by Dannika Dark
Minutes passed and I hopped up on one of the machines to read a magazine.
“Let me see your arm,” Austin said, coming up on my left. He held a bottle of peroxide in one hand and a box of bandages in the other.
“Huh?” I spun my left arm around but couldn’t see anything.
“Your arm is bleeding, Sherlock. Lift it up and let me have a look.” He set the supplies down and raised my left arm over my head. That’s when I could see the scrape on my upper arm. It was deep and pretty gnarly-looking.
“So, are you going to tell me your life story, or are you stalling again?” I prodded.
“Christ,” he said under his breath.
“What?”
He shook his head. “I forgot to buy cotton balls.” He set the brown bottle of peroxide on the washer.
Before I could make a suggestion, Austin peeled off his shirt, wadded it into a ball, and doused it with peroxide.
I was pretty sure I would never buy another cotton ball again if this was the alternative solution.
Austin brushed my long hair away from my shoulder and eased between my legs. While he dabbed at my cut with his T-shirt, I got a bird’s-eye view of his torso. He smelled musky and everything about his body was different from the man I remembered. Not bulgy steroid-looking arms like Beckett, but solid. Then there was that sexy six-pack down below, and I tried not to look because I felt Austin watching me out of the corner of his eye. I lifted my gaze and focused on his tattoos instead.
Nope, that wasn’t helping either.
They weren’t so much on his bicep as they were on his shoulders, with tribal patterns sharpening down his upper arms and branching onto part of his chest. The last time I’d seen him, he was twenty-three and leaner. Austin was always tough by nature, just not in stature. He had always been the guy you didn’t want to mess with, and his nose was slightly crooked from one of his many fights.
Time had changed him, and in all the right ways.
“So?” I pressed.
“Is this where we’re having the talk?” he asked, dropping his arms and tearing the wrapper from a bandage. His blue eyes flashed to mine as a warning. If I said yes, there was no going back. We were going to have some kind of important talk in a Laundromat.
I’d never seen Austin wear jewelry or watches, so I leaned in and admired his necklace again.
He grinned and looked down. “You like it? It’s a family heirloom—a talisman that brings good fortune. My dad gave it to me about a month ago.”
“Does your family still live here?”
“My parents moved away years ago, but my brothers—we’re back for good.”
I quieted and Austin tapped beneath my chin with the crook of his finger—something he used to do whenever I was moping.
“Mom was really hurt when you took off,” I said. “She thought of you like a second son, and it destroyed her when Wes died and you left too. It was like she’d lost two kids.”
He put his hands on the washer and leaned forward. “Wes didn’t die in an accident; he was murdered.”
I gasped. My heart rate took off and the room closed in. “What did you just say?”
“Wes was tangled up with some bad people. I tried to keep him away because he was getting too deep into my world. He tried to cut a deal with the wrong man—someone you don’t make deals with—and when he didn’t follow through, they put a hit on him. They staged it like an accident, but I tracked down the piece of shit who did it.”
“Wes was murdered?”
I shoved against his chest and he stepped back, rubbing his jaw. “That’s why I left town—to track down his killer. It took me six months to find him and…”
“And what?”
He folded his arms and lifted his chin. “And I took care of him.” His brows popped up when he said “took care of,” and I knew what he meant. “Not long after that, I was offered a job as a bounty hunter. I made a career out of tracking down the worst kind of men. It was too dangerous for me to stay here.”
“If you took care of him, then where was the danger?”
“I took care of the killer, not the man responsible for putting the hit on Wes.” Austin rocked on his heels and briefly grasped his talisman before dropping it again. His cheeks were red from the heat and he rubbed his jaw, looking around. “Sorry, I can’t explain everything to you here.”
“Cat and mouse. I see how this is going to be.”
I tried to hop down, but he stepped so close I had nowhere to go. Austin flattened his hands on either side of my legs. An electric charge hummed between us—or at least it felt that way. Maybe it was just me, or the vibration of the nearby appliances, but something felt so very different about Austin and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
He leaned in close. Hard. His chest pushed out and we were nose to nose.
“I didn’t say I won’t tell you everything, I just can’t do it here.” His eyes motioned to the people sitting nearby.
And then it happened. A shift in the way he looked at me. His clear eyes softened and his nose twitched as if he smelled a perfume I wasn’t wearing. His eyes hooded and I leaned away, uncertain of how I felt about him looking at me like that. Austin was my brother’s best friend.
But then again, Wes wasn’t here. And we weren’t teenagers anymore.
A couple of young women by the door giggled and broke the silence between us. Austin backed up, tossing his bloody shirt into a nearby trash can.
“You just going to walk around like that?” I asked, as he was the only half-naked man in the Laundromat. Not that the two women by the door raised any complaint.
He answered my question by sitting down in one of the plastic bucket chairs in front of me, casually spreading his arms across the back of the seats and widening his legs. Whenever he was in one of his thinking moods, Austin’s brows pushed together and formed a crease in the center of his forehead.
When we were younger, it made him look pensive and angry. Now it just made him intimidating.
“So, are you married?” I tapped the back of my flip-flops against the washer and watched his Adam’s apple undulate as he swallowed. The hum of the machines gave us a little privacy.
“No. I never settled down,” he admitted.
Then he flicked a hot gaze up to me and I shivered.
“Casey got married,” I blurted out.
Now he looked interested. Slightly. Casey was the girl he’d dated off and on in high school. I had a feeling they still hooked up after high school, although I had no proof, just friends who’d seen them together in random places.
“Good for her. She got kids?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just heard she married a year after… Well, not long after you left.”
Austin was never one for small talk; he had always preferred deeper conversations. So his uncharacteristic silence put me on edge. Something was on his mind, and by the way he kept looking at me, it wasn’t about Wes’s death.
“Why were you crying?” He didn’t move an inch. Just kept his eyes locked on mine.
I cocked my head to the side.
“At the pizza place,” he said.
Oh. That.
“My ex showed up. I flipped out a little.”
The ropes of muscle in his arms tightened, as did his jaw. “You’re divorced?”
“No, I never married.”
Now Austin looked pissed. He leaned forward and scraped his fingers through his hair, staring at the tacky pattern on the floor tiles.
“How’re your parents doing?” he asked, switching topics.
“Mom’s great. She doesn’t work as much as she used to. I’m sure dad’s great too. Wherever he is.”
His head snapped up. “What do you mean by that?”
“My dad left us.”
He stood up and erased the distance between us. “When?”
I laced my fingers together. “About four years ago. I don’t know.”
“He left?”
“Yep. O
ne day he packed up all his shit and told my mom he’d had enough. It came out of the blue because I don’t remember hearing them argue that much, but I wasn’t living at home at the time. Who knows what was going on; she never talks about it.”
“He left his wife and daughter unprotected?” Austin repeated through clenched teeth.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. Sound familiar?”
A low growl vibrated in his throat. “I had no choice. It was the only way to keep your family safe.”
“Look, I’m tired of playing this game,” I said, pushing him away. I hopped down from the washer and felt trapped because of that damn laundry. I was tempted to pull out every last sopping-wet towel and just go home. But instead, I paced. “You’re the same, but you’re not the same. I know it’s been years, but have you been in prison?”
Austin stirred with laughter and tiny crinkles pinched the corners of his eyes. There he was—the guy I once knew. The one whose laugh was contagious because you rarely heard it, and it gave him such a sweet expression. With his right arm, he leaned on the washer and I turned my back to him.
Damn, that lean.
“No, I’m not a convict. I’m the same guy, just older and a little fatter.”
I snorted. Hardly. I didn’t see an ounce of fat on his well-proportioned, nicely tanned—
“Lexi?”
I spun on my heel and folded my arms. Austin tilted his head and spoke softly. “I want my hug. I’ve got a lot of baggage, and you look spooked, but we need to mend the rift between us. I can’t undo the past, but I want to make it right with your mom. Fuck your dad, because he can rot in hell for leaving you the way he did. Had I known, I would have come back sooner.”
My knees weakened a little. There was fierceness in his declaration—an honesty in his voice I couldn’t ignore. As pissed off as I was, I owed him the benefit of the doubt as much as he owed me an explanation.
With my arms still folded, I shuffled forward and leaned into him.
Austin wrapped his arms around me tight and kissed the top of my head.
“I missed you, Ladybug,” he murmured in my hair.
Chapter 7
In the span of a rinse and spin cycle, I’d managed to get Austin caught up on seven years’ worth of gossip. Who was married, who was divorced, who was gay, who had five children, who lost all their money on a gambling trip, and who was arrested for public indecency in a museum. Austin’s eyes were brimming with amusement; I always had an animated way of telling a good story.
We slid into our groove just a little bit more, although in many ways, Austin still felt like a stranger to me.
I offered him one of my warm T-shirts to put on, fresh from the dryer, but he smirked and held it up to his broad chest. Unless I wanted the stretched-out version, Austin was going shirtless.
Not that I had any complaints.
“I’ll follow you,” he said, slamming my trunk closed and walking back to his car. We agreed to head over to my place and he’d tell it all. My stomach twisted into a knot because I wasn’t sure I was ready for the truth—not after what he’d already told me.
I wrote down my address in case we were separated in traffic, and to be honest, I was trying to lose him. I needed at least five minutes to run a comb through my hair and look halfway decent.
As soon as we arrived, I ran up the stairs and left my trunk open for him to haul up the laundry. Halfway through the living room, flip-flops were flying left and right as I kicked them off and hauled ass into my bedroom, yanking a pair of denims from a dresser drawer and changing into them. I stripped away my tank top and pulled a form-fitting brown shirt with retro lettering over my head. Austin’s heavy footsteps tromped up the stairs.
“Shit,” I muttered, dashing into the bathroom. The door slammed and I sprayed myself with cucumber body freshener. The heat had done a number on my face, so I brightened it up with a dab of tinted lotion and mineral powder, then rummaged through my drawer twice until I found my favorite tube of lipstick. Nothing dramatic, just enough color that I didn’t look like a hot mess.
“Lexi? Where do you want me to put these?” he yelled out.
“Hi, there. I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure. I’m Naya James.”
I tossed my lipstick on the counter. “Well, so much for that,” I murmured.
Now that Naya was in the mix, there was no point in—wait, what was I even doing? Once again, reverting to my sixteen-year-old self and trying to hit on my brother’s best friend. That’s what.
If Naya wants him, she can have him.
I swung the door open and they were standing in the middle of my living room. Austin held a heavy bag under each arm as if they weighed nothing. Naya had on her favorite black heels with ribbons tied around her ankles several times. All you saw were legs that went up to a pair of tight black shorts. Her red blouse was a favorite—the shredded material looked like a yeti had tried to make out with her.
“Naya, this is Austin Cole. He’s an old friend who just got back in town and we’re doing some catching up. Austin, this is Naya, my good friend and neighbor. She also makes some really kickass baklava.”
“Yes,” Naya confessed, “I love to cook. Do you love to eat?” she asked, sliding a glance my way. “I think we should have him for dinner tonight. You two can talk and that’ll give me plenty of time to whip up something delicious. I know just the thing a man like you needs.”
Naya had her kitten motor on purr. Men responded to it without a doubt. She was testing the waters to see if I’d react, which I didn’t, thus giving her full permission to pursue. We had an unspoken agreement about that kind of thing.
Austin’s eyes were fixated on my shirt. “Are they still around?”
For a second, I thought he was talking about my breasts and I looked down to see if I still had them. Then I noticed the logo on my shirt.
“Yeah, believe it or not, they’re still in business.”
A nostalgic grin slid up his face.
The Pit was the best barbecue joint in town. At one time, it was a popular hangout for the teens. I’d go with my friends, or sometimes tag along with Wes. Their food was great, and it had become a place where we congregated to talk about school, guys, concerts, and stuff that didn’t matter. So many memories were tied to that place and I hadn’t gone back in all these years. We used to tear the ends of the straws and blow the long wrappers across the room. The owner must have hated us.
“Let me take those,” I said, reaching for one of the bundles of laundry.
He swung away. “I got it. Where do you want them?”
I wrapped my arm around a large bag and he swiveled away. “You act like I don’t know how to handle something that big, Austin. Just give it to me!”
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Naya said with a wink, and the door closed behind her.
“Your bedroom or right here?”
His question startled me and I let go. Austin paced into my messy bedroom with the laundry. “I’m not folding your clothes,” he said with a chuckle. He dropped the bags on the floor beside the closet and glanced around with inquisitive eyes.
He was curious about my life. I saw it in the subtle way he scoped everything out, from the pictures on my walls to the comedy movies on my shelves.
“Why don’t I get us a drink,” I offered, disappearing into the kitchen. I could see him over the bar and he was looking at the back door that led to my balcony. “You want a beer? I don’t have your favorite, or at least, what you used to like.”
“Sounds good.”
This conversion was going to require more than a beer. It was too early in the day to get lit, so I pulled out two bottles and set them on the rectangular table in my quaint little dining room.
Austin had his back to me, still shirtless.
I quickly dove into the bedroom and fished out one of Beckett’s shirts from a bottom drawer. There was no way I was going to be able to carry on a conversation while staring at his six-pack.
&n
bsp; “Here,” I said, tossing him the shirt.
He caught it and sharpened his eyes. “Whose shirt is this?”
“My ex’s.”
His fists tightened around the red material but his voice stayed smooth and relaxed. “How much of an ex is he?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He lifted the shirt. “You’re still keeping around a spare set of his clothes. You tell me.”
I sat down and took a swig of beer. “He had sex in my car with another woman. I’m not a forgive-and-forget kind of girl. I just forgot I still had it in there.”
“You just said you didn’t forget.”
I turned my mouth to the side and drummed my fingers on the bottle. “I can forget a T-shirt pretty easily. I can’t forget my ex getting ridden like a mechanical bull in the back of my Toyota.”
Austin suddenly ripped the shirt in half and the sound of the material tearing made me jump.
He calmly walked into the kitchen, dropped the shirt into the trash can, and returned to his seat across the table. Then he casually drank his beer as if nothing weird had just transpired with him going Hulk and shredding my former lover’s favorite “I’m an idiot” shirt.
The bubbles in my empty stomach were already working their alcoholic magic. “So tell me what happened to Wes. Don’t dance around the truth, Austin. I’ve invited you here and I want you to be straight with me.”
Austin sipped his beer and grimaced, setting the bottle in the middle of the table.
“I’m a Shifter,” he said.
“Shifter,” I repeated blandly. “You move around? What does that mean?”
“Shapeshifter.”
My shoulders sagged. “I don’t have time for jokes.”
He didn’t break eye contact and those pale blue eyes polished me off like a dog licking his bowl clean. “There’s another world that exists that would surprise the hell out of you. Wes knew what I was.”
I sighed angrily. “Don’t drag Wes into your pathological—”
“Lexi,” he said in a hard voice, “I’m a Shifter.”
My eyes narrowed. “Then turn yourself into a zebra.”
