Night Surrender

by Godiva Glenn

  “Right…”

  “What I mean is, you deserve better, and I guess it infuriates me that guys like me ruin what we touch.”

  Some of the edges softened from her stare and she brushed her hair behind her ears with an empty gesture since it was already tucked back. “I’m still not sure that’s an apology. It’s almost like a warning?”

  “Not what I meant.” He backtracked his thoughts and tried again. “I respect you,” he promised. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me and I don’t get to judge you.”

  “Now you’re repeating what I said earlier,” she retorted, but her lips had curled into a soft smile. “You’re trying, though.”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded and glanced past him. He knew they were alone and figured she was avoiding eye contact. It was an awkward situation. They weren’t close enough to be having this deep a disagreement. He didn’t warrant a second chance, not really.

  “Does that mean you accept my apology?” he asked.

  “I acknowledge it, certainly.”

  He bit his lip but couldn’t help replying, “You’re a bit of a hard ass today.”

  She met his eyes, and all of the previous anger had vanished from her deep brown stare. “I pull it out when I need it.”

  “Can I make it up to you? Try to get back on the right foot? I’d like to take you out to dinner. Some place where I can buy you a beer and a steak.”

  Shifting on her socked feet she made a soft grumble. “Well, if there’s steak.”

  “I’ll get you a ribeye the size of your head,” he offered.

  “I’m a New York strip gal.” She glanced down her legs. “Give me a few seconds to grab some shoes and freshen up.”

  She disappeared inside before he could reply. The door creaked back open a second before she slammed it behind her. The entire frame shook, and he was left staring at her door. He stepped back and looked up.

  Taking her out was doing the right thing. Dinner with a friend. Nothing more. Nevermind that she smells like dessert.

  TWO

  Nancy sipped her IPA with a poorly hidden grimace.

  “Want to trade?” Wyatt asked, pushing his glass across the table.

  She looked at his drink with suspicion. “What’s it taste like?”

  “Beer flavored water,” he admitted. “But it’s definitely not as bitter as what you ordered.”

  She swapped their glasses and took a sip out of his. The wrinkle of her brow, as if she was confused about the taste, amused him. “It’s like… generic beer flavor, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I’m not exactly a pro when it comes to ordering these things.”

  “This isn’t setting up for a promising apology dinner,” she chided. “If my steak is frozen in the middle, we’ll probably never talk again.”

  He didn’t respond. A man outside the window behind Nancy was staring into the restaurant with a strange amount of interest. Wyatt met the stranger’s eyes for a moment and he finally walked off.

  “Something wrong?” Nancy asked.

  Wyatt shook his head then took a drink. The beer Nancy had ordered tasted like grapefruit piss, but he’d chug it down anyways. With his lupine tolerance, it was going to take a lot of beer to help him relax.

  “What did you mean earlier, when you were saying you’re trying to be less of an asshole?” she asked. Her fingertip dragged down the condensation on her glass. “I’m sort of a douche-bag connoisseur now, and you don’t strike me as the type.”

  “My earlier behavior wasn’t proof?”

  “It was misguided. But to be fair… maybe I overreacted. Just about everyone I know has given me shit about Brent. They ask me what I saw in him, why I went back, why I ever stayed…” she trailed off and stared down at the table. “It gets tiring. You and the rest of the world are trying to look out for me, but maybe you could do it with a little less condescension.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be anything. I think it’s in most of our nature to be curious.”

  “Except I’ve heard it all before,” she said scrunching her nose. “You’re smarter than this. Why do you keep making the same mistakes? You’re too intelligent to put yourself in this situation. Grow a backbone. Respect yourself.”

  “Hot plate coming in,” their waiter announced, setting a deep-fried onion between them. “Need anything else?”

  They both shook their heads no and he vanished. The look on Nancy’s face at the appearance of the dish was one of pure jubilation.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to eat this entire thing yourself?”

  “It’s a splurge.” She tore a few pieces off, flinching as it burned her fingers but digging in, nonetheless. “Here’s the deal. You made a mistake, but I can forgive you.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  “Nope.” She looked up at him. “This is a weird situation for me. I only know you through Mija, and other than that you roll through town at random. You’re pretty closed off. We’re not really friends. We’re acquaintances.”

  “Yeah…”

  “You have, until your faux pas earlier, been a perfect gentleman. I’m willing to believe that that is who you really are. Repeats though…” The words trailed off ominously.

  “Not going to happen.” He meant it. Digging into the mess with her ex wasn’t really on his to-do list anyhow.

  “Good.” She licked her fingers and pointed at him. “I need some reliable people in my life.”

  * * * *

  “It looks like flowers,” Wyatt commented.

  “That’s literally what the painting is,” Nancy groaned.

  He tilted his head and took in the strange smattering of textured pain at a different angle while wishing they were still at the restaurant. But Nancy wanted to do something besides linger over bad beers. He owed her, so he obliged. Her pick? Art museum.

  Art was beyond him. The painting in front of them only vaguely resembled flowers, in that the artist had used colors often found on flowers. It made perfect sense to Nancy but went directly over his head.

  “If you lived here, I could teach you all about the finer things,” she teased.

  “Art, books, and classical music?” he mused.

  “Yes, hell yes, and ugh, no. I’m not a Beethoven gal.” She sipped from her champagne flute and dragged him into the next room. “Oooh. I read about this.”

  “You read about a…” He looked around the room. “What is this?”

  The large space was sectioned off with velvet ropes, and beyond reach, vibrant red ferrets were positioned on tables, chairs, and the floor. It was as if the glossy crimson statues had interrupted a picnic, complete with knocked-over glasses and table cloths gripped in their little paws and teeth.

  “It’s a visiting installation. Ferret play.” She moved around and examined each piece, but he was distracted.

  “That rabbit is real,” he commented.

  “What?”

  He pointed to a rabbit playing tag with one of the ferrets. The unfortunate thing appeared to have been spray-painted gold. “There. Taxidermy, I believe is the word.”

  Her excitement fell immediately, and she moved to his side, crouching down to get a better view. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How can you tell?”

  From underneath the layers of paint, a faint—very faint—scent of death and preservation lurked, but he couldn’t very well say that. Instead, he shrugged. “I’ve seen enough of them, I guess. Don’t ask.”

  She clung to his arm and sipped her sparkly beverage. The beer from earlier had been stronger than he’d expected, and she’d had two. Then it was her suggestion to come here, and low and behold, for whatever reason, art galleries occasionally served alcohol.

  It made her softer and bolder, and though he enjoyed tipsy Nancy, her constant touches were riling him in a way that he wanted to avoid. Her lips were plump and pink and would taste like sweet champagne, and that was a serious danger.

  And if that w
asn’t enough to have his hormones on the prowl, the shirt she’d changed into had a frilly, scooped neck which he was sure looked sweet from the front but looked no less than spectacularly scandalous from above. Not that he made it a habit to look down.

  “Was it better to not know?” he asked, leading them through the room and into the next section of the gallery.

  “I like my bunnies unharmed.”

  “You’re into that. I guess you have bunny clothing too? Not only owls?”

  She shook her head. “They’re all cute but the owl is my spirit guide.”

  “Really?” The thought amused him. An owl. The woodland hunter that somehow conveyed wisdom to humans.

  “We all have one,” she remarked seriously. “Not just a reflection but a deeper identity.”

  “I’m not sure everyone has one.”

  “Do you think I’m silly?”

  “No. But there are some incredibly shallow people in the world, and I’m sure they lack spirit animals.”

  Her lips drew up into a crooked grin. “But you have one.”

  He didn’t reply, instead positioning them in front of what seemed to be yet another abstract mess of flowers.

  “You’re a bear,” she stated with complete certainty.

  “A bear?” he scoffed.

  Walking her fingertips up his arm, she nodded. “Big and strong. Protective. Secretive.”

  If only she knew how ridiculous her line of thought was. Unsure how to respond, he chuckled and shook his head. “If you say so.”

  Her eyes fell upon the flowers and she leaned close to him. “Oh,” she said softly then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Of all the paintings in this room, you want to observe this…” She lowered her voice. “Pussy?”

  He squinted at the painting, not seeing whatever she saw at first. Then it became clear. There were no flowers here, only streaks and splatters of pink and white, suggestively swirled into…

  Fucking hell.

  “I think the art trip is over,” he announced, making a beeline for the exit.

  Laughing gently, she placed her empty glass on a nearby table and followed, her hand brushing his arm, so he’d slow down. “Too much class for one night?”

  He scowled down at her. Though he wasn’t upset with her, he was irritated with the situation. His body had been shooting him hints the entire time they’d been together, but he’d been able to tamp it down. Staring head-on at that painting while standing next to an attractive woman who smelled edible did not help at all.

  “It’s getting late, is all,” he said. “I drove all night last night and I haven’t slept in something like twenty hours.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “Because I wanted to cheer you up. Besides, what else is there to do in this town that could be better than hanging out with an awkward acquaintance?”

  She clicked her tongue and slowed her steps. “It looks like the sky fell.”

  Through the large full-glass doors of the gallery, rain poured down in sheets and the sides of the road looked like small rivers.

  “And no umbrella,” he muttered. “Well, I can at least save you from getting drenched. How about I grab the car and pull it around?”

  “Let’s wait it out.”

  “That uneasy about me driving your car?”

  “Maybe. I just got it. Though honestly, I’m not looking forward to navigating through this rain, either way.”

  There were benches along the entryway and all were already filled with people also waiting the rain out. To one side there was an additional exit, and from what he could remember of the building, there would be an overhang.

  “How about we head out that way? At least then we won’t be standing in the middle of this room?”

  “Fine by me.” She led the way and soon they were standing in a cozy shelter alone. The rain formed a mist around their ankles, but they stayed dry, and the city at night had a comforting feel.

  Nancy rubbed her shoulders and looked around. “April showers, I guess.”

  “They’re a bit early,” he replied and took his lightweight over-shirt off to place on her shoulders. It hung down her like a trench coat, but it would keep her warm.

  She pulled the shirt close to her and smirked. For a minute or two, they stood in silence, listening to the rain and cars slowly driving by.

  “Thank you for this,” she said softly.

  “Any time.”

  “I’m serious.” She bit the corner of her lip and motioned back to the gallery. “It’s been forever since I made time for myself like this. Things have been too crazy lately. What with Brent being a tool and my fresh start falling to pieces.”

  “Fresh start?” He moved to stand behind her and rubbed her arms to generate warmth. “What do you mean?”

  “After Mija left I had this plan to… I don’t know. Pick up and leave maybe. Break the monotonous cycle. It’s a wonderful city but it reminds me of my old mistakes.”

  “Mistakes like…” He bit off his words before he said ‘Brent’ and slipped back into not-his-business territory.

  “It’s an empty life, let’s put it that way. But every time I’ve tried to change, I got sidetracked. And now, I’ve been busy trying to get back on that horse and get out of here, but it’s not easy.”

  He knew what she meant. Months ago, shortly after he’d first met her, in fact, he’d been faced with a reason for needing his own fresh start. But for him, it wasn’t about changing location. Granted, he’d stayed away from his pack in the meanwhile, but what he was really searching for was himself.

  He hated the term and notion of soul-searching. It ranked up there with veganism and praying to crystal balls. Yet he’d seen a side of himself he hated, and until he knew that side was gone or changed for the better, he couldn’t go back to his life.

  “If it was easy it wouldn’t be worthwhile,” he commented.

  She turned in his arms and changed their position into an unintentional embrace. Looking up at him with a warm smile, she placed a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You say that like it’s been on your mind forever.”

  “Life is a struggle. What can I say?” Before she could respond, he released her and took her hand. The crashing rain had abated to be no more than a pitter-patter, but it didn’t look permanent. “I think we can make it to the car now if we’re quick.”

  * * * *

  One of the problems will small cars is that there’s no escaping shared air, and with the rain, cracking the window wasn’t an option. But what Wyatt wouldn’t give for a whiff of fresh cool breeze.

  Being this close to Nancy in her tiny economy sedan was like torture, and she smelled particularly nice tonight. He’d been noticing her scent non-stop. There was nothing normal about it, and he kept telling himself that he really needed to get laid so he could go back to his normal, neutral self.

  Not laid with Nancy, of course. But… anyone. Before his dick managed to bust the fly of his jeans open, preferably.

  If asking Nancy stupid questions about her ex made her upset, he could only imagine how rude it would be if she noticed the tell-tale bulge during a hug or something. It was going to happen if he wasn’t careful—the girl was a huge fan of hugs.

  “My driving isn’t that bad,” Nancy murmured.

  “Huh?” His attention left the world outside the window.

  “You look terrified. I haven’t been driving long but come on. Give me a break. Besides, we’re almost there.” She squinted and leaned forward in her seat for a moment. “Now… that red hexagon means floor it, right?”

  “Ha ha,” he said drily. “You’re doing fine. I’m just thinking.”

  “Anything worth sharing?”

  “Not particularly.”

  She hummed under her breath to the song playing softly on the radio for a moment then glanced over to him. “Am I allowed to ask… you said you were trying to stop being an ass. Does t
hat have something to do with Charlotte being with Damon now?”

  He looked back out his window, studying the houses through the constant drip of raindrops. It had everything to do with that, but that was a catalyst, not the root. “It’s complicated.”

  “What relationship isn’t? But when we first met, Charlotte was dating you. I can put two and two together. I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to about it.”

  “I don’t really do that.”

  “Most guys don’t. But you’d be surprised at how often you can solve a problem by letting someone else in. Just talking it out can work wonders.” She tapped her steering wheel. “Or you can brood and ponder it until the end of time.”

  “I don’t brood,” he scoffed.

  “You’re staring pensively out a rainy window at night, thinking about lost love. You’re the poster boy for brooding at the moment.”

  He rolled his eyes then turned and stared ahead. “I can’t talk to you. Anything I say will be reported to Mija, who will then repeat it to Charlotte. It’s bad enough that when I get home, they’re going to know I pissed you off and had to buy your forgiveness with steak and cheap beer.”

  “This isn’t high school,” she said with a laugh.

  He didn’t quite know what she meant. Like most of his pack, his education had been handled at home. He knew what high school was but didn’t see how it related to this situation. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not going to gossip about you. You can talk to me without it going anywhere,” she promised.

  “There’s really not a lot to say.” He glanced over and it was clear she wasn’t convinced. I guess this is really happening. He shook his head, and against his better judgment, released a snippet of his sordid past with Charlotte. “I had a hero complex, and I thought she needed saving. All I did was treat her like property, though, and I couldn’t even see that we didn’t want the same things. I thought she needed my protection and guidance, and that was all that mattered.”

  Nancy sucked in a deep breath. “Huh.” She tilted her head and slowly nodded. “I can see that, actually.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, look at you.” She motioned up and down across his seated form with one hand. “Tall like an oak. Muscles like an athlete. Blond hair, blue eyes. It’s probably in your genes to feel like the white knight in any situation.”