“That obvious?” he asked, tapping a finger against the side of his gin and tonic. After the hellish shift at Hampton General today due to the flu outbreak bringing elderly patients to the ER left and right, he would’ve preferred to wind down with a beer and some chicken lo mein at his house—skip the how-ya-dos of going out in public.
“You’re too much of a recluse to come out here unless Lex or Matty are involved,” Mitch said, slapping the rag over his shoulder. “How are you doing post-Betty?”
Ouch. Apparently, his patch job on that old wound sucked. Six months ago, a relationship that survived med school and hurtled toward swapping vows ended in her ditching him to run off a week later with his former best friend. Most of the family swore up and down she’d been cheating on him, and he could admit the evidence existed even if he didn’t want to scrutinize. His life was the worst sort of cliché, and he’d been throwing himself into longer shifts by the day.
“I’m just dandy,” he responded, the words coming out more caustic than intended.
Mitch lifted a brow but left well enough alone. “Tell Lex to shove her pride and get her ass back in this bar. If she wants shifts, they’re hers. And even if she doesn’t, she better stop being such a shit friend.” He sauntered to the back to rifle for Lex’s paycheck. Apart from incarceration, she didn’t leave the Gin Mill on bad terms, but Lex would choke on her pride until it killed her.
Danny’s intense stare made his skin prickle, as if he should know her from somewhere. Except he would’ve remembered meeting a firebrand like her, so she must’ve had one of those faces. Damn, though, he wanted to know her. Her heart-shaped face, emerald eyes sharp enough to slice, and rose lips born for smirking drew his attention like a fool to the flame.
“Either I’ve got something on my face, or you’re plotting out a dozen ways to kill me,” he broke the quiet between them, drawing her attention.
A startled laugh erupted from her, surprising him too. He stood upright on an IV of coffee and his mother’s guilt alone, so he wasn’t a fountain of witticisms here.
“My last attempt to relax at the bar with my drink didn’t go so well.” Danny’s lips curled into an adorable, lopsided grin. Even from here, she smelled like fresh earth and lavender. “Consider me a little gun-shy.”
“Never fear, I’m just sitting drink adjacent,” he responded, lifting his gin and tonic. “I came here to pick up my sister’s paycheck, not harass newcomers.”
She tucked a strand of her rust-orange hair behind her ear, ducking her head for a moment. “Well, damn, did a memo go around I wasn’t aware of?” Her raspy voice oozed seduction, and he was sure as sin hoping she made an appearance in his dreams tonight.
“You’ve got an accent, darlin’. Makes it easy to deduce.” He ran a hand through his hair, thick enough to break cheap combs.
“Get a degree for those fancy words?” she teased, an impish smile sneaking out again.
“Several, in fact.” He traced the rim of his gin and tonic over and over again, staring into the drink so he wouldn’t get caught gawking at her like he was in high school. “They ensure I’m in a job more demanding than my family. Being a workaholic has its perks.” Christ Almighty, he needed to get out more often if he passed this drivel off as conversation. After barking orders at the hospital and wrangling the bag of cats known as his siblings, he’d somehow lost the ability.
“Come from a big family?” she asked like she already knew. The more he talked to Danny Reynolds, the more he wandered down a familiar trail of sharp turns, fallen trunks, and tangled honeysuckle bushes he had memorized.
“Too big,” Adrian grumbled, taking another swig of his gin and tonic. “Want a few siblings?”
Even as she grinned at him, shadows deepened her green eyes. The stark flash of loneliness seared him like a hot iron. “I’ll take a few off your hands,” she responded. “I can put them to work at the gardens.”
“So that’s where the grass stains came from?” he asked. A slight flush reached her cheeks, and he realized how his comment came off. He lifted his hands in defense. “Not like I’m judging in the slightest. I just finished a shift wearing scrubs covered in vomit and too many other unidentifiable fluids. I’d much prefer grass stains.”
Mitch stepped to him, checks in hand, which he splayed across the surface of the bar. “Take your brother’s too. Every time I try to remind Matty during the shift, he always forgets his check by closing time.”
Adrian thumbed through the stack of at least five different checks. It’s not like Matty didn’t have tips to float him, but his brother operated on the same level of unconcern as Lex, and that wasn’t a compliment. Mom and Dad’s lectures over the years had fallen on ears stopped up by stubbornness. He heaved a sigh, slumping forward along the smooth surface of the bar. “Thanks for putting up with their shit.”
Mitch tossed him a casual salute. The guy had been gatekeeper of the misfits for years, and when they’d first met Mitch, he wore so much metal in his face he could’ve been part robot. After a while, he’d ditched the eyebrow piercings along with a couple of others, but the tattoos stayed. Lex had befriended him at Inkspiration where she’d been apprenticing, and they’d been friends ever since. At least, until her stint behind bars.
“This part of the sibling wrangling?” Danny asked, pointing at the paychecks in hand.
“It’s my primary position,” Adrian said, offering a half-smile. “The doctoring thing’s a side gig.”
She snorted. “So that’s what you’re up to now.” Once the words left her mouth, her eyes flashed in panic. Danny lifted her Aviation, obscuring her features as she chugged the rest of the drink.
Her words jangled around in his head like an alarm. Now. Like she’d known him before.
The familiarity couldn’t be coincidence.
She tapped the counter, chewing on her lower lip like she’d take it right off. That—the motion, he’d seen her do it years ago. The memory flickered in and darted away at hummingbird speed before he could catch it.
“All right, spill,” he said. “Where have we met?”
“Can I get the check?” she called to Mitch, her dirt-stained sneaker tapping against the leg of the barstool. Danny glanced his way, even though she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I think you’re mistaken. I’ve never lived in Charleston before.”
Pure lie. He’d maneuvered around enough patients to know when they spun some silver bullshit or even the subtlety of when they were telling the truth but omitted necessary information. Danny Reynolds didn’t stand a chance at competing with slick lines he’d faced from addicts trying to score a scrip. Before he could respond, Mitch sauntered over to interrupt.
“Drink’s on the house,” Mitch said, oozing the effortless charm that brought ladies lingering around the Gin Mill in droves. “I don’t tolerate any threats against patrons in my bar, so consider this my way of apologizing. Hope you’ll swing back in here soon.”
Danny rummaged in her canvas bag and pushed a couple of bills his way. “Take this at least. I appreciate the warm welcome, douchebags aside.”
Mitch tipped two fingers in a salute before scooping the cash and hustling to the opposite end where one of the regulars smacked the countertop.
“Sorry if I was one of the douchebags who ruined your night,” Adrian said before he could steal the words back. He scratched the nape of his neck, too tired to process much more. Still, he hated the idea of her hustling out the door thinking he was another jerk bothering her at the bar.
Her brows lifted in surprise. “Douchebag? Not in the slightest. You were one of the highlights.” The dazzling grin she flashed shot right through him, stirring coals that had been dormant for far too long.
“Don’t suppose I’ll be seeing you around?” he asked. The need to know more burned inside him like a rising flame. Where he knew her from, what she hid, and what her lips tasted like. The last one had his libido thrumming, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested from the moment
he caught sight of her.
“If you’re lucky, babe,” she responded in a husky as sin voice, winking at him as she rose from her barstool. He wasn’t ashamed he watched her walk the whole way to the door, the swing of her hips mesmerizing. Twelve-hour shift down and barely any sleep, yet his pulse pumped like he’d popped Ritalin. The scent of lavender lingered in the air even after she left.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, dragging his attention away from the now closed door. Lex.
“What’s up?” he asked and lifted his fingers, trying to grab Mitch’s attention for the check.
“So…there’s blood all over your kitchen, and it’s not my fault.”
Oh, fuck.
***
Adrian raced up the steps leading to his front door, his keys jangling in hand. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he’d gotten the call from Lex and bolted out of the bar.
His key squeaked in the lock as he jiggled it—as of late the thing got stuck more times than not. The polished silver handle almost came off as he yanked the door open. Even as the sun began to set, chipmunks scampered around on his rooftop, kicking up their normal ruckus. His house had been gorgeous two years ago when he’d bought it, but back then he’d also had a fiancée and a future planned. Half the time when he got home from work, he wanted to collapse into a dead sleep, not update the light fixtures and slap a fresh coat of Ethereal White on his foyer walls.
“Lex?” Adrian called as he stepped inside. Obi-Wan, his green-eyed tabby, slunk up and offered a couple of mournful meows. Of course, a half hour past the normal mealtime and the tabby began the dramatic process of starvation. Adrian leaned down to run his hand over Obi-Wan’s fur before scooping him into his arms as he continued toward the kitchen.
“Here,” his sister called. At the sound of her voice, the knot of panic in his chest unwound. A moment later, she appeared in the hallway heading in his direction with a definite limp. Lex cut a striking figure wherever she went, like her larger than life personality bled out onto her features. She had thick brows like slashes, jet black hair she wore in an angular pixie cut, and hazel eyes she kept rimmed with kohl like war paint.
“What the hell was the call about blood in my kitchen?” He rounded on her, his patience at a minimum. Obi-Wan slipped out from his arms to scamper over to his food bowl, meowing until Adrian followed and unleashed the kibble.
Lex grunted and jabbed a finger at her leg. “I was chopping vegetables and missed.” Why she invaded his house to dice them up in the first place was beyond him—days like this, he regretted giving his family members keys. The leg of her jeans had split open, presumably from the knife, and a blood-soaked white towel was strapped around her leg. With duct tape.
A groan slipped from him. “Lex, I’m a doctor. My bathroom’s stocked with anything you’d need to sterilize and bandage a gash. Why the hell did you go for a towel and duct tape?”
She shrugged like a cat that fell and pretended nothing happened. “Well, there’s stir-fry in the kitchen, so come eat.”
Adrian let out a sigh. “I’m going to grab the bandage and disinfectant. The duct tape’s robbed my appetite.” He stalked down the hall, passing the galley kitchen as he headed toward his downstairs bathroom. The rich tang of soy sauce filtered through the air, and his stomach rumbled in response. At least, until he caught the smudges of blood on the floor Lex had attempted to clean. He quickened his pace to the bathroom closet, grabbed a saline solution, a clean rag, and a gauze pad and wrap. “Get your ass in here, Alexis,” he called in what everyone termed his parent voice.
“All right, Mom,” Lex muttered as she stalked into the bathroom and took a seat on the toilet. Before he could instruct her, she ripped off the bands of duct tape, the skritch echoing around the room. The towel fell off, and the slice in her leg gushed.
Adrian’s shoulders fell as he sighed. He’d have to disinfect his entire house at this rate. He knelt to the ground, his kit in tow, and set to work cleaning off the wound. She grabbed the rag from him and wiped the cut herself, so he prepared the gauze pad. The skin where she’d ripped the duct tape looked red and raised, but his sister’s pain tolerance was legendary.
“Hold the gauze pad tight. We’ll medical tape it this time.” Adrian wanted to sink back into his couch, drink a beer, and kick himself for not getting Danny’s number. But since his four siblings lived nearby, peace was a relative thing. Lex slapped the gauze pad on the oozing crimson wound, putting the necessary pressure for him to bind it. He zoned out as he wrapped, transported to his workday as the motions grew mechanical.
“Come on, bro. Let’s eat.” Lex clapped a hand on his shoulder as she hopped up from the toilet seat. He shook his head and tried not to cringe as he re-entered his kitchen with the barely cleaned bloodstains he needed to take care of. Before he could grab a towel and some bleach, Lex shoved a bowl in front of him.
He grabbed the mess of stir-fry that smelled far better than if he’d ordered out. Chicken, broccoli, mushrooms, and onions all formed a colorful spread over the bed of rice. While Lex failed in the cleaning department, she was a master in the kitchen. Adrian fished her two paychecks out of his pocket, placing them on the black marble countertop of his bamboo kitchen island. He shoveled a bite into his mouth before placing the bowl down.
The cabinet doors under the sink thwacked open as he pulled out the bleach spray and began attacking the smudges on the floor and the bloodstained counter along the back wall of his kitchen, framed by big bay windows. He kicked a cleaning rag to the floor, and Lex dived in to move it around with her foot, blotting out what remained of the blood smudges. He tackled the counter.
“Just wanted to make dinner as a thanks for picking up my paychecks,” she muttered, running a hand through her blunt black strands. “How’s Mitch doing?”
“Good as always, even though he thinks you’re being a chickenshit,” Adrian responded as they tossed the towels, and he washed up before returning to his meal. Lex didn’t bother and plunked her fork in. “Gin Mill was pretty lively tonight, though. A brawl almost broke out between some hulk of a jackass and a gorgeous redhead. She punched him in the face.”
Lex fanned herself, a wicked glimmer in her eyes. “Sounds like my type of girl. Please tell me you got her number.” Adrian chewed on another bite of stir-fry to avoid answering. Lex hip checked him so hard he almost spluttered. “You ass. Apart from a couple of flings, your entire dating history has involved two girls—Betty, your weak-willed slut of an ex-fiancée, and ‘the one who vanished,’ Sammy Peterson from back in high school. I’m taking you clubbing, no arguments. You need to get your dick wet.”
“Ugh, can I not be having this conversation with my sister?” He groaned, walking over to his fridge to grab two beers. The way he threw himself into his job at the hospital and fixing his family’s quarrels was what Betty had flung in his face as the reason their relationship fell apart. Those words scraped beneath his skin along with the fear she’d been right. Once a control freak, always a control freak.
He passed the porter over to Lex and cracked one open for himself, tipping back the smooth liquid that meshed with the malty taste of the soy sauce in the stir-fry. God, Sam Peterson had been an obsession for him, a best friend he’d always hoped would be something more. They’d been heading for that trajectory with every secret glance, every too-casual touch—it had been inevitable.
Except in the middle of senior year, she disappeared. Got pulled out of class, evacuated her house overnight, and he’d never even caught sight of her on social media, let alone seen her around town. He’d spent most of high school chasing after her, stopping by her locker almost every day for the chance at a wry smile and the glimmer of amusement in her jade eyes.
The same expression he’d seen at the Gin Mill, belonging to one Danielle Reynolds.
There was no mistaking it. The way she chewed on her lip, the familiarity in their conversation.
Sam Peterson had returned to Charleston.
; Chapter Three
After a week of working for the Horntrees, Danny hated the family. She’d stacked up enough experience as a gardener to get used to Daddy’s money attitudes and pinched lips, but Natalie got extra credit for the work she put into her nasty comments. The lady could mock her ripped jeans and need for a new haircut all she liked, and Danny didn’t give a good goddamn. However, wild suppositions about family were off limits, like mentioning in a stage voice how Danny didn’t understand family loyalty. Because apparently folks measured that by who stayed in one place their entire life.
Her hand balled into a fist even as she stood in the shadows of her one-bedroom apartment.
The old scab inside her chest tore open, and she bled. Family loyalty wasn’t possible when her father was on the run from the Feds for murder, lots of it, and WitSec placed Mom in a different city than her, always. She stared at the screen of her phone, willing it to blink bright with a call from her handler. Every night, she waited for the one where they’d caught Kyle Peterson. As if she and Mom could reunite and they could settle in one place for once.
Most of the time, the ache was a dull throb that never went away, but after the stinging shards of the shrapnel dropped earlier, longing would bury her alive. Danny needed to get out of her apartment an hour ago. She hopped up from her bed and began to rifle through her dresser filled with her meager pile of barely folded clothes, sorting through for Saturday evening attire.
Not like she’d be heading to the Gin Mill, even if every cell in her body vibrated at the thought of running into Adrian again. He’d been gorgeous in high school, and he’d gotten even hotter with those chiseled cheekbones, thick brows, and the light sprinkling of scruff. She would’ve never expected the track star she tutored would’ve ended up a doctor, but the passing time turned them into different people.
He’d become a successful community fixture, while she’d become a ghost.
Taking Root (The Eros Tales Book 1) Page 2
