Detachment

by Shae Banks

  Lowering her mug, she revealed a smile, and when she peeked up at me, I was pleased to see it reached her eyes.

  “You don’t say.” Her voice was full of sarcasm, but the smile on her face let me know she was joking and not just being a bitch.

  I leaned back, feeling awkward, and rubbed the back of my neck with my right hand. “Yeah, it’s one of my more endearing qualities…” I trailed off as the letter box rattled. Gunner jumped to his feet with a low growl. “Post,” I offered in explanation, as Lyla jerked in alarm.

  Thinking her behaviour a little extreme for someone able to speak to her ex-husband like he was a delinquent teen, I quickly suggested, “Gunner needs a walk. I usually take him out of town on my days off. I’m pretty sure he’d like it if you came with us. If you’re not busy.”

  Damn, I’m not sure what it said about me to stoop so low as to use the damn dog to get her to agree to spend time with me. Two kisses, and she already had my balls in a damn vice, and she didn’t even know it.

  “Me?” she queried, her brows pulled in slightly. “I wouldn’t want to—”

  “You’re not,” I interjected, cutting her off. “I mean, I want you to. We’re only an hour from the coast and he loves the beach. We can grab some lunch, maybe, if you wanted…”

  I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, but the words kept coming, and before I could stop myself, we were in my car with the dog in the back, heading east. It wasn’t even nine in the morning.

  “So, you spend your days off walking Gunner on the beach?” she inquired, when she pulled her attention away from watching the world pass by her window.

  “Beats sitting around on my own.” I shrugged, and damn if that didn’t sound lame as fuck to my own ears. To pull the attention from me before I said any more dumb shit, I reached into the pocket of my door. “Here,” I said, and tossed a CD wallet her way. “Pick one.”

  “Why not just connect your phone?” she asked, while unzipping the black case.

  “Because,” I explained, making a concerted effort not to sound condescending, “I can’t skip the track through my phone when I’m driving.”

  She turned a leaf in the wallet, apparently discounting the first half dozen discs. “That’s the point of a playlist.”

  Patronising witch.

  I didn’t bite. Since I had her to myself for the day, with Thom out at work, I had every intention of playing it safe. She flipped through the wallet until she found something she liked the look of and put it into the CD player with a wary glance my way.

  There wasn’t anything in there I’d mind listening to, but I was pleasantly surprised when the first track started playing and she instantly sang along.

  I glanced at her with my eyebrows raised. All the tension the call from her husband had caused seemed to have melted away and her smile was back in full force. How much of that was nostalgia from listening to old favourites, and how much was being away from her problems was anyone’s guess, but I liked seeing her happy.

  I was less surprised by that discovery than I ought to have been. Damned woman had inserted herself into our lives and it felt like I’d always known her. I’m sure the amount Lloyd talked about her also had some sort of impact, but she didn’t feel like a stranger.

  “What?” she asked, still smiling. “I went to see them in concert twice back in the day.”

  Interesting. “I had you down as more of a classical listener.”

  Her answering snort made me smile. “So I’m some sort of snob because I lived in London?”

  I shrugged, switching lanes to overtake the slow shit in front. “I only know what Lloyd told us, and Lloyd reckons your bloke is a snobby, pompous prick.”

  “So, I’m a snobby, pompous prick by proxy?” she challenged, her amusement clear in her tone.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” I admitted with a broad grin.

  Her unbridled laugh was beautiful. “You’ve gone about this all ass about face, haven’t you?”

  I glanced her way. “Nah. The taste test should always come first.”

  Her cheeks coloured and she turned her face away, but not without me catching the coy smile on her lips first.

  I’d had a taste and I fucking liked it. I’d get another if it killed me.

  Thom barely glanced up from the chopping board in front of him when I walked into the kitchen.

  Opening the fridge, I waited to hear the bathroom door close before speaking. “What’s for dinner?”

  The knife paused for a fraction of a second before it started back up again. “You mean you haven’t already eaten?”

  I took out a beer and opened it with my teeth. “Not since lunch.”

  He carried on slicing the vegetables without looking up, and I dropped the bottle cap on the table.

  “We took Gunner to the beach,” I explained when he didn’t ask.

  “Stir fry,” he stated in answer to my first question. “Did you have a good day?”

  His methodical chopping was the only sound in the room. I watched him, his triceps flexing as he cut, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled.

  Three steps and I was behind him. I grasped his right wrist to stop him from chopping the veg. When I knew I had his attention, I leaned closer until my crotch brushed his ass as I whispered, “We had a great day.”

  My cock stirred right as a board creaked on the stairs. “But I’ll let her tell you about it.” The words came out in a husky whisper as I breathed them against the pulse point on his neck.

  His breath hitched, indicating I had an effect on him, but he resumed cutting as the kitchen door opened and I snatched up a slice of pepper. “Want a beer, Lyla, or shall I open a bottle of wine?” I asked, biting the vegetable with gusto.

  She didn’t miss a beat, stepping up close, and I could almost feel the heat from her body as she reached for my drink.

  I stayed perfectly still, my eyes fixed on her mouth. With the heat of Thom at my back and my front almost pressed against Lyla, it wasn’t where I ever expected to find myself, but here we were.

  “Beers fine,” she replied sweetly, taking my bottle and raising it to her lips. “What was your day like, Thom?”

  My mind wandered, imagining my cock where the bottle rested against her lips, but I was brought back by Thom striking up conversation.

  Leaving them to talk, I moved a safe distance away from her to get another beer and one for Thom before I needed to leave for work. If she was having the same effect on him as she was me, then he’d be needing it.

  8

  Lyla

  I’d taken a moment to head upstairs to hook my phone up to the charger. Francis hadn’t gotten the hint and was determined to drain my battery dry with his insistent calls. I hadn’t answered any of them, instead I’d put the phone on silent and let the voicemail pick them up. I should have blocked his number, but for some odd reason, I couldn’t bring myself to. Maybe it was ingrained from years of trying to be the good wife, of meeting his every expectation. Or maybe I was just too weak to actually close the door and make the break final. Thom raised an eyebrow when the incessant vibrating almost toppled the phone off the table, but never made comment. It made me curious if Ryan had told him about the conversation I’d had with Francis before we’d taken Gunner to the beach.

  When I came back downstairs, music played on Thom’s phone as he wiggled his hips to the beat while he fixed dinner. Thom stopped mid-spin when he realised he was no longer alone, and a blush stained his cheeks. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know you don’t have two left feet.”

  The room lit up with his easy smile and I relaxed. He went back to what he was doing, entirely unaware of how he affected me.

  Things had become more comfortable between Ryan and me since the beach, but Thom was still an enigma. While Ryan liked conversation, Thom seemed comfortable to simply watch us go back and forth without much input. When he did strike up conversation, he was engaging, cha
rming even. Where Ryan seemed almost wild, Thom, from what I could tell, was more reserved and in control. But it didn’t make him any less attractive. In fact, it only made me want to get to know him better.

  I’d never been this… wanton or horny before. Not even as a teenager. I’d been more studious, driven to get good grades, earn my degree, and grab my dream job. Plus, few were brave enough to want to date the girl whose twin would string them up if they so much as breathed in her direction. And that’s only if they bothered to look beyond the overweight girl with frizzy hair.

  I’d fixed the hair—it’s amazing what money could do—but I’d gained a little more weight over the years. The truth was, I comfort ate and was partial to the occasional bottle of wine every other night, but I kept telling myself they were things I could easily change. Then maybe my husband would have wanted me.

  Except things had changed dramatically since I’d broken free from the city and that bleached prison better known as my marital home. Someone had breathed in my direction. He’d done considerably more than that, and the anticipation of a repeat of the experience was hot in my veins. These feelings were disconcerting, but not at all off-putting. Ryan’s words played over and over in my head—try something new, celebrate your freedom. Betty urging me to relax and enjoy them echoed further still. They had both been right. The idea of letting myself be wild with Ryan, or Thom, or both, had my insides warming up.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” a voice interrupted.

  Thankfully, Thom speaking up put the brakes on my filthy musings before I had chance to fall too far down that particular rabbit hole. “I’m not sure you should part with your cash over these particular thoughts.”

  With an eyebrow raised, he prodded, “Do tell.”

  Not wanting to lie, but also too embarrassed to voice where my thoughts had gone, I settled with a half-truth. “I was thinking about what Ryan said about celebrating my freedom. I think he’s right. I’m overdue for a change and should do something… I just don’t know what.”

  His eyes lit up. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”

  “I don’t know. I considered getting a tattoo, but I don’t want to get something on a whim and end up regretting it.”

  Thom stopped opening the food wrappers to give me his attention. “Why not treat yourself to a haircut? Or a shopping trip? A haircut will grow back if you decide you don’t like it, and if you keep the tags on the clothes then you can always return them if you get home and decide you don’t like them.”

  I nibbled on the inside of my bottom lip as I thought. “My hair is overdue for a trim.”

  His smile was encouraging, but he followed it up with, “Start small and work your way up.”

  My eyes snapped to his and I took in the smirk that wasn’t all that innocent. He’d meant the innuendo, and I almost gave myself a pat on the back for reading it for exactly what it was—almost. My cheeks heated when his smirk widened into a full grin, but instead of commenting on my embarrassment, he went back to the food while innocently whistling.

  Did he just…

  “Ryan’s been rubbing off on you,” I accused.

  A booming laugh echoed around the kitchen as Thom shook his head. Once his laughter died down, he turned his attention back to preparing dinner. “He’s been doing something like that recently, yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself.

  I must have been mistaken, but there seemed to be more to that statement. My mind raced, thinking of how Ryan had behaved with me. Of how relaxed I felt around him despite that. And Thom. They were so different from what I was used to and their rapport… The way they seemed to move together, how close they were, I hadn’t had that even with my own husband.

  The question begged, are they an item? But surely Ryan wouldn’t have kissed me like that in front of his…

  “Something wrong?”

  My face caught fire, and my mouth opened then closed when I realised Thom had been watching me this whole time. Flustered, I busied myself with grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge, hoping the blast of cold air would cool my embarrassment.

  Ignoring his question, I placed the beer on the counter next to Thom. “Are we waiting for Ryan to get home before eating?”

  Grabbing the cutting board, he used the knife to push the neatly chopped veg into the pan. “I’ll plate him some to have once he’s home. He works later into the evening once a month to do a deep clean. I usually just have a sandwich, but having you here, I thought I’d make more of an effort.”

  Resting my hip against the counter, I took a drink of my beer. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you. What are we having?”

  “Pilaf,” he replied, tossing the contents of the pan. “I try to eat vegetarian half the week, but I found it had to be something substantial. This fit the bill.”

  “Does Lloyd eat that?” I inquired, expecting a negative reply.

  “Lloyd eats what’s put in front of him or he goes hungry,” Thom explained with a small laugh. “He may not be a domesticated animal, but I am, and I don’t take any of his ‘I don’t like it’ shit. If he can live on rat packs, he can eat a vegetable.”

  I was impressed. He succeeded where everyone else I knew had failed. “You enjoy parenting my brother?”

  “Of course,” he replied with a glance my way, and reached for his beer. “I hated being in a one-man room, and working in the gym made that the worst place to be, because the showers never worked properly, and I’d always get called upon to fix anything that broke, even if I wasn’t on the rota to work. Having no down time was making me miserable, so moving in here was good for me.”

  I glanced around the kitchen. “You don’t get lonely on nights like tonight?”

  “Between Sam, Ryan, and Lloyd, the house is never usually this quiet,” he explained with a shrug. “We were all deployed together once, Botswana, but that doesn’t happen often since we all work in different corps. Like with Sam and Lloyd being on training together. Ryan doesn’t spend much time overseas at all. More useful here feeding the officers.”

  That third name again. He came into conversation as though he was just another member of their odd military family, but I hadn’t met him. I hadn’t known about any of them. “Who is Sam? I don’t think I’ve heard Lloyd speak about him.”

  “He moved in just after Christmas when his request for a single room was turned down. He’s a medic.” He paused with the wooden spoon inside the pan, his brow furrowed. “How long are you staying for?”

  Things had been strained with Lloyd’s and my relationship at Christmas, and we’d barely spoken since. When we had spoken over the phone, neither of us went into too much detail. “Have I outstayed my welcome?”

  Resuming the spoon’s movements in the contents of the pan once more, he shook his head. “Not at all, I’m enjoying your company. It’s just when Sam and Lloyd get back there may be an issue with space.”

  “My parents did an attic extension. While Lloyd has likely used it as a dumping ground, it’ll make for a bedroom until I find somewhere else.”

  “Sam might have something to say about that.”

  My brows dropped. I felt foolish. Of course there wasn’t room. Three bedrooms on the first floor meant Lloyd, Ryan, and Thom had a bedroom each with Sam taking the attic. A. Bedroom. Each. Thom and Ryan had a rapport because they were friends, not closet lovers. “Bugger. Could always stick Lloyd on the couch.”

  He raised his brows. “Sam wouldn’t have that, and really I wouldn’t condone it either as a physical trainer. Back care dictates a suitable bed and if he did any damage, we’d have a hell of trying to medicate him.”

  “Lloyd didn’t get any better with taking meds?” I queried, as Thom took the pan of rice over to the sink and began draining it.

  “Oh, he takes them okay, just we’d rather not listen to him retching while trying to swallow a pill or having to help with the clean up when he failed.”

  Reaching into the cupboard above my head, I took out
two plates and put them on the counter. “That’s an improvement,” I remarked, not looking for his response. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

  Thom laughed and began to serve the pilaf. Realising I was slacking, I quickly set the table.

  After dinner, I washed the dishes while Thom dried and put them away, and with the kitchen showing no signs of having been cooked in, I opened another beer and went through to the lounge.

  Thom had sat down near the door and put a stand-up comedy show on TV. Passing him his beer, I took up residence on the far side of the comfortable old sofa.

  “Is this okay?” he asked, as I tucked my feet beneath my thighs and relaxed.

  I nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I haven’t watched much TV recently, so this is a relatively safe bet.”

  “You don’t watch TV?”

  A small, self-conscious laugh was my only response.

  His brows lifted. “Hell. What did you do with yourself in the evenings?”

  “Francis follows politics very closely,” I said bitterly, looking back at the TV. “He would play classical on the Bose, droning through the entire house, and read whatever bilge the chaps found most captivating that week with his cat on his lap while I busied myself with almost anything else.”

  I took a drink of my beer, enjoying the slightly metallic taste. I hadn’t drunk beer in years—unless it was a craft ale, Francis wouldn’t entertain it, and the change from expensive wine was refreshing.

  Thom was quiet for a few moments, and I looked back his way only to find him staring at me with a small line fixed between his brows.

  They were more groomed than Ryan’s, I noticed, probably because his hair was fair and his skin more tan. I wondered if he plucked.

  “What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Ryan hinted that you’d come here to escape some… unpleasantness,” he explained. There was an apology in his tone.