by A. M. Myers
“You moving or something?” he asks, stepping in front of me as he looks through my box.
“Or something.”
His brow furrows as he meets my eyes again, and it’s there this time. That undeniable spark that I felt the first time he looked at me. His brow arches in question, and I study him for a moment, feeling compelled to tell him the truth when normally I would just gloss over the details. With a heavy sigh, I give in. As I explain my shitty day to him, his eyes get wider and wider, and by the time I finish, he’s shaking his head in disbelief.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it’s been quite a day,” I tell him before looking at the dog resting his head in my lap.
“Hell, now I feel even worse for Bear hurting you.”
I look down and smile before shaking my head and looking at him. “Don’t. It was just an accident. Like you said, he’s still a puppy. Poor baby doesn’t know any better yet.”
He coughs out a laugh, and humor lights up his face, taking my breath away. Jesus, he’s gorgeous when he smiles. “Oh, he knows better.”
Silence falls over us once again but it’s not uncomfortable, and I can’t look away from the man in front of me. I feel this weird pull toward him that I just can’t explain but I don’t know a single thing about him.
“What’s your name?” I blurt out, and one side of his mouth tips up.
“Why?”
“Because your dog mauled me, and you’ve already invited yourself inside my house. I think I should, at least, know your name.”
“Storm,” he says, and strangely, it fits.
“I’m Ali.”
He nods and looks up at my front door, setting the box down on the porch next to me. “Let’s get you inside and fix your knee.”
When he scoops me up in his arms again, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into him a little, unable to stop myself. He smells amazing, and I fight the urge to just take a deep breath. “You really don’t have to do this,” I tell him again, and he peeks over at me.
“You say that just to hear yourself talk, Darlin’? Cause you’re not gonna convince me to just walk away and leave you bleeding. My mama raised me better than that.”
“Well, thank you,” I whisper, a blush creeping up my cheeks as he steps into my kitchen.
“What are you thanking me for? The dog attack or the aftercare?” Amusement lights up his gray eyes, and I’m totally enthralled as he holds me in his arms in the middle of my kitchen, both of us unable to look away from each other. What the hell is this? He seems to snap to his senses and sets me down on the counter before looking around.
“Where am I going to find that first aid kit?”
I point to the cupboard directly behind him. “Second shelf.”
He grabs it and turns back to me, setting the kit on the counter next to me on one side before looking over at the sink on the other side. Without a word, he kneels in front of me and slips my shoe off my foot. I can’t look away, curious and turned on as I wonder what the hell he’s doing. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife, flipping it open with ease, and I suck in a breath. If I were smart, I would be terrified right now. I would start screaming for help or kick my foot out and hope it catches him in the face so I can get away but he’s rendered me completely fucking stupid.
No, instead I sit my ass on the counter and watch as he pulls my tights away from my leg and cuts them open all the way up, my skin sparking with the intense desire blanketing us. When he gets above my knee where the tights disappear under my skirt, I put my hand out to stop him, and he pulls the knife away.
“They’re thigh highs,” I mutter as I pull my skirt up slightly and pull the stocking off. I dangle it out in front of him but his gaze is glued to my bare leg. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and my eyes almost roll back in my head. Jesus, I think I could come just from watching him watch me. I clear my throat, and he looks up at me.
“Care to tell me why you murdered my tights?”
He smirks and stands, folding the knife, and tucking it back into his pocket as he points to the sink without answering my question. “Spin toward the sink and stick your leg in. I’ll clean your wound.”
“Okay,” I say and do as he instructed, sticking my bare leg in the sink next to me, and folding the other one underneath me so it doesn’t get wet.
“This is going to hurt a little bit,” he warns, grabbing the sprayer, and turning the water on low. I nod.
“I’m okay.”
He tests the water, making sure it’s not too hot before he starts rinsing out the gash on my knee. It stings, and I suck in a breath before slowly blowing it out. As he cleans me up, he sends heated glances in my direction, sending my body into overdrive. Every little brush of his fingers is amplified, and when he finally turns off the water, my heart is pounding in my ears, and my breathing is choppy.
“Towels?” he asks, and I point to one of the drawers next to the sink, admiring the way the muscles in his shoulders bunch and flex as he leans down to grab one. After gently patting my knee dry, he tells me to turn back around so my legs are dangling off the counter. He pulls some gauze and tape out of the first aid kit, placing them on the counter next to me. Crouching down in front of me, he inspects my knee again. Gray eyes meet mine as he looks up at me and blows on my knee to make sure it’s dry and goose bumps race across my skin. After a heated moment, he drops his gaze back to my knee.
“I don’t think it needs stitches,” he mutters, inspecting the wound now that it’s clean, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed today was a hospital visit. “It’s pretty swollen, though. You should stay off it for a couple days.”
“I have crutches in that closet there.” I point to the closet off the dining room, and he leaves me sitting on the counter to grab them. He gives them a nod of approval as he pulls them out and turns back to me.
“Why do you have crutches?”
“Broke my ankle a couple of years ago and just thought they’d be good to keep around.”
He nods and comes back over to me, leaning down in front of me. He blows on my knee once more, and I’m convinced it’s just to torture me as another shiver racks my body. He grabs the tape and starts tearing off pieces, laying them on the counter so he can grab them later. Grabbing some gauze off the counter, he presses it to my wound, making sure that the bleeding has stopped.
“Sorry,” he mutters when I suck in a breath, and I nod, letting him know that I’m okay. He tosses the gauze aside and grabs another piece, applying first aid cream to one side, and my heart squeezes at the care he’s showing me, a complete stranger. He lays the gauze over my knee and begins carefully taping it to my skin.
I’m enthralled as I watch him, unable to look away from his furrowed brow or the teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he works to get me all bandaged up. The thin scar running through his eyebrow is sexy as hell, and I’m dying to ask him how he got it. His little touches drive me crazy, and I can imagine him running one hand gently down my face while he lightly traces over my bottom lip with his thumb. Just picturing it in my head has me fighting back a moan. Finally, he stands and looks at me again, his gaze dark with the same desire that I feel coursing through my body with fervor. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, and all I can think about is leaning forward and kissing him.
“Let me have your phone,” he says. It takes me a second to process what he said but when I do, I scowl at him.
“Huh?”
“Give me your phone.” He doesn’t give any explanation and yet, I hand over my phone without a second thought. He peeks up at me and smirks as I watch him type something in before he hands it back to me as his phone goes off in his pocket.
“My number is in there now. Call or text me if you need anything, okay?”
I slowly nod. “Um…okay.”
“I’m serious. It’s my fault that you’re gonna be laid up for a few days so call me when you need absolutely anything. I live right next door so it
’s not a problem.”
I nod, knowing damn well that I’m not going to do that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Although, I can’t say that I’m all that disappointed about having his number. How have I never noticed him before? Have I really been that closed off to the world? He takes a step toward me, and I suck in a quiet breath. He’s so close now. I could just lean forward and press my lips against his. If I just wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into me, I could steal the kiss I’ve been daydreaming about for the last five minutes.
“Say it, Ali. Say you’ll give me a call if you need anything.” His voice is velvet smooth, and I feel a bit hypnotized as I stare up at him and nod.
“I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Good,” he whispers, leaning in instead of pulling away like I expected him to. Almost like he’s having trouble fighting this, too. I know this is insane because I literally just met him but there’s something about him that just gets to me. His eyes meet mine, and we freeze, his face hovering an inch above mine as his minty breath washes over me, and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone this badly in my entire life. I start to lean forward, and he follows suit, his lips barely brushing against mine as my body sparks to life from the simple touch.
“Ali!” Izzy’s voice breaks through the sexual tension filling the room, and Storm pulls back sharply, like he’s waking up from a dream, and just like before, his face shuts down. There is absolutely no emotion on his face when he looks up at me again, and it breaks my heart. No. I want the man that was just looking at me like I was his last supper back. I can’t remember the last time I felt that desired in my entire life, and I hate that we were interrupted.
“Who in the name of sex are you?” Izzy asks after stepping into the kitchen, and I start laughing, unable to help myself as Storm’s eyes widen. He drops his gaze to the floor and blows a breath out before running his hand through his hair and looking back up at me.
“I gotta go. You’ve got my number.” Without waiting for a response, he stomps out of the room, and Bear follows behind him. The front door slams closed, and I look to Izzy, whose gaze is roaming all over the countertop. She walks over to me and picks up my shredded thigh high, holding it out in front of me.
“Oh, Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do,” she sings, and I start laughing again, falling back onto the counter with a sigh.
* * * *
“Food’s here,” Carly calls as she opens the front door and walks in. I wave at her from the couch, unable to get up with my bum knee. Before Izzy left, she made me tell her everything that happened with my neighbor and insisted that I elevate my knee. Carly’s mouth pops open when she catches sight of my knee propped up on a couple pillows and the crutches leaning up against the couch next to me.
“Holy hell, your knee is the size of a softball!”
“Yeah, I know. I got mauled by the neighbor’s Labrador.”
She rushes over to the couch and throws the bag of food and her purse down on the coffee table before sitting next to me, trying to examine my knee.
“Shit, are you okay? We should call Izzy. Maybe she can get one of the lawyers in her office to sue the shit out of the guy.”
“No, it was an accident. Bear’s still a puppy, and he just wanted some attention. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
She studies me for a second before smirking and reaching for the bag of food. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the man in your kitchen that Izzy described as ‘hot as the devil himself’, would it?”
I scoff, looking away, because truthfully, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Storm since he left my house earlier today. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” she hums, not buying an ounce of my shit. She hands me my box of food and a plastic fork before relaxing back into the couch with me.
“What are you looking at?” she asks, eyeing my computer screen.
“I got offered a job.”
Her eyes widen for a second before a huge smile stretches across her face. “Seriously? When?”
“Literally two minutes after you left the coffee shop. She overheard us talking and offered me a position as an advice columnist.”
“For what?” she asks around a bite of food.
“This blog called Champagne Dreaming. Mercedes is the daughter of Charles Richmond, and she runs it. I’ve been researching it all day.” I start showing her stuff on the website as we eat, and by the time we’re done, she’s urging me to take the job.
“Seriously, you have to take it. It sounds amazing. Why wouldn’t you?”
I shrug and look down at the computer screen. “I guess I’ve just never seen myself as an advice columnist.”
“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know that you’ve ever been classified as a reporter. Your articles always had this personal touch to them, and it’s what makes you so good at your job. For what it’s worth, I think you’d be amazing at this. Besides, didn’t you say you want to do something new?”
I nod, thinking over everything she said. “What do you think about Mercedes?”
“Well, from what you’ve told me, I think she’s kind of awesome. I mean, yeah, her dad gave her the money to start this business but she’s turned it into something more. Look at this blog, it’s incredible.”
I know she’s right about everything but I still feel hesitant. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Carly grabs my phone and shoves it into my hand. “Call her. Right now.”
I sigh and look down at my phone before looking back up at my friend.
“Ali, I know it’s scary to try something new, and I know you’ve always seen yourself as a reporter but maybe the universe has other plans for you. Besides, it’s not like you’re stuck here if you hate it. Just give it a try, it may be totally amazing.”
I suck in a breath and dial Mercedes’s number before I can talk myself out of it and put the phone to my ear. She answers quickly, and I smile, putting on my professional side.
“Hi, Mercedes. This is Alison James. I was just calling you about the job we talked about today.”
“Oh my gosh, yes. Please tell me you decided to come work with me.”
I look over at Carly, and an idea forms in my head, making me grin at her. She shoots me a confused look but I just grin wider. “I would love to work with you but I have one condition.”
“Name it and it’s yours.”
“Do you have room on your staff for a friend of mine? Carly Mills, she’s at the paper also.”
Carly’s mouth drops open, and she just stares at me, dumbfounded. She wants to get out of that place just as badly as I do, and if I can do that for her, I absolutely will.
“What does she write?”
“Mostly lifestyle pieces. She also did this big article about a year ago about corruption in the Port Allen Police Department.”
“Holy shit, yes! I remember reading that. What was that girl’s name? Emma something, right?”
“Yeah, Emma Harrington.”
“That’s right. That article was absolutely incredible, and we will make room for her.”
“Perfect,” I say, nodding at Carly as a smile curves my lips, and her eyes widen further.
“Why don’t you both start on Monday?”
“That sounds great, Mercedes. Thank you so much.” I quickly say good-bye, and when I hang up, Carly punches me in the arm.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, still looking shocked. “You could have lost the job trying to get me one.”
I shake my head. “I have it on pretty good authority that she wanted me really bad, besides, don’t act like you don’t want to leave the paper, too. And now you can.”
She finally smiles at me, shaking her head in disbelief. “Holy crap, I’m so excited. I’m gonna call Mr. Klein and tell him where to shove it.”
I laugh as she jumps off the couch and marches off into the kitchen to q
uit her job. I’m happy that I could do this for her and even more happy that we’ll still be working together. I take a sip of my wine and sigh. I guess here’s to the universe stepping in and shaking up my world.
Chapter Seven
Storm
I’m acting like a fucking chick. What kind of man stands at his kitchen window, desperate to get a glimpse of his insanely hot neighbor? And yet, here I am. My window looks directly into her living room and just behind that is her kitchen. My gaze keeps being pulled back to that spot where I bandaged her knee up today, remembering the way that I was drawn to her like she’s a goddamn siren. No matter how much I tried to fight it, I was heading for disaster. The moment I looked at her, I wanted to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her until I couldn’t stand anymore, but it’s more than that. I’m dying for just a flash of her face, just one second where I feel like I can breathe again. I want to drown in her blue eyes because it erases the pain that’s constantly beating under my skin like a heartbeat.
I shouldn’t be doing this. A long time ago, I promised myself that I would never let anyone else get close to me. Resisting her is going to be a battle, and even after just meeting her a few hours ago, I fear it’s a battle I’m going to lose. But I can’t. It’s better for everyone that I stay away from her. Even if her smile chases away demons that I thought would haunt me forever.
“Shit,” I curse, pulling my phone out of my pocket and calling Streak, the club’s tech guru. He’s been with us for four years, and the guy can find anything about anyone.
“What’s up, Brother?” he answers, and I only have a moment to remind myself that I shouldn’t do this before I’m answering him.
“I need you to look into someone.”
“Absolutely,” he practically shouts into the phone, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He lives for this shit. “What do you know about ‘em? And what do you want?”
