by Fiore, L. A.
I knew my confusion was clearly visible on my face when I asked, "Right about what?"
"You are gorgeous."
Before I could even get my head around his words, his date returned and mustn't have liked the way Trace was looking at me because she made a production of reaching for his hand as she glared up at me.
"He is so not for you, sweetheart, besides he's taken for the evening so you'll need to find some other stud to scratch your itch."
Her words angered me, almost irrationally so, and before I knew my intention I leaned over the table so I was eye level with her.
"You're right; he's not for me because when I look at him I see so much more than a rutting stallion." At her look of outrage I turned my eyes to steely blue ones before I added, "And if I was lucky enough to catch his attention I sure as hell wouldn't be okay with having him for only one evening." I then placed the check on their table and walked away.
It took will power that I didn't know I possessed to turn to Trace's table after I checked on Mr. Forester but, thankfully, the table was empty. I didn't know what possessed me to say what I did but, in all honesty, I wasn't sorry that I said it. I took the black leather folder to the register to close out the bill and had to lock my knees to keep from sinking to the floor when I realized that Trace left me a fifty percent tip.
A few days after my uncharacteristic display of temper at Clover, I was running through Central Park. The trees were all starting to turn colors as the cool crisp air chilled my skin. My thoughts turned to those little mouthfuls of cakey sin since I was becoming slightly addicted to cake-pops. Because I was working out I could indulge in one later, yeah!
I was having a moment fantasizing about cake on a stick and wasn't paying close enough attention to my surroundings. I was startled when I heard someone screaming and by the time I realized they were screaming at me it was too late. I pulled my focus back just in time to have a head-on collision with a beast of a dog as we tumbled to the ground, our limbs flying everywhere. I attempted to draw breath into my lungs as the dog righted himself looming over my prone position. He then started licking me with his huge, wet, pink tongue. Fabulous. I turned my head to avoid the tongue and that's when I saw two pairs of black, scruffy boots. I followed the legs attached to those boots and had a moment of clarity before my eyes eventually settled onto steel-blue ones.
I stared for a moment at Trace, who was grinning down at me, before I turned my eyes to his friend, and, honestly, what the hell was in the water? Long black hair framed a face of sheer beauty as eyes, which were green as summer grass, looked down at me in humor. I closed mine and willed the ground to open up and swallow me but when I peeled my eyes open they were still standing there, grinning. And then Trace reached his hand down to me.
I couldn't help the little thrill that worked through me since Trace knew I ran this route every morning. This meeting was not a coincidence. And what did that mean?
"Ember."
I accepted his offered hand as he helped me to stand. The dog was sitting at the other man's side, as perfect as you please. I couldn't help the glare I gave the dog which only made Trace's friend laugh out loud before he held his hand out to me.
"Rafe McKenzie. Thanks for stopping my dog, even if your method was somewhat unconventional."
I narrowed my eyes and had to suppress the urge to stick my tongue out at him. "Ember Walsh, and I was more than happy to play speed bump but you really should pay better attention to your dog."
"He rarely runs off."
"Really? So today's an exception."
I saw his look of confusion just as Trace started to laugh which had Rafe looking down only to realize that his dog was gone, again.
"Damn it." We all looked to see as the large black blob ran down the path in the distance. When I was younger my part-time job was walking dogs and I had learned the voice of which the four-legged fur-balls were most receptive.
"What's his name?" I asked.
"Loki."
I put my fingers in my mouth and blew a loud whistle which caught Loki's attention making him stop so he could turn in the direction of the sound. In a commanding voice, I called, "LOKI, COME!"
Like magic the dog trotted back to us, stopping just in front of me. I rubbed his head before reaching for his leash.
"Good come, Loki."
My eyes turned to Rafe to find him silently studying me. I handed him the leash as I smiled and spoke to him as if I was talking to a five-year-old.
"You want to hold on to that really tightly."
He was expressionless for a moment and then he threw his head back and howled with laughter before he turned to Trace.
"I like her."
I smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Rafe." I moved my eyes to the dog and rubbed his head. "Loki, be a good boy." When my eyes found Trace it was to find him watching me with an expression that looked remarkably like affection.
"Nice to see you again, Trace."
He reached out and touched his finger to my cheek before running it down along my jaw as he whispered, "Thank you, Ember."
Being so close to him, my pulse was erratic, and I knew he saw it when his finger brushed against the pulse-point that was jumping in a spastic rhythm. Words were impossible so I nodded my head in acknowledgment and then turned without a word and ran, not walked, away. I hadn't even made it out of the park when my cell phone rang and when I looked my heart skipped a beat.
"Trace."
"Ember. Are you free tonight?"
"Yes."
"I'll come for you around seven?"
"Okay."
I hung up as a smile spread over my face as I floated, not walked, home.
A few hours later I was home, cleaning the apartment with a smile permanently affixed to my face. When Lena arrived home I wanted to talk with her about Trace but one look at her and I knew she was in another mood.
It was getting a bit uncomfortable in the apartment because she was constantly bitchy but I never knew what was going to set her off. She was turning into a complete stranger and I knew the reason for it was Todd. I told myself I wasn't going to say anything but she was my friend and I wasn't being much of one if I said nothing. I moved to join her in the kitchen as she sifted through the mail.
"Lena?"
She looked up at me and I saw the temper behind her eyes.
What's going on with you? You've been out of sorts, down right nasty."
"There's nothing wrong with me. Stop being so sensitive."
I felt my temper stir as I held her glare. "You've been a bitch ever since you started dating Todd. If he makes you so fucking miserable, why are you with him?"
"He doesn't make me miserable. I love him."
"You barely know him."
She leaned up against the counter as a nasty smirk covered her face. "You are going to give me advice on relationships? The twenty-three-year-old virgin?"
"And that's not bitchy?"
"I don't need your permission or your approval, Ember. Stay out of my business."
"Fine, as long as you stop the catty bullshit because frankly, Lena, your company lately sucks out loud." And then I turned without another word and walked to my room.
Trace was punctual and as excited about our date as I was, I was disheartened by the confrontation with Lena earlier. As I pulled the door open for him, he seemed to recognize something was off when he asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just roommate trouble."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
He studied me for a minute before he asked, "Are you ready?"
"I am."
He reached for my hand and linked our fingers. The heat from the contact felt really good. He walked me to his bike and placed his helmet on my head before he straddled the bike so I could climb on. I liked riding with him, liked having an excuse to be so close to him. When we arrived at a small gallery, I was pleasantly surprised.
"This artist is one of my favorites," he offer
ed in way of explanation.
He pulled me into the little gallery and handed me a glass of wine from a passing waiter before we made our way to the first painting. The artist was without question very talented but his paintings were all very dark. Looking at his work you could all but see the demons that haunted the man and how he tried through paint to exorcise them.
At one point in the evening Trace was studying a particularly disturbing painting that depicted faces, elongated in terror. The eyes were black voids and the mouths had been painted to look as if they were shouting for help yet no words escaped. He was so fixated on the painting that he was oblivious to everyone around him. What broke my heart watching him was the look in his eyes, a vacant look that was so very similar to the eyes in the painting.
I stood there watching him and realized that Trace liked this artist because he could relate to him. Trace Montgomery had his own demons. My eyes moved to his arm and the tattoo as tears burned the back of my eyes. What secrets was he hiding? I turned from him so he wouldn't see me watching him and moved across the room.
I saw a woman approach him. She'd been eying him all night. Her hand came to rest on his arm, and her eyes lowered so she could look at him through her lashes. She was throwing off all the right vibes, the ones that said, "Yes, you could pull up my skirt and take me right up against this wall." What was interesting was Trace's response to her. For a player, he very effectively shut her down before turning away from her.
His eyes found mine from across the room and a smile touched his lips as he started towards me. I was probably reading too much into it but my heart did a long, slow roll in my chest. He stopped in front of me and I had the strongest urge to wrap my arms around him and just hold him. I had a terrible suspicion that he lacked that in his life, someone offering him simple comfort. There was far more to Trace Montgomery than met the eyes and I wanted to know him, all of him.
"What do you think?"
I held his gaze and a smile touched my lips while my heart hurt. "His work is beautiful."
And deeply disturbing.
"Are you ready to go?"
"I am if you are."
He reached for my hand and linked our fingers as we walked from the gallery towards his bike. We were halfway through the parking lot when we both heard the sound. It sounded like a muffled scream but the parking lot wasn't lit very well so it was hard to see anything. I felt Trace tense at my side as he pulled me back to the gallery.
"Wait here." Before I could say anything he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
I stood there for only a few minutes when I heard the distinct sound of flesh against flesh. It wasn't a conscious choice that had me following the sound and that's when I saw Trace. He was pounding on some guy; his fist was relentless as he hammered into the man's face. I couldn't move, couldn't tear my eyes from the sight and that was because of the look on Trace's face. I couldn't describe the look but it scared the hell out of me.
I noticed the woman then, who was hunched near a car and immediately hurried over to her.
"Are you okay?"
"I am, thanks to him."
I turned my head just as Trace dropped the guy who looked to have passed out. When his eyes found mine I saw a level of rage in him that was frightening. When he spoke, his voice was soft, menacingly so.
"You were supposed to stay in the gallery."
"I wanted to help."
I watched as his fists clenched and saw that he was trying really hard to control his temper when he said, "I should get you home."
At that moment the owner of the gallery came out to see what was happening. Trace walked over to him, they spoke softly for a few minutes before the man walked over to the woman and helped her to her feet. Two others came out to watch over the unconscious man so he couldn't run off after he came to.
"Let's get you inside and call the police." He then looked over at Trace.
"I'll see you when you get back."
I heard the woman offer her thanks to Trace but looking at him I could tell he wasn't really there anymore. Whatever put that empty look in his eyes was consuming his thoughts. He walked over to me and reached for my hand as he said, "This was not how I saw the evening ending."
"Why does it have to end?" I asked.
He stopped walking and looked down at me and when he answered his voice was whisper-soft.
"I'll not be very good company."
I didn't think, only acted on impulse, as I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. "You did a good thing here tonight, Trace."
I felt his hesitancy and then those arms wrapped around me and held me close. When he spoke there was anger laced through his words.
"And you did a stupid thing walking into something blindly."
"I acted without thinking. I was worried about you."
That had him pulling away from me so he could look at me incredulously.
"Why?"
I didn't understand his question. "Why was I worried about you?"
"Yes." He acted as if the very notion was completely unbelievable so I answered with all honesty.
"Because I care about you."
He didn't say anything just continued to look at me like I had six heads. He pulled me back into his arms pressing me as close to him as possible.
"I should get you home."
"Thank you for tonight, Trace."
His lips brushed along my jaw as he whispered, "Thank you."
Chapter Four
I was lying in my bed the next day reading but I couldn't really focus on the book because my mind kept turning to Trace. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Yes, I was wildly attracted to him but it was the lost, vacant look that I'd seen in his eyes at the gallery and the rage I saw later in the parking lot that occupied my thoughts.
There was a dark side to Trace Montgomery. It should be my clue to stay away but, despite that darkness, my gut was telling me there was so much more to him than the callous, womanizing hot-head that he was rumored to be -- that there was a really good man underneath.
My phone rang and I answered it without looking but was ridiculously happy to hear Trace on the other end.
"Hi, Ember. Are you busy?"
"Trace, hi. No, I'm not busy."
He was silent for a moment before he offered softly, "I'm sorry about cutting the night short last night."
"It's alright. Are you okay? I kind of got the sense that there was more going on in that parking lot, well, more than you rearranging that sick bastard's face."
Silence met that question and I thought he wasn't going to answer me but he surprised me when he said, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"I'm not asking you to share your past with me, Trace, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
A warmth came into his voice when he replied, "Thank you, Ember."
There was silence over the line for a few moments before Trace asked, "I wondered if tonight I could make up for last night?"
"There's nothing to make up but I'd like to see you."
"Dress casually and I'll see you at five."
"See you then."
Promptly at five, the bell sounded and I pulled open the door to find Trace standing there with a smile on his face. He was dressed in faded jeans, a black t-shirt and a leather jacket. The sight of him had me just staring speechlessly. I managed to pull my eyes back to his face and saw a heated look in his eyes.
"You look beautiful, Ember."
I blushed and felt my face burn from it, which only made Trace grin as he reached for my hand.
"Are you ready?"
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
I let him pull me down the hall as I offered, "I like surprises."
We climbed onto his bike and drove outside the city towards the suburbs. About half an hour later I saw the lights in the distance as a smile spread over my face. We parked and I climbed from the bike and pulled off my helmet just as Trace came to stand at my side.
"The fair -- we're going to the fair?" I asked and I didn't bother to hide my joy because I loved the fair.
"Yes."
"How do you know I'm a fair-junkie?"
"I guessed," he said as he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a box with a pair of black, Doc Marten boots in my size.
"I don't think your Converses are going to fare very well."
"How do you know my foot size?"
"Another guess."
His hands wrapped around my waist and he lifted me onto the seat of his bike.
Hold on, Ember," he said and I watched as those wonderful hands lifted my foot, slipped the Converse off and rubbed my heel, and arch. My eyes closed from the sheer ecstasy of his touch. His fingers caressed every inch of my foot before he pulled on the boot and tied up the laces. He finished and moved to the other foot to which he paid equal attention. I contemplated a scientific study of foot-massages and the loss of brain cells, since I was feeling pretty mindless at that moment.
"Ready?"
"Um." I was lucky not to drool and roll my eyes into the back of my head. He grinned as he reached for my hand to link our fingers before pulling me along.
"Do you mind if we do the Ferris wheel first?"
I smiled as my heart hiccuped because the Ferris wheel was my absolute favorite. "Not at all."
He paid for the tickets and helped me into the chair. As soon as we were seated, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
"Are you cold?"
Being so close to him, I was more likely to ignite, not freeze. "No."
As the ride began its slow, circular spin, I studied Trace and the boyishness about him that I found to be absolutely charming. He caught me staring at him and before I could turn my head he leaned over and brushed his lips over mine having the effect of the back of my head blowing off.
The thought popped into my head that if Trace and I ever actually had sex, I'd probably explode, literally, but somehow I knew it would be so worth it. His hand moved to cradle the back of my head and when that mouth settled more firmly over mine, yup, I felt my blood begin to burn, but oh my.
He didn't take the kiss deeper; he seemed perfectly content to feast on my lips and I felt myself melting. He pulled back and his eyes were darker and burning with desire but there was something else there, too -- something infinitely darker that sent chills of anticipation skirting down my spine. His thumb rubbed over my lower lip as he held my gaze.
