Текст книги "Jesse"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Chapter two

Jesse

The blonde chick is pulling on my hand, trying to drag me closer, nattering about how she’d like to decorate my dick with cherries, take a photo and put it up in her art class exhibition. Never heard anything so dumb in my life.

But hey, it’s her class, what the fuck do I care? I laugh, alcohol making everything easier for a while, and I crane my neck to see where the brunette Ev introduced as Amber has gone to. I swear I was looking at her one second and the next she just vanished.

Poof. Gone.

Fuck it, am I seeing things? My alcohol hallucinations normally don’t involve pretty, wide-eyed girls who glare at me, then vanish in smoke.

This is new, and well, sort of exciting. Because it’s new, idiot, I tell myself, but that’s not all. That girl… She reminds me of someone, and it exerts a strange pull on me, like an old, half-faded memory I need to chase after.

So I do, pushing the insistent blonde’s hands off me, ignoring her whiny voice asking me what’s wrong and where I’m going, and start after a certain dark-haired sliver of a dream.

Seth puts a hand on my arm and says something as I pass him by, but his words get lost in the music blasting from the stereo. Another familiar face appears before me—Dylan, my mind informs me, friend of Zane’s—and I sidestep him, so intent on my hazy mission that I almost plow into another blonde.

“Jesse, have a drink with me?” She gives me a hopeful look, and damn, it’s the girl who went down on me in the bathroom. I remember her pouring tequila on my cock and sucking it like she was dying of thirst.

Sadly, that’s all I recall—not her name, or anything else about her.

“Sorry, gotta go.” I send a strained smile her way and brush by. She grabs me from behind, snagging the hem of my T-shirt, and I curse out loud, twisting to shake her off. She’s strong, holding on tight, and I wonder what she thinks will happen if she doesn’t let go, and how much drunker she is than me—when luckily for me someone stumbles into us, and she is forced to let go.

Freedom.

Knocking into the mass of blurry people who are dancing and shifting around the room, I hurry away, not sure where I’m heading. Why the fuck am I going after the brunette anyway? Can’t remember.

The room goes kinda fuzzy and I blink my eyes to clear them. Whoa. Tequila shots sure hit hard, especially on an empty stomach. Maybe I should head to the kitchen instead, see if I can scrounge up something. I could’ve bet I saw tortilla chips and dips at some point, before I got distracted by the chicks of the party.

Chicks.

The brunette.

Where did she go? And why the hell am I still looking for her? My stomach roils dangerously. Dammit, I need some fresh air.

It was the look on her face, I think fuzzily as I stagger toward the main door that seems half open. When the blonde and I had laughed at the image of my dick decorated with cherries, the girl got a look of panic on her fine features. Her eyes had gone wide with fear.

Why would laughter scare her? Ah, a riddle. A question I want an answer to. A game.

I know all about games. I snort to myself as I push the door open and stumble outside, onto the staircase landing. And that feeling of déjà vu lingers, like an itch under my skin.

Especially when I see her there, with her back to me, leaning beside a narrow window. The night outside is lit up with neon from the huge sign atop a bar next door, and it turns her face a ghostly blue. Her eyes flick to me as the noise from the party spills out, and she frowns.

God, she’s damn pretty with her dark hair and pale skin, wide blue eyes and soft lips—and man, those curves… The girl has curves to die for.

I pull the door closed behind me, pause for a moment, and then walk over to her. She doesn’t looked very pleased to see me. Scratch that, she doesn’t look pleased at all. I fight a wince under the gale of her scowl.

“There you are,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Why did you run away?”

Her lips purse, and damn if it’s not a pretty mouth in an even prettier face. “Run from what?”

“Me.” I waggle my brows at her. “I know I look intimidating,” waggle-waggle, “but I don’t bite, not unless asked.”

She groans. “Christ. If there isn’t anything you want, could you please shut the hell up?”

Ow. She doesn’t mean what she said. Nah. “I want to know your name.”

“It’s Amber.”

See? “Hi, Embers.”

She gives me a look that could freeze hell and repeats the name slowly, dragging every sound out. “It’s Am-ber.”

Guess I deserved that. Score, though. Definitely score. Got under her skin a little there. “It’s just a pet name.”

“I’m not your pet,” she snaps. “I don’t want a pet name. My name is fine, and you can call me that.”

Whoa. “So…” I clear my throat, try to salvage the situation. “Nice party, huh?”

“The party sucks. And you suck, too.”

“No, I don’t. Though there was definitely some sucking going down tonight.” I grin, showing her all my teeth. I fiddle with the leather band around my wrist and wait for her reaction.

She doesn’t disappoint. She clucks her tongue, a noise of disgust. “God, don’t you have anywhere else you need to be?” Her hand goes to her pendant, an interesting tangle of wire and white beads in the shape of a rose that catches the light from the window.

“Nah. Nobody’s looking for me. You can have me for a while longer.”

“I don’t want to have you. Go away.”

Damn. She’s a tough nut to crack. Worse still, earlier she’d looked at me like I was candy, and now she looks at me like I’m dogshit under her shoe.

Can’t remember stepping on her fucking toes. Then again, what’s new? I annoy people. That’s why they don’t keep me around for long.

See, Helen? Told you.

Keeping the smile on, I lean on the other side of the window, sucking in the cool night air. I fumble in my pocket for my pack of smokes and my lighter. I feel unaccountably nervous, which is annoying me. What the hell do I have to be nervous about?

Let her glare. I’m immune to others’ opinions of me.

I pull out a cigarette and stick it in my mouth, then lift the lighter and draw my first lungful of toxic smoke, grinning again when she turns her gaze away.

Ah. Score.

It’s strangely satisfying to get people even more riled up with me than they were to start with. I guess it touches a dark place inside of me where my anger at the world festers—at its pettiness, its ugliness, its unfairness.

Hell, what did I do to piss her off in the first place, anyway? How is her bad mood my fault? Screw the bitch.

I can’t help looking at her, though, through the smoke I blow through barely parted lips. She hasn’t moved, despite her obvious annoyance at me, and her fall of long dark hair gleams like silk. The harsh light picks out her upturned nose and smooth cheek, the long dark lashes framing pale eyes.

Her short dress sparkles, silver threads that are woven in the dark blue textile catching the neon glow. Her ass is a perfect heart, her tits heavy, and her legs are long and shapely. For a second I wonder what she’d look like, naked underneath me, those long legs wrapped around my waist.

Shit. I suck in smoke and almost choke on it as the mental image slams into my brain. “Fuck.” I bend over, coughing.

She huffs. I thought she’d find my choking to death amusing, but not even in my dying throes can I get this girl to crack a smile.

“So,” I finally manage to draw breath, “I heard you’re moving in here, with Kayla. This makes this practically your party.”

“This isn’t my party. It’s Ev’s and Kayla’s.”

Huh. Fair enough. “Have you known them long?”

She tenses, and I have no clue why. “Only just met Kayla today. I’ve known Ev for a while, though.”

“But you’re from around here, right?”

“What’s with the third degree?” Her glare is back full force, and I blink.

What’s up with you? I wanna ask, but refrain.

“I was just making conversation,” I mutter, stubbing out my cigarette on the window sill. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

She glances my way and opens her mouth, then snaps it shut when the door behind us whines as it opens.

Heels clack on the floor.

“Jesse, babe, been looking everywhere for ya,” a female voice slurs, and arms wrap around me from behind. “Come back inside.”

Not again.

“You go.” I try to disentangle myself, but the chick behind me clings to me like a leech. She reeks of alcohol. “Hell.”

“I think you should,” Amber says, her voice flat. “I promise I won’t cry.”

“I don’t know about that. What if you do?” I push the other girl back with one hand and keep her at arm’s length. Unbelievably, she keeps trying to come back. “I bet you’ll miss my good looks and my clever comments.”

“You’re clearly delusional.”

A grin pulls at my lips. “Sex is great at curing delusions, or so I hear.”

She gives an incredulous snort. “Dream on.”

“I swear.”

“If sex could cure you, you’d be cured already.”

Ow.

Score: Amber.

“Never hurts to give it another try,” I say, grinning at her. “Never give up, that’s my motto.”

“You know, I couldn’t care less about your motto.”

I wince. God, what’s this power this chick has to stab me so deep? And why should I care if she thinks badly of me?

“Just… go back to your girl and let her help you out.” She scowls and waves at the blonde, who’s giving us confused looks.

“She’s not my girl.” I shrug with one shoulder. “But if you’re interested, maybe I can convince her to try a threesome.”

Amber’s cheeks color and her eyes flash. Man, she’s gorgeous. “I’m not interested.”

“In threesomes, or in men?” I quip, my mouth on autopilot, like it often gets when I’m agitated. “’Cuz I could watch you get off with blondie here, I wouldn’t mind. Or wait, we could also invite Kayla, your new roommate. She looked interested.”

“Screw you, asshole.” Amber pushes off the wall strides to the open door. “Not interested in you. Stay away from me.”

I laugh, but something painful twists inside my chest. I have no idea what it means, and what to do about it, so I just watch her enter the apartment and vanish in the party crowd.

Fuck. Me.

“Jesse,” the blonde whines, red lipstick smeared all over her face as she pouts at me. “I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna puke.”

I let her go as if burned, then grab her again when she sways on her high heels.

Goddammit. My chest still feels too tight, but I ignore it with the ease of long practice and haul the blonde back inside and straight to the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, a typical party night—and yet something has changed.

I have this feeling I haven’t had in a while—the feeling I don’t know where I’m going and what I’m doing.

I know the cure for it, though. As soon as I make sure the blonde is not in need of a trip to the ER, I’ll grab a bottle of tequila and settle down with a mission to erase all emotion and wipe out all memories.

Sometimes it even works.

***

“Hey, Jesse, whatcha doing?” Rafe lifts his fist, and I bump it with mine—or try to. I manage to miss it. I see double by this point, so it’s no wonder.

“Heya. Wassup?” Damn, my mouth isn’t cooperating. My hands either, I realize, when Rafe easily pulls a glass—empty, I notice—from my lax fingers and sets it on a low table. Has to be low, ’cuz I’m sitting on the floor, my back to the wall, and it’s at eye-level.

Unless I’ve grown bigger. Kinda like the Alice eating that cake in Wonderland. It was in a book I found in one of the foster homes I’d passed through, but then I lost it.

Like I lose everything important in my life.

Did I eat cake? Can’t remember eating anything. I often forget about food. There was a time I tried hard to forget about food, because I didn’t have any, and now I can have it, I keep forgetting about it.

Figures.

“Man, you’re so fucking out of it.” Rafe grumbles as he thrusts a plastic cup into my hand, liquid sloshing inside. “Drink.”

I take a sip and grimace. “What’s this?”

“Water with sugar and salt. Chug it down already. No alcohol poisoning on my shift.” Rafe scowls at me through the blond hair falling in his face.

Second person I managed to piss off tonight, blondes excepted.

“Yessir,” I mumble and down the water in two gulps. I somehow end up with some of it on my T-shirt, and it makes me snort.

“Yo, Jesse.” Another tall form appears behind Rafe, and the Mohawk tells me I’ve drawn Zane’s eye.

Oh shit.

“Damn. Is he as piss-ass drunk as he looks?” Zane rubs a hand over his face, and the look of disappointment on it cuts deep. He’s my mentor, my teacher, the one who took me in.

Then again, feels like tonight everything cuts too deep, like I’m a reopened wound, letting the blades of words sink all the way to the bone.

“I’m okay,” I mutter and push to my feet, holding on to the sofa as the floor tilts. “See?”

“The hell you are.” Zane huffs. “What’s the matter with you, kid?”

It’s always funny how we calls me that, not being any older, but tonight I don’t find it funny.

“Everything’s fine.” Has to be fine, and I was wrong: alcohol isn’t helping me forget and get numb tonight. It rubs into my scabs, reviving every single fucking memory. “Perfect.”

“I’m driving you home,” Rafe says, grabbing my shoulder as I stumble on empty beer bottles. “Come on.”

And I go along. I paste a wide smile on my face and stagger out of the apartment, keeping my gaze straight ahead and my heart lodged somewhere in my throat, telling myself I don’t care what happens, what others think of me and where I will end up tomorrow.

If life has taught me one thing is that it makes no difference if I care, if I try—and fuck the world, anyway.

Chapter Three

Amber

Pre-party, the apartment looked small but cozy and clean. Post-party, it looks like a bomb went off—a bomb filled with beer bottles, plastic cups and, for some reason, multicolored confetti. Probably napkins, though why someone would shred them into tiny pieces is beyond me.

Much in life is beyond me. I’ve long given up trying to understand people. Seriously. Trying is a waste of time. Instead, I let life flow around me, over me, let people brush me by, and do my best to keep my head down and be invisible.

In my experience, attention is a bad, bad thing. It leads to interest, and interest can turn bad more times than not. Avoid interest, avoid attention, and you avoid problems.

Which is why Jesse has unsettled me so much, I muse as I gather plastic dishes and cups, throwing them into a huge trash bag. There was interest and curiosity in his gaze. I had somehow, mysteriously, drawn the attention of the hottest guy in the room, and it only served to frighten me.

I need nothing from him. No attention, no interest, thank you very much. I hope he got the message. I’m perfectly fine without any more men in my life. I mean, I have my dad back in Chicago, and I can’t avoid Micah and Ev’s friends completely.

That’s more than enough. Way more. Maybe more than I can handle.

My hands are shaking, and I sink down on the sofa. Something crinkles under my ass, and I cringe, pulling out a plastic spoon.

Rolling my eyes, feeling a bit better, I chuck it into the trash bag and sigh. Why can’t I chuck my fears in there as well? How can the past keep me prisoner after so many years? How can I break the chains? How can I fight something that is supposed to be over?

“God, I’m beat.” Kayla drops on the couch next to me and leans back, closing her eyes.

Her blond-streaked hair is caught in a messy bun on top of her head, strands escaping and falling in her face. I barely recognize her dressed in sports shorts and an oversized T-shirt, a far cry from the slinky dress she had on last night.

“So, what did you think of the boys?” She nudges me with her elbow, and I flinch. She doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s some seriously hot eye-candy, girl. I’d love me one.”

“Any?” I lift a brow at her, trying to figure her out.

“Gawd, that Jesse’s sexy. Love his eyes. And his body. And his lips.” She giggles. “I don’t think there’s anything about him I don’t like, actually. And I’m not the only one.”

“Oh?” A fiery blush is climbing my neck. Crap, am I so obvious?

“Cassie, the girl working with Ev,” Kayla says. “She has a crush the size of Texas on Jesse.”

Oh. Okay, awesome. I nod, trying to process this. “So… they’re together?”

“Who, Cassie and Jesse?” Kayla laughs and wiggles her bare toes in the air. Her nails are painted a bright pink. “You don’t know Jesse. I mean, you just arrived, so it makes sense.”

“Yeah?” My curiosity gets the better of me, and I turn to face Kayla fully. “What about him?”

She shrugs. “It’s not a secret. He’ll fuck anything with tits and a vagina. And Cassie, well…she’ll sleep with anything that has a dick. Sorry to be crude, but it’s the truth.”

I fall back on the sofa cushions, letting the trash bag drop to the floor.

Of course I knew that about Jesse. I mean, hello. Talk about an introduction. He’d practically fallen out of the bathroom after doing whatever it was he’d been doing with that blonde. A blonde whose name he didn’t even remember thirty seconds later.

And then he’d been with another. Jesus. “And you still want him?”

“Uh-huh.” Kayla sighs dreamily.

“You just said he’s a manwhore.”

“Pfff.” She waves a hand. “Nothing wrong with ogling him, is there?”

“Ogling.” I shake my head, fighting a smile. “I see.”

“And the occasional touch. Doesn’t hurt, does it? I just want…” She wiggles her fingers and makes grabby hands. “Want to feel his abs, you know? They look, like, rock-hard. And his pecs. Wouldn’t mind feeling his biceps, either. I’d totally grab his ass, too.”

“You’re crazy.” I laugh. “I mean it.”

“Crazy in lust.” She bobs her head to imaginary music. “Oh yeah, baby.” Then she stops and squints at me. “Wait, you mean you’re not dying to touch him? Now be honest. We’re roommates and all. First rule of roommateship: always be honest about boys.”

“Kayla, I…” Don’t do boys. Don’t want to think about boys. “Fine.”

She leans forward until she looks into my eyes and says in a mock-deep voice: “Don’t you wanna feel up Jesse’s abs? Speak the truth.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t want to feel Jesse’s abs, pecs, ass or any other part of his anatomy.”

“Funny.” She leans back, yawns. “I could’ve sworn you do.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Could be the way you turn red and shivery whenever I mention him. He’s a handful, isn’t he?” She winks, just like he did, and on cue familiar heat sweeps over my face. “Gotcha. You lied. You’d so feel Jesse’s pecs and ass, you naughty girl. And you broke rule number one, about not lying when it comes to boys, which means you get to clean the toilets.”

I huff, my mouth falling open. “Seriously?”

“Ev should’ve explained the rules. I’m so gonna kick that girl’s ass,” my new roommate says and leaves me on the couch gaping after her. “We’ll discuss rule number two later.”

Like hell.

***

“Isn’t Kayla awesome?” Ev gushes, her arm around my shoulders as we walk down the street in the late afternoon. Summer is approaching and the breeze is balmy, brushing over my face with invisible fingers.

“She’s cool.” I chew on my lip, thinking about what she said.

Eye-candy. Cassie wanting him. Hell, every girl dying to touch him.

“Something the matter?”

I shrug against her arm. I don’t let many people get as close to me as Ev, but I’ve known her for most of my life. We went to the same elementary school, then high school. Her family lived a street away from mine. I trust her like few people in the world.

“She can be a bit too much sometimes,” Ev concedes to my unspoken doubt. “Did she give you the rules of roommateship?”

I grin despite my misgivings. “Yep. Be honest about boys, never wash dishes in the morning…”

“…Your stuff is my stuff, and my stuff is my stuff, too…”

“…Wednesday is romantic comedy and ice cream night.” I giggle. “Is she serious?”

“Deadly. Plus she changes the rules as she goes, on a whim.”

I fall silent, wondering if this cohabitation thing will work out. Doubtful.

“On some days you may want to assassinate her,” Ev says, steering me toward the entrance of a café. Crescendo, reads the sign over the door. “But on the whole she’s good fun, you’ll see.”

I nod vaguely as we move between small, crowded tables, the air thick with voices and laughter. Freshly-ground coffee and a whiff of vanilla scent the air, underlain with a layer of sweat and human breath.

My hand strays up to my throat, to my choker. I made this one two months ago, when I took my decision to return to Madison. My fingers stroke the smooth planes of the copper plate. I breathe out.

“Here they are,” Ev exclaims, and I recoil. Shit, I thought we’d have a quiet coffee, just the two of us. “Come on.”

“Ev, who’re “they”?”

“Micah, Ocean and Cassie. Micah texted me they’d be here.” She sends me a bright smile. “Don’t be grumpy. They’re nice guys.”

“I bet they are.” Sometimes I wonder if there’s any place in the world for the antisocial like myself.

I let her drag me to their table, and I nod at them, hoping my smile doesn’t look fake. Normally Ocean’s pretty face and crazy hair would be the first thing I’d notice, but since Kayla’s comment I find my gaze drawn to Cassie.

She’s so perfect, blonde and blue-eyed, skin smooth and pale, and a petite body that seems to have all the right curves. If she likes Jesse, then I guess it’s a given fact they’ll end up together. Beautiful people tend to gravitate toward each other.

Besides, they apparently even think alike. A match made in heaven.

No reason why the thought of him with another girl should sting like broken glass. None at all.

I find myself seated between Ev and Ocean. He leans in and smiles warmly.

“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party.” His voice is light, his eyes and hair the color of summer sky. “I’m Ocean Storm.”

“Ocean Storm? Really?”

He winces and shifts away. “Yeah, really.”

“I’m sorry.” Shitshitshit. “Hey, I—”

“It’s okay. I know it’s funny. Go ahead and laugh.”

“It’s not funny.” My voice turns sharp and my insides churn, and I hate that I know exactly what he means and how he feels. I wonder how badly he was bullied because of his name. “I like it.”

He says nothing, but I could swear his eyes brighten a bit more. He sips his black coffee, half-hiding behind his mug, while Cassie leans over the table.

“Amber, right?” Her voice is a velvet purr. “We met at the party. I’m Cassie, I used to work with Ev. She says you’ve been friends forever.”

“That’s right.” I detect no jealousy in her big eyes. I like that.

“But you lived in Chicago for a few years?”

“Yeah.”

“Must be nice. I’d love to go to Chicago someday.” She turns her coffee cup in its saucer. “Someday, yeah…”

She seems nice, and her smile is dreamy and genuine. It’s hard not to like her, although she’s so pretty and likes Jesse.

Jeez, Amber. And why should that be a problem? Christ.

I need something to do with my hands, so I brighten when Ev waves to draw a waiter’s attention. A cappuccino would be nice, plus I can spin the cup, much like Cassie is doing, stare into it, sip at it, bang it around in its saucer… so many options, all preferable to interacting with people. With humans.

I think I know how cats must feel most of the time.

“Hey, guys,” a bright feminine voice says, “what can I get you?”

Our waitress is here, and her tanned face is familiar somehow.

“Meg, how’s it going?” Micah lifts his hand, and Meg gives him a high five. “How’s Rafe?”

Oh, right, she’s Rafe’s girlfriend.

“He’s all right. Trying to straighten out the paperwork for the shop. Not a happy camper, I can tell you, but it needs to be done after his uncle’s lies.” She grins, all white teeth and sparkling dark eyes. These boys sure know how to choose cute girls. I guess my theory that pretty attracts pretty stands.

“His uncle’s lies?” I glance at Ev, hoping for an explanation.

“Long story,” she says. “Tell you later.”

“All these boys have long stories to tell,” Cassie mutters, quirking a grin at Ocean. His handsome features are locked in a scowl.

“That son of a bitch,” he mutters. “His uncle, that asshole, almost stole Damage Control from Rafe. From all of us.”

Okay, he does sound like a major ass. “From all of you? I thought the shop belongs to Rafe?”

“It does.” Ocean lets out a long breath. “But he and Zane made it a home for all of us. Zane taught us the job. Rafe helps us with the rent. All of us think of Damage as our home.”

“Okay, back up. All of you?” I don’t know why I’m starting to relax around these guys. Ocean makes me feel at ease. Micah, too, and Ev is right beside me, so maybe that’s why. “Who’re all of you?”

“The Damage Boyz,” Megan says and gives the two guys at our table an affectionate look. “Micah, Jesse, Ocean, Seth and Shane.”

Long story? More like a saga. One of those that take up a whole shelf in a bookshop.

“I’ll send someone to take your order,” Megan says as I’m trying to process the conversation.

Zane and Rafe took them in. Zane taught them the job, and Rafe helps with the rent… I want to ask more questions, but I’m not even sure how to pose them discreetly. Discretion isn’t my strong suit.

And in the end it doesn’t matter, because our waiter chooses that precise moment to arrive and take our order. When I look up, I find myself staring into a pair of striking green-blue eyes and a sexy grin that takes my breath away.

Oh, crap. Crap, crap. He’s our waiter?

At this rate I expect everyone I met at that damn party to make an appearance. Resisting the urge to check if the rest of them are hiding under the table or behind my back, I sit ramrod-straight, duck my head and school my face into a blank mask.

Draw no attention. I’m not here. You can’t see me.

“Embers,” Jesse says, his grin widening, his gaze zooming in on my face. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, “fancy that.”

The whole gang is here, but I all I see is him. Dammit.

He’s dressed in a soft gray shirt that molds over his chest and shoulders, and black pants. His hair is so short it’s just a shadow on his head, making his luminous eyes look huge.

Crap. Why can’t I look away?

“How’s the new job, J?” Micah nods at him. “Is Meg bossing you around?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Jesse chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that makes me shiver.

“Hey, Jesse James.” Ocean lifts his coffee cup in a salute. “Bold, bad, and brave.”

Why do I keep feeling everyone around me is speaking Chinese? “Jesse James? Not Lee?”

“Wait. You don’t know who Jesse James is?” Ocean lifts his brows.

“He was a criminal,” Jesse says, “who robbed trains.”

“He stole from the rich and gave to the poor,” Micah says. “He was kind.”

“I know who he was,” I interject, but I’m overruled.

“He was killed,” Jesse mutters, looking away and shifting on his feet, “shot and buried.”

A shadow passes over his face, and it sends a pang through me. The others fall silent, shifting awkwardly in their seats. I have no clue what the dark undercurrent of their jokes could mean.

This is a dangerous game.

“All right,” I say into the stretch of silence. “How about some coffee, then, JJ?”

He lifts his head, a shadow behind his eyes. Then his dark brows lift, and his brilliant gaze lights up like a sunny morning. “You gave me a nickname!”

Why does he look so pleased? “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you damn well did.” He winks at me. “I’ll be JJ for you, babe.”

I sputter. “What? Everyone calls you something.”

“But not what you called me.” He bends over the table, braced with one hand on the surface, so that he looks straight into my eyes. His grin flashes again, blinding. “And you’re not everyone.”

I’m caught in his gaze, a moth in a web. My heart races. Goosebumps run over my skin. My nipples pebble, and fire fills my veins.

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Well, I’d love a latte,” Ev says, shattering the web, breaking the spell, and I fall back in my chair, sucking in much needed air.

“A latte it is,” he says, his voice a bit rough, and he straightens, pulling out his order pad. “And for you, Embers?”

“Embers?” Micah frowns. “What sort of name is that?”

“Exactly my thoughts,” I mutter.

Jesse sighs, shakes his head, bites his lip on a smile. He’s unnervingly cute like that, and so sexy I ache deep inside from wanting him so much.

Holy crap. Not good. “A latte for me, too,” I say quickly and push my chair back with a screech. “Be back in a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ev says and grabs her purse, but I shake my head.

“Need a minute,” I whisper, and she stills, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jesse is staring hard at me, his gaze almost tangible, and I know everyone is looking, wondering why I’m taking off like that.

“She just needs the restroom,” Ev says, turning to Jesse, and he blinks, as if coming out of a daydream.

“Of course. That way.” He turns and points, muscles flexing on his bare arm, making his colorful tattoos dance. “If you want, I can show you, I’m going that—”

“No, it’s fine,” I snap and stride past him in the indicated direction. “No need.”

“Jesse, stay,” I hear Micah bark, and I have a weird urge to laugh as I bolt between tables, spot the ladies toilets and run to hide inside.

***

Someone taps on the restroom door as I wash my hands, stalling. It’s a quaint little restroom, like the café that houses it, with flowery wallpaper and a wrought-iron mirror. A vase with dried flowers stands on a low table.

The knocking comes again. The handle starts to turn.

“Just a minute!” I shout and turn off the faucet, then reach for the paper towels. “Don’t—”

A bass voice rumbles through, startling me so badly I let the paper towels fall to the floor. “Hey, Embers, just making sure you’re okay.”

The handle turns again, this time all the way—because of course the lock wouldn’t work, typical of quaint little places—and the door opens.

“Wait!”

Too late. Jesse is standing in the opening, filling it from side to side and bottom to top, one muscular arm casually braced on the frame. “So are you?”

Unconsciously I step back, retreating until I hit the toilet. “Am I what?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Okay. Are you okay?”

He’s blocking the door, and I feel cornered, trapped. My heart is trying to climb up my throat. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Why are you scared of me?” He gives me his easy grin, and I want to scream. “I told you, I—”

“Back off, Jesse.”

“Sure thing.” A dark flash goes through his bright eyes, and his mouth twists briefly. Then he nods and gives me a ghost of a smile. “No problem.”