Tempting Fate

by Brinda Berry

  “It’s okay. I know it looks bad.”

  “Hmm…” she says. “Here’s the problem. I have two people in the world I care about. Ace is one and Collin is the other.”

  I don’t know where she’s going with this line of conversation. “I can see why.”

  “Collin doesn’t hang out with girls—well, I don’t count. He brought you here today and it means something.”

  “It’s only because I stayed at his house last night.”

  Malerie’s brow hikes into her bangs.

  That didn’t come out right. I shake my head. “Not what you think. I need a place to stay and he’s letting me sleep in the room with the pool table.”

  “Oh,” she says.

  “It’s only temporary until I figure out what I’m going to do. I don’t have a place to sleep, a car, or a job. I left home.”

  “Uh-hmm…” Malerie studies me.

  “But I’ll figure it all out,” I add.

  “Are those bruises related to this situation?”

  My silence is her answer. The funny thing is it’s only the beginning of the story. I give her my brightest smile. “I’m sure you need to get back to work on whatever this podcasting stuff is.”

  She eyes me for a minute. “Come. We took a break from our business meeting, and you can help with something. Our music guest today is Tate Willem. We’re coming up with the topics.”

  “I don’t want to be in the way. Are you sure?”

  “The money discussions make me want to throw myself in front of a moving car. Are you kidding?” She strolls to the door and waves a hand for me to follow. “Save me from imminent doom. Please.”

  I nod. “This is so exciting. Tate Willem? I mean … I hear him on the radio all the time.”

  Malerie’s eyebrows scrunch. “You’re a fan, huh? Well, don’t get too excited. He’s a total douchebag.”

  My smile fades and she laughs.

  Her mouth relaxes into a lingering smile. “You would be so disillusioned to hear him off-air. Hang out with us for a while inside. There’s room for you in there.”

  “Hey.” I reach out and touch her arm. “Thanks for being so nice to me.”

  “Veronica…” She looks toward the door and back at me. “Let us help you. Collin wouldn’t bring just anybody to my house. He thinks you need us.”

  I don’t argue with what I know. Collin doesn’t want me cleaning his house, moving things around, messing with his order while he’s gone. “I’m okay. I need a little time, that’s all.”

  “And a place to stay and some money,” Malerie says. “Collin’s letting you stay for a couple of days?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think I can give you a temporary job. I’d offer you some money, but I get the feeling you wouldn’t take it.”

  “A job? Really? I can do anything.” I frown. “Maybe a slight overstatement. But I’m a hard worker.”

  “Good. Let’s discuss.” She hooks her arm through the crook of my elbow. “I’m tired of being outnumbered by men. It’ll be fun to have female company today.”

  7

  Collin

  “She’s a sweet girl,” Ace says quietly. It’s the end of a productive day. Ace and I stand at my car waiting for Veronica. She’s writing down some sort of muffin recipe, and they are taking the usual a minute-doesn’t-really-mean-a-minute.

  I grimace at his statement. “Don’t read any more into this. It is what it is.”

  In one day, Veronica has charmed both Malerie and Ace. Although I’ve known Malerie for years, I see a different side to her. A softer side. The two girls laugh and share jokes as if they’ve known each other for years instead of hours.

  Five minutes later they stroll to the car. Veronica reaches over to give Malerie a hug. “Thanks.”

  Malerie flushes with pleasure. “It’s not a big deal.” She turns to me and her voice takes on her usual brusque manner. “Can you give her a ride in the morning?” Then she turns to Veronica. “I’ll fix up an extra laptop—”

  “Why?” My question cuts into their conversation.

  “Because I asked.” Malerie shrugs. “If you can’t, Ace will.” Malerie doesn’t have a driver’s license, a fact that boggles me when we’re talking about living in a place without public transportation.

  “I can. Why does she need a laptop?” I ask.

  Veronica puts her hands on her hips. “Malerie’s paying me to do some odds and ends.”

  Ace pulls Malerie to his side and slings an arm over her shoulders. “Good. You need some organizational help.”

  “Hey you.” She pokes Ace in his ribs. “I’m taking a full load of classes this summer session. Unless you want to be your own secretary, I suggest you accept what I give you.”

  “Accepted. Anything you do is fine by me.” Ace squeezes her to him.

  I hold the door open for Veronica. “She’ll be here,” I say.

  She gets in and we’re five miles down the road before she says anything. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to do some work for Malerie?”

  “No. If she needs your help, it’s fine.” I rub my hand absently over the steering wheel.

  “Why else would she hire me?”

  Because Malerie is a little naive in the friend department? Because you seem a little desperate? Because maybe you asked for a job? I keep my thoughts to myself. “Listen. If you need some cash, I can give you some.”

  “I don’t want your money.” She says it like I’ve offered her something illicit, shock tinged with disgust.

  “But you’ll take Malerie’s.”

  “Because she’s paying me. It’s not a handout.”

  Why am I the one in the wrong here? “Take my advice. When someone offers you help, you can’t be choosy.”

  She looks out the window. “I can’t figure you out. One minute I think you’re the nicest guy on earth and the next I’d like to run over you in a car.” Her tone teases me, but I know she’s serious.

  We’re silent for a moment.

  “You already did that,” I say with a smile. She’s not even looking at me. “I was trying to be funny.”

  “You suck donkey balls at it.”

  I exhale loudly like she’s hurt my feelings. “I used to be funny. A long time ago.”

  “When? Could you bring him back, because you are a real downer. I’m trying to solve some problems here. Would you rather I cry and ask for a loan?”

  How can this girl who’s so bruised have so much attitude? “No. No crying.”

  She turns toward me. “What happened to make you lose the sense of humor?”

  I sigh and squirm in my seat.

  Her face brightens. “You discovered you’re in love with Ace but he only has eyes for Malerie.”

  “That would not be it.”

  “He’s pretty hot.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “If you want to keep Mal as a friend, you’d better keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  “He’s not my type. The taken type.”

  “Hmm… He’s not my type either. How about I answer your question, and you answer mine.” We hit a spot of slow-moving traffic, so I brake and give her a sideways glance.

  “What question?”

  “The question about my missing sense of humor.”

  “Maybe I can live without knowing the answer. Not worth it since I don’t want to answer your questions.”

  “I won’t ask about your arms.”

  She squints at me and rubs a finger across her bottom lip. “Okay. I’ll answer. You first.”

  “My fiancé—my ex—she cheated on me. My sense of humor disappeared around the same time.”

  Veronica coughs. “I guess that would do it. Are you sure she cheated?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure.” I accelerate and then slam the brakes when the car in front of me stops.

  Veronica braces her hand against the dash. “Just asking.”

  “I caught her.”

  “Li
ke walked in on her and the guy doing the nasty?”

  I shake my head. “No. I used her computer and stumbled upon some emails.”

  “Ah … come on. You don’t stumble into an email. You were snooping.”

  “No. I sent an email from my phone to her laptop because I needed to print it. Some subject lines really stood out from the rest.”

  “Like?”

  “‘Meet me at the bar at 8:00’. There were lots of them. And what if I had snooped? We were going to be married. Share things. We didn’t need secrets.”

  “So you admit you were trying to dig up something on her by going all Sherlock on her emails.” She wears a grin, but I find nothing humorous.

  “I’m done talking about me. My turn to ask.” My back stiffens at the memory of being so humiliated.

  “Go ahead.”

  I take a right off the exit and glance at her. “Tell me about your brother. Older or younger?”

  “Older.” She answers automatically.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Gunner.”

  “He know where you are?”

  She answers, quietly, with a suspicious tone, “I thought I only had to answer one question.”

  “I think I answered several about my ex.” I give her my best casual conversation smile.

  She harrumphs. “Okay. My brother doesn’t know.”

  She turns to me, brow furrowed. Just as I thought. “Can’t you ask him for help?”

  “No.” She wiggles in her seat and folds her arms over her chest.

  “You guys not close?”

  Her voice, so sure and sincere, doesn’t hesitate. “I love Gunner more than anyone in the world.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “What about your parents?”

  “My parents…” She looks out the passenger window. “They’re not around.” Her hands ball into small fists.

  We crest a hill and my house appears. Jordy’s outside smoking a cigarette on the wraparound porch. Veronica still faces the window as if she doesn’t want me to see her thoughts. I accelerate to pass by, and Jordy gives us a confused half-wave. I hope Veronica doesn’t turn to see I’ve passed our stop.

  “What happened to them?”

  “Prison. My mom and my stepdad. They weren’t around much before. Incarceration made it more permanent.”

  I know we’ve strayed from the original question and it’s like watching a wreck. I can’t stop myself. The prison topic might end the conversation. “So only you and Gunner? Or other siblings?”

  “Just the two of us.”

  “If you’re very close, he’s probably worried.”

  “Okay. So much talking about me. Your turn.” Her statement doesn’t have her usual peppy tone. She’s hiding her discomfort well, the words even and casual. In the short time I’ve known her, I can read her emotions by her voice.

  Something unnerves me about this. A thought creeps in, tiptoeing around in the shadows of my morbid brain. Maybe the brother—this Gunner—abused her.

  “Ask anything.”

  “Nothing off-limits?” She’s facing me again and smiling like I’ve given her a prize.

  “I’m an open book.” I turn the car onto a side road. I need to keep her talking. I’m not sure where I’m driving, but I’m not ready to go home. Home where Jordy will undoubtedly demand Veronica’s attention.

  “Why is there a funky razor in your shower?”

  “What?” I chuckle since I’m sure I’ve misheard her question.

  “That razor hanging in your shower.”

  “What about it?” There’s a scenic overlook on the side of the highway. I pull off the road into a parking area for tourists. “Want to walk? I can show you something.” We get out of the car and I lead the way to a trail.

  “Razor?” she prompts.

  She’s a nosy little thing. I suspect she’s asking about anything she can pull out of thin air to throw the spotlight from her. “I like to stay trim. By the way, congrats on being the first person besides my mother who wants to discuss my personal hygiene. And that was twelve years ago.”

  I wait for the moment she’ll get my meaning.

  “Trim?” She freezes on the path and her eyes widen. “Oh. Um. Oh.”

  “Exactly.” I laugh. “I guess it didn’t occur to you?”

  “No. So, do you have a girlfriend now?”

  Her train of thought is comical and transparent. I laugh.

  She covers her face with her hands. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  “Don’t hold back now. I haven’t been interrogated like this since Coach Franken found condoms in my locker.”

  “Condoms, huh. I didn’t find any of those in your bathroom.”

  “Looking for them?”

  Her cheeks grow a flattering pink, the color of ripe watermelon. “No. I’m only saying I didn’t see a box. But I wasn’t going through your drawers.”

  “Yeah, you weren’t. Or you missed them.” I slow beside a clump of purple asters and snap several at their stems.

  “So you didn’t answer the question. Girlfriend?”

  I hand her the wildflowers. “I am avoiding relationships right now.”

  She nods. “Me, too.” She twirls the makeshift bouquet.

  “Why you? Except for the fact you’re missing an address right now, which would make it phenomenally difficult for a date to pick you up.”

  “Hey,” she says, lingering near a large boulder and circling it like a cat. She takes a seat and pats the spot beside her. “Can we sit for a minute and not talk?”

  I sit beside her. “Sure. You tired?”

  She closes her eyes and breathes in the fragrance of the aster bouquet. “I didn’t exactly sleep great. Don’t get me wrong. The futon is ten billion times better than the homeless shelter.”

  “You could’ve taken my bed.”

  “Are you always so great?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  I lower my head and take a minute to formulate an honest answer. “I’ve been where you are. That place where you’re sure that life cannot get any worse. That moment when you want to give up and say fuck it. That feeling of hopelessness when you wonder if you’ll ever be better. But it will. It will get better. I promise.”

  She places her hand on my knee and all of a sudden it’s like she’s consoling me instead of the other way around. “I know things will be great for you. Soon. You need to find your order again and figure out how things fit and are right for you. You’ll find your passion and what makes it all worth it.”

  Her words amaze me because they’re perfect. It’s like she’s reached inside my world, my head, my heart. She’s extracted my thoughts without me knowing how to form them.

  I slide my hand across her back. She doesn’t tense or seem surprised by my touch. My gesture is meant to be comforting, understanding, reassuring.

  Veronica turns to me and puts her head on my shoulder. “I know everything will be all right.” Her voice is so low I barely make out the words.

  I move my hand to her waist and pull her closer to me. “It will. Trust me, it will be all right.”

  Without warning, she snuggles her body to mine, flinging both arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. “Thank you.”

  Our faces are inches apart and I gaze into her cobalt-colored eyes. It’s only seconds, but time suspends as my pulse rate jumps, a tell of the sudden sexual want her proximity sparks. She leans in and kisses my cheek, an innocent thank-you.

  When she pulls back, I see confusion and desire in her eyes. Her lips part and her breath quickens.

  She’s playing with fire, poking at the embers, stoking a flame. Igniting a blaze with the promise of her sweetness.

  I lower my head, my mouth slanting against hers. The tip of my tongue strokes her parted lips. Veronica’s fingers press into the back of my neck, urging me closer.

  It’s the only invitation I need.

  Veronica’s lips f
it to mine and I forget about the circumstances of our acquaintance. Her hot mouth surrenders to the rhythm of mine—my tongue teasing as it touches hers. Her body presses against me and I trail my hands down the hollow of her back.

  My hands brace at her sides. She’s moving, or maybe I’m pulling, her body onto my lap. Our movements are not of two people but of one. There’s a recognition from my body that ignores my sensible thoughts. Her curves and her scent and her barely audible moan drive me to want more.

  I graze one hand up the length of her body. She wiggles on my lap and the movement drives me to grab her ass. I want her clothes off. I want her right here in the woods, on the ground, under my body.

  I haven’t wanted anyone like this in a long time. Not since Raquel. Did I even want Raquel this much?

  Suddenly, she breaks the rhythm of our hungry kiss and draws away from my mouth. For a second, I think she’s read my mind. She wants to stop messing around perched on a damn rock and remove all our clothes.

  “Wait.” She’s breathing heavily and her pupils are dilated. Her hair is mussed and sexy as hell. Did I do that to her? Hell, yes.

  Is she waiting for me to say something? I can’t form coherent words much less say something intelligent.

  She extracts her body from my lap and I feel the loss of her immediately. It’s like an emotional link was entwined with our physical one. She drops her gaze and puts two fingers to her lips, not rubbing them as I’ve seen her do, but touching them like she’s feeling the impression of my lips on hers.

  “Veronica,” I whisper. Since the blood in my brain has obviously traveled farther south, it’s the only word I can utter. It’s a plea and confession in one.

  “We should get back to your house.” Her voice perks up into a forced, normal tone. “I’m sure you have stuff you need to do. I don’t want to mess up your schedule.”

  “No schedule for the rest of the day.” I study her face. She wanted the kiss as much as I did. Unless this is about what’s happened to her, demons nipping at her heels and causing her to run away. My gaze drops to her arms. I can’t see the bruises from this angle.

  She tilts her head. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Organized. I am well aware you must have a piece of paper that says: Seven pm—laundry. Seven-thirty pm—check stock market. Eight—write tomorrow’s to-do list with color-coded pens.”