by BK Rivers
“Sorry about that,” he says with a smile playing on his lips. He’s not as tall as Ace, but he’s still good looking with his shaggy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He’s broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist. “Everything okay in there?” he asks, jerking his chin toward Ace’s bedroom.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling deflated. “He won’t let me take the couch, though. I feel weird taking his bed.”
Ethan shrugs and then says, “Yeah, get used to it. He can be pretty damn stubborn.” He rubs the back of his neck, peers over my shoulder into Ace’s room, and then claps his hands together at his waist, making me jump. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m heading to bed.”
“Nice meeting you too,” I say, then open the door to a surprisingly organized linen closet. I pull a set of gray sheets from a shelf and return to Ace’s bedroom. He’s standing at the dresser without a shirt on and I’ll be honest, my eyes are glued to his toned back and the tattoo on his left arm that wraps completely around his impressive bicep and down past his elbow. Licking my lips and then pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I watch as he pulls a white t-shirt from a drawer and pulls it on over his head.
Ace turns to me, his eyebrow raised, and I realize I just freaking groaned. Out loud. Because he covered his glorious body with a t-shirt. Heat rushes up my neck and settles on my cheeks, and like a blubbering idiot I push off the doorframe and start putting the clean sheets on his bed. From the corner of my eye, I catch a smile work its way onto Ace’s lips but it soon disappears as he helps me with the sheets.
“Where’s your dog?” I ask after the bed is made.
Ace glances at the kennel, then back to me. “He’s doing some training.”
“Oh. I was hoping to meet him.”
Ace shrugs and leaves the room. Mr. Quiet and Brooding is back. Awesome.
***
Poor Julia and my inconsistent work schedule. I hated calling in today, but she understood and even offered to help with cleanup. When I explained that Ace has it covered, she wished me luck.
Ace refused to let me sleep on the couch last night, and as much as I fought him on it, he won and I slept like a baby. His bed may just be the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept in, and I might steal it when I move back into my house. Both Ethan and Ace are at work, and while they both said to make myself at home, it’s strange staying someplace where nothing belongs to you. I grab a quick bowl of cereal, take a shower, and try to figure out how to work the TV and sound system. Guys and their stupid surround sound…why does it take a degree in electrical engineering to figure out how it works? I struggle for almost ten minutes then give up and decide a trip to my house is in order.
When I pull up along the curb, I gasp at the sight before me. Dozens of workers are scurrying around the house, pulling out furniture, Ace’s kitchen cabinets, and…shit, all my clothes. They’ve strung them up over low branches to dry them out. There are bras and panties all over my front yard. I let my head fall onto the steering wheel, which only produces a loud, annoying honk and adds to my embarrassment. This is one way to get back at me for breaking his house.
I step outside my car and slowly walk up the path to the front door. Men nod and continue sucking up the water with long hoses, and circulating fans are drying out the house. I step inside only to be greeted by a young, dimpled man with sandy blond hair and gray-green eyes.
“Morning,” he says, smiling ear to ear, giving me a good shot of his deep dimples. “You the owner of all the clothes outside?”
Heat rises to my cheeks while I nod and watch the men working.
“Is there a garbage bag around here?” I ask, scanning the bare rooms.
“I’m not sure, but you don’t need to help. This is our job.” Dimples smiles again and leans against the wall. I don’t miss how his eyes travel the length of my body.
“I wasn’t planning on helping. Just need something to put my clothes in so I can wash and dry them.”
“I’m Braden,” he says to my boobs. “I’ll see what I can find.” He walks to the small pantry and pulls out a trash bag and brings it to me. “Want some help?” he asks, glancing at my red lace bra dangling from a branch.
I shrug, turn around, and start gathering clothes. I can feel Braden right behind me, and when I look back, he’s holding up one of my black bras and smiling like a teenager.
“What I wouldn’t give to see you in this,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips. He tosses the bra into the garbage bag and I roll my eyes. We work in tandem until the bag is full. As I prepare to tie it up, Braden holds up my red lace bra and runs it through his fingers.
“Can’t quite say I’ve ever seen anyone try to soak up a flood with their bra. Quick thinking, but this…” He twists it in his hand. “This isn’t going to soak up anything.”
We both laugh and I pull my bra from his hand, but he catches my wrist and pulls me close. A little too close, but I don’t pull away. He’s funny and not bad looking. I glance up at him and watch his thick lashes flutter as he licks his lips.
“How about I take you out to dinner tonight?” His thumb brushes my palm and I think he expects it to do something to me. Instead, it makes me reconsider my proximity to him.
“I’m sorry,” I say, then step back. “I’m not available.”
“As in you’re busy tonight, or…?”
“As in she’s unavailable.” My eyes close at the sound of his voice and my heart thuds against my chest, like it’s trapped and trying to escape. Ace’s hand rests on my shoulder and the heat from it shoots through me, piercing me to my core.
“If you’re going to flirt on the job, then you can take your sorry ass home,” he says to Braden.
Braden tosses his hands up and backs away. He retreats inside the house, leaving Ace and me standing at odds in the front yard.
Chapter 18
Ace
His freaking hands were on her bra. Shit! My temper is spiking and it pisses me off to no end. I can’t let myself get worked up over this girl, but damn it was killing me to watch him flirt with her. What’s worse is how her fingers kept tucking her hair behind her ear like she was gobbling up his attention. The jerk walked back inside the house, hopefully returning to do the job I’m paying for.
Stacey pulls away, turns around, and places her hands on her hips. Her brown eyes narrow at me and her jaw works in a slow, angry circle.
“What the hell was that, Ace?” she asks, cocking her hip to one side. Her cheeks blush a rose-red color and I’m fighting everything within myself not to pull her close and kiss the hell out of her.
Instead, I shove my hands in my pockets, keeping them safe. Keeping me safe, and say, “I’m paying him to clean up this mess, not flirt with you.”
“He was helping me gather up my clothes, which were hanging all over the yard for everyone to see. So, thank you for that.”
I yank my hands out of my pockets and scrub them over my face. “You think I told them to hang your bras and panties outside? Seriously, what kind of guy do you think I am?”
Stacey rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest. Her hair is once again falling out of her messy bun and with the sun behind her, she looks like an angel bathed in light.
“I really don’t know,” she says, her eyes looking anywhere but at me. And it’s in this very moment the pull is too much.
My feet betray the distance I’m forcing between us and they step closer to her. It’s quick, the way my hands cup her cheeks and gently turn her head so her eyes are locked on mine. Her long lashes flutter, her lips part like she’s preparing to say something. But mine have their own agenda and it includes consuming anything she might say and swallowing the words like my next meal.
My tongue glides across my lips just before I press them to hers. Her eyes close as her body melts into mine and the gentle touch is gone. I pull away, lick my lips again, and dive back down, a hunger for more taking over. I’m not a patient man, so when Stacey’s hands run up my back and fist in the fabric of m
y shirt, I press forward and groan into her mouth. There’s no waiting or asking permission, my tongue parts her lips and takes what it wants.
I’m a man starved, and devouring the feel and taste of her like she’s my last meal. My hand grips the back of her neck, tugging on the loose strands of hair falling from her bun. Her tongue swirls around mine and I want more of her. So. Much. More.
The realization hits me of what I’m doing and I jerk away, taking three steps backward, and run my hands through my hair. Stacey’s lips are swollen and red, her hair is almost completely hanging loose from her bun, and she’s staring up at me with watery eyes.
“Dammit,” I growl, then stalk back to my motorcycle and drive away. What the hell did I just do? My lips still feel the heat of hers on mine and it’s driving me freaking crazy. Everything about this girl turns me inside out and makes me forget myself. Forgetting is not an option; I don’t deserve to have a clean slate or to be free of the memories that haunt me.
The entire ride to work I can’t concentrate on anything but the way Stacey was looking at me as I left. I know I hurt her when I walked away, but what else was I supposed to do? I shouldn’t have kissed her.
I shouldn’t have liked it.
I shouldn’t want more. But God, do I want more.
I sit in the precinct filling out paperwork, fielding calls all while trying to keep my mind occupied on anything but Stacey. Kilty’s sitting at the desk in front of mine, eating those damn powdered sugar donuts again, and which each bite, the white powder falls onto his uniform. At noon, I head out to grab a bite to eat and wind up receiving a call to go out in the field. Thank the stars because I’m not sure I can handle any more deskwork today.
Duke’s been at training for the past week and he’s needed for this job, so I scoop him up from the kennels and drive across town to the railroad district. It’s a shady part of Warner and a lot of shit goes down here, especially in the abandoned warehouses. A tip was called in about a drug deal going down this afternoon, and this is what I live for. Busting the idiots who supply the youth with drugs and keep them high enough they always come back for more.
Six patrol cars and our two K-9 units meet up at a location several blocks away to discuss the options. Kilty, Rogers, and Phillips will go in on the east side and sweep through the lower warehouse sector. Hamilton, Black, and Andrews will take the west, while Fredricks and Matthews will man the south. Duke and I, along with Coulter and his dog Bruno, will work our way in on the north side. The rest of the crew will hold back and wait for further instruction.
Busts like this usually end up either successful or a complete flop due to lookouts or misinformation. I need a freaking success if I’m going to make it through the day. The crews disperse, making their way to the check-in points while Coulter and I pull on our gear and then help the dogs into theirs. Duke hasn’t been on a bust in over three months and as well-trained as he is, he’s as anxious as I am to move. His big brown eyes stare up at me, begging for us to get to work.
“Just a little while longer, boy,” I say, scratching behind his ear. He whines, then sits beside me like the good dog he is.
“East checkpoint secure,” Kilty says over the radio. Soon, all the check points are set and the captain tells us to advance and calls for radio silence.
“Let’s go, boy. Let’s go,” I say, and Duke lurches into a jog as we make our way to the warehouse district.
***
Two hours later, the warehouses are clear and all we manage to detain is a juvenile dealer trying to sell marijuana. Phillips cuffs him and escorts him to the patrol car while reading the boy his rights. Duke looks at me and I swear he and I are thinking the same thing, and feeling the same disappointment. Adrenaline is pumping through my body and there is no way I’m going to be able to sit at the desk the rest of the day without doing something about it.
“Hey, Captain,” I say, walking up to him. “I need to blow off some steam. I’m heading to the gym and then I’ll be back.”
“Sure thing, Ace. Good work out there today,” he says through his bushy gray mustache. “Hey, I need another man on the floor tonight, you feel up to working a double?”
Damn. “Yeah, I can do that. See ya later.” Back at my SUV, I remove Duke’s gear and he jumps in. I scratch his ears and tell him he’s a good boy. He walks in a circle then lies down, his eyes trained on me. “You waiting for your treat, boy?” His ears perk up and I pull a treat from my pocket and let him have it.
I drop Duke off at the kennels at the precinct then head to the gym all while grumbling to myself about my disappointing day. I don’t mind working a double, but double desk duty is not my idea of productive. Nor is it the cure for my overactive brain when it comes to thinking about Stacey and the piss-poor bust. At the gym, I start on the elliptical to run off the feel of her hands on my chest, on my back, and behind my neck. When that doesn’t work, I turn to the weight bench and try to push all thoughts of her from my mind.
“Dammit!” I say, dropping the weights back on their shelves. I need to get a freaking grip. I’m not a violent man, but right now I need to hit something. Glancing around the gym, I notice the hanging bag in the corner. That. I need to punch that.
Over and over. And over.
“Hey, Marty!” I shout over the music to the gym owner. He glances up from the leg press and I call him over. His bald head glistens with sweat that drips onto his black muscle shirt. “I need help wrapping my hands.” I hold up my hands, hoping he’ll tape them so I don’t hurt myself.
“You gonna start fighting?” he asks, pulling the tape from a nearby cart.
“Nah, I just need to hit something.”
“I could hook you up in the light heavyweight competitions if you’re interested. You’ve got the build for it.” Marty wraps my hands while trying to convince me to start fighting, and as tempting as it is at this very moment, I don’t have the heart for it. Nor the pain tolerance.
“I’m good, man. I’m just going to hit this bag for a while.”
Marty jerks his head in acknowledgement and returns to his workout, leaving me to fight my demons in the form of this blue hanging bag.
Chapter 19
Stacey
I spent the day reeling from Ace’s kiss and the way I felt it in my toes. A kiss like that doesn’t happen every day, and Heaven knows it’s been a while for me. I could have stood in the front yard all day with his lips on mine and not cared what the neighbors thought. So when he pulled away, looking like he just made a huge mistake, I couldn’t help the stabbing pain pulsing in my chest.
The Wash-n-Fold and I became really good friends considering I spent almost four hours there washing and drying my clothes and towels. And on the plus side, I met Hank, a homeless veteran who shares his time here and at another laundromat a few blocks away. He told me about fighting in Vietnam and how when he came home his wife had left him and taken their two children with her. When I asked him if he ever sees his boys, a far-off look washed over his face as a single tear slid down his scruffy cheek. After all my things were folded, he helped put them in my car and I offered him one of my heavy blankets. He smiled when he took it, revealing two missing front teeth.
After the laundromat, I drove around Warner, familiarizing myself with the roads and city, and stopped off at a large, hilly park. I walked around for a while and even sat on a swing, letting myself become reacquainted with my inner-child. Young children laughed and screamed while playing tag or climbing the massive play structure. I made a mental note to tell Reggie about this place so she can bring Micah next time they’re up here.
When I’ve exhausted all my ideas to keep myself away from Ace’s house, I gather my courage and do what I do best when I’m nervous or stressed: cook. Finding the nearest grocery store on the GPS on my phone, I drive a few miles and head inside. Scanning the shelves and fresh produce, I come up with a menu any man would love to eat. I make my purchases then smile as I walk out of the store with the makings of a gre
at dinner.
Twenty minutes later, I have the chilled steaks resting on the counter and seasoned with salt and pepper and a little bit of granulated garlic. While those warm up to room temperature, I peel and dice potatoes, tossing them into a large stockpot with a dash of salt. Next, I prepare asparagus by rolling them in olive oil and salt and pepper, and then lay them out on a baking sheet.
Ethan steps through the front door as the potatoes start to boil and stares at me like he’s died and gone to Heaven.
“You cook?” he asks, dropping to his knees. “She cooks!” I laugh and slide the asparagus into the oven before helping him to his feet.
“Are you always this melodramatic?” I roll my eyes, press a finger to the steaks, and then start heating the cast iron skillet. “How do you like your steak?”
“I’ll eat it however you cook it,” Ethan says, sliding a satchel off his shoulder. He’s wearing blue scrubs and I realize I have no idea what he does for work. “I’m going to go change. Don’t eat without me.”
Fifteen minutes later, a freshly showered Ethan walks into the kitchen wearing a pair of black gym shorts and a white t-shirt. His shaggy hair curls at the edges and flops over his eyes.
“Dinner will be ready in about five minutes,” I say, stirring the gravy. Three place settings are on the table, along with the mashed potatoes, horseradish sauce, and asparagus. “What time does Ace usually get home?”
Ethan’s jaw clenches as he sits down at the table. He dips a finger into the potatoes then brings a small scoop to his mouth. He groans, licks his finger clean, and then opens the beer I set out for him.
“Actually, he texted me and said he’s working a double shift tonight. Something about being swamped at work.”
In other words, he’s avoiding me. That’s just great. I finish up the gravy and join Ethan at the table.
“Dig in,” I say, pulling a steak off the platter along with some asparagus. We eat almost in silence, except for the appreciative groans coming from Ethan’s mouth.
