The Drop Zone (Thrill Seekers Book 1)

by Shandi Boyes

  Several long minutes later, “No! Not like that. Ugh!” Jamie bobs in just enough time to miss the leg I can’t raise above my waist. With her laughter no longer containable, she bends in half and howls in hysterics. “I can’t. Oh God… we need to stop. My gut is killing me.”

  “Fine!” I throw my hands in the air like I’m pissed. In reality, I need to expand my lungs so they can suck in some much-needed breaths. “But their asses are ours next week. Deal?”

  Jamie knocks her fist against the one I’m holding out. “Deal.”

  With us bowing out of the dance-off, the party-like atmosphere dies down within minutes.

  “Now that’s what dance is about… fun, music, friendship, and love.” Mrs. Palencia’s eyes shift to Jamie and me. “Thank you.” Although she only mouths her praise, it doesn’t lessen its impact.

  “You’re welcome,” Jamie mouths back before straying her eyes to mine. They’re as mischievous as the dance moves we just tried to master. “Pizza?”

  I scoff, disgraced. “Pizza? It’s Wednesday. What are you, a food dictator?”

  Her brows furrow as her smile makes my skin even stickier. “If only dictators are allowed to eat pizza on a Wednesday, then yeah, I’m a dictator.”

  I grimace at her sweaty palms when I help her up from the ground, but mine are just as sweaty, but hey, I’ve got someone to blame, so why wouldn’t I use it? “Everyone knows Wednesday is waffles and wings night.”

  Jamie dries her hands on her skirt before snagging her purse off the floor. When she spins around to face me, her skirt flares out, showing inches upon inches of smooth, flawless skin. For a dorky numbers cruncher, she has a stellar pair of legs that would only look better—no, Colby, don’t go there!

  I’m snapped from my uncalled for thoughts when Jamie asks, “Why waffles and wings? Because they start with a ‘W’?” Although she’s asking a question, she doesn’t wait for me to answer. It’s for the best, I’m still too busy checking out her legs to formulate a reply. “Are you five?”

  I remind myself for the hundredth time tonight that she’s a taken woman before asking, “What’s wrong with coordinating you’re eating schedule according to what day of the week it is?”

  “Ah, it’s boring and repetitive, for one.”

  “Like bunkering down with a dude you can’t stand for the rest of your life?” Goddammit, Colby! You weren’t meant to say that out loud. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yeah, you did, and it’s fine.” Jamie’s face doesn’t match her words. For the first time tonight, her lips are pointing to the floor instead of the sky. “Thank you for stepping up to the empty plate tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

  After pressing a hurried kiss to my cheek, she says goodbye to Mrs. Palencia, then scurries outside. I should let her leave, then collect a medal of valor for keeping myself in check, but the look in her eyes before she fled has me doing something I never thought I’d do. I’m doing the chasing for a change.

  “Jamie…” She continues walking as if she didn’t hear me, but I catch her before her slumped form is lost in a sea of many. “The waffle house is that way.”

  Even with a waffle place only half a block in the direction she’s traveling, I nudge my head behind me. I need more than half a block to calm her down before giving her an instrument that could carve out an appendage I’m very fond of.

  When she remains cautious, I try another tactic. I lie. “I didn’t mean what I said…” My words trail off when her brow arches. “Okay, I did mean it, but I won’t say it again.” Jamie’s brow arches and arches and arches until it’s lost in her hair. “I won’t, but if I happen to have another slip of the tongue, which we both know will most likely occur, I’ll wear a traditional Latin dance suit to next week’s class.”

  Really, Colby? You have millions of dollars in your bank account, yet you offer up that?

  I swear on my mother’s grave, the world slows when Jamie’s lips curl into an uneasy smile. It already seals the deal, but she adds words into the mix just in case I’m not getting the full picture. “Are we talking the male version? Or a skin-tight dress with a sequin bodice?”

  I curl my arm around her shoulders and spin her to face the opposite direction she’s traveling. “Does it matter? They’re both as emasculating as each other.”

  When she laughs, the world feels right again—even with the ridiculously hideous snort that comes after her laughter.

  Chapter 13

  Jamie

  “Try it on.”

  Faking a gag, I stray my eyes to Colby, who’s wrangling an overloaded taco into submission. “No. I couldn’t wear something like that on a good day, much less when my waffle baby is past its due date.” My gag turns real when I shake my belly to amplify my statement. We ate enough waffles tonight to ward us off eating for a week, so I have no clue why Colby needs to add a taco to the mix.

  Today was our third dance class with Mrs. Palencia. I still have two left feet, but I’m certain we’re getting close to whipping Linda and Royce’s butts during the end-of-class dance-offs. They might have years of rockabilly dancing under their belts, but that’s nothing on Colby’s and my competitive streak.

  Colby is so determined to beat them, he suggested we add additional hours of practice during fiesta Fridays at a Spanish restaurant near The Drop Zone. I love Mrs. Palencia, but no amount of classical training comes close to the gritty rawness you get dancing amongst people who grew up doing the salsa. Winter is approaching, but my Friday nights the past three weeks have been the sweatiest I’ve ever had.

  After Colby pays the street vendor, he joins me at the front of the boutique which has a one-of-a-kind Jenni Holt creation in the window. “I know that designer. Nice girl. Got a couple of kids.”

  “Not yours, are they?”

  He bumps me with his hip. “Ha ha. Wouldn’t have mind tapping her if she weren’t related to Isaac. I almost had my nuts hung out to dry a few years ago when I crushed hard on his girl. Doubt I’d survive a second brush with death if I tapped his little brother’s wife.” Red-hot jealousy shouldn’t hit me like a bolt of lightning, but it does. “Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer. You said last week that you need a dress for a gala, this place sells dresses.”

  “Colby…” My whine doesn’t slow him down the teeniest bit. With a taco hanging out of his mouth and his hand clamped around my wrist, he drags me into the fancy boutique, gaining the attention of the store assistant. “Don’t get up. He’s so broke he can’t fill his bicycle. Get it? You fill a bicycle with air, but he can’t even afford that.”

  Colby rolls his eyes, dissing my joke without words. Unfortunately, the store assistant doesn’t take a page out of his book. She blubbers like an idiot when she realizes she has a celebrity in her midst. Colby isn’t famous in a way a lot of people in LA are, but his name alone opens plenty of doors. I’ve learned that the glamorous way the past three weeks. We’ve dined at restaurants that usually book out months in advance, and I read my favorite author’s latest release before it had reached her editor’s desk.

  “Jamie would like to try on the dress in the window.” I peer at him when Colby’s voice squeaks at the end. “And that.”

  When I follow the direction of his gaze, I slap his arm. “Do I look like a prostitute?”

  He strays his eyes away from a seductive lingerie set that leaves nothing to the imagination so he can lock them with me. “In that outfit, yeah, you could be.” He returns his eyes to the sales assistant. “Do you sell trench coats? With the right pair of shoes and something to return the kink to her hair, I might be able to afford the bike she mentioned by the end of the night.”

  I laugh when she nods, stupidly believing him. “He’s joking… on all accounts. Have a pleasant night.”

  Colby stops me from walking away by snagging my wrist for the second time tonight. “Thank you.” He plucks the dress I was eyeing out of the store assistant’s hand before redirecting me toward the back of the boutique. “Still up t
he stairs and to the left?”

  Colby doesn’t wait for her to answer, he continues walking and shoving until we reach a long set of dressing rooms on the second floor. “Need me to come in and help, or do you have all your bases covered?” For someone talking through a mouthful of taco, his innuendo can’t be missed. It’s been the same the past three weeks. He’s flirty but never in a way that would be unacceptable for friends.

  Snarling, I snatch the dress out of his hand before entering the first room. My mouth falls open. It’s bigger than my office at Metrics. After dumping my glasses onto the bench stretched across one wall, I peel out of my clothes and replace them with the dress I was eyeing, certain I’ll have to buy it even if it doesn’t fit. I’m still sweating from the rumba, meaning my wish to subdue Colby’s need to do everything at a hundred miles per hour puts its satin teal design at risk.

  “Come on, Jamie. What’s taking you so long?”

  “I think the zipper is stuck… Jesus Christ, Colby! What if I were naked?” I shout the last two sentences when he enters my dressing room without warning. The naughty parts of my body are covered, but that’s not the point. We’ve grown close the past few weeks, but we’re not that close.

  “You’re not, Prim, so we’re good, right?”

  My brows join from the bitterness in his tone. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve gone from cruisy to pissed-off in under sixty seconds. Was the Tabasco sauce on your taco not hot enough again? I told you I carry a bottle in my purse to save the embarrassment of the waffle place having ‘non-authentic goods.’” I air quote my last three words, smiling when I recall how mortified he was when he found a generic branded hot sauce on our table three weeks ago.

  “It was fine…” He stops when his eyes stray from something outside my dressing cubicle to me. “Jamie.” I almost squirm. He’s never said my name like that before, all hot and needy. “You look…” I wait and wait and wait for him to finish his sentence, praying my patience will pay off for a change. It’s proven worthwhile when he murmurs, “Beautiful.”

  “Really?” I don’t know what I’m shocked by more. What he’s just said? How it made me feel? Or the high pitch of my tone. It could be a combination of all of them.

  Nodding, he spins me around to face the mirror before snatching my glasses off the bench. “See.”

  I have to wait for the condensation of his high body temperature to clear from my lenses before I can take in the whole picture. This is conceited for me to say, but he’s right. I do look beautiful. The satin flows over the parts of my body I’m not a fan of while holding onto the areas some women pay good money for.

  “You have to buy it.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t. It’s too expensive…” My words trail off when a husky moan sounds from the dressing room next to us. I shoot my eyes to Colby as my teeth rake my lower lip. Busting someone doing the deed in public is almost as embarrassing as doing it. “What was that?”

  I’m anticipating for him to add to the mischievousness heating my blood, so you can imagine my surprise when he shrugs like he didn’t hear anything before he curls his arm around my shoulders and guides me out of the dressing room. “I’m beat. We should call it a night.”

  “Okay, but I have to get changed first. I can’t leave in a dress I don’t own.”

  The waffles I scarfed like a piggy flip in my stomach when he gallops us down the stairs like a man on a mission. The cashier’s eyes light up when she spots us, confident she has this sale in the bag. Her excitement is proven spot on when Colby says, “Give yourself a nice bonus when you place her dress onto my tab.”

  “I can’t let you buy me a dress. It’s not appropriate.”

  Cool, late fall winds whip up around me when he throws open the boutique doors and shoves me onto the sidewalk. He then moves to flag down a cab, his efforts double since we’re in Los Angeles and not New York.

  “Colby, what’s going on? Did the taco upset your stomach?” He told me about a horrid experience he had at a Mexican restaurant earlier this week. It ended with him fleeing from his date while clutching his stomach. I should have felt bad for him, but all I felt was relief that he left his date stranded. “You might need to step away from spices for a few days until your tummy recovers.”

  “It’s not the fucking taco!” When I step back at his roar, the panic I’m wearing jumps onto his face. He drags his fingers through his thick blond locks before saying more respectfully, “I just need you to go, okay?”

  “Okay.” I only say one word, but the relief that crosses his face makes it seem as if I said much more. “Will you be all right getting home?” Cate dropped him off after their weekly dinner date, so he doesn’t have his car here.

  “I’ll be fine. Tyrone will pick me up.” After helping me into the taxi he hailed, he glances over his shoulder, back at the boutique, then he returns his eyes to me. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Colby slams the back passenger door shut before I can reply. Then even quicker than that, he disappears into the shadows.

  Chapter 14

  Colby

  “You lying piece of shit. You told Jamie you couldn’t attend dance class because you had a meeting.” I stray my eyes to the blonde plastered to Brad’s side with kiss-swollen lips and ruffled hair. “Does she know you’ll be married this time next month?”

  I nearly add on, to a woman ten times more beautiful and one hundred times smarter, but I stop myself when I realize the blonde could be as innocent in this predicament as Jamie.

  My thoughts are proven right when the blonde stares up at Brad with wide, ashamed eyes. “You’re engaged?” When guilt crosses his features, her strike to Brad’s cheek bellows down the alleyway I’ve been camped in the past twenty minutes waiting for his cheating ass to show up.

  When she shoves a couture boutique bag into his chest, I say, “No, sweetheart, take the dress. It’s the least he could do after his less-than-stellar performance.” She may have kiss-swollen lips, but there’s not an ounce of satisfaction on her face.

  She flashes me a mammoth grin before ripping the bag out of Brad’s grasp. “I think you’re right.” With a huff, she pivots on her heels and dashes out of the alleyway as fast as her hooker high heels can take her. “Lose my number, gherkin dick!”

  I stop watching her exit when Brad steps up to me. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

  With my anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt, I push him back. “For one, don’t call me ‘man.’ I am not your friend, associate, colleague, or anything that would have us tied together in any way whatsoever. Two, why the fuck are you messing around on Jamie? She could have any dick she wants, but for some fucked-up reason, she picked an asshole instead. You should be relishing that, not screwing around with a woman way below her league.”

  Brad smiles a slick, conniving grin. “What or who I do has nothing to do with you.”

  “Bullshit! Jamie is my friend.”

  “Friend?” While chuckling a mocking laugh, he steps closer. The smug gleam in his eyes pisses me off more than his attempt to stand taller than me. “That there is the real reason you’ve got your panties in a twist. You’ve got looks and money and a name that opens doors, but not even those can have Jamie looking past the scared little boy no amount of adrenaline can remove from your eyes. Step back from the plate, Colby. You’re not man enough to play in my league.”

  The blonde’s slap has nothing on the crack my fist makes with his eye when I sock him in it. I’m rearing back for my second punch when I’m grabbed from behind.

  “Colby, what the fuck?” Tyrone needs all of his one hundred and eighty pounds to wrangle me back from Brad when Brad mocks, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep our foray between us.” He wipes the sweat off his brow like he isn’t sporting a swollen eye. “Wouldn’t want Jamie knowing you’re only associating with her, so she’ll keep your little business afloat.”

  “Please, tell her because I won’t stop smiling when she kicks your ass to the curb.”<
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  Brad’s witch-like cackle is barely heard over my pulse shrilling in my ears. “If that doesn’t prove you don’t know Jamie, nothing will. She’ll never leave me, just like she’d never believe you over me. If you doubt my beliefs, do it, call her, and watch your business go bye-bye. I have more influence over her in my pinkie than you’ll ever have.”

  I fight against Tyrone’s hold, getting to within a foot of Brad before he is back between us. “Colby, calm the fuck down.” After dragging me to his four-wheel drive, he pins me to it by my shoulders, his breaths coming out ragged. “He isn’t worth it. Breathe it out.” He locks his dark eyes with mine, the sincerity in them shocking. “Breathe it out.”

  “She was right fucking there in the dressing room next to his, yet he still couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants!”

  “I know, man. I know.”

  Tyrone’s reply reveals he understands where my anger is coming from. I’m not just ropeable at Brad’s claim he can puppeteer Jamie, I’m pissed at how similar he is to my father. My father was a horrible man. He married my mom for one reason only—her inheritance. When he thought he had that, I caught him in compromising position after compromising position. His secretary. The housemaids. My fucking nanny. If she had a pulse between her legs, he endeavored to spike it—all while my mother lay in a hospital bed suffering through an illness a woman as wonderful as my mom didn’t deserve to have. I guess I should be thankful a disease took her memories because I doubt any she had with him were worth rehashing.

  With Brad no longer in the alleyway and my anger somewhat contained, Tyrone steps back. “We good?”

  I jerk up my chin. “Yeah, we’re good.” I crack the throbbing knuckles I wish I could have split on Brad’s face. “But can you believe the hide of that guy? Making out he can manipulate Jamie to do whatever he wants…” My words trail off when the sincerity in Tyrone’s eyes switches to doubt. “You think it, too?”