by K. F. Breene
“You ever touch or speak to her again, and I’ll take you for a walk you won’t return from. She’s off limits. Got it?” Mikey shook the other man.
A nod had Mikey giving one final shove, before stepping back. Eyes on fire, he waved Sara on. As soon as she hurried past, he followed, gaze staying on Duke until they were around the corner.
“You okay?” Mikey asked quietly as they headed toward the front of the bar.
“Yeah. He didn’t do anything.”
Mikey nodded, those wrath-filled eyes sweeping the bar, like a predator sussing out his territory. As they neared the front of the bar, Mikey took two fast steps to get in front of Sara. He pushed open the door, waiting until she went through before following her out.
As they stepped outside, the chill of the evening having her pulling her wrap around her shoulders tightly, she halted. “Where’s the van?”
Mikey scanned the street quickly. He dug in his pocket, brought his phone up, and glanced at its face. “It appears Jake’s leaving me to get you home.”
“Oh. Do you have a car?” she asked, looking around the deserted street. Reno was no longer a really busy place, but she’d never stood in the center of any town and seen… stillness.
Dark windows peppered empty establishments along the deserted road. One streetlight, twenty feet away, showered the sidewalk in a faint glow. Three cars were parked further down the street, but there were none in front of the bar.
Mike turned to her, his body relaxing slightly. That didn’t stop him from glancing at the door to the bar, though. His mouth tweaked up in a smile. “Of sorts.”
He led her around the corner, where a shiny black motorcycle with orange fire curling down the sides gleamed at them.
“Of sorts?” Sara asked tentatively.
“Jake probably thought I’d brought the truck. But you’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle, right? Or did you fulfill that dream?”
“I hate that you remember dreams from a time when I wasn’t worried about dying in a freak accident. Or freezing to death.”
He took off his jacket and handed it to her.
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, clutching the well-worked leather.
He shrugged, taking a helmet off the back. “I’ve been in some pretty extreme conditions. A chill for a half-hour won’t kill me. Here.”
She eyed the motorcycle dubiously. “These are dangerous, though, right?”
“So am I.” He winked at her.
As the image of him ruthlessly shoving Duke against the wall tumbled through her head, he gently fastened the helmet on to her. Tingles crept up her body as she remembered the possessive way he had steered her outside. She scanned his face, trying to reconcile this new facet to her old friend. “It’s like you’re two different guys. Kid Mikey that I remember, and grown-up Mike that… changed.”
He stepped away, his gaze finding hers. One more moment had his brow crinkling; he was clearly reading her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sara. I don’t usually fight—not since the military—but I won’t stand by if you’re in trouble. He’s bad news. I wanted him to know I’ve got your back in a way he would understand.”
“No, I know,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s like you’re a stranger half the time. Some of the things you said tonight, and how you hold yourself… You’re a man. Like, a confident, handsome man. I only knew the boy. It’s weird.”
He smirked and turned back to the bike. “Like a handsome man, huh? Nice.”
“Half man, half douche.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“And there’s the Mikey side. Terrible comebacks.”
His rich laughter echoed down the street. “All right, put the jacket on and let’s get cracking.” Mikey stood by the bike and waited to help her on.
“Where do you live?”
“I have a house about fifteen minutes from here.” He pointed in the opposite direction of the ranch. “Sometimes I crash at the ranch, though, if I have to get out early.”
“Let’s go see.” Sara glanced down at her bare legs. “So this is just dawning on me now, but I’m in a dress.”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced back up. And caught his dark stare. “What?”
“Why do you want to go to my house?”
“Whaaa… um. Because I want to see where you live? Because I’m trying to get to know you again? Because I want to sell the information to Christie or some other girl who wants your bod to make a buck or two? What’s with the dumb questions?”
His beautiful eyes stayed locked on hers. He slowly extended his hand to help her onto the bike.
“Is that okay? You suddenly got really weird. Are you planning a booty call with someone or something? I don’t want to cramp your style…”
“No.” He directed her leg as she swung it over the bike. “No booty calls. Was just surprised. It’s late.”
She wiggled on the cold leather seat. All she had was thin cotton between her and a cold bike. The effect sent shivers through her body, having her teeth chattering almost immediately. She dropped her hands to her crotch so he couldn’t see her knickers. “I have tomorrow off. I can sleep all day while you go about your business half awake.”
In a strange, somber mood, he climbed on the bike. She was about to ask him if it was okay again, but he lifted the bike, having her clutching him wildly. “God, I hope you have great balance. Please don’t let me fall off…”
* * *
The motorcycle ride was exhilarating! She clutched his hard frame with every ounce of strength she had. The wind assaulted her face and the horizon jiggled in her vision. For a woman who liked to hold on to her control with two hands, this time she had none. None. If Mikey chose to, he could’ve leaned way over and had them skidding across the ground. But for all that, she couldn’t help the gleeful smile at the speed. At the recklessness. At the thrill!
When they finally slowed to a stop in front of a dark, looming house, her teeth were chattering wildly and she had goose bumps all over her body. Mikey didn’t seem any better, his muscles shivering under her hands.
“It isn’t much,” he said as he shut off the bike. “I started renting it when I first got out here. After I decided I liked the job”—he lifted her off the bike—“I asked my landlord if he’d consider selling. I’ve meant to fix it up—add onto it and do up the outside—but I’ve just never gotten around to it. It’s only me, so it’s plenty of space.”
“You have a house. I have a suitcase. If you think I plan to judge, you don’t know me very well.”
“I know you plenty,” he said quietly, leading her by the hand to a stone path between waist-high bushes. He helped her up the steps, making sure she was stable before angling his body so the moonlight could splash the lock on the front door.
“Although a sensor light wouldn’t go amiss,” she said.
“Had one. Bulb went out, I think. Or maybe I accidently turned the light switch off. I never bothered to investigate.”
“Lazy,” she mumbled.
“I thought you didn’t plan to judge,” he said into the darkness, his voice colored with humor.
She grinned as she turned her gaze toward the shimmering heavens. “I am constantly blown away by the beauty of this place. You’d think I’d get used to it, but… then I see this. This. Just look at it.”
The lock clicked over, turning her attention back to him. He stood with his hands in his pockets, ignoring the cold, watching her.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head a fraction before turning back and stepping inside. An interior light bathed the entryway, spilling over his large body. Shadows obscured his eyes as he faced her, waiting for her to cross the threshold.
She got a strange fluttering in her stomach as that steady gaze tracked her. She had no idea what he was thinking, and strangely, she didn’t want to. His confident bearing, and his patient, but dominant, stance disconcerted her. He had her heart t
humping and her stomach twisting, making her uncomfortable, but she was not sure why.
“So, anyway,” she said in a weak voice, crossing into the house.
A pleasant smell greeted her, like fresh, clean cotton. The house had an open floor plan, the entryway leading directly into the living room with stairs across the way. To the right the living room was equipped with a couch, loveseat, and recliner, all spread out and facing a large TV on the wall. Toward the back of the rectangular house was a dining area with a moderate-sized table surrounded by six chairs.
“It’s not much, but it does me,” Mike said, still watching her.
“It’s clean. And homey. I love the earth colors. Who decorated?”
“I did.” He shrugged, stepping in further. “Figured there’s no point in living like a squatter. When I bought it, I put some time into making it look nice.”
She flashed him a devilish grin as she crossed to the dining room, seeking out the kitchen. “Trying to impress the girls, huh? You dog.”
“A girl.”
“Oh, really?” As she suspected, the kitchen lay just off the dining area, a moderate affair with updated appliances. “You didn’t tell me you had a chick on the line. And by the way, this place is pretty big. Way bigger than the crap-hole I was living in.”
What a waste half her life had been. Holding out for something better, only to realize that she had everything she was going to get. Trying to build a future that her fiancé hadn’t wanted. How had she been so blind?
Mikey stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. “What happened?”
She shrugged into his body, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Everything I had was a lie. I’ve lived a lie for years. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”
Mikey squeezed her tight. “Mae West once said, ‘All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else.’ Phil is giving you that chance.”
“Let’s do a shot,” she squeaked. She was so tired of thinking about her past. Just for once, she wanted to get a little reckless. “Do you have anything to shoot?”
He backed up enough to see her face, those goldy-brown eyes digging into her, reaching past all her barriers and touching her soul. His gaze was so soft, making her heart squish in her chest. And then his look intensified, something within it, some powerful emotion, infusing his gaze. Her body started to tingle in response. He was so familiar, but yet so exotic somehow.
She got lost in his beautiful eyes. Her body recognized the strength and power circling her, holding her close. Protecting her.
Her eyes drifted to his lush, shapely lips that opened slightly. The steady hum from his touch vibrated deep in her core. Suddenly, all she could think about was kissing those soft lips. Rubbing against his masculine, hard body. Touching his—
This is Mikey! she screamed at herself.
The same thoughts must’ve dawned on him, because he backed off hastily. “Sorry about that. Yeah. I have some whisky.”
Cold rushed in to replace his warmth, the absence of his body leaving a momentary hollow feeling. He turned away from her to the cupboard, moving quickly through the spotless kitchen.
That knocked her out of the haze. She blinked a couple times and shivered, coming back to reality. “Do you get a cleaner or something? This place is super clean.”
Mikey glanced around as he took a green bottle out of the cupboard. “No. It’s just me.” He reached into another cupboard and took out two glasses.
“Uh… yeah? And you’re a bachelor. So… who cleans?”
He took the glasses and bottle to the countertop. “I do. I don’t make much of a mess. Why? What’s wrong with it?”
She cocked her hip. “Mikey, this place is spotless. I could lick the floor. I don’t see one speck of dirt…”
Carrying tumblers filled with two fingers of brown liquid, Mikey inspected the floor. “I don’t get it. Is that good or bad?”
Her mouth dropped open, begging him to catch on. “You’re a bachelor. Since when do bachelors clean this well?”
He held out a tumbler to her. “We’re taught to clean up after ourselves in the army. Sticks with you.”
She took the glass, still surveying the surroundings. “Can I be your roommate? Because I could definitely get used to someone cleaning up after me.”
“You should clean up after yourself.”
“I do, but this… this is a complex. Seriously.”
“Weren’t going to judge, hmm?” He held up his glass with a boyish smile. His eyes sparkled in that handsome face. “Are we sipping or shooting?”
“Let’s shoot it, Gorgeous George,” she said, holding up her glass.
His lips quirked. “Gorgeous George…”
Sara clinked her glass off his and then brought it to her mouth. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of smelling it. “Ugh, God. Yuck! This smells terrible—”
Mikey took his in one gulp. Without even balking, he deposited the glass on the countertop.
“You’re doing another while I do this one.” Sara lowered her glass to get away from the pungent fumes.
“No, I’m okay. I have to take you home at some point.”
“I’ll just stay here. It’s not like we’ve never slept in the same bed.”
His flat stare clicked on again. He stared at her in silence.
“What’s the problem?”
“Are you sure you want that?” he asked softly.
Her body tingled again, uncertainty creeping into her bone marrow. In frustration, she huffed out a breath. “What the hell is wrong with you in your old age? Jesus, Mikey, we’re going to hang out, talk some crap, and go to sleep. What’s the big deal? We’re practically brother and sister; it’s not like I’m going to tie you up and feed you Brussels sprouts or something.”
Bewilderment filtered through his flat stare. “Yes, Brussels sprouts were my worry.”
“Just get another shot ready and stop freaking out. Honestly, you’re worse than a 1950s girl.”
“A 1950s girl? Not a normal girl?”
“Well, do you see me freaking out? You do not. And that is because I am not daft. A woman from 1950 would have been trained to be all simpering and obliging. It must’ve made men feel superior to boss someone around.”
“Yes, I can see you’re not in the habit of making men feel superior.”
“Good Lord, Mable. Not too sensitive, are we?”
He smirked and poured another glass, this one a touch bigger than the last. Now that he could let loose, it seemed like he was trying to catch up. Which was good, because she sounded more than a little stupid.
“Cheers,” she said, holding her glass out.
He clinked his own against hers before lifting it to his curling lips. She followed suit, and—
“Oh holy crap!” Sara coughed as fire consumed her throat and rolled her belly. “Ugh, God. Ughhhh.”
His smile lit up his face. “You okay?”
“Ohhh man, whisky is gross. Ehhh, God.” Sara grabbed her stomach, pausing.
His smile wilted.
She waited, stomach rolling. Bile rising.
He waited with her, his body tensing.
She eyed the sink balefully.
He took a step out of the way. “Chaser? OJ? Water?”
She held up a hand, willing the fire in her belly to simmer down. Finally, with a last gurgle, the churning smoothed out. “I’m good. Probably the only one I can do, though. That was not awesome.”
He smirked. “Do you want something to sip?”
“Beer? Water?”
“Beer it is. Water’s cheating.”
“You and Greg with your drinking rules… Hey, good news—Christie seems to like Greg. She hasn’t admitted it, but I definitely saw a spark. Might get her off your back.”
Mikey handed her a Corona. “That right? That is good news. He’s had a thing for her since he first saw her last season.”
They wandered out to the couch. Sara said, “I wonder why she didn’t b
uy a ticket for that train before now?”
Mikey settled into the couch beside her. “No idea. She’s a strange one with men. Never hooks up, but from what I hear, always talks about it. It’s like she’s daring herself or something.”
“She’s pretty.”
Mikey’s mouth turned into a duckbill. He did a one-shoulder shrug. “I guess. Young.”
Sara shrugged. “So you’re doing your survival thing soon? Heading off into the wilds?”
“Usually I head to a more challenging place. But I have a jungle trip planned later in the year, and I don’t have much time for the summer—I have a solid booking of classes. I’ll probably just head around here somewhere. Survive off the land for a break.”
“A break? Like camping?”
“Camping without supplies, yes. Kind of.”
Sara nodded and leaned back against the couch. Mikey followed suit.
“So, no women at the moment, huh?” she asked, watching him closely. “Or do you have one? Your story changes.”
As she expected, he turned pink. “Nah.”
“What about that Brazilian bird Duke was talking about? She sounds hot.”
“Just because she’s from Brazil?”
“Yes, because she’s from Brazil! I’ve seen those girls. Ooh la laa.” A twinge of pain pierced her chest. She shifted uncomfortably, putting her beer on the coffee table. She shrugged it off with a deep breath.
“I know it hurts.”
“It’s fine.” She waved him away. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s talk about—”
“Just let me say this, Sara. You have to believe that this breakup isn’t about you. In you, he saw someone capable, smart, and ahead of her game. A classic beauty. Someone strong and untouched by life. You feel a different way, sure, but you wouldn’t know it to look at you. Men are… egotistical. I’ll admit it. We think we’re the top of the food chain. So when we see someone rise above us, who we’ve been taught to view as inferior, it crumbles us. He couldn’t compete with a woman. He had to settle for a girl.”
“So you’d walk away, too? I’m a super catch, but no one wants me. Is that it?”
It felt like something inside her ripped, sending racking sobs through her ribs and up through her throat.
