by JB Salsbury
Nothing.
“Alright, I’ll drive, but I’m not playing wingman.” Staying busy at the pool table should keep me from obsessing about hearing from AJ though.
~*~
AJ
It’s well after midnight by the time I’m finally on my way home. My backpack in the passenger seat of my ’94 Saturn with a tire that always wobbles and the AC that never works right, I stare between the vehicle and myself.
Nothing about me feels like it belongs.
From the most expensive couture silk that drapes my body to the sweet champagne that still flavors my lips, I am a living contradiction. And yet, I feel, in a way, transcended. Like I’ve finally burst free from the impoverished bubble of my past to live the life I knew I was made for.
Dressed like the rich and famous, I was escorted to Andre’s penthouse on top of the building through a private elevator used only for him and the celebrities who stay in the hotel.
He met me at the door and gave me a tour of the expansive modern space, all while classical music fell from hidden speakers. There was food waiting for us on the terrace by a warm fire and lemon mousse that I could’ve bathed in, it was so delicious.
Besides Andre’s flirtatious compliments, he was a perfect gentleman, and after some time passed, he loosened up the neck of his shirt and flashed that dimpled smile.
He is the kind of man I dreamed of dating before . . .
Before Braeden.
I’ve never considered myself to be a silly girl, but as I sit staring out the window into the dark employee lot, I think that’s exactly what I’m being.
I am holding myself back from Andre for a man who will most likely fade from my life in time. With our conflicting schedules, Braeden and I will become too much work for the other. We’d be lucky to see each other a few weekends a year, and that’s not conducive to building a strong relationship. He told me he didn’t do promises, that he was married to the military.
So why do I insist on hanging on?
Andre . . . he’s settled. I learned he’s thirty-two, old enough to know what he wants, and done with the games. He’d mentioned a couple of serious relationships, but nothing lasting, and implied he’s ready to settle into something more permanent. With him, I’d be able to chase my dream for the love of what I do rather than the goal of being wealthy.
The thought makes my heart revolt.
I grab my phone, hit a contact, and press it to my ear.
“’Lo?”
I can hear music and voices in the background.
“Braeden, hey—”
“Hello?”
“It’s me. AJ.”
“Who?”
I close my eyes. “AJ?”
“Hold on.”
There’s muffled voices and then a fierce “Dick!” followed by “Muffin?”
Who thought that word would send my heart reeling. “Yeah.”
“Hey, sorry about Deacon. He snagged my phone. Hold on, okay?”
I nod, unable to speak through the emotion swelling in my chest.
“AJ?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. Hold one sec.”
The raucous background noise fades.
“Okay, that’s better. It’s loud as fuck in there. Hey, how was your first show?” There’s so much concern and tenderness in his voice that out of nowhere tears spring to my eyes.
“It was better than I ever could’ve imagined.”
“I knew it would be. I’m so proud of you, babe. You worked so hard.”
“I did.” I sniff and rub at my eye. “But I can’t take all the credit. If it weren’t for your help, I would’ve burned out. Thank you for that.”
“Nah . . . that was all you.” He clears his throat. “So, uh . . . did you go out after the show?”
“Yes. I . . .” I lick my lips. “My boss actually took me to dinner to celebrate.”
I’m met with silence.
“Yeah, he, uh . . . I guess he’s the one who put me up for the promotion after seeing me perform, so he treated me to a meal.” And a dress and shoes, but I’ll keep that to myself.
“See. I’m not the only one who believes in you.” He sounds so quiet, is he . . . hurt?
“When can I see you?”
“It’s busy over here, but I’ll do my best to make it down when I can.”
I sniff again. “Okay.”
“Get some sleep. You’ll need it if you plan on becoming the next Las Vegas superstar.”
“I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Bye, AJ.”
The line goes dead.
And somewhere deep inside so do I.
Ten
Braeden
I’m throwing a weekend’s worth of shit into a bag when Deacon slaps my back. “Good. You’re packing. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
I grin and shake my head. “I already told you I’m not going to Ensenada with you guys.”
“Daniels, don’t be a dumbshit. In a couple of days, we’ll be desert-bound, no pussy for six months. Don’t waste your time barking up the same ole tree. Come with us and spend the next forty-eight hours gloriously drunk and thoroughly fucked.”
I zip up my bag and grab my phone, keys, and wallet. “As dirty and, frankly, unsanitary as all that sounds, you guys go ahead. I’m perfectly fine with my same ole tree.”
“Brae.” His expression is serious, something I rarely see on Deek. “She never returns your calls, says she’s always too busy—”
“She is busy.”
“So are you, but you find the time to keep in touch.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m just sayin’ maybe she’s not feeling the same thing, ya know? I’d hate to see you waste our last few days before deployment being fucked over by some girl.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but you’ve never met her. You know next to nothing about her, so trust me that I know what I’m doing, okay?”
“Fine, but if she blows you off and you’re stuck in the sand trap for six months with a perma-boner, that’s on you.”
“Ten-four.” I salute him and storm out, eager as shit to get to Vegas.
~~~
I pulled into Las Vegas just after three, and I know AJ has shows until nine, so I dropped by my brother’s house. I didn’t bother getting a hotel room because I plan on spending my nights between AJ’s thighs and under her sheets.
Blake and I are flopped on the couch, shooting the shit while he gives Jack a guitar lesson.
“Layla and I are going over to see The General next weekend.” My brother adjusts Jack’s fingers on the mini guitar’s fret and whispers, “This is E minor.”
Jack strums it lightly, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he focuses.
“That’s great. Mom’ll love to see JD.” I rub my nephew’s fluffy blond hair, but the touch doesn’t deter his focus as he keeps playing. “Bring some life into that old house. Every time I go over there, it’s so depressing.”
“You plan on seeing Dad before you deploy?”
“I’ll be there for dinner Monday night, leave first thing Tuesday.”
Blake makes another adjustment to Jack’s fingers and says, “C major.” He drops back and looks at me. “You think he’ll last? Ya know, until you get back?”
I nod. “He’s alright. You’ll see. I don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Good.” He runs a hand over his cropped hair. “Wish I could say I’m stoked you’re deploying because I know how much you love what you do, but I’m not.”
There’s really nothing to say to that. I do love being a Marine. I love combat, the thrill, the victory, and more than anything, I love putting my training to use to protect innocent lives.
Layla pushes through the sliding glass door, wearing a bright pink string bikini, her blond hair piled on top of her head, and a pair of dark sunglasses on. Damn, the woman is in her forties, but her body doesn’t lo
ok a day over twenty-five. She’s tan and tight and round and soft in all the right places—there’s a sharp sting on the side of my head.
I rub my temple. “Ow, you fu—”
Jack’s gaze darts to mine.
“—unny funbag.”
My brother’s eyebrows pop up. “Oh, I’m a funny funbag? You were just eyeball-funbagging my wife right in front of your nephew.”
“Boys—”
“Hey, it’s not my fault your wife is funbaggable!” I motion to her. “Look at her!”
“I know what she looks like. I get to funbag her. You need to keep your thoughts to yourself.”
“I did keep my thoughts to myself until you temple-funbagged me!”
“Guys!”
We both jerk our eyes to Layla, who’s barely restraining her laughter. “Brae, I love you. Thank you for the compliment. Blake, he’s going to war, baby. Be nice.” She moves to her husband and drops into his lap.
She’s so tiny compared to him. When he pulls her close, her feet come off the floor, and his hands circle her waist.
I imagine what it would be like to have AJ like that, in my house, walking around in her bikini with our kid playing happily with his toys. But yeah, I know nothing of loving relationships. I was born and bred to be a Marine, and the only example of a loving husband I had was anything but. Blake manages to at least act like he knows what he’s doing, but he was out of our house at fifteen, so, fuck, he got off easy.
“Brae, promise me you’ll take care of yourself?” My sister-in-law is leaning into her husband, but the concern shining in her eyes speaks of how much she loves me.
“Aw, girl. You know nothing can touch me.”
“Just get your ass home safe, yeah?” Blake’s giving me that big-brother look, the one that says do as I say or I’ll kill you.
“Sure thing, bro.”
Out of nowhere, Jack crawls up into my lap and throws his little arms around my neck. “Don’t get killed, Uncle Brae.”
Layla gasps.
I hug my nephew. “Dude, never. I’ll always come back to you.”
~~~
After one of Layla’s gut-splitting meals, I’m leaning against a wall at the Kairos Hotel and Casino with a serious case of déjà vu.
My hands shoved in my pockets, legs crossed at the ankles, I’m having a staring contest with the security guard standing at the double doors of the cast entrance to the amphitheater.
“You sure she’s expecting you?” His eyes communicate a shit-ton of I don’t believe you, but too bad. I’m not going anywhere.
“I’m her husband, man. Of course she’s expecting me.”
The doors push open, and a group of performers head out, but after a quick perusal, I see none of them are her.
Another group exits, and if this time is anything like the last, I know she’ll come out alone and probably after the others. People file out in pairs until the doors burst wide open and a dozen plus performers push through. They’re energy is contagious as they laugh and talk loudly about what I assume was a successful show. I keep my eyes on the door, only giving them a cursory once-over when my sights settle on a head of cascading chestnut hair.
The same chestnut hair I’ve had my fists buried in and felt splayed across my chest.
A girl next to her turns to AJ and says something that makes her laugh so hard she throws her head back. Is it possible she’s gotten even more beautiful since the last time I saw her?
“AJ.”
She slams to a halt, her head whips around, and those gorgeous hazel eyes zero in. Right. On. Me.
We’re stuck, suspended as our gazes tangle together, and her smile falls along with her eyebrows.
“Braeden.”
I don’t hear her say my name, but I read her lips and smile.
My grin acts as a take-off button, and she bolts out of the group and bounds toward me. I brace just a second before she launches herself into my arms.
She wraps her arms around my neck, and I bury my face in her throat while gripping her thighs, which have circled my hips.
“Muffin, I missed you.”
She takes in a shaky breath and squeezes me tighter. “I missed you too. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Couldn’t stay away.” I nuzzle her skin, breathing in the delicate jasmine scent that I’ve come to associate with her.
“AJ, you coming?” A man’s voice calls to her, and my skin pricks at the sound, but when I look up and see a fit little dude wearing pink leggings and a sparkly shirt, my irritation dissolves.
“No, Will.” She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she speaks to the guy. “You guys go without me.”
He chuckles and then turns to catch up with the other performers.
“You didn’t have to ditch your friends for me.” I squeeze her thighs. “But I’m glad you did.”
“When did you get here? How long have you been waiting? If you’d told me you were coming, I wouldn’t have hung out back there so long.” She releases her legs from my waist, and I slide her to her feet.
I walk us back until her butt hits the wall and cup her face. “I knew you had a show, so I didn’t want to bother you, or I would’ve texted.” I brush my lips along hers and swallow the soft puff of her breath. “I wasn’t sure if I could make it down tonight or tomorrow until about an hour before I left.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She presses her mouth to mine, and our tongues meet in a tentative stroke.
“We gotta get out of here before we do something we could get arrested for.”
She giggles so fucking sweetly, and I take her hand to guide her down the corridor toward the casino.
“Are you staying here?”
My feet freeze and she looks up at me. “I can, but . . .” When I tell her I’d planned to stay with her, she could very well tell me to go screw myself. I didn’t consider that she’d reject me. “I hoped I could stay with you.”
Her eyes light with an emotion I’m hoping is excitement and not panic. “Really?”
“Only if you’re okay with it.”
She pushes in and wraps one arm around my back. “I’m so okay with it.”
I mouth, Thank, God. “I’ll walk you to your car and then meet you at your place.”
She squeezes me to her. “How long do I get you for?”
“I have to leave day after tomorrow.”
“I get you for two whole nights?”
“Nope. I get you for two whole nights.”
~*~
AJ
You know how you don’t realize how lucky you are to have something until you don’t have it for a while and then you get it back?
That’s me.
I went so long without seeing Braeden and only talking to him once or twice a week that I’d forgotten how much I crave him.
And not just physically.
I’ve missed his smile, his stupid jokes, the way he looks at me as if I’m the only girl in existence. I’ve missed the way he asks about my life and genuinely listens as I talk about the most minor details. I’ve missed the way his thumb rubs across my knuckles when we hold hands as if he’s programmed to constantly soothe me. The spicy scent of his cologne, the rough stubble on his cheeks, the spark in his eyes as he watches me talk, there isn’t a thing on this man that doesn’t turn my insides to Jell-O.
I pull up to my apartment complex and grab my bag. Brae asked me to wait for him in the car so he could walk me up.
Always so protective.
I kill time by checking my phone and notice I have a missed call from my parents. I’d call them back, but I know that’s going to be a long conversation, and I don’t want to cut into the limited time I have with Braeden, so I put it on my mental to-do list for tomorrow.
I have a couple of new text messages, the first from William.
You’ve been holding out on me! Who’s the man candy? I want full deets in the AM.
The next message is from Andre.
Don’t mak
e plans for Sunday. I have something I want to show you.
A.
My stomach twists with nerves. Braeden will be here Sunday, or at least Sunday morning.
Without giving too much away, I text back what time?
He doesn’t respond right away, but then again, he never does.
I check my email and play a couple of games of Fruit Ninja when the growl of a high-performance engine sounds from outside. The smile that pulls at my mouth can’t be called anything other than embarrassing as I glance over and see Braeden parking.
I hop out, all too eager to be back in his arms, and he pulls his army-green duffle from his trunk before slamming it and arming the alarm.
The moment our eyes meet, the magnetic pull that always manages to tether us engages again.
He walks toward me with the kind of elegance a man his size shouldn’t possess. When he gets close enough, he snags my hand and pulls me into his side. “Are you hungry?”
“A little. You?”
He smirks down at me, and a swarm of butterflies explodes in my belly. How is it possible for a man this big and powerful to look so innocent and sexy with one smile? His gaze slides down my body and back up to land on my lips. “I’m always hungry, muffin.”
I wrinkle my nose at his pet name, but that only makes him smile more, and this time the grin is far from innocent. It’s all sex and dirty thoughts plastered on one devilishly handsome face.
“Hey, you got a dollar?”
A man dressed in jeans that appear four sizes too big and a baggy sweatshirt that’s covered in dirt probably from sleeping on the ground brings the short butt of a lit cigarette to his lips. His hands are filthy, his too-long fingernails caked with dirt. I’ve seen him around the neighborhood before, but never this close to home.
Braeden slows and pushes me slightly behind him. “You need some help, man?”
“Yeah.” The guy’s hands shake, and as he talks, I notice he’s missing some teeth. “Haven’t had nothing to eat in days.”
“Be honest with me. You lookin’ for food or a fix?”
The way Braeden asks doesn’t sound confrontational; it’s as if he really cares about the guy.
He shuffles on his feet. “Little o’ both, man. I’m hurtin’.”
Brae seems to mull something over and then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out some cash, handing it to him. “This isn’t going to help in the long run. You know that, right?”
