A client finally walked in. Relieved, I hopped up and walked over to the thirty-something woman dressed in jeans and a tank top. I felt Zoe’s eyes boring into the back of my skull like a laser.
***
Jamie
“You’re going to lunch with him tomorrow,” Zoe practically screamed through the receiver. Cringing, I pulled the cell away from my ear then dropped a handful of noodles into the pot of boiling water on my stove.
“Zo, stop. You can’t force this thing.”
There was a huff and then a short growl. “Look, you. I’m not trying to set you guys up.”
“Then what the hell are you doing?” I snapped, stirring the meat sauce with a little too much force, spilling some over the edge of the pot. “Why can’t you just stop this? This is so not the time to play matchmaker.”
She sighed. “How is Angel?”
“As good as can be expected.”
The silence on the line grew long and then she quietly asked, “And how are you?”
That softly spoken question brought a sudden surge of heat to my eyes and a lump to my throat. Clearing it twice, I turned and grabbed a wet kitchen rag from my sink to wipe off the sauce, needing a moment to gather myself so that I wouldn’t start crying.
“I don’t know.” I answered truthfully after a pause. The automatic I’m okay or good almost slipped off my tongue, but Zoe wouldn’t have believed it anyway—she knew me too well.
It was seven thirty at night. I’d been messing around with the manuscript for the past four hours, ever since coming home from the hospital. I’d only stopped because of Zoe’s phone call and realized I needed to actually cook something.
One thing my mama taught me was how to cook; it was one of my passions besides writing. Which I was sad to say I was total crap at. But books were in my blood and now instead of penning them, I edited them. It was a job that suited me well.
Slipping a little fresh thyme and oregano into the sauce, I stirred it slowly.
“You know, J,” Zoe whispered, “in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve always known what a tease and flirt you are, how you like to pretend that you’re such a slut because it’s funny or something. But in all that time you’ve never slept with anyone but Angel. What you did with Tor last night, it means more than you think it does.”
I gave a short laugh because she was dead wrong. “Love? That what you’re implying? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not true. If it hadn’t been him last night, I would have done it with someone else. Anyone else.”
“C’mon,” she scoffed. “We both know that’s not true. You’re so freaking loyal it would even put the Pope to shame.”
Suddenly the sound was muffled and I heard low murmurs. She was covering the mouthpiece, talking to Alex. I heard her say something that sounded like “in a second” and then she was back.
“Look, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I love you. I have loved you pretty much from the moment we met. You were the coolest, funniest, and prettiest girl I ever knew. You also have a great capacity for understanding and seeking out truth. You have great instincts, J, it’s why you fell in love with Angel in the first place. But the Angel you knew when you guys got together, he’s not the same guy anymore. Deep down I think you might even know that. But at some point you’re going to have to understand that you can’t save him from himself.”
Placing my palms on the counter, I closed my eyes, her words driving through my heart like a rusty nail. “I would never give up on you.”
I wasn’t even sure what I was implying there. I was just so tired of all of it. The tears I’d been trying hard to choke back were suddenly coming, pouring freely because I knew I was reaching critical mass where Angel was concerned.
A part of me, a big part, wanted to give up. I’d always thought that if there was one good quality about me, it was my constancy. Without that, who was I? And why now, when he desperately needed me to champion him, was I ready to throw in the towel? Why couldn’t I have come to this realization before he was stuck back in ICU?
“Oh, Jamie,” Zoe whispered, voice breaking.
Even though I cried silently and never made any noise, she knew me so well. Giving me time, she murmured soothingly to me.
“It’s okay, honey. I promise it’s okay. I know you’re scared, and the timing is less than perfect, but I really believe in my heart that you need Tor.”
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
“And before you say no, I’m not saying for love. Or a soul mate, or even for sex. But you two are so similar, more than you could know.”
The disappointed look Ms. Romero and Marianna had given me after Tor had left, it’d made me feel so small. Terrible. I’d known what that looked like, what I’d looked like. I hadn’t wanted him to leave. I couldn’t really explain it, we barely knew each other, but when I was with him I didn’t feel quite so manic or scared.
“I’m not broken, Zoe.” I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. “I don’t need someone to fix me.”
“Who said I’m doing this just for you?”
I had zero idea what to say back to that. Tor seemed strong and stoic, like nothing really bothered him ever. In the years I’d known him he’d never come across to me as someone struggling with life.
Not the way I did.
She sighed. “I’m gonna have to go here in a minute, Alex is starting to pull pans out of the cabinet and I think we can both agree that the thought of him cooking anything is pretty much a nightmare waiting to happen.”
“Hey!” His voice echoed down the line.
Zoe laughed and it sucked because I was having one of those bad friend moments where I was horribly jealous at how easy and simple things were between the two of them.
Shifting until my hip rested against the counter, I picked at my thumbnail. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Zoe to have her happiness; I just wanted mine too.
“Babe, I love you, but I swear if you don’t put that stick of butter away I’ll personally shove the whole thing down your throat.”
There was a whole bunch more laughter, some gentle growling from Alex, a sigh or two from Zoe, and then a kiss, and I was a second away from pulling the phone away from my ear to give them some privacy.
“Hey, J!” Alex chimed in. “Come over for dinner. I’m about to make some eggs and toast.”
“Like hell you are,” Zoe said and then I heard a loud smack.
“Oh, baby,” Alex crooned. “Spank me again.”
I couldn’t help it: I laughed. Those two were so disgustingly perfect for each other, almost three years later and they still acted like friggin’ honeymooners. “You both make me sick.”
“Yeah, well.” Zoe came back on the line. “I can’t help it if I think my cowboy is extremely sexy. A rotten cook, and you know I love ya, babe, but you suck at it. Just sayin’.”
“Pfft, you’re just jealous you’re toast doesn’t come out as black as mine. Amiright, Jamie?” Alex yelled it, though his words still came out small because he wasn’t the one actually holding the phone.
I snorted.
“Oh jeez, will you go away so I can talk to Jamie in peace? Thank you. Ugh.”
But it was all a show. Zoe was so sprung for her golden-haired Adonis it wasn’t even funny.
“Anyway, like I was saying, we really do want you over for dinner this weekend. Though not tonight—it’s Mother Hubbard’s cupboard up in here and there’s nothing really palatable. But come okay, we’ll strategize.”
“Strategize about what?” I stirred the noodles one final time, realized they were now done, and took the pot over to the sink, pouring it into the strainer.
“Life.”
I could hear her smile behind the word.
“I dunno, maybe, it all depends on how Angel’s doing.”
“Do you have
his number?”
I knew immediately whom she was talking about. “Zoe, no. And if he’d wanted me to have it he would have given it to me.”
She blew a raspberry. “Sometimes I feel like a freaking fairy godmother. Get a pencil and a pad.”
“No.”
“Get it. I won’t hang up until you write it down.”
“I could always pretend,” I huffed.
“No, you won’t, because your memory is crap and I’m going to make you repeat it back to me. Now go get a notepad and pen. I can wait.”
“God, I hate you.” I rolled my eyes, but dutifully did as told.
After rattling the numbers off in quick succession, she asked me to repeat them back. I was only able to because I’d written them down. She was right: my memory was crap.
“I love you. Now call him.”
“Z,” I groaned, slapping the pen onto the counter. “No.”
“Call him.”
“No.”
With a mumbled oath, Zoe hung up on me. Shrugging, I put my phone down and refused to think about that number that suddenly seemed to be mocking me.
With the pasta steam still curling around my face, it dawned on me that I’d made way too much food. I cooked when I got anxious.
It was a weird habit, one I’d developed back in high school. Also a typically wasteful one, as I could never finish half of what I made and Angel was more into drinking beer than eating solids nowadays.
Planting my hands on my hips, I knew immediately what I was going to do. Clamping down on the little voice in my head that screamed this was beyond stupid, I walked back to the counter and picked up my phone and called him.
One ring.
Two.
My mouth felt suddenly dry. Maybe I should hang up.
“Yes?” Tor’s exotic voice stoked a fire deep inside me. “Hello?” he said when I failed to respond.
“Umm, yeah. I was…” God, why was this so hard? Spit it out, you idiot.
“Jamie? Are you okay? How’d you get my number?” The sincerity of concern I heard in his tone made me feel brave.
Squaring my shoulders I cleared my throat. “Zoe gave it to me—I hope it’s okay that I called.”
“Of course. Yes.”
I smiled at the sound of his excitement.
“So…umm…what are you doing?”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Like right now?”
“I’m at band practice.”
The smile on my face wavered. “Oh, well.” I gave a short laugh. “No problem. I’ll talk to you—”
“Yes.”
“What?” I blinked, confused.
“Whatever it is, yes.”
My stomach tingled. “But I haven’t even asked you the question yet.”
“So ask me now.”
Was that a challenge? My lips twitched. What was it about Tor that made me feel the need to be a little more carefree, less…me? “Do you like spaghetti?”
“I like an-y-thing.”
His accent turned that anything into something that sounded positively wicked. I bit my bottom lip, fighting the huge grin threatening to overtake me.
“Tor?”
“Yeah?”
“Were you flirting with me just then?”
There was a full five-second pause of silence before he whispered, “And if I said I was?”
“I’d have to tell you to stop.” I placed my left foot on top of my right and wiggled my toes.
“Then I wasn’t.”
I wet my lips, palms going sweaty as I murmured, “What if I told you I liked it?”
“Where do you live?” His voice had grown hoarse, almost guttural.
My heart raced like I’d taken a shot of speed. I rattled off the address to him quickly.
He whispered back, “I’ll be there in under an hour.”
“But I thought you said you were at practice?”
“It has ended unexpectedly early tonight.” He chuckled, prompting me to do the same.
Feeling suddenly crazy nervous, I hung up the phone after an excited goodbye and raced for the shower. It wasn’t that I was dirty, and I wasn’t really sure why I was soaping my body down with lavender soap or spraying myself with even more flora perfume once I’d dried off. My hands shook as I stared at my face in the fogged-up mirror.
If I’d been anyone else I would have sworn I was getting ready for a date. Which was ridiculous. Because I didn’t date. Even when I wasn’t with Angel, I’d always known he was going to come around, so I kept myself free and clear. It was what I did.
Yanking on a bright pair of electric-blue skinny jeans and white crop-top shirt, I ran a brush through my hair, knowing there’d be no time to straighten it. It was just going to have to be wavy today. I put on my ivory pearl seed earrings and was heading back into the kitchen to stir the simmering sauce when my doorbell rang.
Butterflies swarmed my stomach, and clenching my fist to it, I went and opened the door.
Tor’s hair was pulled back in a knot, highlighting his slashing cheekbones and square jaw. His broad, totally kissable mouth was tipped up at the corner. His body crowded the frame of the door, and I realized he’d changed his shirt from when I’d seen him earlier. The gray shirt he wore looked sculpted to the hard planes of his chest and abs. He was still in those scuffed-up jeans that just so totally worked for him.
Pulse fluttery and feeling slightly breathless, I stepped to the side.
“Hey.”
Please tell me that sex-me-up breathy Marilyn Monroe voice did not just come from me. I pressed my hand tighter to my stomach.
His eyes did a slow perusal of me, starting at my bare feet, traveling up my legs to my chest and lingering there for what felt like a ridiculously long minute, but was probably only a few seconds, before settling on my face. His smile grew wider.
“Jamie. May I come inside?”
Was he for real? Were there really guys like this still left in the world? Apart from my dad, I’d been tempted to believe chivalry was dead.
“We’ve already slept together; shouldn’t this be easier by now?” I chuckled.
And so did he, a rich, lilting sound that washed through me and immediately the tension of uncertainty was no longer so powerful.
“You’re very blunt, you know that.”
I waved him on in, noticing my frat boy neighbor peeking his head out his door. Giving him a flash of a smile, I latched on to Tor’s thick wrist and pulled him inside.
Shrugging, I pointed toward the kitchen. “Which is probably why I manage to run people off.”
Sniffing, he moaned appreciatively. “I’m very hungry. Smells good. And I don’t scare easily.”
Feeling oddly pleased by his praise, I swatted his compliment aside. “Well, I hope it tastes good. I usually only cook for me and I’m not a picky eater.”
He looked around.
My apartment seemed much smaller with him in it. He was just so big, and with all my unpacked boxes everywhere it was already very cluttered. I grimaced, more aware than ever of what a mess this must look like.
Nibbling on the corner of my lip, I pulled down two plates, two glasses, and utensils. I hadn’t really thought any of this through. I didn’t even have a kitchen table, for crying out loud. “Umm. We could lean against the bar I suppose.”
He nodded. “We could. Or”—his blue eyes blazed with heat and other things that made me jittery—“we could spread out a blanket right there,” he said, pointing to the empty spot beside the wall, “and have a picnic.”
“A picnic?” I laughed. “In here?”
“Why not, Eskelde? You up for an adventure?”
I so had to figure out what he kept calling me, and now that he’d brought up the idea of a picnic, it sounded like a lot of fun. Setting th
e plates down, I held up a finger. “Hold on, I think I have the perfect thing. Just. Wait.” I nibbled my bottom lip.
Leaning against the counter with his arms straightened out behind him, he nodded. “Always.”
Whoa.
I turned on my heel, heading for my linen closet in the bedroom as heat skated up the back of my neck. I’d say he was trying too hard to get into my pants, except he already had. Then an ugly thought took me. What if he was just here hoping for a repeat?
Glowering, I yanked the red- and white-checkered blanket out. I must have still been wearing the look when I walked out because he grabbed my shoulder as I began to unfold it.
“What’s the matter? Is it Angel?”
Brows dipping, I shook my head. Why was I making everything so weird? If he’d come here looking for a booty call, that wouldn’t make him any different than countless other dudes. Didn’t mean he was bad or wrong for thinking it, either. Hell, I was thinking about what we’d done last night.
Confused by own weird reaction to him, I took my time smoothing the blanket down. “No, it’s not Angel. I’m just…I’m…” I brushed at the edge of the blanket hard.
He was beside me then, placing his large hand over my own. “Look at me.”
I turned to him. His blue eyes were so pretty.
I mean, that’s kind of corny to think. Especially about a guy, but they really were. The outer edge was a really dark blue that slowly lightened as it got to the pupil until it was almost a frosty color. I shivered.
“You don’t have to be scared of me, Jamie. I meant what I said in that note. I don’t want this to be weird, but I do want the chance to know you. So let’s be friends.”
Friends.
That word made me want to pitch a fit. Stomp my foot in frustration, kiss him with all the longing now raging inside of me… What in the hell was going on?
“You scare me.” Again my mouth spoke before my brain could filter. Why was I telling him all these things? The last thing a guy needed to know was that he affected you, especially someone like Tor.
Tugging on a curl of hair laying across my shoulder, he flicked at the edge of it with his thumb. “I’m a giant teddy bear. Just take a chance.”
Didn’t the Devil say that too?
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 61
