“It’s okay,” she said. “You must have thought I was Helena.”
Helena. The name on her lips was like ice on his cock. Helena. He repeated it silently until his arousal abated. He loved Helena. Gwen was really nice, and really fucking sexy. He shouldn’t have touched her, but he’d been half-asleep. He had no control over his physical response. She was a beautiful woman. It didn’t mean anything.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“It’s already forgotten.”
She wasn’t going to tell Helena. That made him feel worse, like a sexual harasser who was going to get away with it because his victim was afraid of losing her job. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
It was dead. Fuck.
“I have to get out of here,” he said, lumbering to his feet with a grimace. His muscles screamed in protest.
She didn’t argue. They left the tent and discovered it was almost lunchtime. Instead of waiting for another meal, they used the public restrooms and got in line for the bus. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as they waited among a crowd of bedraggled survivors. His screw-up had broken the bond they’d forged over the past two days, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
They boarded a bus two hours later. It was taking residents out of San Diego County, to San Bernardino Hospital or Riverside Transit Center. From there they could arrange for pickup or use public transit.
Mitch needed to get his car, so he asked the bus driver to stop along the way. Gwen didn’t want to stay with him. No surprise.
“Text me after you charge your phone,” he said.
“I will.”
“Take care.”
“You too.”
He didn’t kiss her on the cheek this time. Feeling dejected, he hopped off the bus and watched it disappear. Then he walked about two miles to his car, his spirits heavy. He was worried about Helena. If she’d been hurt, he’d never forgive himself.
He might not forgive himself anyway.
His car was sitting in the parking lot at Mission Trails, untouched. There was dust and bits of ash on the surface. He climbed behind the wheel and plugged in his phone. Then he turned on the engine and started driving.
Something was wrong; he could sense it.
He stopped at a fast food restaurant for a hot meal and a cold soda. Revived, he checked his phone for messages. There was one from Helena. She was okay.
We need to talk.
Tears burned in his eyes as he read the text. She’d been taken to San Bernardino Hospital for a minor injury. She needed stitches. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sent her a text and pulled onto the freeway, heading north. It was late afternoon when he arrived. She hadn’t replied to his message, and the hospital was a madhouse. After searching the halls for her, he asked a nurse where Helena might be. The nurse said they were taking care of superficial wounds in the cafeteria because of overcrowding.
His heart lodged in his throat as he strode down the corridor. As soon as he saw Helena, everything would be fine. She’d be surprised to see him. She’d realize that he was committed to making their relationship work.
And then everything would be okay. When her arms slipped around his neck, all of his tension and confusion and guilt would ease.
It was going to be so great.
We need to talk, she’d texted. What did that mean?
The cafeteria was huge, and packed with people. He searched the crowd for Helena but didn’t see her. As he walked through the doors, he examined the space again, scanning the tables in methodical rows.
There.
Helena was a tall, striking woman, hard to miss. She was sitting at the edge of a table with one shoulder exposed. There were a couple of bloody slashes on her upper arm. They looked like animal scratches.
She wasn’t alone. There was a disheveled man with her, standing too close for comfort. He clasped her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles.
Like a lover.
Mitch’s stomach dropped at the sight. This motherfucker was trying to steal his girlfriend!
He waited for Helena to pull her hand away or tell the guy to get lost. She didn’t. She looked embarrassed, but not displeased. Mitch couldn’t fucking believe it. Just twenty-four hours ago, he’d asked Gwen if Helena was seeing someone else. It had been an impulsive question, inspired by his own inappropriate thoughts about Gwen. He hadn’t really suspected Helena of cheating. She wasn’t the disloyal type.
And yet, here they were.
Mitch sized up his rival, ready to rip his goddamned lips off. The guy appeared to be in his late twenties. He was handsome in a scruffy-surfer kind of way. Not a bulky bodybuilder, but no weakling.
Mitch was older, uglier, and bigger. He was going to crush this pretty boy into dust. Curling his hands into fists, he strode forward.
“What the fuck is this?” he asked Helena.
Her lovely face went pale and her eyes darkened with concern—for her companion. She glanced at Mitch’s rival, moistening her lips. “Maybe you should leave us alone to talk.”
“Yeah,” Mitch said, glaring. “You should run while you can.”
Surfer-boy wasn’t just bold; he was stupid. “I don’t think so,” he said, moving into a protective stance.
As if he considered Mitch a threat to Helena.
Mitch saw red. He was about to grab the guy by the collar and toss him through the nearest window when a nurse arrived.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, her face wary.
“We can take it outside,” his rival said.
Mitch nodded eagerly. Maybe surfer-boy wasn’t as dumb as he looked. As they walked through the cafeteria and down the corridor, Mitch reminded himself that he hadn’t been an angel lately. He’d kissed Gwen on the cheek and put his hand down her pants. He could withhold judgment of Helena for now.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kick this lover-boy’s ass. No one touched his girlfriend and got off easy.
They went outside to a courtyard. There were people milling around. Surfer-boy continued to a grassy area underneath a tree, where he stopped and turned around. “I just want to talk,” he said, raising his palms.
“You think I came out here to talk?”
“Give me a chance to explain, and then you can take a free shot.”
Mitch didn’t wait. He just punched the guy in the face. His opponent’s head rocked back and he stumbled sideways, rattled.
“Okay, that was your free shot,” the guy said. “The next one won’t be.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t mean to take her away from you—”
Mitch punched him again. It wasn’t a direct hit, because his opponent had the sense to duck this time. He also lowered his shoulder and drove it into Mitch’s stomach, taking the fight to the ground. That was fine; Mitch was a good grappler. They traded a few more blows, tumbling across the grass. The guy was in better condition than Mitch had anticipated. Mitch’s arms were sore from the long night. His opponent maneuvered him into a choke hold. When Mitch finally broke free, he was winded.
They were both winded.
Mitch socked the guy once more in the gut, for good measure. But it didn’t carry the same heat as his first strike. His rival moved out of range and sat upright, holding a hand to his stomach.
“Had enough?” Mitch asked.
“I could go for a little more. Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”
Mitch realized that his opponent was joking around. It occurred to Mitch that he’d met this clown before. He was one of Helena’s coworkers. Josh something or other. “You’re that… security guard.”
“Josh Garrison.”
“You knew about me,” Mitch said.
“I knew you left her.”
Mitch wanted to punch him again, but he restrained himself.
“I’ve always had a crush on her,” Josh said. “She wasn’t interested, because of you. But then you moved away, and the earthquake hit, and…things changed
. We’ve been through a lot in the past few days.”
Mitch closed the distance between them and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “There’s only one thing I need to know. Did you fuck her?”
Josh seemed reluctant to answer the invasive question. “I’ll tell you this,” he said calmly. “I love her.”
Mitch let go of his shirt, stunned.
“I haven’t told her yet,” Josh said. “If she picks you over me, I’ll walk away. I won’t interfere in your relationship.”
The nerve of this fucking guy. “You’re lucky I didn’t beat you into a pulp.”
“Be my guest. Just don’t lay a finger on her.”
Mitch’s anger faded into resignation. “Fuck you,” he said tiredly. “Fuck you for even saying that.”
The altercation was over, so Mitch walked away. They hadn’t drawn a big crowd, but there were a number of curious onlookers.
Mitch went back to the cafeteria, his stomach roiling. Helena was getting stitched up. Her face was drawn with pain. He pictured her with Josh, naked and panting underneath him. She’d always been wild in bed.
Shoving aside that mental picture, he reached out to hold her hand. She accepted his comfort, seeming surprised. The nurse finished the sutures and placed a bandage over Helena’s shoulder. Then she moved on to the next patient.
Helena let go of Mitch’s hand and straightened her clothing. “Did you fly in?”
“No, I drove straight through as soon as I heard.”
“Long trip.”
“Yeah.”
He asked about her wound, and she told him she’d been attacked by a lion. He was glad she wasn’t more seriously injured.
They fell into an awkward silence. Mitch knew he had to say something or risk losing her. She might already be lost. “I can’t blame you for…whatever happened with that guy. I don’t like it, but I understand. I’ve been gone for months. Even before I left, we were struggling. I wasn’t providing for you.”
“I didn’t care about that—”
“I wasn’t satisfying you.”
She fell silent, unable to disagree.
He soldiered on, with difficulty. “I knew you weren’t happy, and I knew the long-distance thing wasn’t working out, but I didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I.”
“I feel like a fool.”
“No,” she said. “You’re not.”
“I am. I left a beautiful woman alone and unfulfilled.”
She shook her head in denial.
“I thought you’d miss me.”
“I did.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
Her mouth twisted with regret.
“You didn’t ask me to come back,” he said.
“You didn’t ask me to move to Denver, either.”
“Would you have considered it?”
“No.”
“You always loved your elephants more than me.”
“That’s not true,” she said, but it was a weak protest. When the going got tough between them, she’d retreated into work.
So had he.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, pensive. “My boss has been looking into a new job site in Southern California. I might be able to transfer.”
She stared at him in shock.
“I was hoping to surprise you with the news in person.” They’d scheduled a visit for early summer because he hadn’t been able to get away over the holidays. “I can see that I shouldn’t have waited.”
“Why did you?”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted me back, to be honest. You’ve been distant. We haven’t talked about staying together.”
“We haven’t talked much, period.”
“I know,” he said. “I take responsibility for that. This is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I left you unattended.”
“And I dug under the fence?”
He didn’t understand what she meant, but he was determined to win her back. "You made a mistake. I can overlook it.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “You can?”
“I still love you.”
His romantic declaration didn’t seal the deal. If anything, she seemed even more upset, as if his words pained her. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Even before you left, we’d drifted apart. I should have been honest about my feelings back then. The only thing I can do is be honest now. I’m not in love with you anymore.”
Mitch flinched as if he’d been struck. “Maybe you never were.”
Her eyes darkened with hurt, which didn’t make him feel any better. He couldn’t believe what she’d just said. He had to get out of here before he exploded. He’d forgiven her for cheating, and she’d rejected him anyway.
He’d lost her.
Unfuckingbelievable.
Jaw clenched in anger, he walked away from her, striding through the cafeteria. Her new boyfriend was waiting by the door, watching to make sure Mitch didn’t put his hands on her. As Mitch passed by, he shoved Josh into the hallway, sending him sprawling.
Then he kept going and didn’t look back.
CHAPTER SIX
GWEN WALKED FROM the transit center to downtown San Bernardino.
It was late afternoon by the time she found a hotel with a vacancy. She plugged in her phone and collapsed on the bed, exhausted. She was so embarrassed about getting tangled up with Mitch this morning.
So. Embarrassed.
Ugh.
Her zipper must have slipped down after she fell asleep. She shouldn’t have unfastened the top button. Maybe she’d been having a sexy dream. Either that or her body had responded to his unconsciously. She’d woken to his hand between her legs and his erection prodding her bottom. Her nipples were stiff, her sex swollen. When he’d stroked her tingling flesh, she couldn’t prevent a moan of pleasure from escaping her lips.
God.
She could never tell Helena about this.
He’d recoiled in shock, seeming horrified by the accidental touch—and her heated response. Even as she’d flushed with shame, her eyes had wandered down to his straining cock. It looked big.
She was going to hell. Straight to hell.
Her phone chimed with a new message, startling her out of the sexual daze. She might have drifted off for a few minutes. She picked up her cell and glanced at the screen. Mitch had sent a new text.
I found Helena at the hospital. She got stitches but she is okay. Where are you?
Gwen texted back the address of the hotel and her room number. They might need a place to stay tonight. Every hotel in Southern California was filled to capacity with displaced residents. If Helena was injured, she’d be more comfortable here than an evacuation center. The room only had one bed, and sleeping next to them would be awkward, under the circumstances, but that’s what friends were for.
They shared beds. Not boyfriends.
Gwen went to the bathroom, tugged off her clothes and climbed into the shower. The hot spray made her feel better. She put on her only clean clothes, a tank top and a pair of drawstring pants. Then she brushed her teeth and tied back her hair.
She studied her reflection in the mirror, her heart racing. She’d always preferred dramatic makeup and stylish clothes, especially for work. She couldn’t wait to be back in her tattoo shop. Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of the earthquake damages. Native Ink meant the world to her.
Exiting the bathroom, she flopped down on the bed and turned on the TV. Images of devastation assaulted her. She stared at the screen, feeling numb. Thousands of people were dead and she was crying about a building. Bricks and stones.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. She switched off the news and answered it. Mitch was standing there with a paper bag in one hand and a belligerent look on his face. The air smelled like rain. There was a storm brewing.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside. “Where’s Helena?”
�
�With her new boyfriend.”
Gwen shut the door behind him, frowning. “What?”
He placed the paper bag on the table and sat down in the only chair. Lifting a bottle of tequila from the bag, he twisted off the cap. “She’s seeing someone else.”
“Who?”
“Some security guard. Josh.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Don’t I fucking wish.” He tilted the bottle to his lips and took a healthy swig.
Gwen had met Josh at one of Helena’s work functions. He wasn’t really a security guard, but close enough. He’d asked Helena out on a date a few years ago, and she’d turned him down. She didn’t even like him. “When did this happen?”
“After the earthquake.”
“Wow.”
He drank more tequila, nodding. There was a red mark on his cheek and his knuckles were scraped.
“You fought him?”
“I did.”
Gwen didn’t ask who won. She assumed Mitch had, because Josh wasn’t quite as brawny. Neither of them were brawler types, but they were both strong men. She was still trying to wrap her head around Helena hooking up with Josh.
“I’m sorry for showing up here,” he said. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“No problem,” she said, perching on the edge of the mattress. She felt awkward in his presence, after this morning’s incident. They were alone in a tiny room. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She didn’t know if she could trust herself to be alone with him. Especially now that Helena was out of the picture.
This was all so…bizarre.
He extended the tequila in invitation. “I’ll sleep in my car. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather not drink alone.”
After a short hesitation, she accepted the bottle. What the hell. Getting drunk was practically required in this situation. She knocked back a quick shot, grimacing as the strong, smoky taste burned down her throat. He smiled at her reaction. When she returned the bottle, he lifted it to his lips again.
She touched a hand to her wet hair, self-conscious.
Wild for Him Page 4
