Spin (Boosted Hearts Book 2)

by Sherilee Gray

  As nice as Hugh’s fairytale sounded, Darcey wasn’t Shay. The two women couldn’t be more different, and right now, his brother was buried so deep in unicorn farts he couldn’t see which way was up.

  “That sounds sweet and all. Unfortunately, not everyone gets their princess, asshole. But I thank you for your sage advice. You know, from all your relationship experience.”

  Before Shay, Hugh had avoided relationships like ringworm. Now, all of a sudden, he was an expert.

  “This is true. Not everyone does. But if you don’t work your ass off to get that happily ever after, you can bet it sure as fuck will never happen.”

  “Who says I want that? You’re assuming I want to end up like you.”

  Hugh jerked back like his words hadn’t made sense. “Why the hell wouldn’t you?”

  His brother was genuinely confused, so damn loved up he wanted everyone else to have the same. And yeah, Joe was lying to himself and Hugh. He wanted that—of course he did—but no way was he owning up to it. He’d had enough humiliation the last few days, fuck you very much.

  “I think my princess just sees the frog, and she’s right. I’m sure as hell not anyone’s prince.”

  Hugh let out a long, rough breath, ready to jump into another monologue about the virtues of love. “Joe…”

  Joe stood, cutting him off. “Give it a rest, Dr. Phil. Besides all this talking in fairytale metaphors is giving me a goddamn migraine.”

  Hugh stood, as well, and lifted his hands in surrender. “Whatever, man. Just know I’m here if you need me.”

  Yeah, he knew. He’d always known. That’s why he loved the big bastard so damn much. Why he’d do whatever he had to do to repay him for all he’d done. Ignoring the pang in his chest, he winked. “Thanks, sweetie. You’re the best.”

  “Dick,” Hugh grumbled as they headed out to the workshop.

  “More like the giant pork-sword of death.”

  “Jesus.”

  “The Italian sausage lance of love.”

  “Quit it.”

  “The frankfurter Claymore of fulfillment.”

  “No more.”

  “The honey-pot slayer of…” One of Hugh’s giant, meaty palms whacked him upside the head. “Ow! Shit.”

  His brother scowled. “I get it, I’ll leave you to wallow in your own crap and stay the hell out of it.”

  Joe smirked and headed to the car he’d been working on. And while he worked, he thought about what his brother said. Usually, the guy’s advice was pretty crap. But in this, he might actually be right about something.

  Joe wanted Darcey, and he knew damn well she wanted him back. He just had to convince her to let him in. There were risks. It was more than likely the dumbest idea he’d ever had, going after her, putting in the “hard yards”, but he had to try. He couldn’t just let this go. Let her go.

  It made no sense, there was a lot they didn’t know about each other. Still, he knew she was it for him. He just—did. And the only way to convince her she was his princess was to slay some of those dragons circling her. Kiss her awake from her nightmare.

  Shit, now he was back to fucking fairytales.

  His brother had a lot to goddamn answer for.

  Chapter Eleven

  Darcey flicked through the channels then flung the remote down beside her. Nothing. Turning off the TV, she stood and paced her small apartment, the antsy, restless feeling swirling inside her not going away.

  Oh, she knew why it was there, knew why she couldn’t sit still for longer than a few minutes. Why she obsessively checked her phone. She didn’t want to think about it or acknowledge it, but it was there, hovering like rotten freaking cabbage. It’s stench made her wince and cringe whenever she let it invade her senses.

  Or more, when she thought about the cowardly text she’d sent Joe, ending their non-relationship before it had begun.

  It had only been two days and she… God, she missed him. He hadn’t messaged or called after the brush-off. Which was good, right? Exactly what she’d wanted.

  “Argh!” She flung herself back on the couch and hissed out a breath. Stop it. Stop thinking about him.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. About his mouth, his hands, his…

  There was a knock at the door.

  She shot up into a sitting position. Dammit. She was not in the mood to deal with people. Especially if that person happened to be her landlord. The guy was a creepy, touchy-feely asshat who insisted on being paid in cash and collecting it himself every month.

  Groaning, she dragged her ass off the couch and stomped to the door. Bracing, and throwing off the best don’t-fucking-touch-me body language she could muster, she yanked the door open. “Mr. Haaaa… Joe?”

  The sexy bastard stood there, towering over her, filling her doorway.

  She blinked, mouth hanging open.

  He frowned at her. “Who did you think it was? You looked ready to hack me to pieces with a kitchen knife.”

  She slammed her mouth shut. “My ah…my landlord.”

  “So he does exist.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. What’s with the serial killer vibe?”

  She took him in from head to toe, still shocked that he was standing there. Holy hell, the man was too damn hot for his own good. Dark chocolate eyes watched her from behind thick, almost black lashes, and his mouth, held in a stubborn line, made her want to nip and suck it until he grinned that wicked gin he was so good at. Damn him.

  “The creepy jerkface likes to get handsy when he collects the rent. I do my best to discourage this. The serial killer vibe works fairly well.”

  His brows dropped low. “He what?”

  She could see the muscle in his jaw jump, even through that sexy beard. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it.

  She cleared her throat. “He cops a feel whenever he gets the chance. The guy’s a pig.”

  Joe crossed his arms over his wide chest, and the dark blue T-shirt he wore hugged his muscles, stretching around his thick biceps, looser across his abs. Having, while you were reading this I farted, scrawled across the front didn’t even detract from his hotness. All she could think about was running her hands over the six-pack she knew he had hidden beneath. God, the man turned her into a horny mess with one look.

  His forearms flexed.

  Yum.

  “You’re telling me your landlord sexually harasses you every time he visits?”

  “Yep.” The deadly undertone in his voice finally registered, and her gaze shot up to his. He looked pissed. “I mean no?”

  “Touching you like that is sexual assault, Darcey.”

  She knew it, but what could she do? She couldn’t afford to live anywhere else and had no qualifications for a better paying job. Not that she’d ever leave Jacob in the lurch. And most importantly, she needed to be in LA. She needed to be near Noah.

  “It’s just an ass grab here and there, nothing I can’t handle.” She forced a shrug. “I keep a knife handy.”

  Okay, not the right thing to say, if his flared nostrils and death glare were anything to go by. One of his large hands went to her belly, and he stepped forward, pushing her back into the apartment as he went.

  He shut the door behind them and stared down at her. “What’s his name?”

  “What?”

  “Give me his name, Darcey.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, his jaw got harder, the muscles in his arms twitching as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “No way. You’ll get me kicked out. I can’t lose this place.”

  “It’s a dump. You’ll find a better apartment.”

  Oh my God. Was he serious? “I like this one.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. “And you have no damn right getting involved in my business.” She gave his chest a shove. The guy didn’t move an inch. “None.”

  The word had barely left her mouth when his hands wrapped around her biceps and he lifted her off her feet, turning and pre
ssing her against the wall. His hips ground into hers, holding her up, pinning her. Then he leaned in, nose skimming her jaw, whiskers tickling her skin. “You want me out of your business? You sure about that?”

  Her pulse sped like crazy, and despite his heavy-handed tactics, she was still turned way the hell on. “Yes.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t want me out of your business when I had you up against this door two nights ago. Remember that, peaches?”

  How could she forget? “Not the same.” She shook her head. “That was just sex.” But despite her best efforts, her thighs tightened around his hips, her pelvis tilting toward his, seeking more. Get some goddamn control.

  “Just sex, huh?”

  “Yes.” The rumble of his voice made her nipples tingle.

  “If it’s just sex, then why the text? Why turn me down? It was good. So fucking good. I know I’m not the only one desperate for a repeat.”

  She was breathing heavier, her panties damn near soaked. He was right about all of it. Still, she forced the lie past her lips. “I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t do repeats, and I’m not a fan of the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. That always ends in disaster. So you see, there’s no way around it. It’s not going to happen.”

  “No?” He shifted, and his hard cock pressed deeper, making her whimper.

  “No.” Her voice sounded husky, needy as hell.

  His mouth still at her ear, she heard his rough exhale and felt the slight shudder that worked its way through his massive frame a second before he lifted his head, his beard tickling her cheek as he went.

  “You don’t need to hide from me, Darcey.”

  Her stomach curled into a tight knot. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but then his lips softy brushed her temple, almost tenderly, and whatever crap she was about to babble vacated her head.

  “Don’t you know I’d never hurt you? You can tell me whatever this is really about,” he rasped.

  She gave him another shove, desperate to escape his words, that all-knowing gaze, his touch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She thought she was so clever, but he’d seen right through her. Well, it didn’t matter, she couldn’t give him what he wanted. “You need to respect my decision.”

  His fingers flexed, pressing into her flesh, then his hold loosened and he finally lowered her to her feet. “You know I will.”

  “T-thank you.” Her mind felt like a bowl of oatmeal all of a sudden. Everything about this felt wrong.

  He stepped back, putting space between them, his gaze slid over hers, down to her mouth and then back. “We better get going.”

  Just like that? The center of her chest suddenly started to hurt, not a physical pain, but something else…something…

  Loss. The feeling was loss, expanding, settling in, and making it hard to breathe. Stupid. You wanted this. She had no damn choice.

  She’d pushed him away because she had to—for Noah—and it’d worked, phenomenally well. Everything was as it should be. How it had to be.

  They’d never actually been in a relationship. She’d only spent one night with him. So how could this hurt so damn much? It made no logical sense.

  Liar.

  She bit her lip. Yeah, she knew exactly why this cut so deep. She just didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself. She’d not only been obsessed with the guy from the first moment she’d seen him—she’d laid in bed at night and allowed herself to fantasize, to dream a whole made-up, alternate existence where she wasn’t who she was, that she didn’t have this fucked up life. That she was someone who could be with a guy like Joe. And yeah, somewhere, in some deep, dark place inside her, she was still hanging on to that fantasy.

  She needed to pull her shit together and fast. There was no place in her world for dreams. There was only cold, hard reality.

  Joe certainly wasn’t sweating it. And why should he be? The cold side of his bed wouldn’t be cold for long. She forced the pain down deep. She’d get past this.

  She had a little…obsession, yes. But that was all. Nothing more. His easy acceptance was a good thing.

  If that was the case, why did her chest still feel like it was in a vise? It’s for the best.

  Then his words registered. “Going?”

  “You agreed to help me, remember? We have a Ferrari to pick up.”

  ~ * ~

  If Joe’s blood pressure shot any higher, he’d more than likely stroke the fuck out. He was so damn furious with himself. He’d walked into Darcey’s place and done everything he’d told himself he wouldn’t, and she’d reacted exactly like he knew she would. He’d pushed, tried to get her open up, to share her secrets, and she’d pushed back. Idiot.

  She more than likely thought he’d lost his goddamn mind. One minute he’d been snarling about her landlord, the next, getting in her face like a prized prick. Now he had to pretend he wasn’t about to pop an artery over his own stupidity and go boost a car like nothing happened—like Darcey hadn’t just shot him down again.

  I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t do repeats, and I’m not a fan of the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

  She was lying to him and herself—at least, he hoped she was. The other option was unacceptable. This couldn’t be over between them. One night wasn’t enough. Sex alone wasn’t enough, not with her. He wanted everything, and she sure as shit didn’t trust him enough to give it to him. And that sucked. A lot.

  His gaze moved over her as they strode down the street. She’d hustled a couple feet ahead, back and shoulders stiff, ass twitching in her jeans with every step she took. Shit. “When does your landlord usually pick up the rent?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, brows raised.

  He did his best to smooth out his features, pretend he wasn’t seconds away from going ape-shit on the next asshole that looked at him funny. “Darcey?”

  She bit her plump lower lip, her head tilting to the side, assessing him. Shit, she was beautiful. Would she change her mind if he fell to his fucking knees and begged her to let him touch her? To stop pushing him away and give him a chance?

  Pull it the fuck together, man.

  There was a whole part to her story missing, a part she refused to share. He needed to remember that. But it wasn’t the logical part of his brain that was winning out. It was pure animal instinct. An unexplainable feeling of rightness when they were together. And it was too strong to fight. Logic be damned.

  Her wariness finally gave way, and she slowed up so they were side by side. “He was due today, but sometimes he’s a day late. He’ll stop by tomorrow for sure.”

  Relief flooded him. Thankful she’d given him that much. “What time? I’ll make sure I’m there with you.”

  Her back straightened. “I told you…”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?” The word grated out of him despite his best efforts. “I won’t say anything to the man. I just think seeing a guy with you might make him think twice about touching you. I’m just being a good friend. That’s what you want, right?”

  Her gaze flicked away, then back. “Sure. Whatever. He usually gets there around seven thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent.”

  Now all he needed was for his dick to stop trying to punch through his jeans so he could think straight. But watching the way the denim clung to her ass, those succulent, round cheeks—the way her shirt hugged her soft, bouncy tits, he was failing miserably. By the time they reached their destination, he’d broken out in a sweat, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “This way.” He grabbed her hands and led her down a short side street. “It should be around here.”

  They stood at the entrance of the parking lot, scanning the cars. The area was lit pretty well, and it only took a few seconds to realize it wasn’t there. “Fuck.”

  “Looks like Mr. Ferrari’s already left.”

  Dragging a hand over his shaved hair, he curs
ed. It was impossible to hide his frustration. “I was positive it’d be here.”

  A look stole her features, it was that hint of vulnerability again, the look that made him want to pull her into his arms so he could wipe it from her face, make everything all right. He moved closer before he could stop himself and stared down at her, fucking fighting with himself not to do just that, not to haul her in close. Their gazes locked…

  She took a step back suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself, her expression shifting, changing until it was unreadable…fucking blank.

  “Okay. So what’s the plan now?”

  She was looking anywhere but at him.

  “You okay, Darce?”

  “I’m fine. It’s your neck on the line, not mine.”

  The woman was killing him, and it took everything in him to keep it light, not demand she cut the shit and tell him what the fuck was going on. “Your concern is making me all warm and fuzzy inside. Seriously.”

  A smile curved her tempting lips and she shrugged. It looked forced, strained. “We’ll get it. It just might take a few more days is all.” She started back the way they’d come. “You hungry? I’m starving. You showed up before I’d eaten.”

  He caught up to her and shoved his hands deep into his pockets so he didn’t reach out and take hers. “I could eat.” And even if he wasn’t hungry, spending more time with her wasn’t something he’d turn down.

  He glanced at her, aiming a wicked grin her way, trying to lighten the moment since that’s the way she wanted it. Playing the clown, he could do. It’s what he always did when he felt helpless.

  She still looked a little pale, her posture guarded.

  He hated it. Letting his gaze drop, moving over her then back up, he leered. “Seems my appetite can’t be satisfied lately.”

  Jesus. Well, that failed miserably. Not only were his words not funny, the rough way he’d said them had broadcasted his feelings loud and clear. And by the way her eyes flared, he knew she’d heard it, too. She was trying to hide it, but he saw the heat there—and something else, something softer in her gaze he would happily walk across hot coals and broken glass just to catch another glimpse of.