No Excuses

by Nikky Kaye

  Damn it! I’d missed him coming out the door.

  “Shit! He’s on the move,” I hissed into the phone, popping out from behind the mailbox and trying to catch up before I lost him around a corner.

  “Did you take any pictures of him?” Evie asked.

  Duh. I did a mental face palm. “Gotta go, call you later.” I hung up on her and switched my phone to record video.

  It was hard to keep up—but not too close—and stay focused on him, especially from across the street. It would probably look like a shaky horror movie from a film student. I’d be lucky if he was even in any of the shots, frankly.

  I was so focused on keeping his large, muscular body in the frame, that I didn’t notice that we’d done a big circle and were approaching my apartment building again.

  No way.

  Stalker Sweet Cheeks leaned against the waist high concrete wall bordering the steps up to the front door, and pulled out his phone. His neck flexed as he bent over it.

  Any fear I’d had was replaced by anger. Was he going to wait for me here? Follow me? Ambush me? Kidnap me?

  This was my fucking apartment! My home, my sanctuary. My wine storage facility.

  I put my phone back in my purse and swung it to my back. Darting through the dark, I rounded the building and went in the back door that people use for moving furniture in.

  Sure, I could have just snuck up to my apartment and left Sweet Cheeks out there twisting in the breeze for however long he decided to stay. But then I’d be afraid every time I went out the door. Not again.

  The time for being helpless was over.

  My mental rundown of what I was taught in self-defense class was brief. All I could remember was to get the higher ground and go for the eyes.

  When I looked through the wall of glass at the front door, I saw him at the bottom of the steps, still engrossed in his phone. My gaze swung up and down the street. The traffic was still pretty regular, but the sidewalks were empty.

  I waited until a big truck was going by, then snuck out as quietly as I could, wedging my purse in the jamb so I could escape quickly behind the locked door if I needed to. The solid concrete railing was wide enough for me to jump up on, and edge my way down the dozen steps to where he stood.

  “Aaaaaaaahhhhh!”

  I jumped on his back, clasping my hands around his throat.

  My legs wrapped around his waist, and while my whole body was taut with adrenaline, his was just taut. It was like clinging to the concrete wall itself—only warmer. And smelling… amazing?

  “What the fu—?” he growled, trying to whip his head around. His skull connected with my nose, bringing tears to my eyes.

  Goddamn, that hurt! I tightened my fists into his windpipe, his growl turning into a grunt.

  Then he pivoted away from the wall and dropped into a squat, his hands wrapping around my wrists so hard I swear I felt the bones scrunch together.

  “Owwww!”

  My grip loosened as I yowled in his ear. With sharp exhale, he held on to my forearms and flipped me over his head to the sidewalk.

  At that point, I was willing to concede that maybe jumping him was a bad idea.

  The wind was knocked out of me, my wrists burned, and my back stung like a sonofabitch. I was lucky my head hadn’t hit the ground, but the sharp pain in my neck told me that trying to avoid a concussion was going to end up in another injury. But at least my arms weren’t broken.

  I catalogued all these things in about three seconds, while I lay there breathless. Blinking.

  Then he dropped on top of me, one of his knees bending to pin down my thighs, and his hot, hard forearm across my throat. His breath was hot on my face, and smelled a little like bourbon.

  “Why are you follow—Annie?”

  He jerked back up, his hands going to his head. I sucked in a breath, my ribs aching. For the first time, I saw his face clearly in the security light at the front door.

  “Jake?”

  My stalker was my best friend’s fiancé’s brother?

  CHAPTER TWO

  JAKE

  “Holy shit!”

  Evie’s friend Annie lay before me on the sidewalk, gasping for breath.

  I’d put her there.

  But what the fuck was she doing, jumping on my back like a deranged monkey?

  She stared up at me, her big brown eyes wide and her face pale. Her long dark hair puddled around her head like blood.

  Holy shit.

  “Are you okay?” I knelt beside her again, my gaze skimming her body to check her over.

  “Fine?”

  She didn’t sound fine. She was making the same kind of choked, rasping noises that my baby daughter Stella did when she had a bad cold.

  I had to admit that she looked fine, though. Really fine. Annie was a tight little package of hotness, like a shot of good espresso. I frowned.

  “Why are you dressed like a ninja?”

  “It’s… my… work… uniform… dumbass.” With each pause, she was able to take a deeper breath, until the color began to return to her face.

  “You work as a ninja? I hate to say it, but you had some shitty training.”

  “You’re hilarious.” She rolled her eyes and winced as she pushed herself up on her elbows.

  “Hang on.” She yelped as I wrapped my hands around her arms to help her up. Right. I’d grabbed her there—hard. Self-loathing curdled in my belly. I never thought I’d hurt a woman like that.

  Sure, there were times that I wanted to shake some sense into my ex—and baby mama—but I’d never laid a forceful hand on a chick before.

  Unless she wanted me to.

  I reached behind Annie, curling my arms around her waist and upper back, and pulled her toward me. I kept my arms around her once she was in a seated position—just in case.

  She smelled faintly of food, the scent of coffee in her hair. But as she slumped against me, I could smell the faded remains of the perfume she must have put on that morning. It was spicy and exotic—a little like her. My jeans tightened as my body reacted to the woman in my arms.

  “What the hell were you thinking, jumping on me like that?” I’d gone from turned on to pissed off. “I could have seriously hurt you!”

  Her forehead creased as she scowled at me. “What the were you doing, messing with my mailbox?” Her sharp nod toward the door of the apartment building was accompanied by a little moan at the movement.

  “You saw me? Why didn’t you say something?” I released her, leaning back on my knees to see if she’d remain upright without assistance.

  She did. In fact, her spine looked like it had rebar running through it.

  “I didn’t see you, Jake. I saw a guy. A big, tall stranger with his fingers in my box.”

  I couldn’t help it. My mind went to a dirty, dirty place at her words. The smirk on my lips widened.

  “What’s so funny, asshole? You’re the one tampering with the mail, which—I might add—is a federal offense!” Her words came faster than her movements as she rose to her feet. “How would you like to come home from a hard day at work to find a strange man shoving something in your slit?”

  Laughter burst from me. It was impossible to stop it. She stood in front of me, her hands on her hips and an indignant expression on her face. On my knees, my line of sight was squarely on the general area of her “slit.” And I chuckled again.

  “Honey, I sure hope you don’t have strange men fingering your slit.” I hopped to my feet, my knees only protesting a little.

  She spluttered, her cheeks reddening, as she got the joke. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “Pervert.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, remembering her ogling me the one time we’d met before. I’d been running with Stella in the stroller, and stopped by to drop something off for Evie. The admiration in Annie’s eyes had followed me all the way home—and into a long, hot, handsy shower.

  Even though that had b
een eight months ago, my cock still hardened at the memory, threatening to embarrass me. And it took a lot to embarrass me.

  I bent over her, so close I could smell her perfume again. “I’ve been called worse.”

  When she tilted her head back to look me straight in the eye, hers were dark and glittering. “I bet,” she said faintly.

  I had to give it to her, though. She didn’t drop her gaze. Okay, she dropped it a little, but only as far as my chest. I felt it like a physical touch, a shiver of arousal shooting up my spine.

  Throwing her to the ground didn’t even make me break a sweat, but being this close to her took my breath away. Stepping back, I scrubbed my hand over my head.

  Annie blinked once, twice, like she was waking up. “So what were you doing with my… mail?”

  “Wedding invitation.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re getting married?”

  “Hell, no!” I recoiled. “Evie and Dom are.”

  “Oh, right.” She looked down at the sidewalk, her fingers fiddling with her scuffed purse. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she was damn lucky I hadn’t accidentally strangled her with the damn thing. Irritation flared in me again at her stupid ninja moves.

  I sighed. “Apparently you haven’t RSVPed or something, and Evie’s been calling you? She asked me to hand deliver it, to make sure you’d gotten it, but you weren’t home…” I hadn’t realized how late she worked. Then again, I wasn’t even sure what she did for a living. I asked her.

  “I waitress.”

  “Not a ninja, then.”

  She cracked a smile, which somehow made me feel fucking proud. “No, not a ninja.” Her eyes narrowed as she said, “I talked to Evie earlier. She didn’t say anything about you dropping it off.”

  “Well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I was supposed to do it a week ago. Maybe two.”

  “Two weeks?”

  “Three at the most.”

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Has it been that long since I talked to her?” she asked herself out loud.

  “I guess she thinks you’re avoiding her.”

  Her gaze flicked to me. She twisted the strap of her purse nervously. Guilt was written all over her face.

  Oh.

  “It’s not that I’m avoiding her; I’m just—”

  “Busy?” Yeah, I’d heard that one before. I’d even used it in the last couple of weeks.

  Annie exhaled. “I hate weddings.” Judging by the look on her face, she equated weddings with something like leprosy, or bars on Saint Patrick’s Day.

  “I thought all girls loved weddings. Pretty dresses, catching the bouquet, hot groomsmen…” Again, my mind travelled to a naughty destination.

  “Expensive, ugly dresses you only wear once, being humiliated in public for being single, and obnoxious assholes thinking you’re so desperate to get married yourself that you must be an easy lay.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

  “Hmmm. Well, at this wedding, I’ll be one of those obnoxious assholes.”

  My imagination began working on a mental picture of her in a silky dress. Would she even wear a bra? Her breasts were a perfect handful, but then maybe the material of the dress would rub against her bare nipples and make them stand out…

  “I’m not desperate.”

  I blinked as she spun away and began walking up the steps—slowly. “Hey, hey, let me help you.”

  “Thanks, Jake. I think I got enough help from you, already.” Her voice was flat and fatigued.

  I followed her into the building, standing at her back as she opened her little mailbox. Inside was a slightly bent envelope with her name in calligraphy on it. She jumped as I leaned against the vault of mailboxes.

  “I didn’t know your last name was Asato, by the way.”

  “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What? Did I pronounce it wrong?”

  “No. You didn’t.”

  I ignored her eye roll. “What kind of name is that?”

  “Japanese. And before you ask—no, I don’t speak the language and I’ve never been there. My father died when I was a baby. And I fucking hate sushi.”

  I flinched, as though the bitter acidity in her tone might have pockmarked my skin. Someone had issues.

  “What kind of name is Stone?” she mocked.

  “It comes from Old Icelandic, and means a bubbling river or stream.”

  Annie Asato inhaled sharply and frowned at me with confusion.

  “I’m just fucking with you.” I stood up straight, flashing her a wide smile.

  The relief on her face was obvious, but she slammed her mailbox shut with a metallic clang and turned her back on me.

  Note to self: Annie did not like being made fun of.

  The one and only time I’d met Annie, I’d been trying to disengage my heart and hormones from the brief and blazing liaison I’d had with Evie, her best friend.

  I wasn’t blind, though.

  Any man would have brought her to mind when alone in the shower, with her long dark hair that begged for a fist to wrap around it and tug it back. Her tight little body, and her sassy, sarcastic tongue.

  In some ways she was the polar opposite of Evie’s bouncy blonde hair and ripe curves. Evie was like overdosing on marshmallow treats, resulting in a sugar high then regretting it later.

  Annie, I suspected, would be like sucking on high quality dark chocolate. The taste would linger.

  That was a good thing—and at the moment, that good thing was walking away from me, to her low-rent apartment in her low-rise building.

  “Hey, wait!” She didn’t pause in her trudge up the stairs. Her ass bobbed hypnotically in front of my face. If I reached out, I could just… I shook my head. What was I…? Oh, right. “You got a date to the wedding?”

  She halted, then gasped when my body collided with hers. I could have moved away. I should have moved away.

  I didn’t.

  Spinning us around so that we were facing each other on the same step, I repeated the question.

  “No, of course I don’t have a date!” she snipped. “I was hoping I could avoid going altogether.”

  “No need to be petulant, princess. From what I hear, you’re the maid of honor. You kind of have to show up.”

  “Ugh. Fine! I’ll be there.” The pained expression on her face told me she’d rather have a root canal.

  “So go with me. I’m the best man.”

  Her expression was incredulous.

  Unable to deny my curiosity any longer, I reached out and ran my thumb and forefinger down her long, silky hair. Now her expression was inscrutable, but her eyes widened.

  “Why should I?” she asked me quietly.

  Damn, I’d never had to work this hard to get a date. “Because I’ll make it fun for you. I’ll protect you from the assholes, and I’m a fan-fucking-tastic dancer.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can. You’re kind of a ballbuster.” I held up a hand as her delicate eyebrows drew together and her lips parted. “In the best kind of way.”

  “Ha!” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen a scrotum in two years, much less busted one.”

  Could have fooled me. But now I was even more intrigued by this exotic ninja waitress.

  “So? The wedding?”

  She poked me in the chest. “You know I’m not fucking you in the coat room, right? I refuse to be a cliché.”

  My easy grin belied the tightness in my groin. “Too bad. I’d let you bust my balls.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANNIE

  At first I thought the big box that appeared at my front door a week later was from Jacob Stone. After all, it held a slinky gown, high heels, and luxurious lingerie. Maybe it was my bridesmaid dress. Actually, it wasn’t as awful as I worried it would be.

  Then I saw the note.

  “Roses are red. Violets are blue. I think this would look sexy on you.” –Your secret admirer

  O
h my god.

  He had been just outside my door. Had it been locked? I sometimes forgot to lock the door when I was home. I must have been home when he delivered it, since it wasn’t there when I got home from work. I’d been sent home early when the whole downtown block was notified of a gas leak.

  I found the box when I headed downstairs to check the mail after a shower and an afternoon nap. When I realized that working near open flames during a gas leak might be safer than my own apartment, I got scared. Then I got angry.

  Then I got out the wine.

  Three glasses later, my fear had not dissipated. My knee bounced nervously as I sat on a scarred wooden chair at my kitchen table. Wondering what to do. The box mocked me from across the room, where it sat by the front door. It was too bad that it wasn’t from Jake, because everything in it was something I would have chosen myself.

  That was the most frightening part. This person knew me. A random creeper was easier to ignore, somehow. I looked around my tiny studio apartment with new eyes.

  Maybe the bamboo blinds on my windows didn’t give me enough privacy. Maybe I shouldn’t have let the building maintenance guy come in to fix the leaking trap under my sink. Maybe the previous tenant had left secret cameras installed in the light fixtures. Maybe the guy who’d moved into Evie’s old apartment next door had drilled a hole through the wall and was spying on me.

  Maybe I was being a little paranoid.

  My anxiety drove me out the door, nonetheless. Walking outside, I felt even more conspicuous. Was my secret admirer watching me? Following me?

  Sure, I could run in the sneakers I wore and my baggy sweatshirt and tight leggings wouldn’t get in the way, but I was still a petite woman—who had already demonstrated her lack of ninja skills on Jake the previous week.

  Jake.

  Now, Jake could hold his own. He could hold me, too.

  The dog tags that swung from his neck the first time I’d met him told me that he’d served, so he surely knew how to fight. And if I remembered correctly, he’d had a baby in the stroller that day. He was probably a very protective father to the little girl with blonde curls and an obstinate look. She was freaking adorable. So was the fact that Jake had named his new toy store after her, or so Evie had told me.