“Come here, I’ll protect you.” His face lit up in a charming, eager invitation.
Slowly, I walked toward him, and he met me in the middle of the small space. It really was an amazing view. As long as I wasn’t on top of the rail, I was okay.
“What do you have against pizza? It’s like a staple. Everybody I know eats pizza without complaining.”
Ready to defend my dining choice, I chose my words gleefully. “I don’t have to shower and shave for a home delivered meat pie.” I winked.
His eyes fell to my legs, extending from the hemline of my short black skirt, and he coughed slightly. “You’re right. I’m glad you’re on time.” He winked back. “The restaurant is a couple of blocks down. Do you want the car?”
“No, it’s a beautiful night. Let’s walk.”
The short walk was entertaining in heels, what with the never-ending Manhattan sidewalk construction and even a few sections of brick pavers and their grooves, but the restaurant he chose was just off an alley and had a quiet ambiance.
Tate ordered the wine with authority, but when the waiter left us, I watched concern cross his brow.
“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” he said.
Closing the menu, I leaned forward. “You know, I have, but I don’t want anyone’s pity. You said something today about me fighting for me, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do for years, but it’s always felt as though I keep failing.”
He waited as the server returned and filled our water glasses. Then he asked, “Even before Rowan?”
How did he know that? Or did he?
The flicker of the candle gave me pause, but I relented and opened up. “Yes. With an abusive father who’s now dead, and a mother at home drinking herself to death over losing my little brother to complications of cerebral palsy, I had a plate full even before Rowan’s death. The guilt consumed me after that.”
My hand was resting on the table, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t cause Rowan’s accident, and you couldn’t have prevented it. The curse of the chosen field.”
There’s always something worth dying for was Rowan’s favorite quote.
“I could’ve saved him. I’m trauma trained, but I froze at the scene. I. FROZE. And they still blame me. Hell, I blame myself.”
“Who blames you?”
“His parents. They even tried to sue me for not rendering aid at the scene if you can believe that. My attorney and I both tried to get copies of his medical records to prove otherwise. We didn’t get them, but the suit was dropped after that. Didn’t matter, the mental anguish continues.”
“Doctors and emergency crews were on the scene, and they couldn’t save him. Quit beating yourself up. It’s why you left nursing.” It wasn’t a question. Tate had been doing his homework.
Nodding, I picked up my glass of wine with a shaky hand. The conversation was unsettling. My upper lip was sweating, and a racing pulse throbbed in my ear.
“What about you? Never married? No steady girlfriend?” Putting him on the hot seat helped me get my breath back and settle down.
“You think the rumors are true?” He raised a brow.
“That you’re a playboy? Does it matter what I think?”
He chuckled. “Ah, it does to me. Well, I had my fun days in college and refused to settle down because I was waiting for my high school sweetheart to graduate, so we could get back together. We were engaged for four years, but I broke that off when I had to spend more than two weeks in a row with her.”
His confession had me laughing. “And what was so horrible that you hadn’t figured it out before then?”
“That she made me want to blow my fucking head off.” He paused for a sip of wine with a big smile. “Whitney was beautiful, and I adored her family. They were friends with my parents. As she got older, she began to play the racer girlfriend’s part and loved the party scene a little too much. She got deeper into cocaine. In addition, she was whiny and high maintenance because of it. I like to surround myself with go-getters—people who aren’t afraid of tackling the unknown—but drugs are a no-no.”
“But booze is okay?”
His glass hit the table with a clink. I watched as his facial expression changed to somber. “It is, in moderation. I’ve hit alcohol hard and then gone without it completely with zero issues. I do okay with constraint.”
I was grateful he didn’t sound like he was an alcoholic—a road I’d already traveled with my own family and an abusive boyfriend. It wasn’t something I could revisit again.
Fear and personal pain had held me back from being outgoing for some time, which left me guessing whether or not I would fit in his entourage of go-getters. But, the thought of spending more time with him did sound like fun, and we’d finally proven we could get along. “I wouldn’t say I’m the adventurous type on purpose at the moment, but one day I hope to experience excitement for happier reasons.”
He reached across the table and gripped my hand with his. “Your shit is about as real as it gets right now. I’m here for you, and so is Marcus. We’ll be your family. And if you find yourself in need of girl power at any time, let me know. I have four sisters. Trust me, they offer safety in number.”
Astonished, I looked at him with wide eyes. “Four?”
“Yep, two older and twins younger. My dad just thought he needed one more boy, but Mom showed him girl power doubled down.”
Our food arrived, and the twenty questions slowed. He was easy to talk to. I supposed it had something to do with his knowing my story and not judging me that left me comfortable in my own skin.
That hasn’t happened in…like forever.
I watched him as he studied me. “Do you always stare at people?” I teased him.
“It’s what I do. I started out street racing as a teenager. I would never get in my car and race someone before I knew a lot about him and where his head was at. He’s the opponent. It’s like the game of chicken—I want to know when he’s going to bail long before he even realizes it.”
“You’re that sure of yourself?”
“Nope. Sometimes I’m dead wrong. Like you for instance. There’s definitely mystery there. I’ll be putting the pieces in the puzzle long before you realize it.”
Insanity or survival?
He was right about one thing. Racers don’t get in the game if they don’t know their opponent’s weaknesses. I learned that from Rowan.
Our dinner and conversation were both lovely, and I actually dreaded the night coming to an end after getting to know him better. I could see his softer side, especially when he spoke about his family and how they all gathered at his parent’s home, sometimes in a playful, sneaky, sibling way, without even giving his mom and dad warning. The love he had for them rang out through his words.
“You mean all four of you plus spouses and kids just show up and say ‘surprise we’re here’?”
He chuckled slightly. “Yeah, it kind of starts with one sister saying she’s going for the weekend and no one wants to be left out because we have that much fun together, and it snowballs from there.”
A large family that filled the space with love…something I’d only seen from a distance.
From a young age, his dad’s rheumatoid arthritis and other health issues had kept him from racing, but he was able to build and repair cars at his own pace. I could sweetly picture Tate and his dad escaping all of the estrogen in the home by going to the garage for hours.
A close-knit family was something I had missed out on, and for years, I’d wanted to find a guy and have a bunch of babies. I wanted a family like my friends had, but that wasn’t meant to be my story.
My dad was fourteen years older than my mom and he’d had some health issues early on in life. When he passed away from liver failure before I graduated high school, I began to work at the local McDonald’s for extra money. Mom rarely paid attention to me because her hands were full taking care of Micah and grieving my dad’s death. When she finally put M
icah in a full-time care facility, the guilt drove her to drink—trying to forget what she’d done. I pleaded with her to let me take care of him, but even he said he didn’t want that. And when I started working at a hospital, I understood that care facilities had amenities we couldn’t afford for him at home.
As Tate and I journeyed back to the penthouse, the cool evening air was our companion, but the only time he pulled me close to him was when we approached some young men ganged together on the corner, talking loudly and using plenty of obscenities. Out of concern for my safety, Tate moved around to my other side and slung his arm around my waist, putting himself between the gang and me. But as soon as we crossed the street, he let me go.
Having consumed more wine this one night than I had in the preceding six months combined, I was buzzed and relaxed. It was something I’d definitely needed to do.
When the elevator door closed behind us, Tate put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me close to him again. “Thank you for dinner.” His spicy, clean scent was intoxicating, and the smell of smoke from the restaurant’s fire pit still lingered on his clothes.
“Thank you for the photos. It was a delicious trade after all.”
When he let me go and stepped away, he went so far as to back up against the elevator wall. I found myself disappointed. I wasn’t certain what I wanted, but I knew I craved more. I turned my head slowly over my left shoulder and peered at him.
Then without really thinking too much about it, I quickly moved toward him. Placing my hand on his jaw, I kissed him. The kiss was quick at first, but then he kissed me back with passion.
The poor timing of the elevator door opening interrupted my trip to heaven.
Avoiding the chance of things getting awkward, I stepped into the entry hall. “Thank you for tonight. It was fun.”
He looked dismayed, but I thought that was a good thing. It felt good to know he wanted more.
“Repeat?” he asked with a smile.
“Absolutely.”
Bright lights shining against my closed eyelids and someone shaking my shoulder woke me. “What the…? Where am I?” I asked groggily.
Naked, Tate sat on the side of the bed looking down on me.
Good God, did we have sex and I don’t remember anything?
Observing my own body, I found myself dressed in my tank top and booty shorts, my favorite pajamas when I wore any. Looking around, I realized I was in Marcus’ master suite.
Tate was sporting a distressed look, and the clock on the nightstand read three-forty in the morning.
Sleepwalking. Fuck.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked quietly.
“Yep.” I sighed. “How long have I been in here?”
“You snuck in about two hours ago. I spoke to you, but you didn’t answer, and instead of snuggling with me, you stayed on the outer edge of the bed. I figured you just needed to be close to somebody with everything that’s happened. But when you started screaming bloody murder, I had to wake you up.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster.
“Bad dream?”
Deep breathing helped relax me. Tate, on the other hand, appeared completely stressed out and kept running his hands through his hair and scratching his beard.
“I—I had trouble with sleepwalking after Rowan died. When I woke up, I’d find myself in the closet wearing his jacket or in his car in the garage. Once, I woke up naked in the street, and the police had been called. Neighbors thought it was an assault.”
“Nice,” he joked softly.
“Naah, not so much. Look, I’ll go back to my bed and let you get some rest. I’m really sorry.”
His shoulders sank and the sweet look of concern left his face. “If it’ll help you sleep, you can stay in here. I’ll hold you if you want.”
I did and I didn’t. Having feelings build for him scared the shit outta me. He could hurt me when I was already at a low, but it wasn’t like I had much more to lose…
The cool air caught up with me, and I shuddered. “Sure, warm me up. It’s freezing in here.”
Tate slipped on a pair of boxers, turned off the light, and slid in behind me. His arm across my body was heavy and comfortable.
Three years was a long time to go without being held…
8
Tate
Her lips on mine were hard and fast, needy and surprising. I hadn’t expected her kiss in the elevator but I wanted her as much as she seemed to wanted me. The taste of wine mixed with heady passion could’ve gone somewhere if that damned elevator ride had lasted longer.
Back in the penthouse, the mood chilled. The day of work and dinner had gone so well that I was cautious to push my luck. But, before we said goodnight, I scored another date.
Slow and easy typically wasn’t my style, however, my gut told me that Willow was worth the wait.
When she came to my bed in the middle of the night, I thought surely she’d had a change of heart and was going to attack me like she had earlier. I realized something was wrong when she moved slowly and didn’t answer when I spoke, just climbed in to bed and held to the outer edge. I had no idea the depths of her needs until she started screaming. It ripped my guts out to see her in so much distress. Makes a man want to kill to protect…
Holding her tightly against my body, I dipped my head in close to the back of hers and inhaled her floral scented hair, becoming intoxicated in the world of Willow. I craved more with her, and frankly, it scared the shit outta me. I don’t know if it was the damsel in distress, the snarky banter she could deliver or the need to see her happy, but I wanted to be that guy who could provide it all for her. My usual modus operandi was to get what I wanted and move on, but that was completely opposite of what I was beginning to feel for her. She was smart, caring and honest. There was no ladder-climbing, name dropping or narcissistic attitude from this lady. She was beautiful and her eyes lit up when she spoke of her nursing career and her marketing goals. She had all the characteristics I wanted in a woman and everything I’d run from in the years since Whitney.
Commitment phobic—yep, that was me.
I hadn’t done romance in years. In fact, I’d tried every way to forget about it, but Willow brought that side out in me. When she said yes to another date, I’m not sure who smiled more, her—or me.
9
Willow
My eyes flickered open.
Scratchpad.
Crap. I’d slept in THE bed of said scratchpad…and it was great because I was with an amazing, caring man. Shows you what you’re willing to overlook for peace of mind.
“Good morning, sweet pea. You okay?” He sat on the opposite side of the bed with his legs swung to the side.
The moniker was adorable.
“Awesome. What time is it?”
“Six-twenty. You good?”
After confirming I was still dressed in PJs, I said, “Yep. I’ll dash to my room to avoid Naomi. I don’t want to start the rumor mill spinning,” I whispered.
He laughed softly. “I wouldn’t mind. Worse things could be said.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
He gripped my hand as I slid from the bed. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner today?” The brightness of his smile was enough to light New York City for a day.
His question made me giddy, but I fought my schoolgirl flirt. “Dude, seriously?” Too good to be true?
The lightness of his spirit dimmed in his eyes. I’d hurt his feelings, and I felt bad.
So much for trying to play it cool.
“I’ve overstepped. I’ll catch you later.” He waved me off with regret and stood from the bed.
“Tate, I was just teasing you. Yes, I’d love to spend the day and evening with you.”
“And ni—”
“Night? Really?” I winked.
“Hmm,” cough, “well—ugh, I just thought if you started off the night with me, then you wouldn’t interrupt my sleep with screams.” He closed the gap between us and touched my face softly.
The idea of us getting so close so quickly was both enticing and scary, but I couldn’t keep myself from saying yes to him. In such a short period of time, I had very little willpower where he was concerned. No had stopped coming to me so easily.
“Most guys don’t complain when a woman wakes them up.”
His brows rose, but he was speechless.
I ran to my room before anything else happened, but the feeling of being wanted certainly filled my heart.
Tate Conway had my attention.
The afternoon was a rush while waiting on the printers to deliver my boards. Gabbie had finally decided to return to work, only to hand in her two weeks’ notice. She’d been secretly dating a client, and when he popped the question in Rome, she said they’d stayed the extra days for a pre-honeymoon.
Pre-honeymoon? Isn’t that the same as shackin’ up, hookin’ up, or just bangin’?
“If I wasn’t engaged to Tyler, I’d be chasing after Tate. He’s a hunk.”
I turned in my chair to view Gabbie staring down the hall into the conference room where Tate had set up office. “You’re twenty-one, and he’s thirty. He’s too old for you.”
“I’m taken anyway.” She pulled her long blonde hair all to one side and twisted it playfully, giving me a great view of her sparkly, two-carat princess cut engagement ring. “I’ve been so busy wedding planning. Marcus will have my hide if I don’t finish my project by tomorrow.”
“Join my club,” I grumbled. Although my assignments were ninety-nine percent complete, I had to play the part of the usual pre-Friday jitters in the office. I couldn’t risk anyone finding out all that Marcus had been doing for me. No one ever discussed bonuses, but I was pretty sure that the one I received was more than the usual gesture, even for the largest of accounts.
It was all Tate’s doing. I couldn’t have done it without him.
“Hey, why do you think you need to leave? I’m sure management won’t care that you’re marrying a client; after all he’s worth a million a year in biz.”
Tracks To Love: An Enemies To Lovers Alpha Hero Romance Page 5
