by C J Burright
A hissing noise followed, as if he’d released a breath between his teeth. “That, darling, is not a good idea.”
She wriggled to the couch edge, only able to make out his dim silhouette. “It’s a big couch.”
“The woman I’m insanely attracted to is on my couch, under my blanket a mere sit-up away. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a man.” His chuckle held no humor whatsoever. “I have my limits. If I join you, I’ll make you mine in every way, and with you, neshama, there will be no refunds or returns. I don’t believe you’re prepared for that, so I deem it wisest to remain on the floor and suffer alone with my imagination and the side effects.”
Oh. Her breath caught and her temperature shot up several degrees. Oh…
“Unless you’ve finally realized the truth?” It wasn’t hard to picture his hopeful expression. “That fate has drawn us together and there’s no escaping destiny?”
She snorted.
“I thought as much.” He sighed, but his words held a tolerant smile. “In an attempt to counter the visions my mind continues to replay of you, me and all the fun and life-altering activities we could be doing on that soft, pliable couch, I’ve been considering the Bella situation.”
Answering wasn’t possible, not with where her mind took her. Garret leaning over her, his skin pale in the gloom, golden glints in his hair as he brought his mouth to hers, pressed his weight into her, hitting all the right girly spots. She pulled her arms free of the blanket and hoped he couldn’t hear the allegro pace of her pulse.
“I sometimes wonder,” he said, “if it would’ve been better to stay unknown, less accomplished.”
The quiet sincerity in his tone jarred all thoughts out of the Garret gutter. Adara rolled onto her side again, close to the couch edge, to hear him better. Keeping his talent contained, the affect he had on people dimmed, would be a civic injustice. Not that she’d tell him that. “Why?”
“Before I started getting noticed, I never questioned a person’s motives. Friends and enemies weren’t difficult to distinguish—people either liked me, ignored me or didn’t like me.” He shifted, sliding a hand beneath his head, and the gloom couldn’t hide the fact the blanket had slipped to his waist.
She tried not to think about how easy it would be to reach down and stroke his firm, smooth, deliciously bare chest. In case her hands decided to act of their own volition, she clasped them to her thrumming heart.
“I’ve since discovered,” he continued, “that people are skilled at hiding their motives and honesty is a rare characteristic. I’ve been befriended for all manners of reasons, but those reasons generally relate in one way or another to my music, not me.”
Surrounded by admirers of all ages, an extended family who adored him and he still walked the edge of loneliness. Something uncomfortable wedged beneath her heart. In their own ways, they’d both chosen solitude. He traded a settled life to share his passion with the world. His path contained elements of sacrifice, a noble sacrifice. Hers, not so much.
He swallowed audibly, regaining her full attention. “I was, undeniably, a late bloomer, and at first, the attention from the female population was flattering, beyond any fantasy of a pudgy, middle school nerd who couldn’t get a date.”
Even as she smiled at the memory of his growing-pangs story, a wire coiled inside, barbed with jealousy. Picturing him, pudgy or not, with someone else wrenched that wire tight. Slowly, she forced her jaw to relax. She was the one who’d set the limits. He wasn’t hers, so she had no right to feel anything. If only reconciling her brain with her heart was so easy.
“Did you fall asleep on me?” he asked.
She cleared her head, along with her throat. “Nope. I’m waiting on the edge of the couch for the exciting conclusion of the female conquest chapter in your biography.”
“I’d call it more a series of sad mysteries than a conquest.” His soft laugh curled low in her belly, warm and intoxicating. “I might not be the sharpest tack in the box, but I caught on fast. Take away the spotlight, the prestige, the money, the shampoo-commercial-worthy hair and my irresistibly sexy bod—”
She flicked her fingers in his general vicinity, and he shifted out of reach, chuckling.
“My point is I’m exhausted of being wanted for everything besides the person I am.” The unexpected vulnerability in his voice destroyed her. “And I appreciate, deeply, that you’re real with me, Adara. When you finally swoon at my feet, I know it’ll be sincere.”
Her forehead burned, as if branded by the word ‘fraud’. Biting her tongue was the only way she kept from blurting her thoughts—that he was the best man she knew, despite being a musician, that she loved how he inspired the shyest kid in her class to respond, that she didn’t really mind it when he interrupted her space because he made her forget why she’d chosen solitude, that every smile she wore since his unrelenting intrusion on her life was his fault.
There’d be no going back from saying those words aloud, and he was right. She wasn’t ready for the repercussions of voicing that truth, didn’t know if she’d ever be ready, so she went with a different truth.
“I don’t really hate music,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and halting. “So much of it reminds me of Joey.” Under night’s cloak, speaking fragments of her heart was somehow manageable.
“I know.” Garret’s whisper matched hers, as if speaking louder would break the spell between them. The pale line of his arm shifted, and he found her hand in the darkness. He hooked their pinkies and squeezed.
“Losing him… I can’t take another hit like that.” Admitting her weakness cracked something inside, and the words tumbled out, freed from their cage. “The only way to function is to keep people out of my personal life. No problem, right? Wear only black, don’t smile, be somewhat threatening, should be easy. Only it wasn’t. It isn’t.” She took a shaky breath. “I can’t stop caring. The best I can do is distance myself and care from afar, out of the danger zone.”
Silence stretched between them, long enough that she suspected she’d stumped him.
“Life is pain, neshama,” he said at last. “There’s no getting around that, but you’re doing yourself a disservice by shutting out the joy.”
If only everything was as easy as he made it sound. “The pain isn’t worth it.”
“I respectfully disagree. Pain is an inevitable byproduct of the world we live in, and there’s no escaping it. Life is about finding the joy amid the pain, not letting pain rule your life.” He paused and huffed. “Funny… I never took you for a dropout, Dumont.”
Dropout? Her face heated. Dealing with life after Joey in the only way she knew how didn’t make her a dropout. She shouldn’t have told him anything. She struggled to disentangle her pinkie from his, but he held onto her wrist, his large hands callused and unrelenting.
“Don’t get mad.” He chained her hand to his chest, pulling her halfway off the couch.
“I’m not mad.” Her voice betrayed her, tight and reedy.
“I understand the need to protect your heart, Adara. It’s not easy to open up, knowing there will be pain.” His breath brushed her tense forearm, warm and steady. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me instead of shutting me out with the rest of the world.” Without warning, he sucked her pinkie into his mouth.
Lightning shot from her breasts to her core, and before she could recover, he bit her finger, hard enough to sting. He immediately licked the spot he’d bitten and replaced her hand on his chest.
She drew a sharp breath, her entire body throbbing hard enough to hit the Richter scale. “You’re so…bad.”
His low laugh flowed over her like honey heated by the sun, smooth and rich. “Pursuing the woman I want, doing whatever it takes to inspire her to think about me, doesn’t make me bad. On a scale from Hodor to Ramsey Bolton, I’m a Jon Snow.”
“A nerd too.” Her arm was tired—the only reason she surrendered to his shackle—and when he relaxed his grip slightly, her palm landed rig
ht above his heart. His pulse vibrated in a counterpoint to hers.
“Once a nerd, always a nerd.” He caressed her hand with his thumb in slow, sensual strokes. “I don’t suppose you were a pudgy nerd in middle school?”
“Not even.” She smiled against the couch cushion, one leg slung over the side. “Joey called me ‘chicken legs’ all the way into college. I lived vicariously through books, had zero interest in boys, and Joey commandeered the majority of my free time, dragging me into his musical whirlwind.” Her smile died and another confession slipped free before she could leash it. “When I lost my brother, I lost my best friend too.”
“You don’t have to be alone, neshama.” His voice was gentle with understanding, and for the first time since Joey’s death, she didn’t really mind not being alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A far-off ringing pulled Garret into awareness, and he opened his eyes. Every muscle ached. Morning light drifted through the windows, gray and brittle, highlighting the slender fingers limp on his bare chest.
Adara.
Electricity sparked to life in his veins, throbbing in all the right places, but he kept still, unwilling to disrupt her. One arm and leg hung over the edge of the couch as if undecided whether to escape or join him on the floor. Her other arm curled over her dark head. He sucked in a breath. Chara, her full, perfect mouth was parted slightly in invitation, and he fisted his hands to resist tracing her lower lip and following up with a kiss. Hazy with sleep, she might not resist, and he wasn’t willing to test his own mettle when it came to seducing Adara, especially when one appendage in particular was eager, hard and ready. He wouldn’t stop, not until she surrendered and admitted she belonged to him, and despite the substantial progress he’d made the previous night, she wasn’t ready.
But she would be. Her resistance couldn’t match his perseverance.
A heavy thumping on his front door erased his musings. The doorbell. That was what had interrupted his sleep. He sat up and Adara stirred. She lifted her head and squinted at him through a curtain of fuzzed raven locks.
“Coffee.” The word was hardly more than a growl, and she promptly tugged the blanket over her head, shutting him out.
“Wish granted.” Since she’d tucked everything in besides her foot, he kissed her ankle, receiving no protest. Either she was too tired to care or had already fallen back asleep.
A duet of doorbell and pounding rattled through the hallway, and Garret shuffled barefoot to the front door, scratching his stomach. Roman wasn’t due to report on Bella until later, and the long driveway tended to keep most people away. Bob and London were taking the kids to see Bob’s parents today, so it wasn’t them.
At the door, he put his eye to the peephole. Ian stood on the porch, lawyer-polished even in jeans, boots and fisherman sweater, his short hair gelled to perfection. Garret snorted softly. And people accused him of being vain. Next to Ian, he was dime-store shabby.
A few finger jabs and a beep disengaged the security system. He flicked the deadbolt and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit him square in the bare chest, and Ian shoved past him.
“A little early, isn’t it?” Garret shut the door fast, goose bumps on his arms.
“Roman called me.” Ian pivoted, his blue eyes flashing. “What part of ‘press charges’ didn’t you get, dude? If you’re not going to take my legal advice, the next time you ask for it, I’m charging you my full rate.”
“No interrogations before coffee, counselor. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Rubbing his eyes, Garret shuffled into the kitchen and flicked on the light. “I know you stopped by the coffee stand on your way here to flirt with the high school girls. You could’ve brought me one.”
When Ian didn’t answer, he pivoted. No Ian behind him. Empty hallway. His chest constricted. Ian finding Adara would be disastrous. Suddenly and ferociously awake, he raced back to the music room and entered just as Ian lifted the blanket off Adara’s head.
“What have we here?” Gleeful venom dripped with each word.
Adara opened her eyes, focused on Ian and sat up fast. Her glare made the temperature drop a degree. “Ian.” She said his name like a curse and made the sign of a cross in the air between them. “I thought you couldn’t be in the sunlight without combusting.”
“And I believed you’d freeze the testicles off any man who got too close.” He smirked over his shoulder at Garret. “Bravo, my friend. You truly are a virtuoso, no matter what instrument you use.”
Ben-zonna. Garret swiped a hand down his face. “It’s not what you think.”
Throwing off the blanket, Adara leaped up and pointed a long finger in Ian’s face. Even in flannel sheep pajamas, she was magnificently formidable. “If I hear even the hint of a rumor surrounding this, I’ll use that ice you love to associate with me and frickin’ frostbite your miniscule testicles.”
Ian’s smirk didn’t waver in the slightest. He turned to Garret, courtroom challenge glittering in his eyes. “You’re my witness. She threatened me.”
“Fair warning. I’m not an impartial witness.” Garret smoothly stepped between them before Adara unleashed the fist at her side and Ian added assault to his list of charges. He pivoted, his back to her, keeping Ian’s cage-rattling gaze mostly blocked. Hopefully, she’d resist tearing through him to get to Ian. “Again, it’s not what you’re implying, and since you spoke to Roman, you know why I insisted that Adara stay with me last night.”
“I didn’t imply anything.” Ian flashed his shark smile, predatory and vicious. “I didn’t need to. Reactions are very telling.”
Garret pinched the bridge of his nose as Adara’s growl vibrated along his spine. “Let it go, Ian. She slept unmolested on the couch while I snoozed on the floor, as evidenced by the pillow and blanket at your feet and the aches in my bones.”
Ian’s gaze dipped south and his smirk widened. “You shouldn’t have said ‘ache’ and ‘bone’ in the same sentence.”
He grabbed the pillow off the couch and held it over his groin, joining Adara’s glare for his oldest friend. “Further proof in our defense.”
“Is it? I mean, I know I’m always up for another round in the morning—”
Garret slammed the pillow in Ian’s face, shutting him up, but the muffled, unrepentant laugh didn’t defuse anything. He fisted Ian’s sweater and dragged him beyond Adara’s reach, out into the hall. She’d returned to perching stiffly on the couch, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “Why did Roman call you, anyway? I didn’t realize you even knew each other.”
“We have an arrangement.” Ian wrested free of Garret’s hold and smoothed his stretched-out sweater. “That’s all you need to know.”
He agreed. When it came to Ian’s work, ignorance and bliss were an inseparable pair. “What did Roman tell you?”
“That you should have followed my advice in the first place and pressed criminal charges on that psycho instead of a protective order hand slap. Paperwork can’t stop crazy.”
He sighed. “I counted on the ocean to be enough of a barrier.”
Ian raised his eyebrows, his way of calling him an imbecile without saying a word. “The ‘woman scorned’ adage is absolutely true. All she needed was a passport and a cheap flight. When you land in one place, you’re not that hard to find, and she had no problem finding you when you weren’t staying put.”
Garret leaned against the wall, needing the support. He didn’t understand stalking. Tracking him like an animal wouldn’t change his feelings, and hiding in Adara’s house? It was beyond unsettling. If Bella paid attention at all in her spying, she knew how he felt about Adara, and if her obsession turned rabid, his favorite teacher would be the most likely target. He shifted toward the music room. His muse sat ramrod straight on the couch, looking quite rabid herself. Then again, Bella might be the one who’d regret taking that particular turn.
“Serving her with a stalking order on home soil will be problematic, since her location is unknown.” Ian re
captured his attention, going into full lawyer mode. “Unless she threatens you in some way, a restraining order is out. Your best hope is to slap her with a burglary charge for entering the Princess of the North’s house. But I wouldn’t count on that. There’s not enough proof.”
“What about fingerprints?”
Ian quirked an eyebrow, a superiority look picked up in law school. “You watch too much CSI. Roman is a meticulous investigator, but getting a good fingerprint off fast food wrappers isn’t going to happen. Even if he does manage to get a good print, unless your Bella has been in the legal system here, it won’t show up in the database. Your only chance to get her off your back is if she gets caught, which is why you should hire a bodyguard.”
“While you play Hardy Boys, I’m getting coffee.” Chin high, Adara marched past them. Her usually smooth and sleek hair was tousled in a way that made Garret want to kick Ian out, renege on last night’s gallant, self-sacrificing decision and drag her back to the couch, onto his lap and into his forever. He should’ve hung on to that pillow. It took every ounce of willpower not to trail her into the kitchen, cage her against the counter and kiss her until she surrendered. He wasn’t above using coffee as blackmail.
“Sweet pajamas,” Ian drawled, his tone appreciative, his gaze glued to Adara’s perfect, slender rump.
“Stop leering at my girl.” Garret punched his friend in the shoulder. His own leering wasn’t up for discussion.
Ian rubbed his shoulder, grinning. “I thought that wasn’t how it is.”
“That’s not how that was, but it’s unconditionally how it is. Got it?” Garret narrowed his eyes in his menacing, no-more-crap look. He’d picked up that particular look in middle school, no lessons required. “Be respectful.”
Ian’s grin slipped to half-done. “Possessive is a side of you I’ve never seen.”
Adara probably couldn’t hear their conversation from the kitchen, but he lowered his voice anyway. “It didn’t exist until I met the one woman I don’t want to live without.” He blew out a breath. Discussing his feelings for Adara with Ian wasn’t on the itinerary. “I’m with you on the bodyguard, but it won’t be for me. It’ll be for her, something she doesn’t need to know. And he’ll be a back-up because I have every intention of staying with her whenever possible.”
