by Thorne, Elle
“Thank you.” She took the keys.
“Give you a lift?”
Jesus. He was a lifesaver. Maybe she stood a chance of beating her parents there.
Chapter Six
Rafe wanted to curse.
Had he really just offered her a ride? Like he needed to take this girl’s problems on. This girl with the funky toenails, curvalicious body, and an ass that was begging for someone’s tongue to pay it homage.
He sure had.
Fool. Sucker for a pretty face and a killer body.
And a train wreck of a life, clearly.
He unlocked the car, held the door open for her.
He’d barely gotten it started and was turning left like she’d told him, when she said, “Can you pick up the speed, please?”
“Sure.” He shoved his foot onto the gas pedal.
She squealed and grabbed the door handle. A laugh slipped out, followed by another.
He couldn’t help but smile at her delight.
“Right there.” She pointed less than a minute later.
He pulled in, got out, and opened the door for her.
“Let me walk you to your place.” He closed the passenger door.
“No.” She put a hand on his arm. “But thank you. I owe you a coffee. I need to run up there and make sure my life hasn’t ended.”
“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“You don’t know my parents. You don’t know how they feel about Scotty. About me in general.” She glanced up at the building. “The lights are off.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Hopefully, that my parents haven’t beaten me here. And that Scotty isn’t here either.”
“So, how do they feel about—” Rafe could barely say his name. So not worthy of this girl. “—Scotty?”
She gave him a look of disgust. “They don’t.”
She peered up at the window again, nervously, and plucked a pencil from her hair. “Thanks again. I’ll buy your next espresso.” She turned toward the metal staircase then glanced back at him.
That was it?
His tiger snarled.
Guess so.
“Jaclyn?” A woman’s high-pitched voice came from across the street and down the way. “See, Major? I told you her apartment was on this street.”
The curvy barista paled and grabbed the metal banister for support.
“Yoo-hoo, Jaclyn!”
* * *
No. Fucking. Way.
Jax felt like her stomach had slipped through her body and landed on the concrete below with a thud.
“Mom,” she whispered.
And just like that, her life went to hell in a handbasket. She glanced at the window. If Scotty was up there, she couldn’t take her parents inside. What if he was there and gaming with the lights off the way he sometimes did?
I’m fucked, that’s what.
She felt unsteady, like she was going to collapse. She held on to the railing tightly, gripping it as if she could squeeze the life out of this damned moment.
“Hi, Mom. Major.” Her father’s nickname was Major. Everyone called him that, including Mom and her.
The Greek god didn’t move. He stood there, watching her with an intensely interested expression.
“Don’t you need to go?” she whispered to him.
“I’m not in a hurry,” he said. Except he didn’t whisper it.
No, that would have been too right. He said it loud enough for Major to hear.
“Who’s this?” Mom piped up. “Is this your boyfriend? You didn’t tell us you had a new one.”
Her gaze traveled up and down Rafe’s body. Jax was sure her mother was looking for tats or gaping holes in his ears.
“Good evening,” the Greek god said.
Rafe. His name is Rafe. I need to quit thinking of him like that.
“Good evening,” her mother parroted, practically swooning.
Oh, for shit’s sake. She’s acting like he’s George Clooney or something. And she’s acting totally smitten.
Jax held back the eye-rolling she was dying to give in to.
“I’m Mrs. Vasquez.” Her mother blushed. “But you can call me Beth.” She waved toward Jax’s dad. “He’s Major Vasquez.”
“You can call me Major,” her father said.
“Major. Beth.” The man she needed to start thinking of as Rafe held his hand out. “Rafael Tiero. Nice to meet you both.”
“Oh, Major. He speaks English,” Mom drawled. “How long have you known each other, Rafael?” She held her hand out.
“You’re welcome to call me Rafe. That’s what my friends and family call me.” He smiled at them.
He’s perfect. Perfect boyfriend-meeting-parents material. And he’s gorgeous. And charming. And drives a Porsche. I bet his girlfriend doesn’t have to pay for his whiskey.
A twinge of jealousy nipped at Jax, stinging her.
Why the hell did I have to go think of that? What do I care if he has a girlfriend?
And why the hell are we standing out here? We shouldn’t be doing this. God.
It would be her luck Scotty would either walk up with his bottle of Jack—that I paid for—or he’d actually be upstairs and come outside to smoke, since Jax didn’t allow him to smoke inside. Though God knew, she was plenty aware he snuck one in every so often.
A light in her peripheral vision caught her attention.
Oh, God. Her apartment. The light was on. Scotty was there.
What if he opened the door? Or looked out the window?
She glanced at Rafe. Then at her parents. Then back at the window.
“We were just going out to eat, Mom. Want to join us?” Jax wrapped her fingers around Rafe’s arm and squeezed. “Weren’t we, babe?”
He stared at her as if she’d lost it.
I probably have. This will never work. I’ll be caught. My parents will know I’m a liar and I’m still with Scotty. And Scotty will dump me.
She paused.
Why isn’t that as devastating as I thought it would be?
She’d never admit it out loud, but she wasn’t sure she cared. Scotty’s burping, farting, smoking, never-getting-a-job ways had begun to grate on her nerves.
It’s temporary, she told herself. He’ll straighten his act out. She was almost done with her Master’s degree. Surely, he’d get it together before she started work on her doctorate.
The hunk next to her still looked at her, one brow raised, wearing a slight tilt of a sardonic smile.
Why is he so damned sexy?
She tugged on his arm. “Rafe? Weren’t we?”
“Of course.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Won’t you join us, Mrs. Vasquez? Major?”
She choked on the sigh before she could finish it and pinched his arm.
He was not supposed to do that. She was supposed to slip away with him then, when her parents were gone, she’d slip away from him and get her coursework done.
Jax glared at him.
He had no idea what he was getting her into.
God. Dinner with her parents.
Rafe smiled at her and leaned close.
Oh, what the fuck is he thinking?
She regarded him with as much trust as she’d have for a cobra while his head lowered, his face coming closer, his lips…
She fought the desire to keep her gaze locked on his lips. And she lost that battle, watching those full lips with a tiny scar just above the corner.
She gulped down the wheelbarrow of chalk in her throat.
Surely he’s not going to kiss me? Not in front of my parents. Not when we need to get the hell out of here.
So, why wasn’t she moving away from him, then? What’s wrong with me?
He paused, adjusted his lips’ path, and gave her a peck on the forehead, then chuckled softly.
A laugh she was sure no one else heard.
Anger burned in her, but it merged with something else and left h
er confused.
“Let’s go.” He peeled her hand off his biceps, removing her vise-like grip, but didn’t release it, and led the way down the sidewalk. “I know the perfect place for a nice, light, late dinner, Major. You’ll like it.”
Oh, he did not. No, he didn’t. He did.
I’m going to kill him.
He leaned close. “Would you rather just take your parents upstairs?” A very knowing gleam in his eyes mocked her.
“You’ll pay for this.” She gritted her teeth around the words.
“You owe me.” He lowered his voice. “Unless you want me to shed some light…”
She uttered a curse under her breath.
“Do you or not? It seems I’m saving your ass.”
“Fine. I owe you. Okay?”
“Long as you don’t forget.” There was a threat in his tone that made a delicious shiver run up her spine.
Chapter Seven
Dinner was served, though Rafe noticed the curvy Jax didn’t eat. She fretted, fumbled with her fork, and seemed ready to jump out of her seat.
He wasn’t going to lie, he enjoyed her discomfort. It was fun watching the little hellion ill at ease with her parents. This was a very different girl from the one with the attitude in the café.
He was so looking forward to watching her squirm even more. She was equally sexy when she fidgeted under her mother’s gaze as she’d been when she was indignant in the café because he wouldn’t leave when she ordered him to.
“How do you like Italy, Mrs. Vasquez?” Rafe took a bite of the calamari then put a morsel on his fork and offered it to Jax.
“Beth, Rafael. Don’t call me Mrs. Vasquez. That’s my mother-in-law’s name.” She laughed at the joke, though it was clear this wasn’t the first time she’d made it.
Jax refused to open her lips, keeping them in a tight line. Rafe nudged the fork closer in her direction.
She glared at him.
He winked, changed the fork’s course and slipped it in his mouth.
“I love Italy,” Beth Vasquez bubbled, oblivious to the undercurrent between him and Jax. “You speak English so well, Rafael,” she gushed. “How is that?”
“Boarding school.” Rafe didn’t get into the whole story: boarding school after boarding school, kicked out for attitude, fighting, disrespect. That was then.
“How wonderful. How did you and Jaclyn meet? How long have you been going out?”
“Beth.” Major cleared his throat. “What matters is she’s not with that loser who doesn’t want to work. The video game player.”
Rafe bit back a smile at the darkness of Jax’s gaze and the way a tiny vein in her temple ticked. Christ, he wanted to put his lips to that spot. His tiger had honed in on her heartbeat, and they were synchronized. Her pulse beat in Rafe’s heart and mind.
“Or shave. That boy never shaved…” Beth went on and on about Jax’s boyfriend. “And I don’t think she’d have the tattoos if it weren’t for him.”
Jax gasped.
Rafe tilted his head her way.
* * *
Jax bit back the remark that burned to come out. Not everything she did centered on Scotty.
“Tattoos?” Rafe glanced her way then looked at her mother.
Jax was torn between which one of them she’d rather strangle first.
She put her hand under the table on Rafe’s thigh and squeezed to get him away from the matter.
She squeezed and made an uh-uh sound so he’d get that this topic was off-fucking-limits.
Jesus. His leg muscles have muscles. His quads are tight.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Her mother’s mouth dropped open. She glanced from Jax to Rafe then back to Jax, as if she’d just realized this meant Rafe hadn’t seen her without her clothes on.
Her mother sighed.
Oh, great. Just fill that head up with this bullshit romantic fantasy.
To kill the subject, Jax let her fork fall to the wood floor with a loud clatter. She dropped beneath the table and fought the urge to punch Rafe in the knee.
She slipped out from under the table and resumed her seat, keeping her eyes glued to her plate. Everyone else was quiet, thankfully.
“So, back to the tattoos.” Rafe had a smile in his voice.
She looked up. His dark-blue eyes flashed with enthusiasm. A deep golden glow lit up their depths. It was so hard to be pissed at him when she gazed at his face.
Rafe turned his attention to her mother. “How many tattoos?”
“How long have you two been dating?” her mother asked. “I would have thought you’d seen at least one.”
“Not long,” Rafe said. “So, more than one?”
“Forever,” Jax grumbled.
“Sweet of you to say.” Rafe put his hand on hers.
His fingers wrapped around hers while she gripped the fork and quenched the urge to stab something.
Jax inhaled sharply. What was that? An energy flowed between them, a warmth traveling throughout her body. She glanced up at him to see if he felt it, to see if she was crazy. It felt like she was in a tunnel, and the tunnel was taking her somewhere farther and farther from where she was now. And the farther she went, the more she realized she wasn’t alone in the tunnel; Rafe was there with her.
“I’d have thought you’d at least seen the tiger,” Jax’s mother said, but it sounded like she was far away, her voice distant.
“Tiger?” Rafe never took his eyes off hers.
He simply uttered that one word, and his gaze locked on her as if he was a predator on the savannah and she his prey.
Jax fought the urge to shake her head to clear it.
No, she didn’t feel like prey, but she did feel like she belonged.
To whom? To what?
“What tiger?” Rafe’s voice had a timbre that resonated in her body, thrumming her nerve endings, touching areas that were sensitive and yet untouched. His piercing stare was still on her face.
“The tattoo on her neck.” Her father’s voice held the tinge of disapproval it always carried when it came to her tattoos.
This time, the disapproval didn’t sting like it usually did. The distance created by the tunnel insulated her.
Rafe still stared at her, and she at him. The world stopped existing for her except as white noise. A million people could have been here, but she couldn’t have concentrated on anything but him.
And this sensation.
“You have to show me.” Rafe spoke to her. He wasn’t talking to anyone else. He’d tuned everything out, too, she could tell, just as she had.
“You haven’t told him about the tiger?” Her mother’s voice. Still so far away.
“It’s just a tattoo,” Jax muttered under her breath.
“Oh, no. It’s so much more than that.” Her mother’s voice was high-pitched and way louder than she wanted it to be. “It’s a dream.”
“I want to hear all about it.” Rafe’s hand seemed to grow warmer against hers. The undercurrent was stronger, going through every part of her body down to the tip of each extremity.
“Nothing to tell, really.” Suddenly, Jax felt uncomfortable discussing it. She found herself wishing she’d never shared the dream with her mother, all those years ago.
“Jaclyn had a dream about a tiger,” her father butted in. “Then she went and saw some kind of palm reader, or tarot reader or something…”
“It was a psychic.” Her mother supplied the answer.
Jax couldn’t take her eyes off Rafe. He watched her, and there wasn’t a bit of disbelief or mockery on his face.
“What kind of tiger?” Rafe’s lips barely moved.
Jax’s heart skipped a beat. She could have sworn it did.
That question.
No one had ever asked what kind of tiger. Why had he asked that question?
“A white tiger.” She bit her lip, waiting for the laughter. Waiting to see the sardonic smile, a sneer, a scoff.
His face was still. His eyes traveled from
her eyes to her lips, then all over her face.
Chapter Eight
Rafe couldn’t move. The world stopped spinning. Someone had pressed a freeze button, and everything in the world had stilled except for Jax.
In Rafe’s mind, his tiger paced in tight, furious circles punctuated with snarls.
He was confused. He’d never felt this way before. Was this what vertigo was like? He wanted nothing more than to get away immediately and be alone with her.
Her pulse had skipped a few beats, as if her heart had paused. It had been the eeriest sensation. He’d never felt anything like this, another’s heart stopping and making his own pause. It was too synchronized, too confusing, and far too overwhelming.
He stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away, for his tiger focused on her as well. Her full bottom lip, tormented by her sharp teeth, was even redder from being bitten and chewed on, and it trembled slightly. She caught it between her teeth again.
Her eyes were dark, pain-filled windows that opened for him for a brief second.
He wanted in. He wanted her to open up and let him into that place.
That was home.
His tiger roared agreement.
“I want to know more about this dream and this white tiger,” he told her.
“Let me—” Beth began.
“Beth.” Rafe tore his eyes from Jax’s. “I’d love to hear it from Jax, later, after we’ve dropped you and the Major off at your hotel.”
“But we…” Beth looked at Jax. “I thought…”
“Mrs. Vasquez. Beth. You’ll be far more comfortable in a five-star hotel that’s a short cab ride away from Jax’s little apartment. My family keeps a suite there. You’re welcome to use it as long as you’re in town. Where’s your luggage?”
Beth gushed and bubbled her thanks.
“We had it taken to the cruise ship from the airport. There was no reason to haul all of that for one night. We appreciate the hotel room, son.” Major nodded at Rafe.
Rafe was concerned about how quiet Jax was. She wasn’t eating, and she’d withdrawn deep into herself.
Dinner was over, so Rafe handled the bill, accompanied by more gushing and bubbling from Beth Vasquez, while the Major said, “I’ve got the tab next time.”
