by Gunn, Jenna
Yeah, no.
Not ready to have that conversation. Anya says there’s nothing going on, but I know Bishop well enough to know I’m the last person he’d want hitting on his friend.
That leaves Tyson and Bryce. Bryce is in bed with his fiancé right now… so that pretty much leaves Ty.
Who knows what he’s up to at this hour?
I’m feeling as satisfied as I can with the decision when the young jailer appears again. “Archer.”
I rise and shake out my legs. They’re halfway uncooperative as I follow him out of the cell and down a long hallway. “No cuffs?”
“You’re a free man.”
My brows shoot up. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”
When he opens the big door leading to the lobby, I see what I completely didn’t expect to see—Anya standing with her arms tightly folded over her body, a deep worried crease on her brow.
I know it’s stupid, but I smile as I approach. “Got any one-liners? I could use one right about now.”
She launches herself into my arms. Wrapping her tiny body around mine.
Whoa. I didn’t expect that either.
I’ll take this over a one-liner any day.
Anya squeezes me hard, buries her face against my chest. She mumbles something about, “Idiot.”
When she finally looks up at me, her eyes are bright with tears.
I touch her warm cheek. “Hey, I’m fine. Thank you for bailing me out.”
She pinches my arm, and her smile slowly returns, “I had to come get you before some man turned my date into his boyfriend.”
I ruffle her hair, “Not a chance of that. Let’s get out of here.”
Anya clings to my hand fiercely as we walk across the parking lot. The car chirps and flashes when she unlocks it. She opens the passenger door and I pull her around to face me, “Hey. You asked me if I was okay, but more importantly, are you okay? I know that had to scare the hell out of you.”
She shudders as she draws a breath. “I am still shaky. Thank you for protecting me.”
I pull her to me, wrap her up tight in my arms.
“Of course I protected you. You don’t know the Archers well if you think I wouldn’t. I would have killed him if I had to.”
She gasps. “Never say that. Please. Never ever say that. Promise me you will not.”
I tilt her chin up so I can look at her angelic face. “You don’t seem to understand, if that man was going to hurt you, I was going to hurt him. Until he couldn’t.”
The vulnerability in her eyes gut-punches me.
What is it about this woman?
I’ve never felt this way before. I just want to take her away from the world and never let anyone hurt her.
My mouth is on her before I can stop my freight train of desire. She moans, a tiny sound, as I devour her.
When I kissed her back at the bar, I was a gentleman. Now I’m just a primal animal with a need to possess. And that faint tremor in her makes something dark roar to life inside of me.
A bolt of hunger pierces into my gut, so strong it almost drives me to my knees.
Can a man be possessed by women in a matter of a few short minutes together?
No. It can’t be.
I force myself to step back. Holy hell.
I need to get this under control. Right. Damn. Now.
Anya’s lips are bright and swollen from my kiss. Her breathing is just as ragged as mine.
“Let’s go.” I take the key fob from her shaking hand. I guide her to the passenger seat and quickly move around to the driver’s side.
The Prius is silent, but my banging heart isn’t as I drive. Anya doesn’t say a word. I wonder if she’s as uncertain about what’s about to happen as I am. My goddamn body is screaming. The adrenaline freshly renewed in my cells. My brain is trying its best to put the brakes on.
I lower my hand to her leg and close my fingers around the narrow column of her thigh. Her hand flutters then comes to rest over top of mine. I hook my thumb over her warm fingers.
It’s impossible not to touch her.
“I know that man was leaving your house earlier this evening. He almost ran over me.”
She winces, “I know. I’m sorry. I saw someone nearly get hit. I realized it was one of you brothers after you were walking away.
“Are you going to tell me about your brother and why this guy is after you two?”
Her leg goes stiff beneath my fingers. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She doesn’t say anything, when I glance her way, her eyes are sad. She’s a thousand miles away.
I grit my teeth for a few miles but can’t hold back. “Anya, something bad is happening, and you are caught in the crossfire. This is dangerous and I’m not letting you off the hook without telling me what’s happening.”
“You aren’t my—”
“No, I’m not. But I give a flying fuck and so does my brother. If you think he’ll be any easier to deal with, then you are dead wrong.”
She jerks her hand back from mine. “You can’t tell Bishop. Please don’t involve someone else in this. The fewer the people, the better. ”
I turn the car into her driveway. The lights shine on the old dilapidated rancher. One shutter hangs crookedly beside a cracked window. I’ve seen the place a million times, but now that I really look, it’s obvious there’s more of a story here.
Does she live here alone? All signs point to the fact that Anya has no one dependable in her life.
Which makes me even more determined to get to the bottom of this.
“You’re not getting out of talking. And Bishop is going to know if I have anything to do with it. You need someone to look out for you.”
She sighs. “Brandon, I’m exhausted. Haven’t I been through enough for one night already? I can’t talk about this right now.”
Her head drops back onto the headrest. “I’m serious. I can’t tonight.”
I watch her, waiting for her to break under my unrelenting gaze.
But she doesn’t.
My fingers drum on the wheel.
So she’s a stubborn thing.
“Don’t make me regret bailing you out.”
My teeth grind. “Why did you do it?”
“Because you wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”
“I’m a big boy. I’m the one who got in a fight. And I’d do it again without a second thought.”
She turns to me, her eyes heavy with a thousand worries.
“Don’t let my troubles turn into more troubles for you. You’ve already done enough. You should go home. Forget this.”
“It’s too late. You’re stuck with me. Plus, I owe you money now.”
“You’re a reckless fool, Brandon Archer.” She reaches for the door handle. Silently, she slides from the car without a backward glance. The car lights cast her shadow on the house. She uses another key from her pocket to unlock the door.
I follow her, silently, brooding. I know one thing. I will not be satisfied until I really know what’s going on here.
She drops her key into a bowl on the side table, kicks off her boots. In a tired voice she says, “I’m going to bed.” She’s swallowed by a dark hallway.
I’m left standing in the living room, lit only by a nightlight in an outlet. The room is filled with worn out furniture. The walls are tattered with holes at just the right height for a fist.
It’s a dive. All signs point to there being a lot more story than meets the eye.
In the distance, the toilet flushes. And I can picture her crawling into bed. I consider the couch, for a second but I want to be closer. To know she’s safe.
A nightlight illuminates the hallway bathroom. In the dim light, I shower the jail stench off of me and use a towel from the rack. I put my jeans back on and walk barefoot to the silent bedroom.
There’s a small bump under the blanket. Anya’s curled up with her back to me. My heart jolts at ho
w vulnerable she looks all alone in the bed. “I’m going to sleep in here so I know you’re safe.”
She grumbles something.
I pull a pillow from the bed and stretch out on the floor.
Anya suddenly sits up. “What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep.”
“On the floor?”
“Sure. It’s a thousand times more comfortable than that jail cell.”
“Get up here, dummy. But I don’t care how good you kiss, I’m not having sex with you tonight.” She flops back down and pulls the blanket up to her ear.
I peel myself off the floor.
What man would turn down the chance to sleep on the bed next to her instead of the floor? Not me.
The bed dips under my weight. I lay flat on my back on top of the blanket.
“Thank you, for everything.” She whispers.
“You’re welcome, Anya.”
The darkness winds its way around us. The night sounds from outside are the only noises.
My insides twist and turn as I recall every vivid detail from the night. The way her pretty blue eyes looked at me. The way she tastes. The raw dangerous aggression I felt when the man approached us.
I feel like I need to run ten miles, or hit a punching bag a thousand times to release this tangled mess inside me.
But I don’t move. I lay as still as I can. Letting her rest.
I’m staring into the darkness, hoping I can doze off when she stirs beside me. Obviously awake.
Maybe she is as jacked up as me?
Her soft words reach me through the darkness. “Brandon, would you let me sleep against you? For some reason, I can’t shake off this jitteriness.”
I lay my hand carefully on her shoulder, “Come here.”
She rolls into me then, nestles against my shoulder, tucking herself under my chin. I lace my fingers into her soft curls, “I’m right here if you need me.”
She nods and murmurs something.
Some of the frustration leaves my body as it’s replaced by feelings I don’t understand and can’t name.
It feels good to have her in my arms. Safe.
The soft rhythm of sleep finally takes over her breathing.
And I’m left alone with my spinning brain. For so long I’ve been resigned to being alone because of who I am, the guy who can’t read worth a damn. But...could I have what my twin just found for himself?
Of course, he can read with the best of them, and did great in school, when I can do neither.
But god. I want this to be something. For me, finally.
Shit. How is it possible to know in a matter of minutes that everything about this woman speaks to me? From the peachy pink of her full lips to the delicate length of her neck, to the full round breasts she had pressed against me. And that’s just the outside. She’s like a shiny bright star of energy on the inside too.
Whatever it is, it’s stirred something deep inside of me. My most primitive male essence wants to claim her and protect her.
I don’t know when, but blackness finally comes for me.
An alarm startles me awake. I blink open my gritty eyes and try to focus on the narrow strip of light that’s coming in beside the curtain. Anya stretches against me.
Suddenly she leaps from the bed. My brain tries to reconcile what’s happening. I sit up and scrub my hand across my bruised face. The bathroom door slams before I have time to say a word.
3
The reminder that last night wasn’t a weird dream is standing outside my bathroom door when I open it.
A mixture of frustration and disbelief hit me when I see his fascinating blue gaze roaming over my face.
If only it was that simple...
Why can’t I be like a normal twenty something?
I’d love it if this man were coming out of my bedroom all sleepy eyed and warm for another reason—not for protecting me from something my brother brought to my doorstep. And not with a big bruise on his cheek that he got because of me.
Why can’t I be like other twenty-seven-year-olds?
But I’m not. I’m the one who’s always rescuing someone. Cameron has been my responsibility since I was twelve. Back then it was fixing mac and cheese for him when my parents didn’t show up for days.
Now it’s untangling his dangerous mistakes.
So here I am staring at the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, only to be reminded that he’s here this morning because of the worst thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
The heat and protectiveness in his eyes stabs me right in the damned heart. Bad timing. For so many reasons.
“I’ve got to go. I can’t be late for work, I cannot lose my job.”
Brandon starts jamming his arms into the bloody t-shirt he had on last night. “Yeah, I need to ride with you, I’m due at the station in fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t wear that. Something of Cameron’s will fit you.” I take off at a sprint to Cam’s bedroom. As I run back by Brandon, I throw the shirt his direction then plow into the kitchen. I snatch a juice and yogurt from the fridge.
The water is running in the bathroom. “Come on!” I yell.
A few seconds later we’re in my car and humming down the road with dead silence stretching between us. I haven’t a clue what to say. And apparently neither does he.
As I pull into the lot at my work, one of Brandon’s brother’s drives by. The Archers all work for Ocean Rescue. The office is just a block away, so we could run into any one of them.
My eyes go wide. Crap, crap, crap.
Brandon watches in the mirror, “Don’t worry, he didn’t look over.”
“Thank god,” I breathe. “You cannot involve them in this. My brother’s mess is not something you and your brothers need to be tangled up in.”
The air beside me bristles. “What is his mess?”
I slam the car in park and leap out the door, juggling my breakfast and my bag. “Nothing. Nothing you need to know about.” I stop for a second, my heart pounds like a malfunctioning jackhammer in my chest. “Please, Brandon. Please don’t say anything to Bishop.”
He watches me over the roof of the car. I try to swallow, but suddenly my throat locks up with worry. Brandon eases his door closed. “I’m already in this. We need to talk later.”
I take a step back. Shake my head in a quick no, then, like a coward, I turn and jog off toward work.
The boss, Rich, glances at me when I bust through the door. He tilts his head at me. “You’re never late, what’s up?”
“I’m not late now.”
“Yeah, but coming in five minutes early is late for you.”
“I went to Mave’s birthday last night.”
He grins. “Ah, I forgot. So that’s the reason two people called out sick.”
I groan. Great. I’ll have all their work plus mine. “Perfect,” I mutter.
“I’ve moved all their surf lessons to your book. More money!” He says cheerily. “And I know how you like money.”
I shove my sweatshirt into the locker. “Not like, I need money.” I remind him. I pull one of my wetsuits out and start to turn it right side out.
His eyes have turned soft in a puppy dog-father figure sort of way. “We all need money and like it too, honey. Thanks for being so dependable, by the way.”
Rich is a dream boss. Patient to a fault. It’s been easy to work for him the last four years. I won’t forget that he even floated me an advance on my check without asking why. I was too embarrassed to tell him I needed money to pay for a copay on Cameron’s Rehab.
I shimmy into my wetsuit with one hand as I gulp down the yogurt and juice with the other. Not my ideal breakfast, but it will have to do. Students are waiting.
When I walk into the front of the shop, I’m still rubbing in my sunscreen when I walk into the waiting area. Twelve sets of eyes swivel my way. Everyone is in matching wetsuits that make us all look a bit like silly ninjas.
I pump up my energy, and pu
t on the best face I can muster for as tired as I am. “Good morning. Everyone suited up and ready to have some fun?”
The students offer various agreements with eyes holding a mix of curiosity and excitement.
“Bring your water, sunscreen, and a snack if you like. Lock everything else up in a locker. We just have a short walk to the place where our boards are stored on the beach.”
Holding the door open, I take in the group as they pass. It's a much bigger lesson than usual. I’ve taught more, but I know I’ll be exhausted by the end of the day. Thankfully, everyone seems pretty fit and excited. That goes a long way when you’re going to be splashing around in the water with surfboards.
The group follows me like ducklings as we cross the parking lot and the boardwalk. I lead them to the big kiosk that holds our teaching boards. I divide the group in half by height and size. “You guys take one of those bigger boards. You guys take one of these slightly smaller boards.” I do a quick demo on how to carry a board and remind them to watch where they are swinging it so they don’t take out any innocent bystanders.
Before long, I’ve got the group practicing their “pop-up” on the sand and pretending they are standing on boards. I get a few laughs out of them with my wise cracks. Normally I’m a lot more playful, but my mind is heavy. There isn’t enough room in there for my brother, my friend Bishop, and my new cause for worry—Brandon.
I try to keep my focus up as the students carry their boards into the water. The next phase of the lesson is to give a demonstration of how to practice catching waves.
This is the fun part. Soon I’m caught up in a splashing, laughing three- ring circus. I wade around in chest deep water keeping an eye on everyone and offering tips. My body tires quickly and I know it’s stress and lack of sleep that has me feeling like there are ten pound weights on each of my legs.
It’s eleven forty-five when I lead the soggy group back toward the shop. There’s lots of happy chatter and storytelling going on behind me as they follow along, dripping saltwater on the pavement.
Everyone caught a wave. We made some memories.
That usually means better tips. Which certainly helps with the meager wage I earn. But it’s the only thing I really know how to do. I know there are jobs that pay more out there for someone without college. But this one keeps my sanity, too. Time in the ocean is my balm. My escape as well as my sustenance. I can’t imagine working in an office. I’d wither like a plant without light.
