by Gunn, Jenna
She breathes and sits silently for a long minute. “Too long. Ten years.”
I lean her back, rest her narrow shoulders against my chest. Wrapping my arms around her is the only thing I want to do right now. “You’re a very strong woman, Anya.”
“I’m losing. I can’t keep up. I just want to get him back in rehab. Get rid of the debt he owes.”
I nuzzle against her temple. “He’s lucky to have you fighting for him, but this is dangerous.”
There’s a waver in her voice. “He’s all I’ve got.”
I want to tell her it’s not true. That I will be here for her.
It’s crazy. But it’s all I can think about.
Protecting her. Saving her. Helping her.
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll help you get him to rehab.”
She goes rigid in my arms. “I don’t know where he is.”
“I can go looking for him.”
Anya twists around in my arms, her eyes are wide, “That’s dangerous.”
“I don’t know what you think I am exactly, but I know how to handle myself.”
She twists away from me, slides off the bed. Stands staring at me for a handful of seconds. Her hands fidget with the belt on her robe. She cinches it more tightly. “You can’t put your life at risk for me.”
“You deserve to have more than this,” I toss my hand toward the living room. “You can’t go on living in a dilapidated house, letting your brother drag you down.”
She scowls and turns away.
“I don’t know the ins and outs of what happened here, but a young woman shouldn’t be put in this position. Your brother might be an addict, but he’s a selfish bastard too.”
“Stop.” She growls. “Just stop it. I know this.”
“Let me help you, Anya. You deserve better.”
“How?” She demands. “There’s no way out of this.”
My throat is tight, constricted with empathy. “There is. There’s always a way. We’ll start by finding him. Getting him in rehab. We need to see what this debt is about. Maybe he can help come up with the money. Does he work?”
She laughs, a bitter bark, “construction, day labor jobs when he’s not too fucked up.”
“Alright. That might give us somewhere to start.” I reach my hand for her, curve my fingers, calling her to me. “Come back here. We can figure this out in the morning. You should try to get some rest tonight.”
Her top teeth bite into her lip.
I grin. “Told you that you chew your lip when you’re uncertain.”
She rolls her eyes, but steps toward the bed. “I am tired.”
“Me too.” My everything is weary from the last day and a half. I open my arms as she slides onto the bed again.
“Thank you.” She murmurs against my chest. “I’ve never felt like anyone has been here for me.”
I hold her a little too hard. “I’ve got ya.”
She sits with her head pressed against my heart for a long time, her damp curls against my skin. My heart thuds a slow, painful beat.
What would it be like if she were free of all of this?
Her light would shine a thousand times brighter than it already does. I want it for her.
My mind goes a thousand places. Now if she will really let me help her... How will we find her brother? Things could be a lot worse than they seem with him. He told her fifteen thousand dollars, but that could be a lie.
She snaps my attention back when she yawns.
Her voice is soft, “Let’s get in bed, but as much as I loved what was going on in the kitchen earlier, I just want to curl up against you now and sleep.”
“There will be a right time to do that again, I promise. Why don’t you crawl in while I take a shower?”
When I return to the bedroom, her robe is hanging on the chair. My dirty mind pictures her soft peachy skin against her sheets.
All sorts of things start to happen beneath the towel around my waist. Down man. Down, it’s not the time for that.
I should probably sleep in my jeans again.
Anya turns beneath the sheets, and her soft eyes skim over me. “Are you coming to bed?”
“I am. But I’m having a moment here.”
“A bad moment, or a good moment?”
Shrugging, I reply “Just a moment. I have to ask, are you naked?”
Her lips turn up just a fraction. “I am.”
“You must think I’m a saint.”
She turns down the bedspread for me. “I think you’re a gentleman who knows how to be bad when the time is right.”
“I hope I can live up to that tonight.”
The twinkle in her eye grows. “I’ll keep you in check. Now come on. Get me warm.”
I groan. “God, woman. This is torture.”
“They say anticipation makes it even better.”
I drop my towel and flop into the bed. I give her my back. “You have to be the big spoon, because if I get near you with this, it’s game over.”
She wraps her arm around me, snuggles her naked breasts right up against my back. I growl. “Jesus, how am I supposed to sleep like this?”
Her giggles rub her nipples against me.
“Give me strength.” I mutter.
“Goodnight, Brandon.”
“Goodnight, Anya the torturer.”
I reach for the light. With a click, I plunge us into the inky darkness. She sighs.
I think about boring shit, like raking leaves, and pulling weeds, and cleaning gutters. Anything but the warm, soft woman pressed against me.
9
Brandon’s muscular body anchors me when I wake in the night. His deep, slow breathing soothes me into a relaxation I haven’t felt in a long time.
It’s been years since I shared a bed with a man.
I roll into him more, pressing myself hard against his back to push the world away, and huddle in the quiet darkness with his strength as my shield.
Even if it is just a few hours, I want to remember it.
He’s so warm. So strong. So many things I didn’t expect.
For so long I’ve been alone. Fighting to survive. Worrying at every turn. Can I trust his vow to help me?
I stopped believing in the calvary a long time ago. Friends with good intentions…they hung around until the real and ugly side of things showed up.
Brandon stirs and shifts from his side to his stomach, spreading his long legs across my bed. I rest my head on his shoulder, stroke my hand along the strong column of his back.
Everything about his body stirs mine. All the rest of him stirs my heart.
When I wake again, the bed is cool. Music drifts down the hall. It’s something I recognize. Flock of Seagulls.
Brandon found the music collection. And lord knows what else.
I shuffle down the hall in my robe. He’s in the middle of the sofa with CD’s and records spread around him. He’s got ACDC, Duran Duran, Rat, Lita Ford, Metallica, and a good dozen other bands laid out on the pink leather. There are thousands of albums in the house. This is just a tiny portion.
He doesn’t know I’m there for a second. I enjoy the view. His chest is bare and golden in the morning light.
He grins when he looks up. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning.” My voice is rough with sleep still. I stretch. “What time is it?”
“Seven. Want something to eat?”
“Uh. Sure. What have you been doing?”
“Just hanging out. Checking out this crazy music collection. I’ll scramble you some eggs. I saw that you have some frozen muffins and I took them out to thaw. You want one?”
I know I’m frowning when he kisses my brow. “You look confused.”
“I guess I am.”
He plants a kiss on my lips. “Get ready for work; I’ll make your breakfast.”
“Pinch me, okay, because I’m not sure what’s going on here.”
He laughs and smacks my ass.
When I return he’s got breakf
ast, including a glass of juice on the counter. “Kitchen faucet is loose. I’ll try to fix that.”
I giggle, “What are you?”
He slides into the chair across from me. “Into you.” He says. His voice is husky and so deep that a shiver races straight to my womb.
Pulling off a hunk of blueberry muffin, I try to ignore what’s stirring between us. “So no work for you today, huh?”
He grins, “I’m a free man. But I’m planning on looking for your brother. That’s my job for the time being.”
Frowning, I stir the eggs around on my plate. “You’re sure?”
He scoops my hand up off the table. “I’ll need a photo of him and any ideas of where he might be.”
I stop suddenly with the glass of juice to my mouth. “Wait, a minute… I remember something from my call with him. Where do they sell cotton candy?”
He purses his lips, “The fair? A carnival?”
I tap my temple, trying to stir up the vague ideas there. “There was this music in the background. A woman was trying to get people to sample the cotton candy.”
His thumb rubs over my knuckles. “Keep going, that’s definitely something to work from.”
“There were people talking and laughing. But it didn’t sound like a bar.”
“Outdoors then?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes narrow on me. “The boardwalk. They sell cotton candy on the boardwalk in San Diego.”
“Really?”
Brandon jumps up and returns with his phone. He puts it on the table between me and him. He asks Google to conduct a search. Five seconds later, the results show three places that sell cotton candy on the Ocean Beach boardwalk.
He smiles. “Bingo.”
“Holy cow! You gotta love Google.”
“I’ll print some photos and start there.”
Worry stabs into my gut. “Brandon. Please, please promise me you won’t do anything dangerous.”
His eyes shift, darken.
There’s something there I’m not certain of. Something completely beyond my control. It feels like I’m staring into the eyes of a wild animal that fools you into believing it’s tame.
Only I’m not fooled.
Brandon’s a man of his own mind. No matter what I urge him to do, I can tell harnessing him would be impossible.
He diverts the conversation like a champ. “Eat up, and tell me about all those albums.”
I know it’s a losing fight.
“They were my parent’s.”
“Is that your dad in the photos?”
“Yeah, he was the lead in a band called Armageddon Tide. That was the peak of his career, right before everything fell apart.”
Brandon’s brows go up. “I know that band. Your dad was Rocket?”
“The one and only.” I sigh. The ugly truth is more than I want to look at this morning.
“And your mom, she’s the blonde? She was in some other band.”
“Yep, Crystal Chandelier.”
His mouth falls open. “Shit.”
“Carmen Crystal, was her stage name.”
His grin tilts up one side of his mouth. “Girl. That’s some craziness. The lifestyle got them, I guess.”
I look away, “Burned out. Burned down.”
He glances around the black and white and faded neon kitchen. “That explains the house.”
“Does it?”
“The decor anyway. And the disrepair. Did they leave you this place?”
I finish the last bite of breakfast and carry the dishes to the sink. “No, they were going to lose it to the bank and some man they knew bought it and rented it back. To me, that is. That’s when I had to start paying the rent. I was seventeen.”
He surprises me by wrapping his arms around me as I wash the plate. “I told you that you were strong.”
“I’m just surviving.”
“You’ve done a good job.”
I chuckle. “Hardly. I am stuck in this cycle. I can’t go to school because I don’t have time. Plus the money. I can’t pull myself away from teaching surfing because the tips are good.”
“Art school?”
I freeze up, “How did you know?”
“The sketchbooks, the books on painting. But I don’t see any signs you’re painting or making art now.”
“I’m not. I don’t have the money. Paint supplies are expensive and going to school is so far out of my reach that I just sort of stopped.” Enough about that. Lamenting what I can’t have only pours salt into my wounds.
Turning, I wiggle my way into his arms. Wrap myself around his strong back. “What about you? Did you always know you’d be in Ocean Rescue?”
“It’s a legacy for our family. It’s never really been a choice. Plus, it’s something I could do with my—”His words drop off suddenly.
“You’re what?”
He pulls back. Moves across the kitchen. His eyes float away from me. His strong jaw flexes under his neatly trimmed beard. “There’s something you should know about me.”
My heart squeezes. What could make him pivot from happy and relaxed to...almost vulnerable?
“Tell me.” I encourage softly.
“Anya, I’ve got a severe learning disability. Dyslexia. It’s very hard for me to read and it’s hard as hell to learn in a traditional school environment.”
I sigh in relief. “You scared me.”
His eyes swing to me.
“I didn’t know what you were going to tell me. Do you think I care about that?”
He shrugs his thick shoulders. “Most people do.”
“Who?” I demand.
He shakes his head in a quick no.
Dammit. I want to know who makes him feel this way.
I walk toward him. He’s perfectly still as I lay my hand along his jaw. “I’m sorry if people have been cruel to you. I’ve felt that sting.”
The sadness in his eyes tears a hole right through the center of my heart. “You’re perfect to me.” I whisper.
He huffs. “Oh, I’m far from perfect.”
Pulling him down to me, I lay my lips against his. “So am I.”
10
Ocean Beach’s boardwalk is busy for a weekday. Tourists of every age and size wander aimlessly, without watching where they are going.
I dodge a few collisions with pedestrians that are window shopping, and manage to avoid a few kids on bicycles.
With one eye I follow the blinking dot on my phone’s GPS that’s taking me to the first location with cotton candy. When the app tells me I’ve arrived, I step back and look around. The storefront is a candy shop. Nothing rough or seedy about it.
When I push open the door, a wave of sugary air hits me. The cases are lined with chocolates of every type. A rosy face, plump employee greets me.
“Sorry to bother you, but have you seen this man?”
She drops her glasses down onto her nose. “Can’t say I have.”
“Thanks. I guess I’ll take a few of those.” I point to something that’s dark chocolate.
Her face brightens as she moves to the case. “Oh, the dark chocolate cherry truffles are one of our most popular. You’ve picked a winner. How many, sir?”
“Five please.” Three for me, two for Anya. But hell, I don’t even know if she likes chocolate. I do know one thing she likes...my mouth on her nipples.
Shit. Dude, get yourself under control.
Stop fantasizing about her nipples while you’re looking for her damn brother.
While the woman is ringing me up, I ask, “Could I leave a photo with my number? I’m helping look for my girlfriend’s brother. She’s worried about his safety.”
“Oh, that’s sad. Of course, dear.” She takes the photo and pins it to a bulletin board behind the counter. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. What if… no, there’s no reason a drug addict would be in a nice chocolate shop.
I draw strange looks for the next hour as I ask nearby shop owners, showing them the photo. No lea
ds so far.
I might be barking up the wrong tree.
Walking the long boardwalk, I hit all the places that sell cotton candy, the ones in Google and the ones I find on my own. One shop is playing music outside. A wild-looking girl with half a head of purple hair eyes me. “Sample of something sweet, handsome?”
Surprising her, I say, “Sure, why not.”
She passes over a cardboard stick with a whirl of blue cotton candy on it. “You must see a lot of interesting things going on out here.”
Snapping her gum, she bobs her head. “Oh yeah. It’s a freak show here, especially after dark.”
“How late are you guys open?”
“Ten normally, but if sales are good, then we don’t close up. I’ve been here ‘til one in the morning before.”
“Lot of locals hang out down here at night?”
The girl twists at a lock of her hair. “Lord, yes. Too many of them.”
I slide one of the 2X3 photos from my pocket. “Would you happen to know if Cameron hangs around down here?”
It’s a small tell, but I see her eyes flicker. Just for a second. She’s seen him before.
The girls shrug her shoulders. “Not sure. He looks like any one of a thousand other deadbeats around here.”
I pocket the photo.
She chews her gum furiously for a second, her eyes cutting to me then to the people walking by. “He in trouble with the Po Po or something?”
“His sister is worried about him.”
She hisses a breath. “You’re Johnny Law, aren’t you?”
I chuckle. “Do I look like a cop?”
Taking an appraising look, she says, “Maybe.”
A blonde girl saunters over. Loops her arm around the purple girl. “Who’s this?”
“A cop, maybe.”
“I’m a lifeguard, I’m not a cop.”
The blonde’s lips twist up in a grin. “You could save me from my dry spell.”
I’m sure my face looks weird. Ugh.
“I’ve got a girlfriend.” I mutter.
“Too bad. Well, you know where to find me if you want something spicy on the side.”
Any thought of leaving my number vanishes. I DO NOT need a sext from her, ever.
“I’ll remember that.” I mutter as I back away.
