Concierge

by Stella Barcelona

  “How can you sound so okay with what happened just now?”

  He laughed and shifted his hips slightly away from her. Pulled a pillow over his lap for cover. “I look on the brighter side of things. And I know your brain’s going to catch up to your body one of these days.”

  “Maybe we should just do it and get it over with. If I don’t think too much about it, it might be okay.”

  He shook his head. “Nah.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not ready, either. I don’t think either one of us is ready for our first time together. I think it’s going to be so good, we’re both going to be damn glad we waited. Hey, here’s an idea. Let’s pretend we’re in high school. We can be hot for each other virgins.” His arched-eyebrow and questioning grin stole her heart. “You game?”

  She laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Great. I’ll take that as a yes, because it might give us something to work with, to get your mind off of wherever it just went. Think back to when you were a virgin and let’s proceed from there. Not tonight, though. I’m really pretty tired.” The light in his eyes revealed the lie for what it was. Gratitude at his graciousness flooded through her. “Next time, I’ll move forward with caution.”

  “Caution’s good.”

  “How’s this? You be as cautious as you want, and I’ll be content to wait. You can do whatever you want. And I’ll let you guide me.”

  She understood where he was going, but reality’s misery was starting to seep in around the edges of the warmth he gave her. “What if sex is never an option for me?”

  “Then we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let’s take it slower than—” He gave her a small, knowing smile. “—well, a lot slower than we did just now. Okay?”

  She nodded, hesitant. “I never needed slow before.”

  “Days. Weeks. Months. I don’t care how long it takes.”

  “Given what just happened, it might take years,” she said.

  “By the way you said, ‘oh Gabe, I want this so bad’, I’m betting it’s a lot less than that.” He shifted further away, grimaced as he stood, and walked to the bathroom. “If you’re as tired as I am, why don’t you sleep with me? Nothing scary about sharing a bed when all we’re doing is sleeping, right? I’ll set my alarm for 6:30, and we can go check on Pic together.”

  Another wall crumbled, because it seemed like a great idea. She stayed frozen in place, though, because there were some logical concerns. “But your men will look for me, right?”

  “Nah. That last email I sent was that I have the upstairs. If you’re in bed with me, I’ll know where you are. If you decide not to sleep with me, I’ll feel that, too, and let them know to be on the lookout for you. They’re keeping an eye out on Pic with the cameras, so we know if he leaves. Plus, the door of the guesthouse that leads to the street is locked, and we have the key. Every hour or so, one of them will listen at his doorway and make sure he’s okay. They know not to startle him.”

  He placed his laptop and iPad on the bedside table. Gesturing with his chin, he said, “You’ll have to sleep on this side of the bed, though. I need the side closest to the door.”

  He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Through the thick wood, she heard water running. After a few minutes, as she debated whether to stay or go, the toilet flushed. She eased herself to the side of the bed he’d indicated, as the running water stopped. He opened the bathroom door, smiled when he saw her, then turned off the overhead light.

  “I need to leave a lamp on,” she said, slipping under the sheet, and gesturing to the light that sat on the bedside table next to her. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all.”

  The bed creaked as he slipped under the sheets, then turned on his side to face her. Pressing his head into his pillow, he shut his eyes, indicating that clearly the decision was up to her and he wasn’t going to try to influence it in any way.

  “What if I have night terrors?”

  He opened his eyes, gave her a shrug, then shut them again as he said, “Then I won’t have to go far to help you. Last night, I had my hands all over you as you screamed. I tried soothing you by touching your forehead, rubbing your arms, gripping your hands. I know it’s not what conventional wisdom says to do. Also knew it was against your rules. But I just couldn’t let you suffer. And, when you held onto me, and leaned against me, I figured I was doing the right thing. And then I carried you to your bed, and tucked you in, even though I knew you’d fire me if you figured that out.” He opened his eyes. “That okay?”

  Speechless, she nodded.

  “Good.” He shut his eyes, and nestled his head further into the pillow. “Because I’m damn well going to do the same thing if you scream in your sleep tonight. Good night, Sandy.”

  Andi slipped beneath the sheet. Being three feet away from a semi-naked man, knowing nothing was going to happen except sleep, when they both damn well wanted it to, was…odd. Reassuring, but odd. “Sandy?”

  Eyes closed, with a deadpan expression on his face, he said, “A name for the virgin cheerleader of my dreams. It’s been a while since I conjured up this fantasy, but I’m picturing you as a teenager, and a short cheerleading skirt works. Beautiful, smart, intuitive, sassy, snappy. A little quiet. In my fantasy, I’m crazy about her, despite her vow of celibacy. I know she’s hot for me, because she’s horny as hell. I know one day, I’m getting to home plate, so I can wait as long as it takes. As long as I don’t have to walk around with a case of crippling blue balls.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, “there is that, isn’t there?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” He opened his eyes and gave her a serious look. “I know what to do about prolonged anticipation. I was once a teenage virgin. There’s one tried and true way for alleviating pressure.” He lifted an eyebrow. “When I have a really good fantasy going, it’s a lot like riding a bike, and I just took one for a quick spin.”

  “Gabe! Are you just telling me you gave yourself a hand job?”

  He opened an eye, and chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you earlier that even your feet are a turn-on for me? What do you think’s going to happen when you kiss me? It’s been a long time since I had to do it twice a day, but I’m good for that in this fantasy. You good with playing along?”

  “In this fantasy, you’re a virgin, too?”

  He laughed. “If that’ll work for you.”

  Andi leaned her head back, conjured up an image of a virginal Gabe, the very first time he slipped into her and started feeling the wonder of sex. Her eyes popped open. “Can we at least be college freshman?”

  “Unlikely either of us were virgins by that age, by any stretch of the imagination, but okay.”

  “But I just thought of you as an underage boy, without chest hair, and that isn’t who I want to be sleeping with.”

  “Okay, we’re college freshman,” he said. “Which means my dream virgin cheerleader is really, really horny.”

  “Hm,” she said. “And you’re on your way to being the star quarterback.”

  “Can it be basketball?”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought about the basketball players she knew in college, and nodded. “Sure. Why?”

  “Because that’s what I played in college. Not football. I was a guard.”

  “Yum,” she whispered. “Those uniforms are easier to take off. And a guard? So appropriate. How’s about this, Brad. Until you, in our fantasy, I’ve only been naked with a girl.”

  “Oh, Goddammit, Andi—”

  “Sandy,” she corrected him. “That a turn-on for you?”

  “Hell, yeah. For Brad and Gabe. As long as I don’t have to think about Sonja.”

  “But don’t you want to know more about that thing with Sonja? And I’m Andi now, not Sandy.”

  He shook his head. “All I really care about is that you’ve decided you like men more now. And that it’s in your past.”

  Andi drew a deep breath. “You know, you�
��re the only person who knows. Other than me and Sonja. Before her, I had one other experience with a girlfriend. Tipsy fumbling, amateurish, at best. Not fulfilling. Experimenting with same-sex relationships was a fad in college. Sonja, though, was a different story. No one’s ever seduced me like that. It lasted a couple of months. It wasn’t like we had an emotional commitment, though. At least, I didn’t. It was all about sex, and I was always a bit uncomfortable about it. And then,” she added, shrugging, “Victor Morrissey came along.”

  And he’ll always be a part of my life.

  “Thank you, Gabe, for giving me a few moments where I forgot him.”

  “There will be plenty more.” His eyes serious, he held her gaze. “If you let me.”

  “Play Brad again.”

  He softened his features and smiled. Innocent. Sweet. Eager.

  She laughed. “Okay, so let’s build this into the fantasy. You decided when you were twelve, you were going to wait until marriage. You’re focused on basketball and your schoolwork, and you’re really, really shy…” She started laughing.

  His brow furrowed. “What’s funny?”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever been shy a day in your life.”

  “I’ll play shy if that’s your fantasy.”

  “It sure is. We’ve had a crush on each other since the first day of class. And we’ve gone weeks without even kissing. But now—” She put a bit of turned-on breathiness into her voice. Sort of a tease. “I don’t know how long I can go on without—”

  “Don’t talk like that,” he growled.

  “Like what?”

  “Voice low. Sexy. Whispering. Hell. I don’t feel like spending the entire night in the bathroom.”

  She yawned, nestled her head further into the pillow, and pulled the sheets up to her chin. In the space under the sheets, his warmth spread to her. She shut her eyes as waves of exhaustion lapped at her. “Glad you like it.”

  “Oh. You haven’t told me what you thought of my cookies. You ate them, right?”

  “All four of the ones you brought up to my studio. And two more later, before I started burning the journals. Best chocolate chip cookies, ever.” She opened one eye, glanced at him, and saw that his were shut. “What makes them so good?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Those aren’t chips, are they? More like chunks.”

  “Recipe’s a secret. I’ll never tell. Go to sleep, Sandy. I can go a few nights without sleep, but right now I really need a few hours of shuteye.”

  “You sprinkle flakes of sea salt on top?”

  “Stop asking.”

  She took a long look at him before shutting her eyes, as well. “Surprising. Magical. Transcendent.”

  He chuckled. “High compliment for a simple cookie. Thank you.”

  I wasn’t talking about the cookies. One day, when I have courage, I’ll be clearer that I’m talking about you. But someone as wonderful as you shouldn’t waste his light on me. The dark void in me will absorb it all, until you’re left with nothing.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Gabe

  Monday, February 15, 7:10 a.m.

  “No way. I’m leaving as soon as I take a goddamn shower.”

  Pic’s reaction to their reminder that the Doctor had ordered him to rest, in a real bed, for the next few days was about the same as if they’d told him to check himself into the notoriously rough Orleans Parish Prison with a tattoo on his forehead that said, ‘my ass tastes like skittles.’

  Given the instant ‘fuck-that-shit’-laced argument the kid offered in reply, Gabe almost asked Pic whether he’d been raised by wolves. He bit back the words. He didn’t need to ask the question, because the answer was obvious. Not wolves. Something worse. Wolves took care of their pups.

  “Take that shower,” Andi said, worry and strain apparent in her curt tone. “We’ll talk about it after.”

  “Turn around,” he muttered, pulling the top sheet closer to his hips. He attempted to stand, then sat down hard.

  “Dizzy?” Gabe asked.

  Andi reached for him, but he waved her away as he started a solid round of coughing. When he could speak, he raked his fingers through stringy hair. “Come on, guys. Turn around. I don’t want either of you looking at me in my underwear.”

  “Don’t lock the door,” Gabe said.

  Pic shot him a wide-eyed glance.

  “In case you pass out in there, I don’t want to have to knock down the door to help you.”

  Gabe and Andi accommodated him by turning around, glancing at each other as the bathroom door shut. Andi’s worried frown as she turned and stared at the closed door showed deep concern. She loved this kid. A lot. So much that the impenetrable outer shell she normally wore was nowhere in sight.

  The shower started running. There was a knock-thump, as something fell to the ground. She glanced at Gabe. “Maybe you should check—”

  “That was a bar of soap. Maybe shampoo. I’m not going in there. I told him not to lock the door. He hasn’t. He’d have made a lot more noise than that if he’d fallen. If he passes out, we’ll hear him. Relax, Mom.”

  Trying to reason with the kid had been almost as surreal for Gabe as waking up in the same bed with Andi. Around four a.m., she’d become restless in her sleep. He’d been on instant alert. Holding his breath, wondering if her night terrors would start, he’d reached out to her and touched her hand. She hadn’t awakened, and she hadn’t had night terrors, but she’d shifted towards him. Her movement made him feel like he could conquer the world. When he woke a few minutes before his watch vibrated with an alarm, she was only inches from him, curled towards him while sleeping. He’d stayed still, breathing in her lavender and rose scent, watching her chest rise and fall with sleep, until it inspired an erection so stiff that he’d almost limped to the bathroom. Presenting a unified front as they reasoned with Pic ratcheted up the surreal quality of the morning.

  Andi straightened the sheets and blankets on Pic’s bed while they waited. Lifting the pillow to fluff it, she frowned at finding the kid’s brass knuckles and switchblade that he’d placed underneath.

  Gabe met her worried glance with a shrug. “That’s a habit he’ll probably have for the rest of his life.”

  The water turned off. “Hey,” Pic said through the door. “Can one of you hand me my jeans?”

  In a few minutes, he was sitting on the side of the bed. With his jeans on, and the t-shirt that he’d slept in covering the tattoo the doctor had drawn for them, Pic coughed, then inhaled for another round of argument. “Look. I really appreciate you coming out for me last night, and Andi, thanks for wanting me here. But I maybe have a couple of more hours of sleep in me, and that’s it. You two just don’t understand.” He paused to cough into his arm. “I can’t lay around all day.”

  “Temperature isn’t climbing above forty-five today, then dipping again tonight,” Andi said, repeating an argument she’d raised earlier. “You’ll just get sicker. The doctor’s worried you have pneumonia. Don’t you know how serious that is?”

  “I appreciate the concern,” Pic said, “but whatever I’ve got doesn’t really matter. I gotta be at the corner of Chartres and Conti at ten.”

  “The doctor almost put you in the hospital last night,” Andi said. “The only reason he didn’t was because we promised to keep with his strict order for bed rest.”

  “Lying in bed all day is for rich people.”

  As Andi shot Gabe a concerned, do-something glance, Gabe almost chuckled. Because the truth was, he was loving every second of this job.

  Because everything feels so right. Like I’m in the right place, at the right time.

  The minute that thought crossed his mind, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. On a professional level, he’d experienced the ‘right place, right time’ feeling before. The feeling that the stars were in alignment typically materialized when things were about to go sideways.

  So he wondered why he had that feeling now. He had a goddam
n handle on this job, which wasn’t going sideways. Variables for a sideways screwup weren’t there. Sure, there might be odd things happening in the periphery, most notably someone going after Pic with a syringe in hand, a fact Gabe hadn’t yet mentioned to Andi.

  Despite that oddity, the Black Raven job—his job—involved keeping Andi safe. Which he was damn well doing, and now, even Pic was off the streets and safe. And even when Pic chose to walk out the door, he’d be safe. Gabe was on that task, because the kid was that important to Andi.

  “Can you give us rest for a full week?” Gabe asked. “I get what you’re trying to do, but you need to let the meds take effect.”

  “Nah,” Pic said, with another cough, turning pale yellow as his mouth filled with crap from his lungs. He spat in a tissue. With a grimace as he wiped his mouth, he added, “I already feel better.”

  “You’re lying, because that wad of baby-shit-green goo that just came out of your lungs is only the beginning of your cold breaking up.”

  “You don’t know how I feel.”

  “So, how about eggs and bacon for breakfast?” Gabe asked. “Or sausage. Maybe some bread with lots of butter—”

  Pic winced. “Man, stop talking about food.”

  “Why? I think I’ll cook in the kitchen downstairs. The whole place is going to smell like food when I’m cooking fat, greasy pork links—”

  “Enough already,” Pic said. “Just the idea of sausage makes me wanna puke. I’m not hungry.”

  Gabe folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Tough guy like you, living on the streets, always ready for a fight. How high does food rank in your rules of survival?”

  Pic’s cheeks flushed bright red, replacing the yellow. He shot Gabe a marked frown.

  “I bet a smart guy like you has trained yourself to eat at any opportunity that presents itself. Especially when you know there are two guys on the streets looking for you, thanks to your brass knuckle punch. When was the last full meal you managed to hold down?”