“Stay cool for too long, another one of these meatheads are gonna make their play.”
“Nah, just look at her. That beauty’s only got eyes for me.” He lowered his voice. “She’s looking right now, isn’t she?”
She was, but I told him, “No. She’s talking to Roarke.” I threw a chin nod in the direction of the free weights.
Ellis whipped his head around so fast he tripped over his feet and damned near fell off the machine.
Laughing, I walked away and left him to his humiliation.
Numbskull. His dream woman had dropped out of the sky and into his lap, and he wanted to play games. I’d only shared two short conversations with the doe-eyed bombshell, but she was perfect for Ellis in every way.
I grew up on the same block with Ellis Chambers and Martin Roarke. Ellis was the big teddy bear with a bleeding heart. Martin, the smooth talker, had a temper as red as the hair on his head. Me? I was the scrawny kid who stuttered and wore glasses to correct my lazy eye for most of first grade. Unfortunately, kids didn’t forget, and though I was right as rain by second grade, I’d been labeled “freak,” and that stigma stuck through most of my elementary years. Teased. Bullied. Any time I was separated from my two best friends, the vultures attacked.
When I came home with my first black eye, Dad signed me up for boxing. Best fucking day of my life.
I finished my workout with half an hour on the treadmill, then headed upstairs to my office where I showered and then hit the books.
My mind was not focused on business but on a sweet little dish with killer legs and fuck-me eyes. The woman who’d slammed into me on the street like she’d been running for cover, then kissed me like her life depended on that one desperate, glorious lip-lock.
What was with that beauty? Our paths seemed destined to cross. Was it a sign? Was I supposed to help her in some way? Her boyfriend had been a hot-headed brute. Maybe he was abusive. Maybe I was supposed to teach her to fight. I was a firm believer in fate. Without a doubt, there was a reason she’d been brought into my periphery. After all, CFC was more than just a fight club. When construction was complete, the gym would front my new project, a safe haven for victims of domestic violence.
The thought made me twitchy. What if I couldn’t help her? What if I offered and she blew me off? How could I approach her without coming off as a loon? That was, if I ever bumped into her again.
Shit. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill.
I made my way to the rain-spattered window, made a mental note to call the cleaners, then watched the slow trickle of bodies maneuvering our street below, bobbing in and out of the bakery, loitering outside the antique shop.
A head of blond hair caught my eye, and I laughed. Ellis was headed toward the parking garage around the corner, a raven-haired angel by his side.
“Good for you, buddy. Good for you.”
If ever a man was meant to settle down and raise a brood of rug rats, it was Ellis. The guy had a heart bigger than Texas and the patience of a saint.
Yours truly? I’d always wanted a family of my own, when the time was right. However, I believed a man should build his empire before settling down. Have a solid foundation to offer his wife, then grow his legacy from there, like my father before me, and his father before him. True, I came from wealth, but that wealth came from honest, hardworking men who lived their lives with honor, dignity, and integrity.
“God, family, work,” my grandfather used to say. “Live your life in that order, you’ll be unstoppable.”
I didn’t attend church every Sunday like Granddad had. Hell, I only talked to God on special occasions, but I’d been raised with strong morals, surrounded by a family that loved fiercely and lived modestly. Givers, through and through—to church and charity.
Which reminded me I needed to call St. Johns. Check their needs for the month.
My gut twisted. Seemed wrong to think about church when I couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of that woman’s lips. Or the press of her breasts against my chest. Or the burn her fingers left behind after gripping my neck. Or the way she looked at me.
Fuck. The way she looked at me, like I was familiar, like I was everything.
I rubbed the ache in my temples, sat at my desk, and forced unchaste thoughts from my mind. Then I picked up the phone and dialed the only woman who belonged in my head.
I slipped out the back entrance of the gym. Dirty clouds frowned down at me, mirroring my current mood. Heading toward the parking garage, I joined the rush hour dance, weaving and bobbing between hurried participants of the nine-to-five frenzy. That was the thing I loved most about the Belltown neighborhood—people walked everywhere. Sure, that had a lot to do with the lack of parking space, but everything a person needed was just around one corner or another.
I ditched my coffee mug and was about to pull my buzzing cell out of my pocket when a blur of green caught my eye mere seconds before barreling into my side, knocking me off balance. Something hard landed on my foot.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” came a frantic voice. “I’m so sorry.” A wild mane of dirty-blond hair whizzed by. “So sorry!”
I looked down to find a nude heel. “Wait! You dropped your shoe.”
The woman stopped, her pink Adidas skidding on the sidewalk. The sexiest “Fuck!” I’d ever heard belted from her lips.
She turned, and her curious gaze settled on my face. Pink cheeks turned crimson. “Oh, crap.”
God damn. There she was again. Swear to Christ, the woman was everywhere. “You.”
“Yep. Me.” She laughed, adjusted her black glasses, and whispered, “The kissing bandit.”
What a beautiful sound, that nervous laugh.
I cleared my throat. Bent to retrieve the stiletto from the ground. “What’s the hurry?”
“Late for work.” She snatched the heel from my finger and tucked it into the bag slung over her shoulder.
She took me in, eyes, nose, mouth, and I knew, deep down, we’d met before, somewhere, somehow. She studied me with recognition, curiosity, and something else I couldn’t quite grasp, but I wanted more of whatever strange connection we shared and, good God, those magnetic gray eyes. Fucking magic.
Plump, pink lips parted. She sucked in a breath. “Listen. Um, I’m really—”
“Tell me your name,” I blurted, interrupting before she could run away. I needed to know, even though I had no right to ask.
“Nats! There you are,” came a desperate voice followed by a large man wearing a black wool jacket and an angry face. Dark jeans covered log-sized legs, and with those thick-soled Timberlands, he could flatten her with one ill-intentioned step.
The woman sidled closer to my side, mumbled, “Fuck my life.”
Her hair smelled like rain, and I refrained from ducking lower to smell her neck.
I recognized the guy from our scuffle in the coffee shop a month ago. If he recognized my mug, he didn’t show it. He did, however, size me up, his chest inflating, fists clenched. Blue eyes darkened and then aimed at the girl by my side. “Babe. Please. We need to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Plenty to talk about. Unless you’ve moved on already.” The asswipe nodded in my direction, then ran a hand through his long hair.
Clearly, the guy upset her. He was twice her size, and she trembled next to me. I thought she was afraid and was about to step in when she moved between us and jammed a finger into his massive chest.
Without a lick of fear in her tone, she commanded, “Stop following me. Stop calling me. Stop everything that has anything to do with me. We are done.” She finished with a hard slap to his chest, then marched away, her hips swinging something fierce under her long plaid coat.
I watched, stupefied, then chuckled when she shot me a glance over her shoulder.
The giant, overinflated douche rolled his eyes at me, mumbled, “Little lover’s spat, that’s all.” His brows pinched, he asked, “Do I know you?”
“Ca
n’t say we’ve ever met,” I lied. He’d never pressed charges for the beat down. Maybe because I’d paid for the damages to the coffee shop. Or maybe, judging by what little I knew of his personality, the guy wouldn’t press charges because he’d be forced to publicly admit defeat. Or maybe, he was just that dense. Either way, I wasn’t proud of my fib, but I had a meeting in less than twenty minutes and couldn’t afford a scuffle of any sort.
“How do you know Nats?” he asked, chest puffing again.
He stepped closer. I held my ground. He had me by an inch and maybe fifty pounds and clearly enjoyed asserting his size. Nothing I hated worse than a fucking bully.
“Don’t know her,” was all I offered, and before he could respond, I walked away.
Wasn’t easy. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to tear the man apart for making that lady tremble. And how fucked was that? I didn’t know either of them. They were none of my concern, and I had no business letting that woman into my head.
But, goddamn, the way she looked at me.
Ellis met me at the corner coffee stand, ridiculous grin on his face, two mugs of coffee in his hands. “Can we skip poker tonight?”
I relieved him of one cup and brought the lid to my nose, absorbing the rich, nutty aroma. “What’s up? You got a hot date?” I asked, knowing damn well he did.
“Lacey’s making me dinner tonight.”
We headed north toward the gym, the wet cement slick and growing darker as the annoying mist gave way to heavy drops of rain. “Getting serious with this lady?” I asked, ducking deeper into my coat collar.
Ellis hit me with a big, dumb grin, then lifted his latte to his lips, taking a slow sip for dramatic pause. “Fuck, man. She’s the one.”
“You sure, tiger? It’s only been a month.”
“What can I say? When you know, you know.”
I couldn’t bridle my smile. I loved Ellis like a brother, and he obviously adored the shit out of Lacey. The two of them had been joined at the hip since their first date.
I’d never met a couple more suited.
And speak of the devil—the hot, curvy firecracker came bouncing around the corner, smile bright, dressed in workout gear and a waterproof jacket, her dark hair covered in a huge hood. “Oh, hi guys!”
Ellis scooped her up with one arm and lifted her for a kiss, her toes inches off the ground. Sweetest fucking couple.
Suddenly I was bitter, having woken alone in my king-size bed again. I shook off the negative vibe and continued walking.
“Did Ellis ask you about this weekend?” Lacey said, taking two strides for every one of ours to keep up.
“What’s up this weekend?”
She laid a hand on my arm to slow me down. “We’re hoping to make a love connection. My best friend and Martin.”
I snorted, spewing coffee. “Double date?”
“We were thinking more of a triple date.”
I studied Lacey’s pleading gaze, then shifted my attention to Ellis’s puppy dog eyes. Jesus. Fuck. They were killing me.
“You sure you want to risk that, bud?” I asked, hating the bitter taste of those words. “Martin isn’t exactly the dating type.”
He tucked Lacey under his massive arm and argued, “He hasn’t found the right lady yet, that’s all.”
Oh, Martin had found plenty of ladies. Trouble was, he could never recognize the beauty standing right in front of him, always looking for the next best thing, always wanting more.
We reached the door, and I shoved the key into the lock, wiggled the damn thing, then gave the door a hard yank. When the rush of sweat and leather and musty old building hit my nostrils, all tension left my body. I was home.
“I’m gonna head up to the office.” I shrugged out of my jacket and gave it a shake, then gave Lacey a peck on the cheek. “You two enjoy your workout.”
Small fingers gripped my elbow. “So you’ll join us on Saturday? Please?”
“Of course.” I nodded at Ellis. “Text me the deets.”
“Yay!” Lacey squealed, then bounced away toward the locker rooms, yelling over her shoulder. “We’re gonna have so much fun. I promise!”
I raised a brow, and Ellis only chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t let Martin fuck with this one.”
Nobody controlled Martin. Since middle school, Ellis and I had become masters of damage control for our best friend. But that’s what best friends did. Had each other’s backs. Always. Even when your buddy had a knack for getting himself in trouble. Even when that kind of trouble could get your ass hauled to juvie, which by some miracle, we’d all managed to avoid. Stealing, drugs, gambling, fighting. Martin had played with fire and nearly burned us all more times than I cared to count.
“Whatever you say, man.” I turned and jogged up the stairs. Fun? Probably not. But at least I’d get a few hours with my best friends and my fiancée in the same room.
Natalie
Life had a funny way of throwing mean back at you. For example, the previous day, Holden sent me flowers, albeit after he stalked me to work, then sent me twenty-five text messages. He wasn’t taking the breakup very well and had exhausted my good graces, so I forced the bouquet of roses through the shredder at work, then had them hand couriered back to the gym where I knew he would be. Mean, right?
I’m not proud of my actions. However, a full moon hung in the sky, so I blame my bout of insanity on that fact.
Back to mean…
“Your dress is gorgeous.” Lacey finished tipping our Uber driver, then shoved her phone into her Tori Burch clutch. “Hugs your chest just right, shows the perfect amount of cleavage.”
“Thanks.” I held my coat open and twirled outside the swanky restaurant, then fell into Lacey’s embrace, holding her for a fat minute and mustering the courage to go inside.
My best friend smelled like cotton candy. Under her long jacket, she wore a simple black sweater dress that hugged her voluptuous curves. Red lipstick accentuated her full lips. Her cheeks boasted a pink blush no cosmetic could mimic. Love looked so beautiful on my Lacey.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Ready.” Ready to get the evening over with.
Last thing I wanted was to dive back into the dating pool, but Lacey was so happy. So in love, lust, and all those fun things, and her guy was just the sweetest. His friends had to be awesome. Besides, Lacey would never set me up with a man unless she deemed him worthy. Her standards were far stricter than mine.
We swayed through the entrance of Bar Del Bruno, the hottest new Italian restaurant in Seattle. High ceilings. Amber lights dangling from the dark wood beams. Candles at every table. A grand piano sat nestled in a dark corner, a young man wearing a suit and a slicked-back undercut setting the mood for love, his long fingers dancing over the ivories.
“Bye-bye dating funk,” she whispered in my ear, giving my fingers a squeeze.
No sense fibbing. I acted the runway model, working my heels, swinging my hips like a pro. The greatest accessory to any outfit was confidence. I layered myself in that shit, no matter how thin the veils, my dating-game face firmly in place.
I spied Ellis first, his six-foot-three stature hard to miss, and my racing pulse kicked up another thousand RPMs. Next to him sat a handsome man. Dark red hair, tan, square jaw. Fit. Tall. His focus was aimed at the woman who sat across the table from him, her back to me, and he laughed at something she said.
Ellis’s smile was electrifying. “There’s my girl,” he announced, focused on Lacey while he pushed to stand.
The woman turned in her seat, her face coming into view. Platinum blond hair, high cheekbones, heart-shaped lips painted red. The perfect, straight nose was new. Not the inky black serpentine stare, though. I knew that glare all too well. Victoria Ford. My childhood tormentor.
See? Mean for mean.
My heart, lungs, muscles, and wits seized in one epic clunk, an old motor sputtering a final protest before rendering its host immobile. I tripped over my feet, but Lacey grabbed my a
rm, holding me upright, squeezing hard, conveying her own shock.
Without causing a scene, she whispered, “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
There was no time to run or gather my scattered defenses. Lacey disappeared between Ellis’s massive arms.
A warm hand surrounded mine. “You must me Natalie.” His voice was silk, his gaze approving.
“Hi. Hey.” I forced my attention from his paisley tie to his honey-colored eyes. Dear Lord, he was pretty. Clean shaven. Thick hair trimmed short. “Martin?”
His lips parted in an approving grin. “Nice to meet you.”
Ellis cleared his throat. “Ladies, this is Victoria—”
“Ford.” Lacey interrupted. “We know.”
Ever the faithful friend, Lacey leaned closer and rested her hand on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “Hi, Martin. You look great. Love that tie.” She cleared her throat and darted widened eyes toward Martin.
I realized I was still moving his arm up and down and dropped his hand.
Ellis waited for Lacey to sit before making himself comfortable, then gestured toward Victoria and asked, “How do you ladies know each other?”
Awkward.
Clueless to my discomfort, Martin pulled out the chair next to him, helped me out of my coat, and waited for me to sit, which I did, grateful to be a few feet farther from Victoria.
Much to my surprise, Victoria was the first to speak. “I tortured poor Nats all through high school.”
Her gaze covered me like a flee-infested blanket, offering temporary warmth but the promise of misery.
Lacey’s eyes narrowed, aimed in Victoria’s direction, before she turned to Ellis. “I’m more interested to know how you and Victoria know each other.”
Ellis offered Lacey a heartwarming smile. My chest deflated, envious of the adoration lighting his face. “She’s Cole’s fiancée.”
Victoria hovered her hand over the table, wiggling her fingers, showcasing a moderate-sized diamond.
“Beautiful,” I managed to squeak. “Congratulations.” Either the poor guy was clueless to her depravity, or maybe she’d snared a masochist. My heart bled for the future Mr. Victoria Ford.
L.O.V.E. Page 3
