THIRST

by Deborah Bladon

  “I’m doing everything I can to have some time with my best friend.” I shoot her a smile. “I’m eager to see the sketches so show me.”

  Her eyes brighten. “I think you’re going to love them, Dex. I’ll use the ladies’ room while you get us some water.”

  I get up from the couch and head to the kitchen.

  I can’t keep my eyes from sneaking a peek at Rocco’s apartment.

  He’s on his feet. His hands are shoved into the pockets of the pants he was wearing earlier at his office. His dress shirt is still as freshly pressed as it was then.

  He’s standing by the window, but he’s not looking at me.

  His gaze is cast to the sky.

  The men seated behind him are laughing. Poker chips are being pushed to the center of the circular table and cards are being tossed aside.

  Rocco doesn’t turn when a man with black hair places his hand on his shoulder.

  The words he’s saying to Rocco don’t get any response out of him.

  He studies Rocco’s profile for a few seconds before he pats his chest and walks away.

  Once he’s gone, Rocco finally looks in my direction.

  I raise my hand in a wave, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  The sadness cast over his expression answers the unspoken question on my lips. He doesn’t see me.

  Rocco may be staring right at me, but he’s looking straight through me.

  Chapter 26

  Rocco

  I sit on one of the folding chairs next to the poker table. I store all of it in the second bedroom and drag it out for poker nights with my friend, Dylan Colt, and whoever else we can round up. Tonight it was two guys Dylan met through work.

  “You’d think you could let me win one time, you selfish son-of-a-bitch.” Dylan slides into his suit jacket. “Would it be so damn hard to throw me a bone once in a while?”

  I laugh at the expression on his face. It doesn’t match his words. He’s smiling through his faux anger filled rant.

  “Fuck you, Dylan.”

  “Nice.” He shoves a hand through his black hair. “I just handed over a thousand of my hard-earned dollars and this is how you treat me.”

  I made bank tonight, coming out of the game three thousand ahead of when I went in. Everyone else left with an empty wallet.

  “You need to spend more time practicing on that app on your phone.” I push on an empty glass tumbler. “Or you could quit the games.”

  “And miss seeing your beautiful face?” He pats my shoulder. “We need to hang out more than once a month, Rocco.”

  We do. Dylan is an old friend. Our stories date back to his law school days.

  He’s a divorce attorney; some consider him the best in the city.

  “You know where I live.” I sweep my hand in the air. “You’re always welcome here.”

  He checks his phone before he pockets it. “We should head out of the city for a few days. Remember those trips to Vegas we used to take?”

  How could I forget?

  If Dylan had the time, he’d tag-along whenever I hit Sin City for a tournament. Those days are long gone.

  “You want to go to Vegas?” I question with a lift of my brow. “Aren’t you the guy who never takes a weekend off? I’m surprised you even show up for these games.”

  Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I am that guy. I have to go to Boston for a few days for work. You should come.”

  “And do what?” I move to stand. “Take notes for you?”

  “We’ll shoot some pool, eat a few good meals.” His shoulders loosen. “Unwind. Decompress. Call it whatever the hell you want.”

  I call it bullshit because that’s what it is.

  He saw something in me tonight that no one else did. The ghosts of Dylan’s past haunt him. Mine are less forgiving. They eat at my soul.

  “You can break up with New York for a couple of days.” He laughs to lighten the somber mood that’s crept into the room. “When’s the last time you got on an airplane?”

  Two months ago. I flew to Los Angeles and hiked the canyons on my own for a week.

  Dylan doesn’t know. I don’t run every last minute trip by him.

  “I’m working on a new deal.” I steal a glance at Dexie’s apartment. “I can’t leave the city right now.”

  His gaze wanders over my shoulder and out the window. “Does it involve the pink-haired bombshell I saw looking over here?”

  “It’s too early to say.” I shrug. “Time will tell.”

  “Tell time to hurry the hell up.” He taps me in the center of the chest. “At least one of us should be happy.”

  He’s right, but fate has a hand in that and history has taught me, you don’t get a choice over what life deals you.

  ***

  You never know what’s waiting for you just around the corner.

  In my case, it’s Dexie Walsh at midnight in a pair of white shorts, a blue T-shirt and red high heels.

  I’m just exiting the bodega with a bottle of orange juice when I spot her sprinting past with a sketchpad in her hand.

  “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath when she comes to a dead spot. “No, no, please, no.”

  “Dexie?”

  She whips around to face me. Panic washes over her expression.

  “What’s wrong?” I take a step closer to her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “My friend, Sophia, came over.” She waves the sketchpad in the air. “She forgot this, so I ran down to give it to her, but the car was already at the corner, and by the time I got there, it sped away.”

  Her hair is falling softly around her shoulders. Her face has been scrubbed clean of the scant amount of make-up that she does wear. She’s glowing in the pale light being cast on her from the bodega.

  “I can get an Uber.” I tug my phone from the pocket of my pants. “If you’re lucky, the driver will beat Sophia to her own house.”

  Shuffling back and forth on her feet, she shakes her head. “I’ll give it to her tomorrow. I can stop by her office on my way to work.”

  I scratch my chin. “You’re not upset about the sketchpad?”

  Her eyes wander to the entrance of her building. “I can’t go home. I ran out so fast that I forgot my keys and my phone.”

  “If you need to make a call you can use mine.” I offer it to her.

  She looks at it, but her hands don’t make a move. “I don’t know my super’s number. Harold’s contact info is in my phone and that’s in my apartment. Shit, shit and double shit.”

  “Triple shit,” I chime in with a grin.

  I should tell this gorgeous woman that I have Harold’s number, but I conveniently forget to mention it. He’s a friend of one of my uncles. I gave him a temporary job before he scored the one in her building.

  “What am I going to do?” She rubs her hand over her eyes.

  I rake a hand through my hair. I shouldn’t. I fucking shouldn’t suggest it, but I do because it’s what I want most in my life at this moment. “Spend the night with me, Dexie.”

  Chapter 27

  Dexie

  I blink. I don’t know what to say to that.

  I can’t tell if he wants me to stay with him because he’s a good neighbor or if he’s picturing us in his bed together.

  I’ve pictured it. I’m doing it again now.

  I shake the mental image of Rocco’s head between my thighs from my thoughts and focus on the problem at hand.

  “My apartment door is unlocked.” I take the few short steps to my building. “My wallet and handbags are in there. Anyone can walk right in and take whatever they want.”

  I’m an idiot.

  “Why did I forget my keys?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I put on my shoes and just took off after Sophia. I should have stopped to think.”

  I sense Rocco is behind me when I try and tug open the lobby door. It’s locked. Why wouldn’t it be?

  I look over at the intercom panel. I could press any random button to ask o
ne of my neighbors to let me in, but it would be futile.

  The panel is broken. I know that because Sophia tried it earlier and it didn’t work. She had to call me on my cell so I would buzz her in.

  “Did you close your apartment door when you left?”

  “I did.”

  “Your neighbors will assume you’re fast asleep inside.” His voice is soft and soothing. “I don’t think there’s much of a chance of anyone robbing you tonight.”

  That’s easy for him to say. I could hear his keys jingling in his pocket when he walked toward me.

  “I need to get up there.” I glance up and down the sidewalk hoping that someone who lives in my building will show up.

  “My offer is still open.” He takes a step closer to me. “You can stay with me for the night and we’ll get this sorted in the morning.”

  “I can’t stay with you,” I argue softly.

  “Why not?”

  He’s persistent, but I know that it’s not coming just from a place of desire. I see the concern that’s blanketing his expression.

  I could go home with him and stay up all night staring into my apartment. If I do that, I’ll at least feel more secure in knowing that I’m not being robbed blind.

  A burst of wind whips over the sidewalk sending a shiver through me.

  Rocco reaches for my arm. “A storm is blowing in. You can’t stand here all night. Come home with me.”

  I look at his hand. His touch is gentle, his voice comforting. I nod slowly. “I’ll come home with you.”

  He leans forward, his breath whispering over my cheek. “You can trust me. You know that, don’t you?”

  I know I can trust him. What I don’t know is whether I can trust myself not to climb into his bed.

  ***

  I had no idea.

  I had no clue that Rocco could see everything in my apartment so clearly. I left the overhead lights on when I slid my feet into the red heels in my rush to catch Sophia.

  My entire living space is fully illuminated.

  I glance at the half-eaten bowl of popcorn and the empty glasses next to it on the kitchen counter. My wallet and phone are right where I dropped them on my bed when I got home from work.

  “You have a clear view into my life,” I say under my breath.

  I know he can’t hear me. I’m alone in his living room.

  I’ve seen this space before from my vantage point across the street. When we first walked in, Rocco directed me down a short corridor that leads to this room. A small kitchen is on left, and what I assume to be two bedrooms and a bathroom are to the right.

  His furnishings are understated. The large brown leather couch against the far wall looks comfortable. A chair in the corner with a lamp perched above it would make an ideal reading nook.

  The poker table and the folding metal chairs around it crowd the rest of the room.

  I tug on the back of one of the chairs to bring it closer to the window. I sit so I can face my apartment.

  “I see that you’re already on surveillance duty,” Rocco says as he rounds the corner.

  I straighten and glance back to catch a wide grin on his face. He’s changed his clothes. Dark sweatpants hang low on his hips and a white T-shirt covers his muscular chest.

  I kick off my shoes and plant my feet on the windowsill. “I thought I should get comfortable since I’ll be spending all night glued to this window.”

  He moves to stand next to me, his hands falling to his hips. “Are you hungry? Did you eat anything besides popcorn for dinner?”

  It should bother me that he knows what I was snacking on earlier, but it’s mildly endearing. “I’m good.”

  “There are some sandwiches in the fridge.” He motions toward the kitchen. “Leftover pizza too. Everyone brings something to poker night.”

  I glance back at the table. It’s littered with empty glasses, plates and poker chips. “You won, didn’t you?”

  “I always do.”

  I gaze up into his blue eyes. “I play.”

  “Poker?” A smile teases his mouth.

  I nod, trying to hide the grin on my lips. “I’m good.”

  “I believe you.” He reaches for the back of my chair. “Maybe one night when you’re not staking out your apartment, you can join me for a game.”

  I bite back a laugh. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll be right back.” His fingers trail over my shoulder sending goose bumps crawling up my neck.

  I hadn’t thought about what it would be like when I accepted his invitation to spend the night here. I’m already squirming in my seat from his touch and we’re just getting started.

  Chapter 28

  Rocco

  I walk into my living room to the vision of a blonde-haired beauty staring out my window.

  Her fingers are tugging on one of the pink-streaked strands of her long hair.

  Guilt is still nagging at me. She doesn’t need to be here. I could wake Harold and have him open the lobby door of her building for her, but I’m not selfish often.

  I need this.

  “I made coffee,” I announce as I approach her from behind, not wanting to startle her.

  Her shoulders still jump in surprise at the sound of my voice. “You did?”

  I hand her one of the large white mugs before I pull a folding chair across the floor. I take a seat next to her, wrapping my hands around my mug.

  She looks down at the cup she’s holding. “I thought I smelled coffee brewing, but I didn’t know if it was my mind playing a cruel trick on me.”

  I laugh. “It’s real. Two sugars and a splash of cream for you; extra, extra hot for me.”

  She presses her lips together, her big brown eyes searching my face.

  I offer her a quick explanation, so she doesn’t assume that I spend all my time studying every nuance of her life. “I overheard you at Palla’s the other day. I found some cream in my refrigerator. My brother takes his coffee with a load of cream and no sugar. He knows to bring it with him when he stops by for a coffee.”

  “You have a brother?” She flashes me a wide grin.

  I blow on the coffee and take a small sip. “Two.”

  “Younger or older?” Her head tilts to the side.

  I could get used to this; easy conversations over coffee late at night with the wind whipping the night air into surrender. It’s soft howl the perfect backdrop to the darkness outside.

  “I’m the oldest,” I go on, “I have a sister too. She’s the youngest.”

  “Four kids?” Her eyes widen. “What was that like growing up?”

  Hell. My father could barely function after my mom died of cancer. He’d drag himself from his bed, go to work, rinse and repeat until he collapsed under the weight of his grief.

  That’s when Marti stepped in and fired the babysitters, worked out a childcare schedule with the Calvetti family and told my dad it was all right for him to love again.

  He did.

  He met a beautiful woman. Irena. She brought her daughter, Chloe, into our lives and our family was reborn with a framed picture of my mom front and center on the mantle over the fireplace.

  Death stole Irena from us too.

  “I have few complaints.” I rest my hand on my thigh. “What about you? Brothers? Sisters?”

  “A sister,” she confesses softly. “She’s younger than me.”

  My eyes catch on her bare legs. They’re outstretched in front of her. Her skin is soft and tanned. It’s flawless except for a small circular scar below her right knee.

  “What happened there?” I reach out to touch it but stop myself. Instead, I circle my finger above it.

  Her eyes follow the path of my hand. “What?”

  “The scar.”

  She bends her knee. The movement shifts the fabric of her shorts to expose even more of her upper thigh. “It’s embarrassing.”

  I swallow more coffee. “It can’t be more embarrassing than how I got my scar.”

  Her brows rise i
n surprise as she studies my face. “You have a scar? Where?”

  “You go first,” I insist. “What happened to your knee, Dexie?”

  She rubs her fingers over the jagged edge of the scar. “This was my last attempt to learn how to ride a bike. When I fell, my knee landed on a rock. The scar is a constant reminder that some people aren’t meant for two-wheeled transportation.”

  “You don’t know how to ride a bike?”

  “Do you?” She shoots back with a grin, her hand flying in the air between us. “No, wait. Of course you do. You’re one of those men who is amazing at everything, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes widen when her gaze drops from my face to my chest and then my lap. I’ve been semi-hard since I sat down next to her. It’s her beautiful smile, those legs and the scent of her skin that has me all wound up.

  “I’m amazing at the things that matter the most,” I say in a low tone.

  She brings the mug to her lips, but she doesn’t take a sip. She holds it there in her shaking hands while her breathing evens.

  I lean back in the chair and shift my focus from her face to her apartment.

  I wanted her here. I’ve fantasized about her in my bed since the first night I saw her getting into hers.

  I can’t push. I won’t, but being this close to a woman who isn’t ready for me to touch her, is a sweet type of torture I’ve never experienced before.

  Chapter 29

  Dexie

  I try to keep my eyes off the growing bulge in his lap.

  My experience with penis size isn’t extensive. I’ve had fun with a few men, but I doubt that any of them could compare with what’s inside Rocco’s sweatpants.

  I shake that thought from my mind and take another sip of the coffee he made me.

  I didn’t expect it or the details about his family.

  I half-expected him to try and use his masculine charm to persuade me to sleep with him.

  He’s more of a gentleman than I thought.

  “How long have you lived in this apartment?” I glance at his profile.

  We’ve sat in silence for the past fifteen minutes. A brief thunderstorm passed overhead, but only a sprinkle of rain fell before it rolled on.