by Jo Raven
“Yeah?” My curiosity gets the better of me, and I turn to face Kayla fully. “What about him?”
She shrugs. “It’s not a secret. He’ll fuck anything with tits and a vagina. And Cassie, well…she’ll sleep with anything that has a dick. Sorry to be crude, but it’s the truth.”
I fall back on the sofa cushions, letting the trash bag drop to the floor.
Of course I knew that about Jesse. I mean, hello. Talk about an introduction. He’d practically fallen out of the bathroom after doing whatever it was he’d been doing with that blonde. A blonde whose name he didn’t even remember thirty seconds later.
And then he’d been with another. Jesus. “And you still want him?”
“Uh-huh.” Kayla sighs dreamily.
“You just said he’s a manwhore.”
“Pfff.” She waves a hand. “Nothing wrong with ogling him, is there?”
“Ogling.” I shake my head, fighting a smile. “I see.”
“And the occasional touch. Doesn’t hurt, does it? I just want…” She wiggles her fingers and makes grabby hands. “Want to feel his abs, you know? They look, like, rock-hard. And his pecs. Wouldn’t mind feeling his biceps, either. I’d totally grab his ass, too.”
“You’re crazy.” I laugh. “I mean it.”
“Crazy in lust.” She bobs her head to imaginary music. “Oh yeah, baby.” Then she stops and squints at me. “Wait, you mean you’re not dying to touch him? Now be honest. We’re roommates and all. First rule of roommateship: always be honest about boys.”
“Kayla, I…” Don’t do boys. Don’t want to think about boys. “Fine.”
She leans forward until she looks into my eyes and says in a mock-deep voice: “Don’t you wanna feel up Jesse’s abs? Speak the truth.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want to feel Jesse’s abs, pecs, ass or any other part of his anatomy.”
“Funny.” She leans back, yawns. “I could’ve sworn you do.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. Could be the way you turn red and shivery whenever I mention him. He’s a handful, isn’t he?” She winks, just like he did, and on cue familiar heat sweeps over my face. “Gotcha. You lied. You’d so feel Jesse’s pecs and ass, you naughty girl. And you broke rule number one, about not lying when it comes to boys, which means you get to clean the toilets.”
I huff, my mouth falling open. “Seriously?”
“Ev should’ve explained the rules. I’m so gonna kick that girl’s ass,” my new roommate says and leaves me on the couch gaping after her. “We’ll discuss rule number two later.”
Like hell.
“Isn’t Kayla awesome?” Ev gushes, her arm around my shoulders as we walk down the street the next afternoon. Summer is approaching and the breeze is balmy, brushing over my face with invisible fingers.
“She’s cool.” I chew on my lip, thinking about what she said.
Eye-candy. Cassie wanting him. Hell, every girl dying to touch him.
“Something the matter?”
I shrug against her arm. I don’t let many people get as close to me as Ev, but I’ve known her for most of my life. We went to the same elementary school, then high school. Her family lived a street away from mine. I trust her like few people in the world.
“She can be a bit too much sometimes,” Ev concedes to my unspoken doubt. “Did she give you the rules of roommateship?”
I grin despite my misgivings. “Yep. Be honest about boys, never wash dishes in the morning…”
“…Your stuff is my stuff, and my stuff is my stuff, too…”
“…Wednesday is romantic comedy and ice cream night.” I giggle. “Is she serious?”
“Deadly. Plus she changes the rules as she goes, on a whim.”
I fall silent, wondering if this cohabitation thing will work out. Doubtful.
“On some days you may want to assassinate her,” Ev says, steering me toward the entrance of a café. Crescendo, reads the sign over the door. “But on the whole she’s good fun, you’ll see.”
I nod vaguely as we move between small, crowded tables, the air thick with voices and laughter. Freshly-ground coffee and a whiff of vanilla scent the air, underlain with a layer of sweat and human breath.
My hand strays up to my throat, to my choker. I made this one two months ago, when I took my decision to return to Madison. My fingers stroke the smooth planes of the copper plate. I breathe out.
“Here they are,” Ev exclaims, and I recoil. Shit, I thought we’d have a quiet coffee, just the two of us. “Come on.”
“Ev, who’re “they”?”
“Micah, Ocean and Cassie. Micah texted me they’d be here.” She sends me a bright smile. “Don’t be grumpy. They’re nice guys.”
“I bet they are.” Sometimes I wonder if there’s any place in the world for the antisocial like myself.
I let her drag me to their table, and I nod at them, hoping my smile doesn’t look fake. Normally Ocean’s pretty face and crazy hair would be the first thing I’d notice, but since Kayla’s comment I find my gaze drawn to Cassie.
She’s so perfect, blonde and blue-eyed, skin smooth and pale, and a petite body that seems to have all the right curves. If she likes Jesse, then I guess it’s a given fact they’ll end up together. Beautiful people tend to gravitate toward each other.
Besides, they apparently even think alike. A match made in heaven.
No reason why the thought of him with another girl should sting like broken glass. None at all.
I find myself seated between Ev and Ocean. He leans in and smiles warmly.
“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party.” His voice is light, his eyes and hair the color of summer sky. “I’m Ocean Storm.”
“Ocean Storm? Really?”
He winces and shifts away. “Yeah, really.”
“I’m sorry.” Shitshitshit. “Hey, I—”
“It’s okay. I know it’s funny. Go ahead and laugh.”
“It’s not funny.” My voice turns sharp and my insides churn, and I hate that I know exactly what he means and how he feels. I wonder how badly he was bullied because of his name. “I like it.”
He says nothing, but I could swear his eyes brighten a bit more. He sips his black coffee, half-hiding behind his mug, while Cassie leans over the table.
“Amber, right?” Her voice is a velvet purr. “We met at the party. I’m Cassie, I used to work with Ev. She says you’ve been friends forever.”
“That’s right.” I detect no jealousy in her big eyes. I like that.
“But you lived in Chicago for a few years?”
“Yeah.”
“Must be nice. I’d love to go to Chicago someday.” She turns her coffee cup in its saucer. “Someday, yeah…”
She seems nice, and her smile is dreamy and genuine. It’s hard not to like her, although she’s so pretty and likes Jesse.
Jeez, Amber. And why should that be a problem? Christ.
I need something to do with my hands, so I brighten when Ev waves to draw a waiter’s attention. A cappuccino would be nice, plus I can spin the cup, much like Cassie is doing, stare into it, sip at it, bang it around in its saucer… so many options, all preferable to interacting with people. With humans.
I think I know how cats must feel most of the time.
“Hey, guys,” a bright feminine voice says, “what can I get you?”
Our waitress is here, and her tanned face is familiar somehow.
“Meg, how’s it going?” Micah lifts his hand, and Meg gives him a high five. “How’s Rafe?”
Oh, right, she’s Rafe’s girlfriend.
“He’s all right. Trying to straighten out the paperwork for the shop. Not a happy camper, I can tell you, but it needs to be done after his uncle’s lies.” She grins, all white teeth and sparkling dark eyes. These boys sure know how to choose cute girls. I guess my theory that pretty attracts pretty stands.
“His uncle’s lies?”
I glance at Ev, hoping for an explanation.
“Long story,” she says. “Tell you later.”
“All these boys have long stories to tell,” Cassie mutters, quirking a grin at Ocean. His handsome features are locked in a scowl.
“That son of a bitch,” he mutters. “His uncle, that asshole, almost stole Damage Control from Rafe. From all of us.”
Okay, he does sound like a major ass. “From all of you? I thought the shop belongs to Rafe?”
“It does.” Ocean lets out a long breath. “But he and Zane made it a home for all of us. Zane taught us the job. Rafe helps us with the rent. All of us think of Damage as our home.”
“Okay, back up. All of you?” I don’t know why I’m starting to relax around these guys. Ocean makes me feel at ease. Micah, too, and Ev is right beside me, so maybe that’s why. “Who’re all of you?”
“The Damage Boyz,” Megan says and gives the two guys at our table an affectionate look. “Micah, Jesse, Ocean, Seth and Shane.”
Long story? More like a saga. One of those that take up a whole shelf in a bookshop.
“I’ll send someone to take your order,” Megan says as I’m trying to process the conversation.
Zane and Rafe took them in. Zane taught them the job, and Rafe helps with the rent… I want to ask more questions, but I’m not even sure how to pose them discreetly. Discretion isn’t my strong suit.
And in the end it doesn’t matter, because our waiter chooses that precise moment to arrive and take our order. When I look up, I find myself staring into a pair of striking green-blue eyes and a sexy grin that takes my breath away.
Oh, crap. Crap, crap. He’s our waiter?
At this rate I expect everyone I met at that damn party to make an appearance. Resisting the urge to check if the rest of them are hiding under the table or behind my back, I sit ramrod-straight, duck my head and school my face into a blank mask.
Draw no attention. I’m not here. You can’t see me.
“Embers,” Jesse says, his grin widening, his gaze zooming in on my face. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, “fancy that.”
The whole gang is here, but I all I see is him. Dammit.
He’s dressed in a soft gray shirt that molds over his chest and shoulders, and black pants. His hair is so short it’s just a shadow on his head, making his luminous eyes look huge.
Crap. Why can’t I look away?
“How’s the new job, J?” Micah nods at him. “Is Meg bossing you around?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Jesse chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that makes me shiver.
“Hey, Jesse James.” Ocean lifts his coffee cup in a salute. “Bold, bad, and brave.”
Why do I keep feeling everyone around me is speaking Chinese? “Jesse James? Not Lee?”
“Wait. You don’t know who Jesse James is?” Ocean lifts his brows.
“He was a criminal,” Jesse says, “who robbed trains.”
“He stole from the rich and gave to the poor,” Micah says. “He was kind.”
“I know who he was,” I interject, but I’m overruled.
“He was killed,” Jesse mutters, looking away and shifting on his feet, “shot and buried.”
A shadow passes over his face, and it sends a pang through me. The others fall silent, shifting awkwardly in their seats. I have no clue what the dark undercurrent of their jokes could mean.
This is a dangerous game.
“All right,” I say into the stretch of silence. “How about some coffee, then, JJ?”
He lifts his head, a shadow behind his eyes. Then his dark brows lift, and his brilliant gaze lights up like a sunny morning. “You gave me a nickname!”
Why does he look so pleased? “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you damn well did.” He winks at me. “I’ll be JJ for you, babe.”
I sputter. “What? Everyone calls you something.”
“But not what you called me.” He bends over the table, braced with one hand on the surface, so that he looks straight into my eyes. His grin flashes again, blinding. “And you’re not everyone.”
I’m caught in his gaze, a moth in a web. My heart races. Goosebumps run over my skin. My nipples pebble, and fire fills my veins.
I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Well, I’d love a latte,” Ev says, shattering the web, breaking the spell, and I fall back in my chair, sucking in much needed air.
“A latte it is,” he says, his voice a bit rough, and he straightens, pulling out his order pad. “And for you, Embers?”
“Embers?” Micah frowns. “What sort of name is that?”
“Exactly my thoughts,” I mutter.
Jesse sighs, shakes his head, bites his lip on a smile. He’s unnervingly cute like that, and so sexy I ache deep inside from wanting him so much.
Holy crap. Not good. “A latte for me, too,” I say quickly and push my chair back with a screech. “Be back in a bit.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ev says and grabs her purse, but I shake my head.
“Need a minute,” I whisper, and she stills, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Jesse is staring hard at me, his gaze almost tangible, and I know everyone is looking, wondering why I’m taking off like that.
“She just needs the restroom,” Ev says, turning to Jesse, and he blinks, as if coming out of a daydream.
“Of course. That way.” He turns and points, muscles flexing on his bare arm, making his colorful tattoos dance. “If you want, I can show you, I’m going that—”
“No, it’s fine,” I snap and stride past him in the indicated direction. “No need.”
“Jesse, stay,” I hear Micah bark, and I have a weird urge to laugh as I bolt between tables, spot the ladies toilets and run to hide inside.
Someone taps on the restroom door as I wash my hands, stalling. It’s a quaint little restroom, like the café that houses it, with flowery wallpaper and a wrought-iron mirror. A vase with dried flowers stands on a low table.
The knocking comes again. The handle starts to turn.
“Just a minute!” I shout and turn off the faucet, then reach for the paper towels. “Don’t—”
A bass voice rumbles through, startling me so badly I let the paper towels fall to the floor. “Hey, Embers, just making sure you’re okay.”
The handle turns again, this time all the way—because of course the lock wouldn’t work, typical of quaint little places—and the door opens.
“Wait!”
Too late. Jesse is standing in the opening, filling it from side to side and bottom to top, one muscular arm casually braced on the frame. “So are you?”
Unconsciously I step back, retreating until I hit the toilet. “Am I what?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Okay. Are you okay?”
He’s blocking the door, and I feel cornered, trapped. My heart is trying to climb up my throat. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
“Why are you scared of me?” He gives me his easy grin, and I want to scream. “I told you, I—”
“Back off, Jesse.”
“Sure thing.” A dark flash goes through his bright eyes, and his mouth twists briefly. Then he nods and gives me a ghost of a smile. “No problem.”
He retreats, lifting his hands, and then he’s gone, leaving the doorway empty, my escape route free.
I have a sudden, strange yearning to call him back, tell him why I’m acting this way. Antisocial by default, made worse by past events. Retreating into my shell when people are around. Hiding.
A yearning to tell him where my terrors crawl out from, where they are born, in that black pit of the past on which I tried to put a lid and failed.
But I can’t. I can’t open up, lay myself wide to anyone, much less him. Someone I don’t know, someone who’s so beautiful and arrogant he scares me to death. Truth is, I don’t do people. I don’t get close. Di
stance is necessary for safety.
Experience tells me not to give away anything, not even a shred of myself, or they’ll tear me apart. Not to let anyone in or they’ll eat me up from the inside and spit me out where everyone can see.
So I wrap myself up in my past, the memories I tried to bury for so long and failed, and sit down on the closed toilet lid. Damn, they’re still inside of me, pieces of me, mind scars, fear grooves running straight to my nightmares.
Get yourself together, Amber. You’re free. The bullies aren’t here. It’s been a while. They wouldn’t even know you if they saw you. And you know how to defend yourself now.
Okay. There’s a stitch in my side, as if I’ve been running. I suck in a deep breath and almost choke on it. All right. I can do this.
I’m stronger than this. I’ve fought it and beat it once before. I can do it again. So I sit and struggle to calm my pounding pulse and erratic breathing, try to calm my mind before I go out there and face the world once more.
Chapter Four
Jesse
The one chance I got to talk to Amber, and I scared the shit out of her.
Great job, J. No idea how I frightened her, but it’s left a sour taste in my mouth and no frigging clue why I care. Girl only just arrived to town, never missed a chance to tell me off and make clear she doesn’t want me around, and I just can’t keep away from her.
Goddammit.
I’ve been out of sorts since the party. I can’t stop thinking of her, and now I have a pissed-off Micah on my back, unhappy because he told me to leave her alone and I didn’t. But hey, she ran off to the restroom, and she looked pale. What’s a guy to do but check on her, right? God knows I’ve seen my fair share of breakdowns and panic attacks. Just wanted to make sure she was okay.
And, fine, I was hoping she’d stop glaring at me for a change. It’s getting to me, turning me inside out. Ridiculous, I know. Stupid. I barely know her. But it’s somehow important to me.
Besides, Micah should know that’s how I am. Worrying at the bone, poking at the snake to see if it will bite. Scratching at the scabs to see if they’ll bleed. Trying to figure life out.
