Текст книги "Sinful Longing"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHAPTER SIX
The band sang of eyes of the bluest skies, jarring her awake.
Her ring tone. Guns N’ Roses.
Bleary-eyed and still groggy, she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand.
Squinting, she spied the edge of the red number on her clock radio—eight-thirty in the morning.
On a Sunday.
Crap.
It was too early for anyone to be calling with good news.
An all too-familiar burst of panic blasted through her when she saw “unknown number” on the screen. When Sam had called from his many stints in rehab, the number had always shown up as unknown. Likewise, the times he’d rung her up while out partying, plastered and begging her to take him back, he would block his number.
Logically¸ Elle knew that Sam wasn’t calling her from the grave. But a rabid fear pulsed through her nonetheless. She swiped her finger across the screen, sitting up in bed and doing her best to clear the sound of sleep from her voice in case it was a client or one of the kids she counseled at the center. They all had her number. It was on the website for the center, along with her bio about how much she enjoyed being involved in helping the kids in the community.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Marcus.”
“Hey there. What’s going on?” Marcus was one of the boys who played hoops at the center from time to time. “Are you trying to get into the center on a Sunday? We don’t open until ten. One of the volunteers should be there then.”
“No, actually. I’m not,” he said, speaking tentatively, the vocal equivalent of shuffling his feet. “I’m sorry to bug you so early. I’ve been thinking about what we’ve been talking about, and I’m finally ready to do something.”
“Okay. Tell me more.” She knew a little bit of his story. He hadn’t told her many specifics but he had started coming around the center a few months ago, when he’d graduated from high school and moved out of his family’s house. Lately he’d been opening up to her. He’d been raised by his father and a stepmother; his biological mother was out of the picture. She didn’t know much more than that, but his biological mother had other children, older siblings he wanted to connect with.
He cleared his throat and seemed to be drawing up his courage. “I just feel like I spent my whole life not knowing anything about my family and where I came from, and now I do. And my dad didn’t want me to find them, but they’re here in Vegas, and I’m not living at home anymore. So this is my choice. I need to do this.”
She tossed back the covers and headed to her closet as she chatted with him. “Then you should do it. Something is compelling you to connect with them, and you need to listen. Family is a powerful pull and a potent bond, and you’ve never had a chance to get to know them,” she said as she pulled on jeans, crooking her head against the phone as she zipped them up.
“But what if they don’t want to meet me?” he asked in a flurry, as if he had to spill out all the words in order to say them. She heard the tumultuousness in his voice. One moment he was courageous, the next he was hampered by fear. She wished she could cheer him on in person on this mission.
“Look, Marcus. I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. They might have zero interest in getting to know you. They might not care. They might be so busy with their lives that they could give a rat’s butt. But this is in you,” she said, feeling a bit like a football coach giving a half-time speech. “You are trying to take a big step, wanting to connect with siblings you’ve never known, and that is bold.”
There was something quite soap opera-esque about his quest. The long-lost half brother…appearing out of nowhere…showing up on the doorstep of older brothers. But as soapy as it seemed on the surface, Elle had seen enough of the drama and danger in the world to know these scenarios were far more frequent than anyone would think.
“My dad once mentioned that one of them was closest to my mom, so I think I’ll start with him. Plus, he has a dog, so he’s out and about a lot in his neighborhood.”
Her antenna went up. “How do you know that?”
“Um.”
“Marcus, have you been following them around?” she asked sternly.
“Maybe,” he muttered.
“That’s not a good idea. It can freak people out. You need to be direct. If you want to meet them you need to man up and go over there. Don’t follow people. It’s creepy. Makes them think you’re dangerous. You’re not, are you?” she said, like a teacher doling out tough love. Some days she had to play that role with the boys and girls at the center. But hell, that was why she went into counseling and social work—for the chance to make a difference with young people who needed it most. Some of the kids who hung out at her center had been teetering on the edge: living in poverty, raised by drug-addicted parents, born to fathers or mothers in jail, or plain damn neglectful ones.
And gangs. Lord knew some of these kids had been tempted. Street gangs, like the Royal Sinners, preyed upon the young and the vulnerable, promising them riches through crime. She hated that gang; hated the way they tempted the kids; hated the way they ruined lives.
“I’m not dangerous. I swear. I’m just…” He stopped speaking, letting his voice trail off.
“You’re scared,” she supplied, speaking softly.
“Yes,” he said in the barest voice.
“Remember what we talked about?”
“Rise above,” he said, echoing Elle’s mantra, which she tried to instill in the kids.
“Yes. Rise above. You can be so much. If your goal is to meet the family you’ve never known, I’m behind you. But you have to stop stalking them. Do not let fear guide you. Rise above it.”
“Okay. I’m going to do it. I’m going to head over to this guy’s home,” he said, his voice stronger and more confident now.
She beamed as she wandered to the kitchen and grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge. “Let me know how it goes. I want a full report,” she said, then ended the call and began cracking eggs and cooking breakfast for her son, who padded out from his bedroom a few minutes later.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her heart went warm all over. Her brain was flooded with pure happiness.
Hi, Mom.
The simplest thing in the world but it was music to her ears.
* * *
Colin scratched his head as he surveyed the six-packs in the beer section at the local Safeway near his brother Ryan’s home. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in eight years, and he honestly wasn’t sure what anybody drank when it came to beer in the first place. But Shannon had told him to grab some brew for their brother Ryan, since he was in some kind of a bad funk, and Ryan was a beer man. If Shannon had asked him to grab tequila, Colin would have been in and out of the liquor store in ten seconds with a beautiful bottle of Patrón—that was like liquid diamonds. Colin could have written a dissertation on the stuff. For many years, tequila was his best friend, his most reliable companion, his steady mate.
Hell, he and tequila had been deeply in love. You never forget your first love, even if you sample others along the way. Colin had started hitting the liquor bottle right after his father was killed when he was thirteen. He’d only flirted with it then—he had friends with older brothers, absent parents, and keys to the liquor cabinet. That was what being buddies with the Royal Sinners did for you. Gave you access to all sorts of shit. Better stuff than alcohol, too. His best friend at the time was Paul Nelson, and Paul’s older brother T.J. introduced the both of them to magic pills, because liquor was too risky for a teenager to pull off—the smell on your breath, the bottles in the trash…
But painkillers? They were the golden path to gliding through high school without your brothers, sister, or grandma knowing what you were up to. Colin had needed to numb the pain of missing his dad, hating his mom, and wishing his life hadn’t taken that turn into pure hell. Oxy was far easier to hide than booze. Stash it in a sock. Stuff it into the bottom of your gym bag. Hide some in a Ziploc in the toe of your shoe. Nobody looked there. No one suspected. Pop a few of those bad boys in the morning and cruise through trigonometry, European history, English lit.
Getting straight As did wonders to hide the problem and kept his family from discovering all the help he got from his little friends.
College was a dream—he didn’t have to worry anymore about his family finding out, so he could party all night, mix pills with tequila, and slam some Adderall the next day to speed up his brain in class. Worked like a charm. He grand-slammed his way through college, acing all his economics and business management classes while high, buzzed, or on speed.
Nothing could stop him.
Nothing except collapsing during the triathlon he’d competed in at twenty-three, dehydrated from spending too much time with Señor Patrón the night before. He’d trained hard for it, too. The Badass Triathlon was not just the standard swim, bike, and run—it also included a rock climb. After you scaled the rock wall, you turned around and did the first three legs in reverse.
It had been hard as fuck. Exhausting as hell. Only for the hardcore athletes, and Colin, a cocky bastard then, was sure he could finish well even hung over.
Nope.
He’d fallen as he climbed, and had he not partied too hard the night before, he’d have fallen correctly, sustaining only a few lacerations.
Instead he landed all wrong, injured his tibia, and passed out in Red Rock Canyon.
Emergency room.
Grandmother called in.
Brothers and sister told.
Job nearly lost.
Rock bottom.
There had been moments in those early days when he’d have given his left arm for another glass and his right for a handful of pills. Now, with eight years clean—no slips, no relapses, no just one drinks—he felt steady and calm. He’d made it through the hell of withdrawal, he’d had the support of friends and family in getting sober, and he relied on a solid network of like-minded men in his recovery support group. Every day, he aimed to live according to a new way of thinking—a sober way—and he honestly wasn’t tempted anymore when he walked past tequila on the shelf, or saw a glass being served at a bar.
But beer? That shit was nasty. He didn’t have a clue what anyone liked, so he grabbed some Corona and headed to the self-checkout. As he slipped his debit card through the register, a flurry of nerves skated up his spine. What if his sponsor Kevin saw him? Sure, he had an ironclad reason to be buying, but shit, he would sound like such a liar.
“Oh, it’s for my brother.”
That was the kind of stuff addicts said when they were falling off the wagon. Nobody lied better than an alcoholic ready to sidle up to the bottle again. Colin took solace in the truth, though. He wasn’t going to touch this stuff. That was why Shannon had asked him to stop by the store. She knew he could handle it. Hell, he was damn proud of himself for proving to his family that every day he was recovering.
And to himself, too. He intended to do that by competing in this year’s Badass Triathlon at the end of the summer. He hadn’t attempted it since his epic fail. But it was his personal quest to finish it this time. Whether he came in first or last didn’t matter. Finishing sober was all he wanted.
Colin paid for the beer and headed out of the store, ready to see Ryan. His brother had had a hell of a day. He’d spent it at Hawthorne, visiting their murderess mother in prison. Apparently she’d finally confessed to him that she’d had their father killed. Colin had never doubted she was guilty, but Ryan had held out hope she’d been framed, and that with the case reopened someone else would be nabbed. True, the detectives were still looking for the gunman’s potential accomplices, but for once and for all, Ryan was as sure of their mother’s guilt as the rest of them were. Now it was Colin’s job, along with Shannon and Michael, to lend some support to their brother.
As he got behind the wheel of his Audi, something nagged at him. Something he’d meant to do last night after he said good-bye to Elle. He snapped his fingers.
“The picture,” he said. The hot sex must have fried his brain. He’d forgotten to text her the image of the kid in the Buick who’d been stalking Shannon—Colin was sure he’d seen the guy around the community center playing basketball. He hunted for it now. But as he scrolled through his photo gallery to fire the picture off to Elle, all his recent images were gone. Right, he’d reset everything on his phone the other day after testing a new fitness app that downloaded a virus. Needless to say, his venture firm wasn’t going to fund that app.
He’d simply get the image from Brent another time. Now, he needed to be with his family.
And later this week, he had a date with Elle.
Well, it was hardly a date.
More like a plan to fuck.
But that was okay. He loved fucking her, and if fucking her was the way to win the heart that he wanted badly, he’d be up to the challenge.
* * *
“No one was there.” Marcus blew out a long stream of air.
“So you try again another time,” Elle said, trying to cheer him up as she untied her roller skates while chatting with Marcus on the phone.
“I guess so,” he said, his voice trailing off.
“Look, just because he wasn’t there this morning doesn’t mean he won’t be the next time. Besides, who’s at their house anymore these days?” she said with a laugh. She’d just finished her workout at the rink, and over at the arcade, Alex hammered the joystick in what looked like a furious game of Frogger. “It’ll probably take a few tries before you find them.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he answered, sounding a touch more hopeful.
She smiled as she tugged off her skates, glad that her words were giving Marcus some kind of courage. “So just go again until you do it. Life is all about risks, right?”
“Risks,” he said, as if he were letting the word marinate. “Right. Risks.”
As she finished the call, she dropped her skates into her bag then joined her son for a round of Frogger, soundly schooling him in the arcade game she’d aced at this very rink back in high school. “It is so much easier to crush you in games at the roller rink than on the Xbox,” Elle said, pumping a fist in victory when her frog successfully evaded more cars, trucks, and traffic than her son’s.
“As if your retro games even count,” he said with a smirk.
“Hey! I didn’t see you complaining about my retro games during practice. You were glued to the screen.”
He shrugged. “I pretended to like it.”
She answered him with a noogie. “What do you say to you, me, fries, and a shake?”
“Mix in a burger and you’re on, T,” he said, calling her by her roller derby name. Only the “T” stood for more than just her alias – it was her word to live by.
“It’s a deal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The basketball arced through the air, swirling once, then twice, around the rim and dropping with a whoosh into the basket.
“No fucking way!”
Rex stared at the ball in amazement as it bounced on the concrete of the court.
Colin held his arms out wide as he stood on the free-throw line. I told you so. “Angle. It’s all angle.”
“You have got to be kidding me!” the boy said, his big eyes rounder than ever. He’d been doubting Colin, all right. Rex was one of the teens who played in the rec center basketball league. He grabbed the ball and held it as if he were weighing it, then he narrowed his eyes at Colin. “Is this like Playoff Gate all over again?”
Colin laughed and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. “I assure you, I did not deflate the basketball. But if I did, I would tell you that no matter what the PSI, I’d still have a greater chance at landing a free throw if I had my arms at this angle,” he said, demonstrating a wider placement of his arms, “than at this angle.” He returned to a tighter alignment. “And I can tell you, too, that if you’re behind the free throw line, you need a smaller angle to make the shot, and if you’re dribbling…” He began moving down the court, while Rex picked up his pace to stay with him. “And you pass the ball to get away from a defender, passing it at a nice straight angle gives you better odds of keeping the ball on your team. Like this.” Colin tossed it neatly to Rex, who snatched the ball and lifted it above his head.
“Smaller angle,” Colin said, correcting him, and Rex made a quick adjustment then watched the ball sail into the net.
“Holy shit,” the teen said as the ball bounced on the court. Rex’s younger brother, Tyler, had joined them, watching from the sidelines, and looked less impressed.
Rex marched over to Colin and slapped his palm. “I still don’t believe you, but a deal is a deal is a deal. You get to tutor me now in business math.”
Colin beamed. For the last year he’d been coaching the rec league and tutoring the teens at the center in business math as part of his personal decision to devote more time to service. He’d lost out on a big deal a year ago, and had felt the first inklings of the familiar urge to bury his frustrations in liquor. Rather than give in, he’d refocused his energies, pouring his time into others. That had helped him fight the good fight and stay on the straight and narrow path.
“It’s all math, man. Everything is math,” he said, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it in place. “You will use math in every fucking area of your life. Chance of hitting a free throw from one-third of the way up the court? Math. Chance of landing a slam-dunk? Math. How much money do I need to pay my bills? Math. Is it worth missing class to sleep in? Comes down to math.”
“What he’s saying is—math is everything,” Tyler said.
“What? You’re on his team now?” Rex said jokingly to his brother.
“Listen to Tyler. He knows what he’s talking about,” Colin said. A few years younger, Rex’s brother dabbled in basketball, but his asthma slowed him down.
“And this is the shit you do for a living?”
Colin took aim at the net and watched the ball soar. “See, I’m not some natural basketball player. I only learned how to hold my own on the court by applying math to the way I play. And yes—this is the shit I do for a living. Every day. Evaluate risk. Study balance sheets. Look at profit and loss statements. And take a gamble as to whether some new technology for phones, or TVs, or gaming, or whatever, is going to change the world.” The ball slinked neatly through the basket. He tossed it to Rex, who took his shot.
“How much green did you bring home last year?” Rex asked.
Colin laughed, shaking his head, as the younger man landed a shot.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No. I’m not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that’s well ahead of the stock market, and it’s also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go. Plus, one of the early seed startups I invested in five years ago went public, and my firm netted a beautiful profit from that sale. A thirty times return.”
Rex’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs, and Colin chuckled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies,” he explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn’t know what he wanted to major in, and Colin was hoping he’d lean toward business. He had some innate interest in it. He just needed a push to see the value in the long term.
“But that’s your goal, right?” he asked.
“You got it. Find the diamond in the rough. Bet big on it before anyone else does. Grow it and watch it turn into a money tree.”
Rex waved his arms enthusiastically. “Oh man, I want a money tree. I want a big, fat money tree that grows greenbacks all year round. Ty, let’s go grow us a money tree.”
“Yeah, right, in the concrete pit at our crappy apartment complex,” Tyler said with a snort from his spot on the sidelines.
“Hey! Watch it. We’ll move up someday.” Rex turned back at Colin and pointed his thumb at Tyler. “I gotta look out for him. Mom’s working too many jobs. She’s never around.”
“That’s why she makes sure you’re here instead of wandering the streets,” Colin said, passing the ball to Rex. “And if you study business, you’ll have a hell of a better shot at growing a money tree than you would by chasing after some get-rich-quick scheme. Invest, nurture, grow, make more. That’s what I do. That’s my job. That’s my passion.” He held out his arm, showing the tattoo there. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.
Rex tucked the ball beneath his elbow and walked closer to see.
“Hey, Rex. I’m hungry,” Tyler interjected.
“Give me a second, Ty. I’ll make you mac and cheese when we get home. My man Colin is training me to be a venture capitalist. Get over here and join us.” Rex turned his attention back to Colin’s ink. “So that’s your mission at work or something? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?”
“Yeah, but in life, too. Means more to me than just work.”
“Like what?” Rex asked.
“It means take big chances. It means stay away from drugs,” Colin said, talking bluntly to the boys as he always did.
Rex sneered. “What do you know about that, Mr. Richie Rich? You probably bathe in Cristal.”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Dude. You think I was born rich? You think I was rolling in cash as a kid? Wrong,” he said, as if he’d just slammed a buzzer on a game show. “My family was fucked up, and I was the most messed up of them all. Painkillers, tequila, and speed in college. I was a mess. All this,” he said, gesturing to his arms, covered in ink, “they’re my reminders. Eight years clean.” He pointed to the art on his body, naming each one. “Lotus, new beginning. Sunburst, truth and bravery. This Chinese character—it’s for strength.”
Rex raised his chin and peered at an infinity symbol with four interlocking circles on Colin’s wrist. “What’s that one?”
“Me and my brothers and sister. The four of us. Our unbreakable bond, no matter what.”
“That’s like us,” Rex said, patting his arm where the sleeve of his T-shirt hit.
“What do you mean?”
Rex pointed to his little brother. “Him. I always look out for Tyler. That’s why I have this.” He pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder. At first Colin saw only a few letters of the word protect. His hackles rose, remembering what Ryan had told him a week ago. The guy who’d been following Shannon around had some ink on his arm that said Protect Our Own—the tattoo of the Royal Sinners.
Colin spoke sharply. “Do not even. That better not be what I think it is.”
Rex furrowed his brow. “Way to freak out, dude. What the fuck do you think it says?”
“That better not be Protect Our Own.”
Rex laughed deeply, clutching his belly, letting the sound resonate through him. “No. No. No,” he said, catching his breath. “No way. No how. Our ink says Protector. We got ours together.” Rex stepped closer to Colin and showed him the full wrap of the word around his bicep. Tyler yanked up his shirtsleeve, displaying matching ink.
“I would whip him good if he messed around with that gang.” Rex draped an arm around his little brother.
“Whew,” Colin said, wiping his hand across his brow in exaggerated relief.
“I saw some of them a few blocks away the other day.”
“Here?” Colin asked, pointing to the basketball court.
Rex nodded. “Nearby. We made sure they didn’t come any closer.”
Colin didn’t like the sound of gang members hovering so close to the community center. He was well aware that it was a risk—this center was located in a section of town that had been a hot bed of crime years ago, but the surrounding neighborhood was improving now. Still, he wanted the center, the kids, and Elle as safe as could be.
“Who’s we? What is Protector?” he asked, returning to the ink.
“A group of us who are trying to look out for others,” Tyler said, chiming in proudly. He seemed to idolize his older brother.
Colin arched an eyebrow. “Like the Guardian Angels?”
Rex nodded. “We model ourselves after them. We’re all volunteers. We do safety patrols. Walk the streets. Keep an eye out. Elle inspired me to do it. Rise above, as she would say.”
“Did someone say my name?”
Colin turned in the direction of the sultry, sexy voice. She wore tight jeans and a little white summery blouse. The outfit did wondrous things to her fantastic tits and her fabulous ass. Her long, dark hair spilled down her spine, and she gathered it up, creating a makeshift ponytail, then fanned her face with her free hand. A small part of him wished the woman wasn’t so damn hot. As Rex and Tyler snapped their gazes to Elle, he could see it in their eyes—she’d featured in their whack-off fantasies. A primal, territorial instinct licked through his veins, and he wanted to pounce on Elle, wrap his arms around her, and claim her.
“Mine,” he’d say with a snarl, toss her over his shoulder and cart her off to the woods to take her, mark her, and leave his imprint on her.
Of course, the rational, adult portion of his brain knew that was ludicrous. She was hardly his, and even with what they had, he needn’t be jealous of teenage boys. They were boys, and while they might lust after her, they also admired her.
“We’re quoting you, Elle. Rise above,” Tyler said, raising his fist in the air. Yup, it was a mix of feelings they possessed for the hot-as-sin and caring-as-hell director of the center where they spent many days and evenings.
She held up a hand to high-five Tyler then slapped the older brother’s hand, too. “Excellent. You boys do me proud. Are you staying to get a bite to eat? I hear there are turkey sandwiches on the menu tonight.”
“I love turkey!”
“More than my mac and cheese?” Rex asked his brother.
Tyler nodded. “But I still love your mac and cheese.”
“Fine, we’ll stay. We need to work on our angles later.” Rex draped an arm around his brother. “Hey, Elle, did you hear? Colin is trying to turn me into the next venture capitalist.”
“That sounds like an excellent pursuit,” she said.
“I’m gonna earn twenty-five percent and beat his ass.”
“After I tutor you in math, you just might,” Colin said.
The teen turned to Elle. “He twisted my arm. He’s gonna make me learn my two plus twos for community college.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Rex. And I suspect you’ll learn a whole lot more than two plus two.”
“Anyway, it’s too hot out here. We’re going inside. Catch you later, Mr. Cristal,” Rex said with a wink at Colin.
As he walked away, Elle raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Cristal?”
“Long story. But it has a good ending.”
“Maybe tell me tonight?” She tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. “Turns out I have more time than I thought. Alex is at a friend’s house for dinner, then they’re going to see the new dinosaur movie or whatever that thing is that all the boys are watching on the big screen.”
“Are you asking me out, Elle?”
“I was just thinking it would be fun to hang out with you. As friends,” she added, a reminder of how she saw him. Her voice went a touch softer, “As well as…you know.”
Hang out. Friends. Not exactly the words he wanted to hear from her. But he could work with it. “I can do a lot with more time.”
“I had a feeling you might be able to,” she said, tapping her watch. “Give me an hour to finish up?”
“Perfect. I need to stop at my house anyway. I’m taking care of Ryan’s dog since he’s followed Sophie to Germany.”
“He followed her to Germany?” she asked, bouncing on her toes.
“He did indeed. He’s madly in love with her. So I’ve got Johnny Cash for the week, and I need to go take him for a walk.”
“That is so sweet.”
“Me taking care of his dog, or him following her to Germany?”
Elle flashed him the sweetest smile. “Both actually. I’m so happy for her,” she said, practically glowing as she spoke about the two of them. “He looked so in love with her when I saw them at the Venetian event together. And it’s incredibly cool of you to look after his dog.” She gestured in Rex’s direction. “And to help Rex to focus more on his studies. I’ve been trying to get him to work on math for the longest time, and I’ve never seen him connect with anyone else here like he does with you.” She reached out to wrap her hand around his arm. “He’s such a good kid at heart, taking care of his little brother and everything. But he needs to channel all his money-making energy so he’s not taken in by the wrong thing.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” Colin said, enjoying all the things Elle had just told him, but especially her reaction to Ryan’s romance movie-esque pursuit of Sophie. Sure, she was talking about another couple, but something seemed to spark in her at the mention, as if it stirred up a long-dormant longing.
Cool your jets, Colin.
He might be reading too much into it. But Elle had focused so long on other people—on her son, on her ex. She didn’t let romance into her life, and now she was only permitting fun in the bedroom. Perhaps, though, he needed to do more tonight than just send her soaring between the sheets. This thing between them might only be about the physical right now, but he had a chance tonight to show her how good he could be for her. Maybe friendship was the key to unlocking the heart that she kept so protected.
“Meet me on Fremont Street and North Las Vegas Boulevard at six p.m.”
Her eyes widened and her shoulders tensed. A flicker of fear crossed her eyes. “Are you going to make me do the zip line?”
He scoffed. “Make you? Never. Encourage you? Absolutely.”
“Why do you want me to do it?”
“Because it’s fun. Because it’s a natural high. Because it feels good.”
“Lots of things feel good but that doesn’t mean I want to do them.”
“So let me get this straight. You do roller derby, racing around a rink like a speed demon on skates, and you won’t do a zip line?” he asked, challenging her.
She narrowed her eyes, parking her hands on her hips. “Not the same. Roller derby is flat. Besides, I’ve done it for years, I play defense, and it’s indoors.”
“C’mon, Titanium,” he urged, goading her with her roller derby name.
She pursed her lips. “No fair.”
“All’s fair,” he began, but cut himself off before finishing with in love and war. He didn’t want to hint at love, or romance, or anything close to it. Those were red flags for her, even if he hoped something in the back of her mind or heart might yearn for them. “In any case, it’s your choice, Titanium.”
