Текст книги "Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood"
Автор книги: Meghan Quinn
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Chapter Ten
My past…
Rain pounded on my windshield while I tried to decipher who was in the row of black standing about one hundred feet away. I wasn’t ready to step out of my car yet. I wasn’t ready to see who I’d ruined.
I hadn’t been able to sleep the past four nights, not since blinding rage had taken over my body and I’d found myself leaning over a bloody and breathless Marshall Duncan. The image of his lifeless body had yet to escape my memory. There were many times I’d decided to turn myself in, but Jett had stopped me. His need to keep me in his life, to help him with his club and be the one solid person in his life, had me reneging on my idea, but fuck if the decision didn’t make me feel guilty as hell.
I had yet to face the family, to see what they looked like, who they were, to see the grief-stricken looks on their faces. Seeing them was the last thing I wanted to do, but I felt like it was a punishment I deserved. I had to see whose life I’d destroyed by taking a loved one away from them. I needed to see their pain, feel their pain. I wanted to be tortured.
The day after the bar fight, I’d started collecting every article about Marshall’s death and read them to myself on repeat at night as I burned the words into my memory. To someone on the outside, my collection of articles might have seemed like a psychopathic action, but to me, it was the act of a broken man. I made sure to remind myself every chance I got what a horrible person I was. I wanted to make sure it was quite clear in my brain I was a murderer, a machine who didn’t think but reacted on emotion. I thought losing my boxing license had been difficult, but I hadn’t known what difficult was because right here and now, sitting in my car and watching over the crowd dressed in black surrounding one single person was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done.
The rain let up slightly, making it easier to see out my front windshield. Above-ground gravestones scattered the land in front of me and surrounded the group of friends and family who’d shown up to bid their soulful farewells to Marshall Duncan.
“Are you going out there?” Jett interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I do. I need to see them.”
“Why?” Jett asked, frustration lacing his voice. “You can barely hold yourself together right now. Why do you think this is going to make it better?”
“I don’t think it’s going to make it better. It’s going to show me everything I took away. I need to see his family, see how I affected their lives. I can’t be a selfish bastard who hides in your club. I need to know exactly what the ramifications were that came from my decision.”
“He is just as much to blame for what happened as you are,” Jett replied.
“No. Don’t go fucking blaming him.”
“Kace, he punched you twice. He was asking for a right hook. You can’t take the blame for all this.”
“Yes I can,” I practically spat back at him. “I’m a trained fighter. I know my limits. I know how to handle the adrenaline surge that runs through me when I’m provoked, and that night, I chose to ignore it. I should have walked away. I should have turned my back, but instead I chose to engage. I chose to let my anger loose on a man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“How can you say that?” Jett argued. “He went out of his way to approach you, to aggravate you, to make it impossible for you not to get upset. It’s his fucking fault!”
“Enough!” I shouted. “I’m not going to go through this with you again. If you want me to stick around, you need to just accept the fact that when Marshall Duncan died, I died with him. I will be here for you, Jett, and I will help you with your club, but I refuse to hide behind excuses to make myself feel better. I killed a man. I ran away from his dead body, and I’m living a life I don’t deserve. From this day moving forward, I have no life. I don’t deserve to be happy, and I will go out of my way to make sure I keep it that way.”
Without allowing Jett to utter another word, I got out of the car, pulled the hood of my black leather jacket over my head, and headed toward the huddled mourners.
A priest was speaking solemnly when I walked up to the group, sticking to the back so I wasn’t noticed. I didn’t want any trouble. I just wanted the soul-crushing punishment of looking in the eyes of the woman I had ruined.
“Marshall was a well-respected businessman, a beloved husband, and a cherished father. He left us too early in this world, but we will cherish the moments we had with him and hold them in our hearts for eternity.”
My gut twisted from the priest’s words.
Cherished father… fuck.
I looked at the wet grass, watching the drops of rain fall off my nose and onto the ground. How did a man move on from something like this? How did he face life every day, knowing he’d taken the breath away from another man? Was such a feat even possible?
“The family will now place a rose on the casket while Marshall’s sister plays ‘Remember Me’ on the guitar.”
The light strum of a guitar filled the air, overlaying from the sad sound of rain pelting the wood of the casket. I stepped to the side for a better view and trained my eyes on the casket, waiting to see Marshall’s family.
A hand gripped my shoulder, and I didn’t have to turn to know it was Jett. He might not have agreed with what I was doing or approved my choices concerning this matter, but I knew he supported me. He always would.
“Kace….”
I shook my head and pulled away slightly. He wanted me to leave, but I couldn’t. I needed to see his family.
Just as Jett tried to pull at my shoulder again, I tugged free and saw someone I could only assume was Marshall’s wife step up to the casket, holding a single rose in her hand. She was holding the hand of a little girl with bright blonde curls poking out from her hood.
Everything in my body went numb as realization hit me. She would grow up without a father. She wouldn’t have someone to take to the daddy/daughter dances. She wouldn’t have a man to watch over her when she started dating. She wouldn’t have someone to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day.
I’d taken that away from her. I’d taken away her father.
The wife turned toward me after she placed the flower on the casket and held on to her daughter. For a brief instant, her eyes met mine, and I was able to see the hole in her heart I’d put there. I was able to see the pain I’d caused, the uprooting I’d forced upon her.
It was too much.
My heart beat out of my chest and my breathing became erratic. Without turning to Jett, I said, “Get me out of here.”
His strong hand took hold of my shoulder, and he guided me back to the car, not saying a word. There was nothing to say. I was an animal.
I would never forgive myself.
Chapter Eleven
My present…
“Where do you want these thongs?” Tootse called, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up at the blondest women I’d ever met, carrying an abnormally large box and about ready to tip over from its size.
I rushed over to help and grabbed the box from her so she didn’t end up face-first into the wall.
“Thanks.” She shook her arms out. “Thongs are heavy.” She huffed and held on to the wall.
I set the box on the floor in front of the counter at the community center just as the contents of the box registered in my head. “Thongs?”
“Tootse, make sure Kace doesn’t see the box….” Goldie stopped in her tracks when she saw me standing over Tootse with my hands on my hips. “Oh shit….”
“Yeah, ‘oh shit’ is right,” I said. “Care to explain why there is a box of—” I bent over and looked at the number of thongs on the shipping label and then glanced at Goldie. “Why is there a box of a one thousand silk thongs being delivered to the community center?”
Goldie stepped up to me and pushed her pen against my forehead. “Before that little vein pops, stop worrying. They are just parting gifts.”
“Parting gifts for what?” I questioned.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Goldie said while trying to grab the box off the ground. She struggled from the weird size of it. Jett called her ‘little one’ for a reason.
Instead of helping her, I stood back and watched her struggle. She tried holding the box in different positions. She even pushed it with her toe to scoot it along the floor, but in the end, she just gave up.
With a huff, she looked up at me and said, “Do you mind helping?”
“I do, actually.”
She stomped her foot on the ground. “Kace! Don’t be an ass and help me.”
“What are the thongs for?” I said between clenched teeth. “I’m in charge of the center, so I am privy to whatever information I want to know. Now tell me why you have one thousand thongs in a box in the community center.”
“You’re so frustrating,” she whined.
“Well…?” I waited.
She gave in, like I knew she would. “Fine. We’re going to offer pole-dancing classes, and we thought a little gift bag for the attendees would be nice.”
“No,” I said, going back to the front desk and checking on my paperwork. The center opened in a few days. It was a soft opening but an opening nonetheless, and I wanted to be prepared. We would only be offering a few classes to start, but once everything was complete, we would be expanding our schedule.
“No?” Goldie said, coming up next to the counter. “How can you just say no?”
I glanced up at her. “Because I can.”
“Ahh! I want to strangle you,” she complained. “Did you know pole dancing is actually a really good form of exercise?”
“Goldie, we are not going—”
“She’s right, you know,” Lyla said, interrupting me as she sidled up next to Goldie and put her arm around Goldie’s waist. “I already have a full list of names of people who want to participate in Friday’s class.” With obnoxious confidence, Lyla tossed a clipboard full of names on the counter and looked at me with quirked lips.
“See!” Goldie cheered. “A full class! It’s popular already, and we haven’t even started.”
Of course in a city like New Orleans, spots in a pole dancing class would fill. That didn’t mean I wanted to have a class like that at the center. Justice was supposed to have a wholesome, family-type environment, not a night club atmosphere, which was what I was getting from the girls with their box of thongs.
With my hands on my hips, I looked at Goldie. “All right, smart-ass, how do you expect to teach a pole dancing class without poles?”
She looked away for a second and then said, “We have poles.”
“What are you talking about?”
Biting her finger, she stepped back from the counter. “I had Jett put them in for me.”
“What!” I roared. “Why the fuck would he do that when I’m in charge of this place?”
Goldie cringed and stepped back again, Lyla enjoying the interaction between us the whole time. “Maybe because I told him you approved it.”
“Fucking hell,” I breathed out as I scrubbed a hand over my face. Gathering all my will not to fly off the deep end, I pointed at her and said, “Go behind my back again, and you will not fucking like the results.”
“I’m sorry, Kace,” she apologized.
I took off to the boxing room. I could tell she wasn’t that sorry, because as I retreated, I heard her cheer with Lyla and Tootse about the new class Justice would be offering.
Even though I hated it, I smiled and shook my head. Leave it to Goldie to get her way.
Once in the Haze Room, I took in the rich smell of fresh leather and brand new wood floors. It had taken me a couple of days, but I’d finally accepted the gesture from Jett, the gesture to reconnect with something that had been so unfairly taken away from me. It felt odd to be surrounded by something I loved so much once again, but I started to take advantage of the new room. I couldn’t help it. It was my new play yard.
I walked over to the stereo that was situated against one of the walls and hit the play button. Classic rock blasted through the speakers, putting me in the mood to do some damage. I stripped off my shirt, grabbed a jump rope, and bounced up and down to warm up. I started at a slow pace, letting my heart gradually warm to the rhythm running through me, but once I felt comfortable, I whipped the rope faster, enjoying the challenge of keeping up with the intense pace. It only took a few minutes for sweat to form on my brow and drip down my back.
Pleased with my warm-up, I quickly wrapped my hands, grabbed a pair of gloves, and secured them around my hands and wrists. It was time to attack the bag.
Freddy Mercury’s voice boomed through the speakers as I circled the bag. Finding the right position, I threw right hooks and left uppercuts. Alternating punches, I rapidly took all my pent-up aggression out on the bag, focusing on one thing and one thing alone: the feel of my fist connecting with the sand-filled bag.
The impact was hard, it was intoxicating, and it was exactly what I needed.
The nightmares were getting worse, they were haunting me every night, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of this new venture I was embarking on or the fact that I boxed on a daily basis now so I was releasing the demons I’d stowed away for so long, but whatever it was, I was reliving my worst sins at night. I woke up every morning, sweating and feeling ill with beads of sweat at my brow. It took me at least one boxing session and the morning to get over the raw and unsettling feeling I woke up to now on an almost daily basis.
Right hook, right hook, right hook.
I gripped the bag with my left arm and kneed it while throwing punches at it with my right hand. The pain gripping my chest eased with my full-on attack, and I could feel the weight resting on my shoulders start to fade.
“Take it easy there,” someone shouted over the music, stilling my workout.
Lyla turned down the music so it wasn’t blasting through the walls. When she first arrived, I didn’t get a good look at her since it had been my mission to avoid the woman, but now that I was alone in the Haze room with her, I had no other option than to soak in her appearance. Her hair was curled loosely over her shoulders. She was wearing a cream-colored tank top that was very flowy—flowy enough I could see the turquoise bra she had on underneath, which was propping her breasts up to mouthwatering standards. And to top it all off, she was in a pair of short shorts with pockets that hung a little past the hem. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Lyla than to find the shortest pair of shorts in the store. It was a casual look for her with sandals and her hair down, but it had my blood starting to pump through my veins again, reminding me I was alive. She was absolutely fucking gorgeous and unfortunately, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking my gloves off with my teeth.
She shrugged and looked around the room. “Just wanted to check it out in here. You know, maybe take some lessons.”
Smiling, she grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and walked toward me. Her breasts swayed with each step, enticing me to the point that I had to look away or else I would be throwing her up against the wall in a matter of seconds.
“Lessons?” I asked with a quirk of my brow. I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed over my bare chest, waiting for her to answer.
“Yeah, I heard there is a pro here, teaching lessons.”
I went rigid and stood up straight from the mention of my past. “Lyla…”
“Funny thing about the internet, Kace. You can find out anything about people, especially if they’ve been in the limelight.”
Fury blazed through me, and I tried to tamp down my anger, but it was too much, there was too much pent-up aggression. I didn’t want her searching me on the internet. Who knew what she would find.
I got in her face and said, “You had no fucking right looking up my shit.”
“Public knowledge,” she shrugged, not startled one bit by my proximity. “If you’re not going to open your mouth, then I’ll look things up myself. You know what’s funny, though? When I was doing my research, I saw you lost your license for shooting up steroids.”
“We’re done here,” I said, blowing past her, knocking into her shoulder so she was thrown off balance for a second.
As I walked away, my past came flooding back to me in full force. That morning I received a call from Dale hit me hard and all the painful memories from that night came to the forefront of my mind. I didn’t want to relive it. I knew I deserved to live with my past sins, but I didn’t want to, not now. Not with Lyla in the room.
Keeping my back toward her, I held on to the wall and hung my head, trying to shake the sickening feeling that was trying to bubble to the surface of my emotional state.
Coming up behind me and placing her hand on my back, she said, “Let’s talk about it.”
I whirled around. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it. You’re not my shrink, so do us both a favor and leave.”
My booming voice echoed through the room, but it didn’t affect her. She continued her pursuit of trying to “help” me.
“I don’t believe what everyone said to be true,” she stated softly. “I don’t believe you would do such a thing to your body, not after seeing the strong work ethic you have. It doesn’t match up.”
I ran my hands down my face, trying to wipe away the moment. They stopped mid stroke from her confession. “What?” I asked, almost shocked by her statement.
“I don’t believe the accusations.” She pulled a paper from her back pocket and unfolded it. “Your trainer did it. See?” She pointed to the paper as if she’d solved the world’s greatest mystery.
“I know he did,” I responded, relaxing only slightly.
“Oh,” she replied, a little shocked by my knowledge. “Well, if you knew he did it, then why didn’t you clear your name?”
I shook my head and looked at the ground. “Too late.”
“It’s never too late—”
“It’s too fucking late, Lyla, so just drop it.”
I leaned against the wall and crossed my legs at my ankles and my arms over my chest. Her gaze landed on my bare chest, and she lightly licked her lips, like I was her lunch, waiting to be consumed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I told her.
“I can look at you however I want. You’re not the boss of me,” she replied defiantly.
“Mature.” I nodded.
“It’s the truth, but if you ever let me into that closed-off world of yours, I might let you be the boss of me.”
The proposition was incredibly tempting. To be able to control the mouthy yet sexy woman standing in front of me would be something I would enjoy immensely, but that would mean letting her into my world, letting her know who I really was, and that was something I just couldn’t do.
“Tempting, but I’ll pass,” I answered, hating the betrayal I was playing on my true feelings.
She shrugged as if my rejection was no big deal and started putting on the boxing gloves she held in her hands. The first one went on smoothly, but the second glove she struggled with because she didn’t have the use of her right hand anymore. A seasoned boxer had no problem slipping on gloves, but she was a newbie, and it was painfully obvious she had no clue what she was doing.
Instinctively, I went up to her and grabbed the glove from her struggling hand. Her green eyes searched mine as I held the glove open for her to slip her hand inside. A small smile crossed her lips as she slipped her hand into the glove. Once the gloves were on, I helped secure the straps. She punched her fists together to test them. Clearly she was happy with their fit from the light in her eyes.
Lightly, she tapped me on the shoulder with the gloves and said, “Thank you.” Then she knocked her gloves together once again and bounced on her toes. “All right, how does this work?”
Shaking my head, I grabbed her hand and led her over to the row of punching bags. “Go ahead.” I nodded at the first one in the row.
“Just punch it?” she asked, looking hotter than hell in her skimpy outfit and boxing gloves. Visions of her only wearing the gloves and possibly tied to my headboard ran through my mind. That was a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing.
“Punch it,” I confirmed.
She cocked her arm back and geared up for what seemed like was going to be the whammy of all punches. Before she could do serious damage to herself, I grasped her arms and stopped her.
“Hey, I was about to gut this bastard.” She nodded at the bag.
“Yeah, and you were about to most likely snap your wrist while doing it.” Standing behind her, I wrapped my arms around her upper half and held her wrist. “See this?” I breathed into her ear. “This is a weak little wrist that can break if you’re not careful. You don’t have any wrist stability on, and by the way you were about to hammer out a punch on this bad boy, you were going to snap something.”
She leaned into me, her hair brushing my shoulder and her face turned toward mine. “Okay, so teach me how to knock things out.”
Her voice was breathless, and a faint flowery scent wafted from her hair, practically bringing me to my knees.
I wanted her.
I ran my hand from her wrist up her arms, feeling the effect I had on her from the goosebumps that instantly rose on her skin. With my hand on her elbow, I pulled her arm back and showed her the proper technique for punching, all the while holding tightly to her hip.
“So just pull back like this and let go?” she asked, her face turned toward mine, slaying me with those green eyes of hers. I nodded to confirm, not able to open my mouth in case I said something stupid.
“All right, look out.”
With the biggest wallop she could muster, she cocked her arm back and let it fly, making contact with the punching bag. An immediate cry escaped her as she bent and gripped her wrist. She sat on the floor and started to rock back and forth, holding her arm.
“Are you okay?” I asked, sitting on the ground next to her and pulling her onto my lap so I could take a closer look at her hand.
“Remove these,” she said, referring to the gloves.
Quickly, I took off the left glove and chucked it aside. Then I went to her right one and held it steady as I took off the strap and pulled it, fearing I was going to find a bone popping out of her skin. To my surprise, everything was fine. There was no bruising or swelling. I looked at her to see where she was hurting only to find her smiling at me with an evil grin.
Before I could even move, she straddled my lap and pushed me back on the floor so she hovered over me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting you into a position I know we both enjoy.”
“Are you hurt?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes away from the obvious cleavage shot Lyla was handing me on a silver platter.
“No.” She lowered herself so her face was mere inches from mine. “I just wanted to get you in a position where I could entice you.”
“Not going to happen, Lyla,” I gritted out, annoyed she’d faked an injury to top me and annoyed I’d fallen for it.
“Oh, really?” Her hand seductively found its way down to my crotch, where with one stroke over my workout shorts, she had me growing in seconds. It was impossible not to when I was presented with such a gorgeous and enticing woman. “Looks like your dick is singing a different song,” she teased.
“What do you expect when your shirt is hanging open like that?” I nodded toward her shirt. She looked down and smiled right before she pulled on the hem of her shirt and took it off, revealing her perfectly toned body.
“Is that better? I don’t want my shirt distracting you.”
“It was the contents inside, not the shirt itself.”
“Mm, I love it when you get all moody.” She ran her hands up my bare chest, gradually running her fingernails over my skin.
“Lyla,” I warned, starting to lose control.
“Take me out to dinner tonight,” she demanded.
I wouldn’t have been more surprised by her demand if she’d kicked me in the dick. “What?” I asked, confused from the change of subject, from her change in attitude.
“Take me to dinner, Kace. Take me out on a date. It’s the least you can do.”
She was now lying flat against me with her elbows propped up on my chest, looking down on me. If I paid close attention, I could feel the weight of her breasts on my chest, which was turning me on even more.
“It’s the least I can do? How do you see that?”
“You can’t just fuck a girl and leave her throbbing up against a wall, wondering what the hell just happened—at least not a girl like me. You owe me a date if you’re going to toss me aside like that.”
“Isn’t that a little backward?” I asked.
“Yeah, but you owe me. We’ve fucked, but now you owe me a date. It’s protocol.”
I gripped her hips and tried to move her off me, but she planted her hands on the floor and hovered her mouth right above mine.
“You know you want to,” she teased.
There was a whole lot more that I wanted to do to this woman, but fucking her against the mirror in the Haze Room seemed like a bad idea.
“Please,” she said, batting her eyelashes. She cupped my face and very slowly lowered her mouth to mine. I gripped her hips tightly, bracing myself.
A low growl escaped me as I grabbed the back of her head and pressed her down to my lips so she couldn’t move. Like it was second nature, her mouth opened to mine and gave me access. Warmth spread through me from her touch, from the way her tongue matched mine, and the heat that poured off her and into my very core.
My hand that had once been on her hip found the back of her bra and without even thinking, I snapped the clasp and let the straps fall down her shoulders.
I thought I’d known what perfection was. I had been so fucking wrong. How I’d missed the fact that Lyla embodied everything I ever looked for in a woman was beyond me. Her skin was a beautiful mocha color, her eyes penetrated me every time I looked into them, and her attitude matched mine perfectly. She didn’t put up with my crap, hence why I was inches from stripping her naked in the new community center.
“Am I interrupting something?” Goldie asked from the doorway of the Haze room.
“Shit.” I fumbled, trying to get Lyla off of me, but she was no help because she just giggled and clung on to me, making no attempt to get out of the way. “Lyla,” I warned.
“Looks like you’re about to christen the new mats,” Goldie said, walking toward us.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I replied even though I was still lying on the ground with Lyla’s half-exposed body stretched out against mine.
“Not what it looks like, huh?” Goldie asked, moving over to sit next to us with her legs crossed. She pointed at our connection and said, “Looks like you two are making out on the floor and about to hit second base, judging from the way Lyla’s bra is undone.”
“Kace undid it,” Lyla said proudly.
“I bet he did. He’s always had a thing for your boobs.”
“No I haven’t,” I lied.
“Oh look, he’s blushing,” Lyla said, patting my face. “How adorable. It’s all right, Kace. My boobs are pretty hot.” She bent and kissed my lips one last time before sitting up on my lap.
I watched in fascination as her bra slipped down, exposing her breasts for a few seconds before she readjusted it, taking away one of the sexiest views I’d ever seen.
I knew she could feel my arousal because the minute she shifted her seat on my lap, she winked, letting me know she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
She turned to Goldie, who was smiling like a dork, and said, “Kace is taking me out on a date tonight.”
“Ahhh! Yay!” Goldie clapped her hands in excitement.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, getting annoyed by these two, who should never be left alone together.
“It’s all right, big guy. No need to be shy about it.” Lyla turned to Goldie. “He can be so tender and sweet at times, but he doesn’t want to let people think he’s going soft.”
“You damn well know there is nothing soft about me,” I gritted out.
“Oh my,” Goldie cooed, glancing down at me. “Looks like you’ve poked the bear.”
Lyla shrugged. “I’ve dealt with it before. A quick tap to the nut sack, and all will be right with the world. Isn’t that right, Kace?”
“Touch my nut sack and get your hand cut off.”
“Damn,” Goldie replied. “Be nice to the girl, Kace.”
“What did you want?” I asked Goldie, hating that she’d interrupted my make-out session with Lyla.
“Just got a shipment in of towels, wanted to know if you want me to divide them up in the locker rooms?”
Running my hands over my face, I let out a long breath. “That couldn’t have waited?”
“Sorry. I didn’t know it was sex-o’clock in the Haze Room. Next time leave a tie on the door or a condom hanging off the knob so I know not to enter.”
“Run the towels through the wash first, then divide them,” I ordered, ignoring her sarcasm.
“Thanks, boss man,” Goldie replied, getting up and taking off. “Want me to hang a condom on the door?”
“Get out,” I shouted, making her squeal and laugh at the same time.
Once the door was closed, I looked at Lyla, who was still sitting on my lap.
“Are you going to sit there all fucking day, or are you going to let me get up?”
Without a word, Lyla got up and grabbed her shirt. She quickly put it on and didn’t look at me as she headed for the door.
I should have let her go, let her walk away, because that was what would be good for me, but fuck if I still didn’t feel the heat of her body on mine. I didn’t want to lose that feeling.
Groaning, I chased after her and pulled on her arm before she could open the door to leave. When I spun her around, a giant smile spread across her face.
Motherfucker. She’d played me. “Shit,” I mumbled.
“I knew you cared.” She poked my chest with her pink painted finger.
“I don’t,” I lied once again.
“Lie all you want, Kace, but I can see it in your eyes, the longing you have for me. Strap on your balls, because you’re taking me out tonight. We’re going to spend an evening living in the present and forgetting the past for at least a couple of hours.”
I bowed my head and gripped her hips, wishing she would just give up on me, wishing she would leave me alone, but the determination in her eyes told me that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. So I gave in. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Seven.” She leaned in, pressing her chest against mine and placing a soft kiss on my jaw. “Don’t shave. I like you all scruffy.”
Before she took off, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why, Lyla? Why now?”
