by Rose Wulf
He caught her wandering fingers, holding them against his palm, and pulled his arm in, bringing her with him. Her breath caught as she wondered if he was going to kiss her. God help her, she wanted him to. She barely knew the man yet she was desperate for the brush of his lips over hers.
But the front door swung open wide and Georgia came bustling in, already talking. “Ugh, I can’t stand this filler job! I’m sorry, don’t mind me, I know you said you were busy!”
They sprang apart like startled, misbehaving teenagers, their heads snapping toward her. As Georgia blinked at them with rapidly-dawning suspicion, Arianna couldn’t help but wonder if they looked as ridiculous in reality as the image they made in her mind.
“I’m not … interrupting anything, am I?” Georgia asked, looking between them expectantly.
Arianna swallowed and bodily fought against the urge to wipe her sweaty palms against her jeans. When had it gotten so warm in there, anyway? “Ah, no, of course not.”
“Yeah,” Dean echoed, shifting his weight. “Actually, I should probably be heading out.” He returned his gaze to Arianna and she couldn’t miss the smolder in his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”
It wasn’t a question.
Good. She did her best to contain her smile and called, “Good night,” as he strode to the door.
“Night,” he returned, pausing to glance back over his shoulder as he said it. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, glanced toward her roommate, and inclined his head. “Georgia.”
Georgia mimicked his gesture, replying, “Hi and bye, Dean.”
Arianna frowned as Dean made his exit. Her disappointment at his departure was marred by Georgia’s behavior. There was something off in Georgia’s voice, or maybe it was in her eyes. It was almost like she was uncomfortable. Only, that didn’t make any sense. Georgia Clarke didn’t even know how to be uncomfortable, by her own admission.
“So,” Georgia began after a beat, shifting her attention back to Arianna, “I didn’t realize there was anything going on with you two.”
Well, that certainly sounded normal. Which only added to her confusion, because she was sure she’d noticed something. Still, she pursed her lips, cocked her hip, and shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “There isn’t. We were just talking.”
“Uh-huh,” Georgia returned. One hand landed on her hip and she gestured to the door with recently manicured nails, adding, “Sure looked like more to me, Ari.”
Doing her best to maintain her position, Arianna straightened and started toward the kitchen for something to do. “Maybe you’re slipping, then,” she suggested. “What’re you doing home so early, anyway? I thought you had work?”
“He sent me home early again because we were slow and I’m just the temp,” Georgia replied with a notable level of exasperation in her voice. “I can’t wait until Earl’s is up and running again.”
“I don’t blame you,” Arianna said. Earl’s Diner, Georgia’s former—and future—place of employment, had burned to the ground earlier in the year as the result of some sort of electric fire in the kitchen. The bulk of the rebuilding had been wrapping up when Arianna first moved to town, but according to Georgia they were still a few weeks away from opening their doors.
“And don’t think you can just change the subject on me like that,” Georgia added, trailing behind Arianna into the kitchen. “That trick does not work with me. Tell me about you and Dean.”
Arianna tried not to cringe, and she was immensely glad her back was facing the other woman. This is what you get for moving in with a notorious gossip. But it was a necessary evil. She just couldn’t afford a place of her own. Pulling in a breath, she replied, “Dean and I are, at most, in the early stages of building a friendship.” Unfortunately. “That’s all there is to know.” Well….
“Right,” Georgia said in a tone that indicated she absolutely wasn’t falling for that lie. “Well, you should be careful, okay? Dean has something of a reputation for—”
“Georgia,” Arianna cut in, turning now to face her roommate in the hopes of getting her point across. “I don’t want to know Dean’s reputation. I want to form my own, uninfluenced opinion of a person whenever possible. So please insist on telling me if he’s a suspected murderer or something equally horrific, but otherwise, leave it be.”
She took advantage of Georgia’s stunned, blinking silence and slipped into the hall with the leftover deli sandwich she’d managed to snag from the fridge. She was nearly at her door when Georgia seemed to find her voice.
“Ari,” Georgia called, “I’m just trying to help you!”
Not wanting to seem like a bitch, Arianna paused in her entryway and looked down the hall with a small smile. “I know that,” she replied, “but you need to understand that gossip really bugs me. I’m not saying you’re the type to spread malicious rumors, just that I’ve seen the bad side of gossip and it’s left a foul taste in my mouth.”
Georgia released a breath, leaned her hip against the wall, and nodded. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell you anything you don’t ask to know. Fair?”
Smile broadening, Arianna replied, “Fair. Thank you.” She left it at that and stepped into her room, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what Georgia had been about to say. It wasn’t hard to imagine Dean having a reputation as a ladies’ man, and she was inclined to believe that that was where Georgia was leading, but something made her hesitate. That odd way Georgia had greeted him when he’d been leaving. It didn’t make sense. I could ask her about it. Surely Georgia would love to get to tell her after all.
Arianna glanced back at the door she’d only just shut behind her, hesitated, and shook her head. “No,” she mumbled, resuming her course for her bed. It wasn’t her business, at least not yet. If it came up, or if it came to a point when she felt she needed to know, she’d push the issue. Until then, she’d already learned more about Dean that night than she really had a right to know. And I might have learned something else, too, if Georgia hadn’t come home when she did. Not that it was Georgia’s fault, of course, but she couldn’t deny her frustration.
She really wanted to kiss him.
****
The fireplace flared as Dean paced in front of it, crackling and flickering with each consecutive pass. What’s the matter with me? What the hell had he been thinking? He snorted, subconsciously running his thumb over the palm Arianna had been caressing earlier. He knew exactly what he’d been thinking. He’d been thinking he loved the way she was touching him and the look she’d had in her eyes and the way she fit into those tight jeans. What he’d been thinking wasn’t really the question.
His feet came to a stop in front of the fireplace, but he barely saw the flame before him. It flared and receded in accordance with each deep, barely calming breath. The simple fact was, he knew better. He and his family were being hunted by men who didn’t give a damn who got hurt in the process. Men who had a history of going after the people in his family’s lives. Arianna had already been dragged in, it was true, but pursuing her would only endanger her more. He’d told her she was likely to be targeted, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. There was always the chance that they’d decide she wasn’t worth their effort in some way. Or I could distract them. Get their attention off her. That wasn’t a bad idea, either. For it to work, though, he’d have to keep his distance from her, and distance wasn’t something that held a lot of appeal.
Lila’s face flashed across his mind’s eye and he growled with frustration, immediately spinning and putting his back to the fire. Who was he kidding? The danger wasn’t the real reason he was afraid to reach out. He’d already seen for himself Arianna could handle herself physically, and if he were around, he could protect her from the rest. He was the real problem. He was broken, and he had no right to dump a pile of shattered glass in someone’s lap.
This isn’t working. He wasn’t any good at introspection, it only made him angrier. What he needed was physical exertion. Something to hit, break, or bu
rn. Naturally he’d gone and taken the night off, anticipating having a much longer, harder conversation with Arianna. But this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in this spot, either. Logan was always up for helping him out.
Dean tugged his phone from his pocket, dialed his brother’s number, and put it to his ear. He didn’t bother moving to the couch. He was hoping to just go straight to his car. It rang three times before Logan finally answered, and there was an odd note in his voice when he spoke.
“Dean?”
“Uh,” Dean began before he could stop himself. Was something going on? “Everything … okay?”
Logan paused for a beat before carefully replying, “I was going to ask you that.”
Dean frowned, confused for an instant before reality slammed back into him—like he was sure Logan’s hand wanted to do in the moment—and he cringed. Right. That was this morning they got engaged. Feeling like an idiot, he said, “Ah, sorry, you’re probably … busy. It’s not important. I’ll talk to you later.” He didn’t even give Logan time to succumb to his usual guilt before disconnecting.
Sighing heavily, Dean moved on autopilot to his couch as he debated which other brother to call. Blake was his first choice, but he didn’t always feel compelled to indulge Dean’s moods. Nate was more likely to be willing to help him blow off some steam. Still, he supposed it was worth a try.
The phone barely rang once before Blake answered. “Hey, Dean, what’s up?”
That was a good sign. If Blake was willing to talk, then maybe he was willing to go for a drive. “Hey,” Dean began, “I’m feeling kind of … twitchy. Don’t suppose you’re free?”
Blake hesitated and Dean’s shoulders slumped. He knew what that hesitation meant. “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m kind of busy. We’re still trying to figure out this seating chart. But how’d your talk with Arianna go?”
Why do you think I need to blow something up? But he bit that back, swallowed his next exasperated sigh, and replied, “Better than I was afraid it would. Never mind. Just don’t stick me next to anyone who sweats too much.” Again he disconnected, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling as if looking for answers. When none were forthcoming, he released another breath and dialed Nate. Nate was almost always up for something.
“Nate’s phone,” Madison greeted casually mid-way through the second ring. Just the fact that she’d answered told Dean all he needed to know, but he couldn’t hang up without speaking or he’d never hear the end of it.
“Hey … I’m guessing Nate’s busy?”
“He’s currently juggling three plates of food,” Madison replied. “You need me to pull him down to earth?”
This time the sigh slipped out and Dean shook his head unnecessarily. “No, no, it’s not important. Sorry to interrupt dinner.”
“Is everything all right?” Madison asked, clearly catching on to his tone.
Still, he didn’t hesitate to lie. “Yeah, it’s all good. Tell Nate not to worry about calling me back.” He hung up before she could press the issue and tossed the phone onto his coffee table.
That was it. He only had three brothers. It wasn’t like he could involve one of his coworkers. Not when what he really needed was to burn off his energy in a physical way. But it looks like it’s just me tonight. His gaze returned to his phone and for a beat he actually considered calling Kirk, Nate’s childhood best friend. He vetoed the idea quickly. Kirk was Nate’s non-familial confidant. Dean needed to find his own. Ha. That’s a joke. There was a reason his closest friends were someone else’s better friends. He just didn’t get along with other men very well. He never had.
Dean pulled in a breath and shifted his stare to the clock on his kitchen wall. It wasn’t late, really, but it was dark enough that most people weren’t going to be wandering around outside. Not in the lesser-travelled areas, at least. The only catch was that he was going to need to find somewhere not likely to start a wildfire if he lost too much of his control. But I’ll manage. It was either that or burn down his own house.
The main beach had only just closed to the public, meaning someone was likely still picking up the day’s littered trash, but that didn’t matter to Dean. He wasn’t aiming for the public beach, so he drove right past the usual turnoff. There was another spot, which was actually Blake’s favorite, that was never really used despite being open to the public. It would be especially deserted at night, in the thickening fog. Dean was just fortunate in that that didn’t matter at all for him. He could see fine even in absolute darkness. So he eased the Camaro onto the appropriate gravel road, swung into the small parking area, and cut the engine. He paused for a moment, letting his gaze sweep over the partially-burnt grass area between his car and the shore.
It hadn’t been that long since the night Blake and Brooke had been attacked at this very beach, had it?
Let them come.
With no one around, if Eric or Jacob came after him here, Dean might just be able to bring an end to their damned feud. There certainly wouldn’t be anything holding him back. And that’s exactly why it’ll be quiet. But the chance of a real fight wasn’t why he’d driven out there, so Dean climbed from his car and started toward the shoreline. He’d chosen the smaller, rockier, abandoned beach for one reason—he could light up and not do any damage to the area.
He rolled his neck as his feet came to a stop mere inches from the rising tide. The sound of the waves crashing against the off-shore rocks did nothing to soothe his frayed nerves, but his long exhale did. The temperature around him kicked up a little and he deliberately stretched his hands. He closed his eyes, pulled in another breath, and listened. The tide started to roll in again and he let the breath out, not opening his eyes until he heard the satisfying, defiant sizzle of water on open flame.
A thin, knee-high wall of flame had flared up directly in front of his feet, spanning almost from rock to rock. The water rolled into it, threatening to douse the unnatural fire, so he poured a fraction more of his energy into maintaining it. The slight exertion was a good start, but as soon as the wall was established it really didn’t require his concentration. He needed a target.
His eyes scanned the surface of the water until he found a protrusion of rock. It was probably two feet above the water, narrower near the top not unlike a mountain. Nothing about the scene was ideal, but it would do. And though he certainly didn’t need to move to turn the rock into a torch, he needed to move just to release the energy building up inside him. So Dean took a step back, cracked his knuckles, and formed a baseball of flame in his palm.
Arianna’s face flashed through his memory and he paused again. She’d had the strangest, most encouraging look of awe and fascination when he’d shown her his power. In that instant he’d known she was dangerous. When she’d made as if to reach out to touch the flame, he’d been too shocked to react until it was nearly too late. He’d shown his ability to other women in the past, but none of them had reacted like that.
Then Arianna’s face was replaced with Angela’s in his mind, and the anger in his sister’s eyes shot through him all over again. Yeah, he’d told a few more people than the rest of his family. Growing up, his power had been hard to control twenty-four-seven. Things had happened. He didn’t understand why that made him an ass. It wasn’t like he’d ever told someone who’d betrayed them.
No, she only betrayed me.
Fueled with renewed anger, Dean hauled back, locked his eyes on his target, and hurled the fireball as hard as he could manage.
Chapter Four
“Aw, no!” Jay Judd exclaimed, clapping a hand dramatically over his heart as he came to stand in front of Arianna. “You mean we’re switching out? I don’t get to see you today?”
Keeping her smile as small as she could manage, Arianna replied, “It looks that way.” And that was okay with her. Jay had done the bulk of her training—as he called it—and most of his advice had been nestled between desperately transparent pick-up lines. He might otherwise be a good enough guy, but sh
e’d seen the look that always lit his eyes around her on a hundred other faces. He really only wanted one thing, and he’d be a memory the moment he got it.
She was no longer that naïve, and she certainly wasn’t interested in becoming a conquest.
“That’s a tragedy,” Jay declared. He repositioned his hand on his barely covered hip, flaunting a body he was obviously proud of. He was already dressed for work in his red trunks, which were hanging far too low on his lean hips. His flat chest, taught but not toned, was dusted with fine brown hair. There was a time, really not too long ago, when she’d have found him fairly attractive. She might even have been tempted to play his game back then, but that life was behind her. “I was hoping we could talk a little today,” he said.
She shrugged and offered, “Maybe next time?” She was sure to keep her pause brief, knowing exactly what he’d ask if she didn’t, and added, “Anyway, you should get out there. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jay grumbled, his grin giving him away. He started forward, walking too close, and dropped a hand on her shoulder as he leaned in and whispered, “Call me if you’re free tonight.”
An unpleasant shiver shot down her spine and Arianna sucked in a breath. She was immensely glad he didn’t wait for her reaction before continuing on his way, because she wasn’t sure what would have come out of her mouth. How many times was she going to have to turn him down? “Ugh,” she muttered as she continued up to the parking lot. Thank you, Blake, for getting stuck with the long shift. Which was only fair, since she’d had it the day before. But she’d never been more grateful. Jay seemed to get worse every day.
Ari hiked her bag a little higher on her shoulder, shook her head, and tried to focus on figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her afternoon. She’d gotten as far as deciding not to sit around the house when she spotted a piece of plain, white paper pinned beneath her wiper blade. Assuming it was a flier of some kind, since she knew perfectly well she wasn’t improperly parked, Arianna ignored it long enough to toss her bag into the backseat and drop her cell phone into one of the drink holders. Then she snagged the paper, ducked into the driver’s seat, and pulled the door shut.