me. “Don’t even know why I’m surprised. You never were good at following rules.”
“That—” I start to defend, but then I break off and shrug. “Well, that’s true.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “Fucking Hellcat.”
“Shut up.” I tip up and jerk his ballcap off of his head, then fix it onto my own head. “Fits me better, yeah?”
“Wanna take off my clothes, too?”
Of their own volition, my eyes roam over him, over his bulging muscle under his long-sleeved thermal tee, down his strong jean-clad legs to his booted feet. And yes, yes, yes, I would love to see what he looks like under all that. How taut and…hard he must me.
I swallow. “N-no thanks.”
When I drag my wandering eyes up to his face again, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Order up,” calls the food truck guy, saving me.
Trent gives me a strange look before turning away to pay for the food.
Once collected, we find an empty table under a zigzagging stretch of colorful lights.
Up until I began eating, I didn’t think I was hungry. It’d only been a cover for my confusing reaction to Trent earlier. But either these fish tacos are the best I’ve ever had, or I really was starving. Come to think of it, the heartiest meal I had today was a tuna sandwich Maggie made me.
Trent lifts a brow at me. “You sure that’s enough for you?”
“Shut up,” I snark around a mouthful.
“You know Maggie’s into chicks too, right?” he says before taking a sip of water.
“Yeah, I know. We hooked up.”
He chokes on his water, coughing a couple times to recover. “Come again?”
“I know she’s your ex and all, but I didn’t think the bro code applied to me.”
“You’re not kidding?” he asks. “You and Maggie really hooked up?”
“Not kidding. It happened.” I take a bite of taco. “A couple times actually.”
“So, what, you’re into girls now?”
“Nah. The sex always feels…” I trail off, but can’t quite find the words to explain it. “I don’t know, incomplete, I guess?”
“Yeah, ‘cause there’s no dick involved.”
I shrug. “That could be it. Maybe.” There’s also real sexual gratification in watching a man become overwhelmed with intense pleasure; it gets me off more than anything else. So that could also be it. But I don’t tell him that.
“So, when did this happen?” He chews slowly, watching me. “You didn’t mention this earlier when you were regaling your escapades.”
“I told you she was with us in the beginning,” I say. “We shared a room and we were both too focused on making money to be out risking hook-ups. So…sometimes we just used each other to get off.”
“How’d it happen? Who made the moves first?”
Taking a sip of my coke, I raise a brow at him. “Why are you so interested in the details, perv?”
“Girl on girl. Enough said.”
I laugh. “Well, obviously, I’m not the one into women, so it wasn’t me. Maggie did. And because I know you’re gonna ask…I thought she was asleep, so I—”
“Started to masturbate. But she wasn’t asleep, and she…offered to help?”
I frown. “Um, yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
He suddenly looks bored, disappointed even. “Sounds like a lesbian porn script.”
“Well, forgive me if my girl-on-girl experience isn’t exciting enough for you.”
He pushes his half-eaten veggie bowl to the side and wipes his hands with a napkin. “That’s why you moved her in with you? For more action?”
“Of course not. I’ve done it enough times to know it’s not for me,” I say. “But my reasons weren’t entirely unselfish. I needed the company. It’s a big ass property and I’m there by myself. Plus it’s the least I could do considering we’re paying her a fraction of what we would’ve had to pay a more established company.”
His brows tug together. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to be there alone?”
“What would you have done? Send one of your men in black to come stay with me?”
The grooves between his brows deepen as he looks down at the table. He seems…troubled. When he lifts his head again, he nods at my empty carton. “Ready?”
“Oh, ah, yeah.”
We dump our garbage and head back to the jeep.
“Did you date during the time you were gone?” Trent asks once we’re in the car and on the move. “After all your fun with Maggie, that is.”
“It wouldn’t have made sense,” I answer. “I’m never in one place for too long.”
“So just hookups?”
“Are you low-key trying to have a ‘body count’ talk with me, Trent? What the fuck?” I snap, irritated. “Who are you asking for? Your cheating scumbag brother? If it’s him, you’re wasting your time, because I’ll bet you any money he already knows. As matter of fact, Tillie told me you all keep tabs on me. And I would like all of you Garzas to keep your damn noses out of my life.”
“You don’t have any money to bet, remember?”
“Eat shit,” I bite back. “And what about you? I saw all those text messages in your phone. How many secret ‘baby mamas’ do you have?”
He chuckles. “No secret baby mamas. Never will be. Not about that life. My wife will be the one to have my kids.”
I scoff. “Trenton Garza, asshole extraordinaire, married. Hilarious. Monica will die waiting for that day.”
“Guarantee you she won’t.”
He asks me provoking questions for the rest of the way home, pushing my buttons, and I, without fail, play right into it every time. Cursing him out. Giving him just the reaction he expects, living up to name he dubbed me.
The good thing is the belly flutters are gone. He provoked them to death. Good. Because things were starting to get weird there for a bit.
“You’re always a riot, Lexi,” Trent drawls as he rolls to a stop in front of the guesthouse. “Gonna get you some Valium.”
“Get yo
urself some chill juice first, jerk.”
“Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”
I open the door. “First and last time.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as I slide out of the car.
Shifting around, I raise a brow at his apology. “For what? Being an intentional jerk?”
“No. For leaving you here alone. I didn’t think… I wasn’t thinking.”
Oh. That’s what his troubled expression was about? “What? You were kind enough to give me a nice place to stay without demanding rent, despite everything. What’s there to be sorry about? It’s me. I’m just not used to living by myself,” I explain. “I grew up in an overcrowded home and even when I was on the road, I was always sharing space with someone. So yeah, it was a little hard at first, especially at night. But that’s not your fault. I just need to learn to get used to being on my own.”
“I shouldn’t have left you here alone,” he insists.
“Trent, it’s not a big deal. Really.”
“In the future, just tell me what you want, okay?” he says. “Whatever it is, even if it’s not wanting to be somewhere alone, just tell me. Okay?”
I’m taken aback by the earnestness in his voice. There’s something more in there than just a friend looking out for a friend. What am I missing? “Okay. I will.”
He jerks his head to the condo. “Flicker the lights when you get in.”
“Okay. See ya.”
I shut the door then take the side entrance to the condo. Once I’m inside, I flicker the lights like he asked, then move to the windows and discreetly shift the curtains to watch him drive away.
And just like that, the flutters are back.
Chapter FOURTEEN
“Hey, boo thang.”
Lexi
Things get fast and hectic over the next two weeks. With the plumbing fixes completed, we were able to focus on aesthetics and functionality with no hold-up.
Once Maggie and I settled on final design and modeling ideas, things moved faster than I anticipated. The hiring, the ordering, the scheduling, the managing and monitoring…
The work feels endless, but at the same time, cathartic. Maggie and I run on copious amounts of caffeine and little to no sleep. But things are coming along and I feel great about it. Bringing Maggie on board is proving to be the best decision I made. She’s worth her salt, has taught me so much, and her enthusiasm for the project makes me enthusiastic.
