Alex set the bowl of onions on the counter beside Thomas and shot the cloth into the hamper in the corner. “See you tomorrow.”
He pushed through the kitchen doors, giving a nod to Daniel as he passed the bar and freezing in his tracks when Max stepped into his path.
“Hey, man!” Max called over the music. “You just get here?”
His eyes darted around the room. “I was helping Thomas in the back. Everyone here?”
“Yeah, Chuck’s here.” Max grinned. “We’re over by the dance floor if you want to come join.”
Shaking his head, he locked his attention on the exit. “No thanks. Tell the crew I say hi.”
Max planted his feet and flagged Daniel over. “Two tequilas, please.” Shifting his focus back to Alex, he tilted his head back slightly and looked him over. “One drink and then you’re free to go hide out in your trailer for the rest of the night.” He smirked. “Unless you have a date.”
“I don’t have a date,” he muttered. “I’ve got stuff to do in the morning.”
With a shrug, Max passed a twenty to Daniel and handed Alex a shot of tequila. “Whether you join us or not, I’m telling Chuck I saw you. And if you leave without having a drink with us, I’ll tell her you were on your way out on a date. Cheers.”
He clenched his teeth as Max downed his shot. “Seriously?”
“Try me.”
Tugging his wallet from his back pocket, he threw a ten onto the bar. “One vodka Coke, please.” He turned to Max. “I’m not buying your blackmailing ass a drink.”
He followed Max through the Saturday crowd, fighting the urge to rub out the knots forming in his shoulders.
“Check out what I dragged over from the trenches,” Max announced, grabbing two chairs from an adjoining table and flipping off the patrons when they protested. “Sit.”
A chorus of hey-how-are-yous rose from the table, a few unrecognizable faces smiling politely as he gave everyone a quick nod, shaking his hair out of his eyes enough to see but not enough to unblock his view of the stunning brunette sitting beside him. Max immediately launched into a lengthy story about a wounded coyote he’d saved, showing off his bandaged arm to anyone who would look.
Five minutes into his embellished explanation, Charlotte finally chimed in. “Pull off the Band-Aids, you big suck. Show them how injured you really were.”
Max reached across Alex and swatted the straw from her drink, sending a small spray into the air. “You’re gonna be sorry you were mean to me when I’m foaming at the mouth and you have to put me down like a rabid dog.”
Her hand dropped to Alex’s leg, startling him. He risked a glance at her, his chest tightening when she squeezed his knee, her dark eyes narrowed at Max in a death glare until they widened and she snatched her hand away.
Max continued to rally sympathy for his cause as Charlotte kept her face angled away from Alex, her fingers tucked neatly under her thighs.
Taking a long sip of his drink, he leaned close to her ear, bracing himself for a hardened rejection. “Looks like I’m not the only guard dog on the premises.”
She tensed and stared straight ahead, her lips barely moving as she replied. “Yeah? Well, it’s not that hard a job, is it? Besides, that was an insulting species-ist statement he made.”
Encouraged by the fact she responded at all, he shuffled his chair a fraction closer. “You have better instincts than Bo. More finesse, too.”
She bit back a smile and leaned against her seat, nodding at Becky’s long-winded story and rolling her eyes at Max. “You think I should consider a career change?”
“I think you should consider a dance,” he offered, sitting back until she pushed out of her chair and walked wordlessly to the dance floor.
He scrambled after her, ignoring Max’s barking laugh while he closed in on his target. She turned to face him, brows lifting as he put his arms around her waist. “It’s not a slow dance.”
“Who cares?” he muttered, nudging her arms with his elbows. “We can be that couple everyone rolls their eyes about but secretly wants to be.” When her mouth opened to reply, he ducked down to whisper into her ear. “Just because we aren’t one, doesn’t mean we can’t make ’em hate us.”
Her arms rose to his neck as she relented. “Do you ever do something and just know it’s a huge mistake, but you do it anyway?”
“You mean like every time I see you?” he muttered, tightening his hold when she tensed again. “I’m not kidding. Every step of the way, I’ve known I was going to regret going deeper in.”
She relaxed slightly, her thumbs grazing the back of his neck. “So do you?”
“Regret it?” he asked, looking down at her. “I might in a few hours, but no. Not yet.”
She nodded, her gaze locked on the lights behind his shoulder.
He adjusted his hold on her. “How about you? Wishing you weren’t so damn good with animals yet?”
“You shouldn’t be joking about it,” she admonished, her eyes darting among the dancers. “Especially not in public.”
“They aren’t paying any attention to us.” He chuckled. “Besides, I don’t want to know the answer.”
The song ended, a shrill guitar riff signaling the start of the next one. He released her, the loss of the warmth of her hands on his neck immediately noticeable as he followed her off the floor, grabbing her hand before they reached the table. “I’m going to head out.”
She looked up at him in confusion. “Why?”
“Because right now, I’m in a good zone. The ball’s still in your court, even if Max tried to force a serve.” He glanced over at Max, grinning when Max gave him a crude gesture. “Have fun tonight and try to keep that Neanderthal out of trouble.”
She tucked her hands into her back pockets. “’Night, Alex.”
*
Charlotte toweled her hair off and flopped onto the sofa, flicking on the television to keep her company in the darkness. It had been an ordeal, but she’d gotten Max safe and sound to his apartment, even going so far as to remove his shoes for him when he fell facedown onto his bed.
Her duty was done.
She fired off a quick text to Jonas to remind him Becky had his car keys before she settled back in the cushions and tapped on Alex’s name. “So is there an application process to get into the whole guard dog thing?”
Forcing her attention to the TV, she held her phone in a death grip until it buzzed.
“Informal interview with an observation component. You interested?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I have some questions.”
Little bubbles rippled across her messenger app as he took his time responding. “Of course you do. Call?”
Without thinking, she opened his contact info and placed the call, holding her breath until she heard his voice. “So are these questions numbered?”
“Hi to you, too,” she grumbled. “Number one. What happens when you track down the last guy?”
He went quiet for a moment. “Technically, it means a return to the underworld for a reassignment. But I have it on good authority I may be granted a bit of a reprieve.”
“So there’s a good chance you’ll just poof away,” she stated, her voice flat despite the sinking in her stomach. “Which would pretty much nullify any other questions I have.”
“There’s a chance anyone could poof away,” he argued. “Hell, you could be killed on the highway to wor—You know what? I can’t go there. Yeah, there’s a chance I could lose my request for release.”
She pushed herself up against the armrest. “Okay. We’ll leave that in the irrelevant pile.” Alex grunted in response, his mood obviously souring from earlier in the night. “Question two. Do you age?”
“That’s a tough one,” he muttered, cursing quietly as something clattered in the background. “In the underworld, no. Here, yes, but at a reduced speed. And the longer I go between visits to hell, the faster I age topside. Make sense?”
“So in twenty years, you’
ll look like you’re in your forties if you stay here,” she clarified, unsure why it mattered so damn much.
He chuckled. “I suppose you looking ahead twenty years bodes okay for me. Yeah, I’ll probably be graying. Maybe sporting a beer gut, too. Next question.”
Staring blankly at the TV, she frowned. “Actually, I don’t think I have another.”
“Then it’s my turn,” he countered. “Come over.”
Her brows shot up. “That’s not a question.”
“Fine. Come over, please?” he amended.
She paused.
The debate had been long over in her heart, but her head was struggling to keep up. “I need to think about it.”
“Don’t bother.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alex tossed his phone onto his bed in frustration, swearing as it bounced off the mattress onto the floor. He hefted his bed up and snatched his duffel bags from the storage underneath. “I don’t need this,” he snarled, yanking open his closet and slamming his clothes into the first bag.
I need to think about it.
He emptied his drawers onto the pile and zipped the bag closed, sliding it across the floor toward the door and opening the next one, ignoring his buzzing phone beside the bed.
He’d been so certain they’d turned a corner, so convinced when he left the tavern that Charlotte had made up her mind.
I need to think about it.
Knocking everything from his medicine cabinet into the bag, he shoved his wet towels on top and stormed into the kitchen.
He could head north for a few months. Maybe work alongside Bo for a bit until they dealt with the Pirithous. Head down to Hades for a few years, maybe make the trek back to Olympus.
What he couldn’t do was this.
It fucking hurt.
Scanning the kitchen, he packed all the sealed food into one cupboard for the next tenant, kneeling down to find a garbage bag for the rest when headlights lit up the trailer. He got to his feet, shoving the bags under the table to avoid tripping him up as he looked out the window.
Charlotte.
She was out of the car before the engine had a chance to shut off fully, one hand yanking the elastic from her ponytail while she knocked hard on his door.
He unlocked it, pushing the door open enough for her to fling it open as she stepped inside and pulled it closed.
“I don’t need to think about it.”
He crossed his arms and stepped back. “Not anymore you don’t.”
She tugged her phone from her back pocket, her chest heaving. “I’ve been calling nonstop for fifteen minutes.”
He bent down to grab the abandoned garbage bag and snapped it open. “And I’ve been busy.”
Her eyes darted around the trailer and she took another step in. “Alex.”
“I know,” he snarled, hurt and frustration overtaking his control. “You have questions. You want guarantees. You have reservations. Well, I have nothing more to hand over, Charlotte. You already have it all.” He leaned against the fridge. “Just go, okay? Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe.”
She held her ground, her dark eyes narrowing. “You’re angry.”
Running his hands over his face, he rolled his shoulders out. “I’m not angry,” he groaned, her proximity destroying whatever rage had been building. “Dammit, Charlotte. Can we just not do this anymore? Maybe just shake hands, go our separate ways, and chalk the past few months up to bad astrological signs or something?”
“Is that real, too?”
He dropped his arms. “Seriously?”
She walked up to him and intertwined her fingers with his, tightening her hold when he recoiled. “I’m sorry.” She reached up and pushed his hair behind his ear. “After you hung up, it hit me. All these questions I have? And trust me, there are a lot more than you can imagine. I want to ask them. But not like this.” She waved her hand over the chaotic mess of the trailer. “I want to ask them when we’re driving to the mall, or when we’re picking up groceries, or when I’m kicking your ass at the gym.”
She gave him a cheerful smile and scooped up his other hand, undeterred by his sullen silence. “Though no matter how many times I ask, I really don’t want to know anything about your trail of goddesses.”
He blinked. “What?”
“The goddesses notching your bedpost. I’ll ask, but you cannot tell.”
He stared down at her, his mind firing in fifty directions, none of them involving goddesses. “Seriously?”
She stepped up flush to him and released his hands, wrapping her arms around his waist and dropping her forehead to his chest. “You aren’t the only one with a jealous streak,” she mumbled into his shirt, nudging his arms with her elbows.
The scent of her shampoo started to cloud his head. “Godde… So what are we doing here?”
“Getting together?”
He held his arms away from her, gripping the wall and the back of the dinette. “Not if you’re still unsure, we’re not,” he stated, his voice stronger than his resolve.
She released her hold and leaned back, cupping his chin in her hands. “Absolutely certain on my end,” she replied, rising up on her toes and tilting his head to the side.
When her lips hit his throat, his hands flexed. “And if I’m not certain?”
“Then I’ll get a good dose of karma, won’t I?” she whispered, trailing her lips to his ear. “I’ll give you a few days to think about it.”
Screw. That.
She had barely backed away when his arms locked around her and he dove for her lips. “If you’re game, I’m game,” he murmured before slipping his tongue into her mouth, his knees almost buckling when her fingers wove into his hair and she held him to her.
Any finesse he had was drowned out by an intense urgency to be closer to the woman who was roughly shoving his shirt up his stomach with one hand and yanking the neckline down with the other. The snapping of seams was drowned out by his own panting as her tongue moved across his collarbone and her fingers inched their way under the band of his boxers.
“Whoa,” he gasped as she gripped him. “What’s the rush?”
She released him long enough to pull her shirt over her head and toss it onto the sofa. “Time four,” she breathed, biting her lip when he flung his own shirt onto the floor. “I’ll never get bored of this view.”
Backing her up, he gave the counter a quick shake to check how secure it was before he hooked his thumbs in her yoga pants and shoved them down her hips. “You plan on getting this view a lot?” he asked, his fingers grazing her bare skin and sending his lust into overdrive.
“Hell, yes,” she panted, untangling her arms from the cage he’d placed around her and pushing his boxers down. Her foot slid up the back of his leg, her toes hooking into the band of his boxers and pulling them to the floor.
He lifted her onto the counter and glanced down, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t want to know where you practiced that.” He ducked his head down to kiss her, his heart pounding as her knees parted. “You sure you’re up for crossing into time four territory?” he murmured, kissing his way to her ear.
“We practiced enough for it during time three, didn’t we?” she panted, her head falling back as he pushed inside her. “Oh. Yeah.”
Her legs crossed over his hips, her heels digging into his ass as he pumped into her with excruciating slowness. He locked one hand on to the sink, the other slipping under the cup of her bra. “I have the control of a fucking teenager with you,” he breathed into her ear, running his tongue along the shell when she whimpered in response. “We’re going to need to practice for time five a lot to save my ego.”
She laughed, her center tightening around him.
“Whoa,” he gasped, pulling out of her warmth and sliding his fingers through her folds.
Her hips rocked against his hand while he worked her, his own body thrumming on the cusp as her nails dug into his shoulders.
He dropped his head
into the crook of her neck. “You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this,” he muttered, groaning when she trailed one hand up his spine and pulled lightly on his hair. “And that. Fuck.”
Her core started to flutter around his fingers, her breath hitching as he sped up his movements. “Lex… I…” She wrapped one arm around his neck, her hips bucking as he pushed back into her heat.
He gripped her ass as she came, clenching his teeth while he pounded into her.
No way was he going to miss out on this sensation by falling over the cliff himself.
When her thighs finally relaxed their hold on his hips, he released inside her, his own voice sounding miles away as he cursed with the intensity. He was vaguely aware of the sharp tugging of his hair, a move that sent his hips slamming into her as a second wave washed over him.
*
Charlotte combed her fingers through Alex’s hair while his chest heaved, his head buried in her neck. “So you like that, do you?” she asked, grinning when he struggled to push himself up, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
“Uh, yeah.” He looked around the trailer as he straightened, easing her off the counter and using the fridge to balance himself, smirking when he stumbled. “Definitely yes.”
She tugged her yoga pants on and scoured the small living area for her phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning at her covered legs.
She snatched her cell off the floor, checking for cracks in the screen. “Finding the closest place that does takeout breakfasts,” she stated, punching in her request on her browsing app. When he exhaled loudly, she looked over at him, admiring the view as he pulled his boxers over his slim hips. “Hungry?”
“Always.” He flopped onto the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. “I thought you were taking off.”
She froze midtype. “You want me to?”
“No!” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his forehead on her stomach. “No. I was just…yeah. Give me a second and I’ll go with you to pick it up.” He gave her a quick squeeze and stood. “We coming back here?”
Sifting through the restaurant options, she nodded. “I like your place better than mine,” she said absently, flipping through a menu. When he didn’t move, she glanced up at him and smiled. “Pass me my shirt?”
Junkyard Dog Page 27
