by Laura Kaye
She stopped short just inside the door. Ready for anything except for Billy to be sitting on the couch staring at her.
Chapter Seven
“Hey. Long time no see,” Shayna said. It wasn’t that a man sitting on his couch was odd, it was that Billy sitting on his couch was odd. Granted, she’d only lived in his house for a week, but not once during that whole time had she seen him use his living room at all.
“Hey,” he said, just that one syllable sounding bone tired.
Which took a little of her focus off how damn hot he was even in a pair of beat-up jeans, hems frayed around bare feet propped up on the coffee table, an old concert T-shirt, and more than a day’s worth of scruff on his jaw. Not to mention the finger-raked mess of his hair.
“Tough week?” She closed the door behind her and promptly kicked off her shoes. When Billy’s gaze tracked the movement, she scooped them right back up, stumbling a bit as she did so. Damn you, delicious rum. “I’ll take them up to my room, I promise,” she said, placing them on one of the stair treads so she wouldn’t forget.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Don’t worry about it.”
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he hadn’t answered her question, but she didn’t push. Instead she padded into the kitchen.
“Want anything?” she asked as she filled a glass with water. Shayna stood at the counter and chugged half of it. She didn’t drink that often and hoped to avoid feeling bad from indulging in the morning.
On a sigh, he pulled himself off the couch and joined her at the counter, his hands heavily braced upon the granite. “I was just trying to rouse myself to get some food.”
“Sit.”
He looked at her.
“Sit. I’ll make you something. What do you want?” She emptied her glass on another long drink just to have something to do. Because he was staring at her. And Shayna couldn’t decide what the stare meant.
“A sandwich?” he finally said.
Satisfaction flooded through her. “Consider it done. Except you’re still not sitting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, dropping into one of the bar stools. “You go out tonight?”
Shayna nodded as she started pulling things out of the fridge. “Yeah, with some people from work. Seems like it’s a good group.”
“I admire you. The way you’ve hit the ground running here.”
She nearly dropped the squeeze bottle of mustard to the floor. He admired her? It was a totally casual compliment, obviously, but after the past couple of years of putting herself down—and believing everyone who knew her was secretly doing it, too—it still meant a lot to her.
“Wow. Um. That’s a really nice thing to say. But at best I’m walking fast, not running. After all, I’m crashing in your office and I still don’t really know my way around very well.”
He shook his head. “Power-walking, then.”
She chuckled and put the finishing touches on his sandwich, a turkey and cheese on rye with lettuce, pickles, and mustard. She placed the plate in front of him. “Chips or anything?”
He reached for the sandwich. “No, thank you. This is already about ninety-nine per cent more than I was up to doing.”
His words made her wonder once again what had made it such a tough week for him, because he seemed completely mowed over. But he hadn’t answered the first time she’d asked, and it seemed pushy to ask again.
Instead, she made quick work of cleaning up, then pulled out her cell to scroll through her social media as she stood at the counter. Which was when she saw that Ryan had finally returned her email. She nearly gasped as she rushed to open it.
“Everything okay?” Billy asked.
Grinning, Shayna nodded. “Yeah. Ryan wrote me.” She had to force her eyes not to rush over the words.
Hey Shay. Shitnubbin is solid B- material. You can do better, squirt.
She grinned at his use of the million-year-old nickname. As a kid she’d hated it, but it didn’t bother her so much anymore. Shayna would gladly take any and all teasing her brothers had ever done if it would bring her other brother back again…
Focus. Right. She mentally shoved the thoughts back into the corner where they lived, always looming just on the edge of consciousness.
I’m glad you’re liking the job, but you don’t owe me a thing. You did this all on your own. All I did was tell you what you already knew. And Billy’s arm didn’t take any twisting. Though if he gives you any trouble, tell him I’ll kill him in his sleep.
She sniggered and grinned at Billy. “He says if you give me any trouble, he’ll kill you in your sleep. So, that’s a hello, I guess?”
He smirked around a bite. “Pretty much.”
Seriously though, take your time finding a place. You have a home there as long as you need it, trust me. I’d rather you find the right situation then rush into something with a roommate that doesn’t work out or a place that isn’t safe. You don’t need that kind of headache. And get Billy to run a background check on any potential roommates, will ya?
She rolled her eyes as she talked to herself. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” Billy asked.
“Nothing. He’s being stupid.”
“Highly doubt that.”
Now she was the one smirking. “Ryan is capable of massive amounts of stupid. Trust me. He wants me to have background checks done on potential roommates.”
Billy’s expression grew thoughtful. “I can do that.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Omigod stahhhp.”
He chuckled and shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
“Well there’s a big surprise, Ranger Parrish.” She continued on:
It’s hot as balls here and I’ve got sand in places no one fucking wants sand. Otherwise, everything’s good. Keeping busy and doing the job. Looks like we’re still on track for getting home before Thanksgiving. Fingers crossed. I’m glad you’re excited about your new job, Shayna. You deserve it. After everything.
A stinging sensation unexpectedly burned against the backs of Shay’s eyes. With those two words, Ryan had said so freaking much. More than they hardly ever even broached, as if talking about Dylan—and her role in his death—was a poison that neither of them wanted to drink. She blinked fast to force the threatening tears away as she read the rest.
Kick ass. Take names. And get up the next day and do it all again. Just, next time, don’t make me think of real burgers and fries, crotchfruit. All we have is mystery meat you know.
Take care, Shay. More soon. It’s good to hear from you when I’m over here so stay in touch. Ry
Not even the awesomeness of crotchfruit could fully chase away the impact of After everything. Shayna filled her water glass again and took a big drink just to have something else to focus on.
Finished with his dinner, Billy came around to the sink to rinse his plate and the knife she’d used to cut his sandwich.
Then they stood there. Facing each other. An arm’s reach apart. Just looking.
And, for her, once again wanting…
Obviously, the desire was all on her side. But she’d been there, done that, and had the sexual frustration to prove it.
And the last thing she wanted was for it to get weird between them again. Despite how good she’d been feeling just minutes before, she felt fragile now. Vulnerable. She couldn’t handle weird. Or another rejection.
So Shayna stepped away, using the excuse of dumping out the rest of her water and putting the glass in the dishwasher. “What are you up to this weekend?” she asked, needing something to break the weighted silence between them.
“Uh…” He raked his hands through the sexy mess of his dark blond hair, causing one piece in the front to stick up at a comical angle. “Just the gym tomorrow, I guess.”
She bit back a smile. And crossed her arms so she wasn’t tempted to fix his hair. “Oh, yeah? Do you like your place? Is it nice?” she asked.
Finding a gym was definitely on her to-do list. The
break room at work always had a tray of cookies or a box of donuts just sitting available, and it seemed like every editorial assistant had a jar of candy on their desk. Shayna had happily partaken on more than one occasion, but that situation could go on only so long if all she was doing was sitting around on her butt.
Billy cocked his head as he peered at her. “Yeah. Place is only a few years old. Big, clean, lots of equipment. Their specialty is MMA training, but there’s a regular gym part, too.”
MMA training sounded interesting…and like there’d be a nice view to watch while on the elliptical… “Any chance I could tag along to check it out?” she asked.
And immediately regretted it. Because Billy’s face went through an almost funny number of expressions, most of which she couldn’t read. Though, collectively, they seemed to say hell no.
“You know what, scratch that.”
Way to keep from doing something that might end in rejection, Shayna. Really. Super smooth. You’re such a twatermelon sometimes.
“I didn’t say anything.” He held up his hands like he was confused.
She gave a rueful chuckle. “You didn’t have to. And I get it. Really.”
He came closer. “No, Shay, really. I, uh, it’s just that I don’t go there just for regular work outs. I belong to a club that meets there.”
“What kind of club?”
Billy shrugged with one big shoulder. “A fight club.”
“A fight club?” she said, immediately picturing Edward Norton and Brad Pitt fighting in the dark basement of a sketchy bar. “I thought the first rule of fight club was that you didn’t talk about fight club?”
He gave her a look. “You’re picturing Edward Norton right now, aren’t you?”
She smirked. “And Brad Pitt.”
“Uh huh. Not that kind of fight club. It’s a, uh…” He twisted his lips, like he couldn’t figure out how to describe it. Or didn’t want to. And then the words rushed out. “It’s called Warrior Fight Club. Our first rule is that all the members are vets.”
That was…not what Shayna expected. “So it’s a club where veterans fight each other?” Wait ‘til Ryan got a load of that!
Billy unleashed a tired-sounding breath. “No. I mean, we do mixed-martial-arts training and sparring, but it’s not really about the fighting.”
Shayna opened her mouth, but no question came out. Because it really sounded like he’d just described fighting…
He braced his hands against the counter and nailed her with a stare. “It’s a place for veterans to get help transitioning to civilian life.”
Oh. Oh. Why did that sound like therapy? No way she was voicing that word, though, not with the almost challenging way Billy was looking at her. Gaze hard. Eyebrow arched. Jaw muscle ticking as if he was clenching his teeth. It was actually kinda freaking hot.
Screw kinda.
“That sounds awesome,” she said. Because it did. Anything that acknowledged and helped veterans after they’d sacrificed so much was good in her book. Billy stared at her for another long stretch. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said in that way people used when they actually had a lot they were thinking of saying.
“Okey dokey.” She took the long way around the island so that she didn’t have to squeeze between him and the counter. “Well, good night, Billy. I hope you can get some sleep. You look beat.”
She made for the steps without waiting for him to reply. At the bottom of the staircase, she gathered her shoes just like she’d promised, and then she headed up.
She’d made it three steps before he called her name. “Shay. Wait.”
The words came out of Billy’s mouth before he even thought to say them. As if keeping Shayna around had been pure instinct.
And maybe it had been, because despite staying away from her all week, just one night in her presence had him craving more of her. Her humor. Her sarcasm. Her easy acceptance.
Maybe it was because of how little sleep he’d had all week. Or because doing his job well had meant delivering to his client the terrible news of her husband’s infidelity. Or because his surveillance work had required a lot of hours of sitting in his car—and the constant press of his back against the seat had awakened the phantom pain of long-ago fried nerves that he sometimes felt something fierce. All of which had him feeling exhausted.
Billy sighed and crossed the room to the staircase. “Come with me. Tomorrow, I mean.”
From where she stood on the fourth step, Shayna frowned. “Dude, it’s okay.”
He shook his head. “I want you to come.”
Her frown deepened. “Why? It’s not a big deal. Really.”
Why did he want her to come? When just moments before he’d felt so ambivalent and even a little embarrassed about it?
Billy didn’t have to think long on the answer—because she’d reacted as if WFC was not only perfectly normal, but really cool. And it was. But it was also fucking therapy of a sort, even though the format was something way different than sitting on a couch and spilling your emotional guts.
He needed to make up for hurting her feelings—and he knew he’d done just that. The expressiveness of her face made her an open book. And telling the truth was the best way to make up for it. He knew that, too.
“I was fucking embarrassed about what you’d think. That’s why I hesitated when you asked. Not because I didn’t want you to come. Besides, you could meet some of my friends.” Unusual heat rushed into Billy’s face, and he dropped his chin to his chest.
Shay made her way down to him until he was staring at her bare feet and her bright red toenails. “Did you think I’d tease you or something?” she asked, her voice neutral.
He forced himself to lift his chin and meet her gaze. “You do like to bust my balls.”
“Not about this. Never about this.” Her expression was so fucking earnest, and her face was even more beautiful.
He nodded, feeling the truth of her words down deep. After all, she’d seen his scars and heard him talk about how hard it was to come home from deployment and been nothing but cool about that, too. “So. will you come?”
Her smile answered before her words did. “Yeah. Sounds fun. I’d like to come. But I promise I’ll stay out of your hair.”
“You don’t have to stay out of my hair, Shayna.”
“Oh, good, because this is driving me crazy,” she said, her fingers suddenly combing through his hair. “You made it stand up funny.”
Billy could’ve fucking purred. If he did things like purr, which he fucking didn’t. But her nails felt damn amazing against his scalp. He would’ve closed his eyes at the goodness of it if it weren’t for watching the satisfaction shaping her pretty face as she touched him.
“There,” she said, her smile turning a little shy. She cleared her throat. “So, uh, okay then. What time do we need to leave?”
Chapter Eight
There was one fatal flaw in his plan to bring Shayna to Full Contact—Billy hadn’t given any thought to how she might look in her workout clothes.
And, Jesus, how goddamned sexy she looked in her workout clothes.
Short spandex shorts hugged her curvy ass, and the cut-outs on the back of her sports bra and tank top revealed some of her ink. With her red curls up in a ponytail, she managed to look both cute and sexy at the same time—and it was a killer fucking combination.
None of which he had any business noticing.
But what made it even more appealing was how obviously excited she was to be going to the gym with him. Her enthusiasm and gratitude hit him right in the chest, as if he’d given her the moon instead of an invite to come meet his friends. She’d kept up a nearly running commentary the whole car ride there, only pausing to ask Billy questions—about the gym, about his surveillance work, about WFC.
“How long have you belonged?” was her most recent question, and Billy could feel her eyes on him.
He was glad that driving gave him an excuse not to face her while they talked
. “A few years,” he said. “I joined not too long after I got home, even though I couldn’t spar at first because my back wasn’t healed enough.”
“Does it, um, is it okay…I mean, does it hurt now to get hit where your scarring is?” she asked.
Billy did look at her then. He didn’t love focusing on his injuries, but he had to admit that he respected how Shayna tackled the subject head-on, even if she was a little uncomfortable asking. Sure enough, her cheeks were pink. But he found only curiosity in her eyes, and maybe a little concern. No pity. Thank fuck. “Sometimes,” he admitted.
And even though that one word was all kinds of vague, he’d said more to her in those two syllables than he’d said to his friends in WFC—or to Coach Mack who led the club.
Sometimes…as in, sometimes it triggered a temporary worsening of the phantom pain of the kind that he’d had all this past week—and still had even as his ass sat behind that steering wheel, a sensation that ranged from an uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles to a nearly intolerable electrical burning.
And, sometimes…as in, his inability to fully feel there meant that he occasionally took hits or kicks to his ribs on the right side without realizing that he’d been injured. Usually when that happened, he’d find big black bruises covering his side the next morning. Once, though, a pinch he felt when he took deep breaths sent him to his doc’s, where he learned he had a broken rib.
He hadn’t admitted that to Coach or the others back then, and he didn’t tell her any of that now.
Her gaze narrowed. “‘Sometimes’ doesn’t sound good.”
Billy shrugged, even though he respected her skepticism. Because she wasn’t wrong.
“The benefits outweigh the occasional risks.” She didn’t respond to that, but he could almost hear her brain chewing on the topic, so he didn’t make her ask. “Which, for me, include blowing off the steam that always seems to be building up in my head. I…I just get to the point where I feel like, if I don’t release it, it’ll just…I don’t know, consume me.”
