Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  Yes. Ten. I was the last one to leave the office today. Needless to say, I’m starving and in need of a great distraction.

  “Hey, LG,” greets my bestie, turning to face me.

  “Hey, Skank. Brandon,” I say with a smile and a wave. “What does a girl have to do around here to get a drink?”

  “Was it that kind of day?”

  “Yeah. Not to worry, nothing a night at Cooper’s can’t fix.”

  “There’s Marla,” says Brandon, waving her over.

  “Hey, honey,” greets the familiar middle aged woman who calls everyone honey. I don’t know why, but I like that about her. Right now, I like her even more as she goes to grab me sixteen ounces of my favorite amber ale. Grace, Willow, and Coder walk in just as Marla returns and the boys help each other push a couple high tops together to accommodate our growing number.

  “So, do you want to talk about it?” asks Daphne.

  “My day? No. I’d rather hear about yours.”

  She lifts her eyebrows at me in surprise. “You mean you don’t have any Roman updates you’re dying to tell me before he gets here?”

  I grin at the thought of my Double-O. With every day that goes by, we’re getting better at our fake romance. Yesterday, we texted all day long. We know that in order to continue to be convincing, we have to keep learning things about each other. So while he was at work and I was at home, journaling and planning my kitchen renovation, we exchanged message after message while simultaneously pestering his sister. By the time she got home, I had enough ammo to gush like a heart sick school girl. I’m proud to say, she’s not just buying it, she’s freaking out. As her best friend, I know that what’s got her unsettled isn’t just her brother and me.

  She’s got Trevor on the brain.

  Let it be said, again, that my plan is fucking brilliant.

  To top it all off, I think Roman and I might actually be becoming friends. Not that I am going to share my theory with him. I bet he’d deny it. He’s stubborn, just like his sister. I’m sure he’ll come around. At least, I hope he does…I’m getting used to him and I don’t know that I could go back to how things were before. He’s not as bad as he’d like me to believe.

  I have the daisies to prove it.

  “Well?” prompts Daphne, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Well—you listened to me talk about him all day yesterday. I don’t want to bore you.”

  “Please,” she says with an eye roll. “Since when have you been afraid of boring me with guy talk?”

  I laugh, because she’s right. “There’s also the fact that he’s your brother and maybe you don’t want to hear me talk about him like I talk about other guys.”

  “Again—since when do you care?”

  “Hey,” I groan, playfully smacking her arm. “I’m trying to be sensitive.”

  “Don’t,” she insists. “The truth is, hearing you talk about Rome kind of encourages me to consider talking to Trevor.”

  I perk up at the sound of her confession. “Do tell!”

  “I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” she says with a bashful smile. “Just—talk to me about my brother, okay?”

  “I’ve actually got a question about you two,” pipes in Brandon.

  “Shoot,” I reply before taking a sip of my beer.

  “Last time I checked, he’s pretty big on God and you are not. Isn’t that, like, a deal breaker?”

  “Yeah, have you guys talked about that? Or has your new infatuation with each other blinded you to the practicalities that go along with romantic entanglements?” asks Daphne.

  “We have,” I say, honestly. “It’s not that I don’t believe that God exists. I do. But you know me, it doesn’t really go much deeper than that. It’s at the top of the Logan Con-List.”

  “The what?” Brandon furrows his brow at me.

  “The Logan Con-List. We have pro/con lists for each other.”

  “You’re kidding,” he mutters.

  “She’s not kidding,” Daphne answers on my behalf. She laughs mockingly as she shakes her head at me and then turns to address Brandon. “My bestie is pretty indecisive. Pro/con lists are her life savers.”

  “What are your other cons?”

  “Well, there’s the God thing. Also, he thinks I’m mean, sometimes.” I lift one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll give him that. I can be a bitch if I want to be. I’m going to work on it. No one wants a bitchy girlfriend. I’m also not entirely against the church thing, either—which is why I think I’m still fair game.”

  “And his cons?” asks Daphne.

  “His aversion to football. That’s definitely at the top. He’s also kind of bossy.” I pause as a sly grin pulls at my mouth. “Then again, it’s actually pretty sexy, so that’s on the pro list, too.”

  “What does he think your pros are?” Brandon inquires.

  “Um, my lips—”

  “Wait, he said that?” Daphne interrupts me, scrunching her face in astonishment.

  “Mmhmm,” I hum proudly. It surprised me, too. My stomach tingles in remembrance of his initial admission.

  “Have you two…?”

  “Kissed? Not yet. Crazy, right? I’ve been a very good girl.”

  “Obviously,” she sighs, aghast.

  I’m a kisser—that’s no secret. I won’t lie, my mouth is a bit of a slut. I’ve kissed a lot of guys over the years. A couple girls, too. The things men will do to see two girls make-out is pretty hilarious. In any case, the fact that we haven’t kissed is definitely starting to drive me crazy. It’s not that I’m anxious because it’s been a while—even though it has been—it’s that he’s left me wanting.

  I’ve got an incredibly high success rate for getting a guy to kiss me. I won’t leave with just anyone who buys me a drink; he has to prove himself skillful, first. On a good night, I could be lip-locked with a hottie in ten minutes. On my worst night, it might take me just over a half an hour. So the fact that I spent hours flirting with Roman on Saturday and didn’t get a kiss is completely abnormal for me.

  He’s left an ache inside of me that I’ve never experienced before. The thing about Roman and me is, we’ve bickered almost nonstop since the moment we met. However, I’ve also flirted with him for just as long. I can’t help myself. It’s his eyes…eyes which have never looked back at me with fondness. That is, until about a week ago. Then, on Saturday night, he reciprocated every glance, every touch, every comment. I got lost in him. It was unavoidable. He feels way too damn good.

  I decided there’s no point in denying myself pleasure, even if everything that goes on between us isn’t real. I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Which is why I’m so anxious to finally get a kiss. In no other circumstance would we be make-out buddies. I’d like to take advantage of the gift of our partnership. Who wouldn’t want a shot at the one guy they thought they’d never be able to have?

  If his lips against mine feel half as good as his hands on my waist, I’ll be one lucky girl.

  “Logan Elise!” Daphne snaps her fingers in front of my face and I focus my attention on hers. “You were totally just daydreaming about kissing my brother.” I reach for my beer and take a drink, smiling at her as I do so.

  “You’re right,” says Brandon, his eyes conveying his bewilderment. “This is we—”

  “Don’t say it!” cries Daphne. “If I hear the W word one more time, I might scream. We need a thesaurus.”

  “A thesaurus? For what?”

  Roman.

  He comes up behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. I relax under his touch. He squeezes me once and the moan that comes out of my mouth can’t be silenced. He takes my unintentional hint and begins rubbing the tension out of my neck and shoulders.

  “Crazy. Surreal. Strange. Peculiar. Odd,” says Brandon as he stares at Roman and me.

  “Uncanny,” Daphne adds with a laugh. “Bizarre. Unorthodox.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one!”

  “What are they talking a
bout?” Roman whispers in my ear.

  I can hardly speak. His big, strong hands erasing every bit of stress from my day. “Us,” I manage. “Roman, that feels incredible. Please, don’t stop.”

  “Okay. Now that’s gross,” says Daphne.

  Roman laughs and then removes his hands. I spin around so that I can see him when I turn my lips down in a pout. “Don’t give me that face,” he pleads. “There’s more where that came from.”

  “Promise?” I ask with a grin.

  “Promise. Come with me,” he says, offering me his hand. “I’m going to the bar to get a drink.”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply, wrapping my fingers around his.

  “How’s our girl doing?” he asks when we’re out of earshot.

  “She’s starting to cave. I can tell. She totally believes us, which has her thinking about Trevor.”

  When we reach the bar, he greets Eric with a handshake and then places an order. “I guess things are moving along just as you had hoped.”

  “Better, even.”

  “What about my conditions?” he asks, looking back over at his sister and all of our friends.

  “Don’t worry, Double-O. I’m on it. Actually, Brandon helped plant the first seed. Next step, I have to come to church with you. How about this week? You can take me on a date after.”

  “Okay,” he replies, looking down at me.

  “That was easy.” I take a step closer to him and slide my free hand around his waist. Have I mentioned how much I love flirting with him when there isn’t a bar between us?

  He smirks at me and then Eric interrupts us, offering Roman his beer. He nods his thanks and then his eyes lock on something behind me and a scowl pulls at his brow. “Remember how you said Judah wasn’t stalking you? I’m not convinced.”

  “What?” I turn, following the direction of Roman’s gaze, and my eyes spot Judah right away. He’s looking straight at us. Only this time, instead of ignoring me, he lifts his drink in greeting.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t—” I stop myself, the details of my day rushing to the forefront of my mind. “Oh. I might have told him about this place,” I say, turning back to face Roman. “He asked me earlier where he could go to watch the game. Apparently, he’s a baseball fan. I forgot. I should probably go say hi.”

  “Go for it,” he mutters.

  “You’re not going to come with me?” I tighten my grip around his hand, subconsciously expressing my desire for his company. After Friday, I know that it’s probably not a good idea to interact with Judah on a social level. He’s too tempting. Roman is supposed to be my shield.

  “I don’t like him, remember?”

  “You haven’t even met him,” I argue.

  “He looks pretty pompous to me. I don’t think I need to meet him for confirmation.”

  I study him for a moment and then giggle as it dawns on me—“If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone sounds jealous.”

  “What? No,” he denies with a frown. “Like you said, in this scenario, I’ve got the girl. I have no reason to be jealous.”

  “Great. Then you have no reason not to come meet him,” I declare before I turn to head toward the other end of the bar. I don’t let go of his hand and he’s forced to come with me. Judah watches us approach, turning slightly once we’ve arrived at his side. “Hi, Jude.”

  “Logan. It’s nice to see you.”

  The look that accompanies his salutation speaks loudly of his desire to make it known that we are not at the office. I squeeze Roman’s hand, longing for the reassurance of his presence as Judah’s eyes travel leisurely up and down my body.

  As if I needed anymore proof that he wants me.

  His gaze makes me all warm inside. When our eyes meet, I snicker softly at him and shake my head in mocking reproach. He apparently has no intention of keeping things professional in this moment.

  I wonder how long he’s been here, watching the game and losing track of his inhibitions. He’s not drunk, I can tell. Besides, he doesn’t strike me as someone who allows himself much more than a buzz. He always carries himself with such poise. I can’t blame his actions on his current blood/alcohol level.

  Then I remember something that provides another explanation for his boldness.

  He told me he planned on stealing me from Roman. Little does he know, it won’t work. I won’t allow it. That said, I didn’t think he’d try right in front of the guy!

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” asks Roman.

  “Right!” I shut my eyes for a second, needing to break the contact with the gray ones that have sucked me into a trance. “Sorry. Jude, this is Roman. Roman, Jude.”

  Neither of them extend a hand to seal their introduction. Instead, Roman lets go of my fingers and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. I bite my lip in an attempt to hide my grin. The testosterone battle that’s raging between them is incredible.

  “Good to meet you,” Roman concedes, breaking the silence.

  “Likewise.”

  “So, did you get a pizza?” I inquire, hoping to steer our conversation in a less awkward direction.

  “I did and it was delicious. I appreciate the recommendation. I’ll have to come back again, sometime. Maybe you could keep me company. Are you a baseball fan?”

  “She actually prefers football.” I look up at Roman, appalled by his comeback. I can speak for myself but, right now, I don’t mind letting him answer for me. He’s being completely territorial and it’s kind of hot. He smiles at me before pressing a kiss on my cheek. His lips are hot against my skin and his proximity makes me hyper aware of his freshly washed hair, still damp and fragrant. “We should probably be getting back to our group, babe.”

  I choke out a sigh and lean against him as I’m momentarily weak at the knees.

  Holy hell—I think I love jealous Roman.

  “Um, yeah. Okay,” I stammer. “Jude, I hope you enjoy the rest of the game. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask, shifting my focus back on him. He responds but I miss what he says, too distracted by this entire scene. I’m literally standing in the middle of the two finest men in the bar, both of whom are shamelessly—no, arrogantly—vying for my affections.

  This Monday just got a whole lot better.

  “As I thought,” murmurs Roman, leading us back to our table. “He’s a prick.”

  I giggle as I give him a squeeze. He’s the perfect human shield. I think I should keep him.

  I work an early shift on Wednesday, which has me off the clock at seven. I have no desire to hang out at home. It’s officially the beginning of August and in two and a half weeks I will be a graduate student. I can only imagine what that will do to my free time and so I feel like doing something with this night. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for me to rule out most of my desired company.

  Ashton’s at his weekly bible study and Ryan is with Trisha. When I call Daphne to see what she’s up to, I get sent to voicemail before she responds with a text. She informs me that she’s at work and asks me what I need. When I text back, telling her I was just wondering if she wanted to hang, she’s quick to reply with a suggestion.

  Logan.

  If I went home, I’d most likely end up messing around with my guitar—a regular occurrence when I’m alone. If I called Logan, it’d be another opportunity for us to continue our ruse. I don’t know if it’s my stubborn attempt to avoid going home, or if I feel obligated to take my sister up on her suggestion, but the idea of spending an evening with M isn’t completely unappealing. Something tells me I should embrace the feeling. Before I can change my mind, I dial her number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s Roman.”

  “Double-O-Seven, what’s up?”

  “What are you doing right now?” I ask as I leave the bar, heading for my Jeep.

  “I’m just about to leave the office. I called in for Thai take-out and I’m going to go pick it up and then go home and veg. Why do y
ou ask?”

  “Oh,” I mutter, surprised by my disappointment in hearing that she’s not free. “I was going to see if you—you know what, never mind.”

  “No, tell me. Are you at work? Do you need me to come bat my eyelashes at you for a bit?”

  I chuckle as I shake my head no. I can hear her moving about on the other end of the phone and, all at once, I’m questioning why on earth I called her. “I’m not working. I was just going to see if you wanted to hang out. But you’re busy, so—”

  “Wait, you have the night off and…you want to spend it with me?”

  I tug my eyebrows together as I reach up to rake my fingers through my hair. Her tone is all the confirmation I need. I’ve temporarily lost my mind. “Yeah. Sorry to—”

  “Would you stop it? You can’t back out now. Have dinner with me. Come over in, like, an hour?”

  “Are you sure? You already ordered and—”

  “Lucky for you, I’m starving, which usually means my eyes are way bigger than my stomach. I ordered enough to feed a large whale and I have no objections to sharing. Especially if you bring the wine. Red.”

  “Is there any other color?” I quip.

  “Well, what do you know, looks like we have something else in common. So, you’re in?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Perfect. See you soon.”

  As we disconnect from the call, I take my phone away from my ear and stare at it for a moment. We just made plans…like friends. After a few seconds I shrug, refusing to think anymore about it. I’m just glad to have plans to keep me occupied for the night. With an hour to kill, I decide to go home and shower before going to pick up a bottle of wine. Red, as the lady requests.

  I pull into a visitor’s spot and park at eight o’clock on the dot. I hop out of my Jeep, bottle of wine in hand, and make my way toward the stairs that will lead me to my destination. As I ascend, I start to feel nervous. I have no idea why, but I have a hard time shaking it. When I knock on the door, I’m downright annoyed with myself for having any notable emotion at all.