Meet Cute

by Elise Faber

  “I’m fine.”

  He stared deeply into my eyes, and I saw regret pass through his. “I’m sorry.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but he was already turning back to face the trio of men.

  “My camera!” the man complained.

  One of the security guards shoved him more firmly into the floor, told him to “Shut the fuck up.”

  The other came over to us. “The police are on their way.” He held up the camera. “I think you’ll find that the camera’s memory card is mysteriously wiped.”

  Tal nodded. “How’d he get in?”

  Fury on the tall, built man’s face. “I don’t know that yet, Mr. Green. We’ll review the tapes and—”

  “I want Annalise here,” Tal said in a voice harder than anything I’d heard before.

  “I’m not sure—”

  I could have sworn I heard Talbot’s teeth grind together. “You tell your boss to get her ass down here immediately. I don’t give a fuck where on the planet she is, but I expect her to be here by tonight.” He stopped, shoulders rising and falling on a breath. “I don’t pay through the fucking nose,” he said quietly, fingers coming to the bridge of his nose and squeezing, “for a man to stab my woman in front of my house, for another to assault her in my house—”

  I shivered—though probably not for the reasons he thought.

  He still noticed, anyway. Though he didn’t spare me a look as he wound an arm around my waist and hauled me to his side.

  My shivering was two-fold. One, because he’d called me his woman, and two, because he was upset that I was the one affected—stab my woman, assault her in my house. I’d never had anyone ever think of me first, of the way that I’d been impacted by a situation, rather than themselves. It was just . . . unfathomable.

  And I just . . . I just really liked it.

  “I know, Mr. Green.”

  “Then get Annalise here,” he gritted. “Get more help to secure the house. I don’t care if you have to sleep on the fucking couch until I get the rest of it sorted.”

  “What sorted?” I asked.

  He glanced out the window. “Until I find us a different place to stay.”

  “We’ve called in more teams,” the guard said. “Once the police take this asshole away, two of us will always be in the house.”

  Talbot nodded then turned us in the direction of the bedroom when the sound of sirens filled the air. “We’re getting dressed.”

  “I’ll take care of the police until you’re ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Talbot

  I was furious with the people who were supposed to have been protecting her, and Tammy was making them meatloaf.

  Well, at the moment, she was wiping her eyes because she was grating an onion into a bowl, having already rebuffed my attempts to help her, ordering me to grab one of those beers and to stop glowering at everyone until the alcohol content in the beverage quote, “Chills you the fuck out.”

  But there wasn’t much that would chill me out.

  I was absolutely furious, beyond fucking angry that someone would come into my house, that he’d scared Tammy—Tammy, who’d fucking fought off a knifed-attacker with hardly a fuss, and Tammy who’d screamed like . . .

  Well, I don’t think I’ll forget the terror in that scream for a long, long time.

  She swiped at her eyes again, and I set down my beer, crossed over to her, snagging a tissue from the boxes and dabbing at the stream of tears. “Why in the hell are you grating an onion?” I muttered, nudging her away from the bowl and taking over the task myself.

  “Because it makes the meatloaf better,” she said, moving to the sink and washing her hands.

  “It can’t possibly be worth it,” I grumbled, scraping the onion up and down the metal surface.

  “That’s because you haven’t eaten my meatloaf.”

  Since that was true, I didn’t bother replying, just kept grating, even as I listened to Annalise coordinate with the security team in the other room. More guards would be staying in the house, which I fucking hated, but I also couldn’t disagree with it. My realtor had managed to speed up closing for the house I’d bought, one that was much harder for people and paparazzi—and yes, after that morning, I was separating the two—to come anywhere close. There would be no more pictures in the driveway or shots of anyone on my porch. It was secure and would be wired with a state-of-the-art security system and staffed by guards who wouldn’t miss something—

  Like a fucking man breaking into my fucking kitchen.

  “You’re going to grate your fingers if you keep that up,” Tammy murmured, taking the metal contraption and the dredges of the onion from my hand before nudging me out of the way this time. “I didn’t think that you would be the type of person to get all broody.”

  “You were scared,” I said.

  That was more than enough reason for the brood.

  “Yeah,” she said, wincing. “Don’t rub it in.” A shudder. “I can’t believe I screamed like that. It was just a freaking man with a camera, and I—” She shook her head. “The guys are going to give me so much shit.”

  And here she was, making jokes, cooking, totally not upset with the guards. In fact, she’d just said, “Sometimes things go wrong,” and had shrugged.

  Shrugged!

  Meanwhile, I was reliving that scream, a bundle of jagged thumbtacks, each stabbing into me repeatedly as I remembered the terror I’d felt in hearing it.

  “They do,” I said, “and they’ll answer to me.”

  Tammy turned, her hands still mixing in the bowl. “God, they’d give me shit for that, too.” She rose on tiptoe, brushed her lips over mine. “But I’ll still enjoy every moment of it.”

  I wanted another kiss.

  This one deeper and longer and more intense than the peck.

  I wanted to take Tammy back to the bedroom, after I kicked everyone out of the house, and spend the evening with her showing her how much she meant to me.

  But she just shooed me away again, and so I went back to brooding over my beer, and knowing that I couldn’t send anyone away, not when they were the means to keeping the woman who held my heart safe.

  Maggie, who’d shown up about thirty minutes after the police, appeared in the kitchen and took one look at my face before tugging me close and hugging me tight. “Thank you,” she whispered into my ear. She stepped back, rested a hip against the table.

  “For what?”

  She squeezed my hand. “For caring.”

  My eyes had drifted to Tammy as she worked, looking completely relaxed and unperturbed despite the events, despite the influx of people in the house. She was fucking incredible, and I didn’t know how anyone would have a hard time caring for her.

  She was . . . well, she didn’t just hold my heart. She was my heart.

  It had happened in a split second, my draw to her—sharp words, instant chemistry, a striptease trailed by a gun—and my falling deep had happened just as fast. A body shielding me, focused not on herself afterward, quiet competence and strength and courage.

  The night before had tugged me further down the rabbit hole, and the scream this morning, knowing how quickly a life could be snuffed out . . .

  One injection too many.

  A knife sailing through the air.

  One scream.

  And I’d known that I was in love with Tammy Conners.

  She was both exactly like me and completely different. She was strong and smart and had a giant heart. She’d been hurt, sometimes she replied with barbs when things got too scary, but she’d also met me more than halfway with sharing the painful things about her past.

  And I knew there wasn’t another woman I could be with who would understand that inner pain so precisely, who knew what it was like to long for something and long and long and to always be left empty and wanting.

  I hadn’t found someone before her because they couldn’t know what that was like.<
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  But Tammy did.

  Which meant that she understood exactly what it took for me to let her in.

  And I understood right back.

  I stood up, brushed past Maggie, barely aware enough to offer a half-apology for my abruptness.

  Then I was across the room, taking Tammy in my arms.

  She pushed against my chest. “Tal,” she began, laughing lightly. “I need to—”

  I kissed her.

  Deep, as though by taking her mouth, feeling her lips on mine, my tongue dipping into her mouth, that I could imprint her onto my soul. That if only I kissed her long enough, held her tight enough that I’d always be able to feel her on my skin.

  Only when my lungs were screaming for air did I manage to tear myself away. I cupped her cheek.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  She froze, glanced at me then down to her hands. “I—I—” A sharp shake of her head. “I ruined your shirt.”

  My gaze dropped to my shirt, saw that it had been smeared with raw meat. “I don’t care.” I tilted her head back up, stared into those beautiful hazel eyes, and said again, “I love you.”

  Her pupils dilated; her lips parted.

  I felt her breath on my skin.

  “B-but . . . how?”

  I pulled her a little closer. “But how could I not?” I said, and then I kissed her again, ignoring the voices in the front room, finally able to halt the rending that was tearing through me over what had happened to her because of me. Finally able to quiet the voices in my head and just be with her in this moment.

  “Tal,” she whispered. “I—I—”

  “Shh,” I said. “I don’t need you to say it back. I don’t need you to say anything. It’s in my heart, and it’s without strings. I love you, Hazel Eyes, and I’m not letting you go.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed several times.

  Then, abruptly, she pushed against my chest, not gently, but firmly. “Let me go,” she said. “Let me—”

  Heart sinking, I dropped my arms.

  She turned away, and I watched as she walked to the sink and washed her hands, scrubbing fiercely and rapidly. I braced myself as she spun back to face me, her eyes flashing.

  “How dare you?” She poked a finger into my chest, finding a bit of non-meat-covered fabric and pressing it into my skin.

  I understood that part wasn’t pertinent.

  But it was easier to process than the disappointment coursing through me at her tone, at the fury on her face.

  “How dare you?” she said again, the question short and clipped and—

  Her hands came to my jaw and she yanked my head down, kissing me until my body was on fire, until my lungs were desperate for air, until my brain was hazed with the fog of desire. I could feel only Tammy. I didn’t care one bit about my dirty shirt or the burning in my lungs. I could survive on just this woman’s kisses, and her kisses alone.

  “How dare you?” she said for a third time, finally pulling her mouth free and staring deeply into my eyes. Her fingers didn’t move from my cheeks, just held me in place as she finished, “tell me that you love me when I couldn’t hold you without risking giving you salmonella?”

  Her lips curved.

  My heart stuttered and stopped.

  “As insane as this is,” she whispered, “considering I’ve known you only for a few freaking days.”

  My lungs froze.

  “I love you, too, Tal,” she whispered. “I don’t know how—” A shake of her head. “No,” she said, more firmly. “I know how.” Her hands tightened on my face. “It’s because you showed me who you were, you showed me that I could be important to someone, you showed me that I could find that importance in myself.” She smiled. “Maybe I would have gotten there eventually, but you—”

  “I what?”

  “You’re wonderful.”

  My heart thudded against my ribs.

  “Just—” Her lips twitched again, and I felt that smile in my soul. “You’re just absolutely wonderful, baby.”

  Her lips found mine.

  And I forgot about the other people in the house. I scooped her up, carried her down the hall, and dropped her into bed.

  “The meatloaf,” she murmured.

  I ripped off my dirty shirt, tugged hers off as well, throwing both to the floor. “They can order in.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tammy

  This time when I walked into the kitchen, after the sun glaring in through the windows again woke me, I wasn’t surprised to see the man standing by the coffee pot.

  I wasn’t thrilled to see him, however.

  Especially, since Talbot had carried me off to bed, and we hadn’t emerged for dinner. A fact that every one of the security guards would certainly know.

  “Morning,” I whispered as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Morning.” He held up the pot.

  I nodded.

  He filled me a mug while I went to the fridge, searching out something for breakfast and finding that someone had wrapped up my meatloaf components. Which was just as well. I could make it tonight.

  My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from the pocket of my leggings, saw that it was Maggie calling.

  “Hey,” I said, swiping and putting it up to my ear.

  “How’s the throat?”

  “I—uh—what?” I asked, closing the fridge and moving to grab the mug. The security guard had already left the room, so I had free reign as I surveyed the rest of the kitchen.

  “Never mind.”

  “No,” I said, grabbing a banana out of the basket. “What is it?”

  Maggie chuckled. “I’m just being an asshole because we all heard how very happy Talbot made you last night.”

  It took me a second.

  And then it took me too freaking long to melt into the floor.

  Because it didn’t happen.

  Ugh.

  “See?” Maggie said. “Asshole.”

  I made a face. “Yes, you are.”

  She giggled, and I found myself smiling and shaking my head. “Asshole-ness aside, you’re a good friend, Mags.”

  “Because I have an in with sexy-as-shit actors who can give you copious amounts of happy times?”

  “Yes, that,” I said, still smiling as I sipped my coffee. “And also because you give a damn about me. You always have.”

  Mags was quiet. “I wish I hadn’t lost contact with you when I left town.”

  My friend had a similar upbringing, a tough childhood and not a lot of support, outside of Aaron. But they’d been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school, and far too young to settle down. So Mags had left to pursue her dream of living a big life—which she’d found, of course, in Talbot, Pierce, Artie, and recently in a second chance with Aaron. Still, that big life had meant things had gotten left behind, especially since it wasn’t nearly so easy to communicate then as it was now.

  We’d reconnected by chance, and now . . . I had my friend back.

  “We were all too young and stupid to look that far ahead,” I said. “I’m just glad we’re back in each other’s lives now.”

  “Even though it’s brought you into a media frenzy.”

  “I still don’t like my face on all those papers and posts,” I said, “but my life with you and Tal in it is infinitely better than without you.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “Yup,” I teased. “Everything I feel about you and our friendship is a joke.”

  “If I was there, I would swat you.”

  “Speaking of that,” I said. “Why aren’t you here? Are we not having our daily crisis meeting of the minds?”

  “Actually, no,” she told me. “We don’t need that today.”

  I slurped down more coffee. “Why?”

  “Because word got out about the intruder, and the public isn’t happy. They’re boycotting any images of you and Talbot.” She laughed. “You guys even have your own hashtag.”

  My brows were pract
ically in my hairline. “A hashtag?”

  “Yup. Hashtag FreeTalmy.”

  “Um, what?”

  “It’s your couple name,” she said. “Talbot and Tammy equals Talmy.”

  “That’s . . . “

  “Super, ridiculously cool?”

  “No,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “It sounds like the brand for a tampon.”

  Maggie hooted with laughter, and I found myself unable to stop the giggles. “Talmy,” I breathed, plunking down my mug. “How is that a thing?”

  A warm arm slipped around my waist. “How is what a thing?”

  I was still laughing as he hauled me up, didn’t protest when he snagged my cell from my hand and put it on speaker. “How is what a thing?” he asked again.

  Maggie got control of herself much sooner than I did.

  “You two have a hashtag,” she said, still chuckling. “And a couple name.”

  His eyes came to mine, brows drawing together. “Tell me you are not serious,” he said.

  “I think you’ll find that you like being part of a couple name,” Maggie said, her voice filled with teasing. “I’ve already filed for the trademark and am setting up a website for merch and—”

  My jaw fell open. “You didn’t.”

  More laughter, though this time, it wasn’t paired with laughter of my own. “Of course, I didn’t,” she said, “but it is good news.” She went on to explain about the hashtag and photo boycott, how the paparazzo had been booked on charges of criminal trespassing and had apparently been exiled from the group of camera-toting men and women outside the gate. “There are even fans outside with homemade signs emblazoned with Free Talmy.”

  Tal pulled up the feed on his cell, and we both stared, dumbstruck at the line of people with neon-colored posterboards blocking the paparazzi.

  “Free Talmy, Free Talmy,” Mags chanted lightly. “It has a ring to it.”

  I shuddered again at the name but felt inexorably touched by the gesture. “Yeah,” I said, “it has a ring to it, if you’re a whale.”

  Talbot snorted, setting his cell aside. “So, we’ll be free of this mess soon?”

  I moved to the fridge, started getting out ingredients. I could feel his gaze on me, but I just kept gathering what I needed, setting the eggs, milk, and butter on the counter then moving to the pantry for flour, baking soda, and sugar. Oh, and chocolate chips. Couldn’t forget the chocolate chips.