Love on the Rise: Book Two of The Against All Odds Series

by Gemini Jensen

  My invitation hangs in the air, and I wait for his answer with bated breath.

  “I do,” he confirms, “if that’s what you want.”

  I nod, standing as I do so. He mirrors me.

  “I’m going to the ladies room, then I’ll be right back. Should I just meet you out front?” I feel suddenly antsy and a bit nervous. His vivid blue eyes seem to be rimmed in gold, growing warmer when he gazes down at me.

  “Yes, I’ll have them bring my ride around.” He leans lower, his warm breath tickling against my ear and creating goosebumps. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  He pulls away as he grasps my hand and brings it to his lips. My heart flutters in response, but more overpowering is the clenching at my core. And by core, I’m most definitely not speaking of my heart.

  Damn, he’s got some skills. Or maybe I’m just wound up and severely out of practice.

  I practically skip to the bathroom, wanting to freshen up and get out front as quickly as possible. It’s been so long since I’ve actually felt attracted to someone besides Gray. I still don’t even know if I can do this. I may embarrass myself by being all talk, and then not being able to follow through.

  Who knows what’s about to go down, but I’m eager to find out. One thing’s for sure, and that’s that I can’t wait around for something that is never going to happen. Wishing my life away will get me nowhere, so I may as well enjoy my newfound freedom.

  My stomach is in knots as I leave the restroom, and I quickly inspect the contents of my clutch to ensure that I still have my little pea-shooter pistol. Check. It’s so tiny, it folds up like a pocket knife would and fits right into the tiny space along with my lipstick, money, and ID. Not that I plan to shoot someone, but I’ve been brought up to acknowledge it’s never a bad idea to be prepared for the worst—correction; it’s unacceptable to be anything but prepared.

  While I’m certainly excited to attempt breaking free of my Gray-generated bindings, my heart is undergoing an onslaught of emotions. Enthusiasm for the future. Bittersweet nostalgia. And sadness.

  When I finally realized I was in love with Gray, I had this magical story thought up inside my head. In it, we were reunited and we lived happily ever after. He was the only man I ever slept with my entire life. Lyra and I worked things out, and she became my actual sister, through marriage, of course.

  I knew this was all a dream. An elaborate, unlikely to happen idea that I had schemed up and plotted all on my own. It seems tonight, my dream of a happily-ever-after as Mrs. Knightley is going to die and die hard. Accepting this doesn’t change the fact that my conscience is a little guilty, so much so, that I keep looking over my shoulder as if he’s watching me somewhere out there. My body is actually being tricked into a state of heightened awareness because of my dizzied emotions.

  I take a deep breath, shaking my head in an attempt to clear all the mixed up emotions and jumbled thoughts before pushing open the doors of the exit. I tell Brock, the bouncer, goodbye before my eyes scan the area in search of Pierce.

  It takes only a moment before I spot him. He emerges from the back of a limo, raising his hand to stop his driver who attempts to get out at the same time. I see him saying something, but I can’t make out what it is. The look on the driver’s face is one of confusion, and a little awe-struck, as he hesitantly gets back inside the vehicle.

  Pierce makes his way around, opening the back passenger door for me like a perfect gentleman. I smile graciously up at him and whisper, “Thank you.”

  Sticking one of my heeled boots inside, I begin to climb into the back of the limo when someone suddenly grabs my arm. Firmly. Confused, I spin around to make sense of what’s happening. One spiked heel inside the tricked-out limo and one out, I lose my balance and topple forward right into Pierce.

  How flipping embarrassing.

  I splay my fingers out against his chest, steadying myself as I take a shaky breath.

  God, I hope he thinks awkwardly clumsy damsels are adorable.

  When I glance up, my heart stops, plummeting into my stomach as my body goes into shock.

  Instead of Pierce’s electric blue eyes meeting mine, they're a delectable shade of butterscotch I never thought I’d see again.

  Chapter Three

  I SQUINT THEN slow-blink.

  How much did I have to drink again? Pretty sure it was only two, maybe three—tops.

  Two or three. I hammer the quantity into my head so I’ll at least know my numbers from now on. Apparently, I shouldn’t be consuming any alcohol at all if a measly two to three drinks are the limit before I’m putting on beer goggles and stumbling around like a fool. It would seem I’m not just a light-weight when it comes to alcohol consumption but a feather-weight.

  Dragging my knuckles over my eyes, I scrub vigorously, attempting to polish away whatever gunk is currently muddling my vision. But when I force my lashes apart, the picture hasn’t changed. Gray’s apparition is still staring down at me.

  My mind is playing tricks on me. I’ve finally cracked under the pressure of the pain. My brain is officially broken; there are no other logical explanations left to explore.

  Because there’s no way it’s really him.

  There’s no way he’s here.

  Now.

  In real-time.

  On the night I make up my mind to give up, to pick up the pieces of my heart and force them back together any way I can get them to fit, to lie to myself and pretend it looks just the same as before instead of the ugly and deformed mess it is now, and to move on.

  It takes glancing back and forth from Gray to Pierce several times before I’m convinced my sanity is still intact. And that’s only because of the pinched brows, slightly cocked head, and general look of uncertainty plastered on Pierce’s face as he side-eyes Gray.

  “Gray.” I breathe his name out on an exhale, my cheeks instantly heating at how needy it sounds coming from my lips. Somehow, just saying it aloud causes a shiver of excitement to dance along my spine.

  He makes no reply, just stands there as waves of unmistakable anger roll off him. His demeanor is chilly, his gaze unforgiving yet, somehow, predatory. Flames of heat lick at my belly from the inside out, quickly erupting into a blazing inferno.

  It’s unnerving how he can make me feel so many things at once. Apprehensive. Confused. Turned-on.

  My instincts flare, giving me a swift kick in the ass to move my languid limbs and mirror his tense and ready-to-spring stance. Unconsciously, my feet slide further apart, seeking purchase. It’s like I’m the gazelle being hunted by the lion, but instead of preparing to bolt like I’ve always been taught, I’m priming myself for the force of the blow—going against nature by accepting it. Welcoming it.

  We may be only a few minutes into our reunion, but something major has already been made evident. Despite the three years that have passed, this bond—this deeply rooted connection that ebbs and flows like a current living between us—it’s as strong as ever.

  Pierce clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. For a moment, I had forgotten Gray and I aren’t alone. Two very handsome, yet very different men stand side by side before me. Gray stares at me directly, ignoring everything else, which has Pierce eyeing him.

  “Is everything okay, Kate?” Pierce attempts to confirm, apprehension blemishing his poster-boy face. The concern and confusion carried in his tone don’t get past me.

  I hate to break it to him, but I’m just as clueless as he is about the situation at hand. Gray has suddenly become a master at hiding his thoughts. With unyielding eyes and a taut and controlled expression, I find his face to be impassive—a mask of emotionless perfection.

  A brooding energy emanates from him, providing the only clue to his true feelings. An aura so heavy, I’m sure Pierce can feel it too, which is probably the cause of his alarm.

  I don’t yet know why he’s here or what he wants. I know what I hope—that he’s finally come to claim me, that I’m what he wants—but he’s
so closed-off and giving me nothing to go on aside from vibes of anger tinged with hunger.

  I’m not scared. I know Gray. He would cut off his arm to prevent hurting someone he cared for. Even if said caring was in the past.

  Is everything okay, Valley? I will myself to nod in response to Pierce’s question—not yet trusting my voice. After all, the last time I spoke, I ended up sounding all breathy, panting out Gray’s name like a porn-star. Dragging my tongue across my lips, I take a deep breath. A smile of assurance works its way onto my face.

  “I’m so sorry, Pierce. Can we take a raincheck? My friend is back in town after years of being away. I apologize for inconveniencing you this evening,” I say.

  To be honest, I don’t know how tonight’s going to go. Is the purpose of this visit to answer questions and end things on a good note? Or is it the reunion I’ve been dreaming of? I don’t want to be rude to Pierce, considering I was the one who propositioned him to head back to his place.

  Gray suddenly stands a little taller, his back stiffening. “No rainchecks. We’re leaving,” he grits out, finally choosing to speak even though it’s more of an address to all parties involved than to me alone.

  He still has hold of my arm with an iron grip. If it were any tighter, it would be painful. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Funny, considering I’m the one who thought I was looking at an apparition.

  I throw Pierce a meek smile once more as Gray pulls me along with him, heading to the side of the building where the valet usually parks cars. All the while he remains stone-cold silent.

  We pass by some young hipster who frowns at us disapprovingly, making me aware of how we must appear. It’s almost like a scene from an old caveman cartoon where the man drags the woman along with him by brute force. The thought makes me giggle, earning me a hardened glare from Gray as he continues to tug me in whatever direction he chooses and I follow along. There’s not much I can do in these spikes otherwise known as shoes, not that I would want to get away from him.

  I’ve dreamed of this moment for three years now.

  Walking up to a sleek black luxury car, he opens the passenger door and straps me in like a small child, before shutting the door and heading to the driver’s seat, where he slides in smoothly behind the wheel.

  “Whose car?” I ask, perplexed because the Gray I know wouldn’t be driving a car like this. He drives a raised-up Wrangler made for hitting those off-road trails and spinning up mud until no one can see through the windows.

  “Mine,” he snaps, causing me to narrow my eyes.

  “Wow, I’m impressed. You’ve suddenly become a man of many words,” I remark acerbically, leaning back in the seat as he turns the key and pulls away. My head is spinning as it tries to make sense of the crazy turn of events, every part of my body still very much in shock.

  My thoughts spiral even more out of control once I turn to get a look at him full-on. Instantly, all progress of sorting through fact and fiction is lost.

  God, he’s handsome.

  My line of sight strokes the planes of his face as I admire him. He’s a little older now. I guess that’s to be expected, seeing as how three years have passed. I’m sure I look different too; I mean, there are those few extra pounds I gained. Not a lot, but I can tell a difference. But his older appearance doesn’t just have to do with aging; it’s like he’s been hardened by life—even more so than he was when I first met him. Something about him screams of danger, but I choose to ignore it, continuing with my inspection.

  His facial hair has filled in and gone far beyond the five O’clock shadow I’m used to him sporting. The top of his inky black hair is a smidge longer but is styled in an unkempt sort of way that makes him appear impossibly sexier than the Gray from memory.

  It takes longer than it should for me to realize he’s wearing a suit, no doubt an expensive one. His overall appearance is so far from being that of the casual southern gentleman I knew my senior year of high school, that it’s like I’ve met someone who’s his polar opposite but is trapped inside his body.

  What the hell has he been up to since I left?

  There are so many questions I have for him that it’ll probably take me all night, yet I can hardly find the courage to open my mouth. Swallowing, I begin rolling strands of the frayed denim from my jeans between my fingers as I gather the courage to begin.

  “What happened to you after I left?”

  I choose the broadest question, requiring him to go into detail with an in-depth answer.

  Only, he fails to give me one.

  “We’ll talk when we’re not in the car,” he remarks as if I’m getting on his nerves; like we don’t have a shared history, and I’m just someone he’s giving a ride to out of pity.

  Fuck. That.

  “No, we’ll talk right now. You owe me an explanation. You completely disappeared, Gray. That sounds crazy coming from me, but it’s true. I called after I left and Nana Rose said you skipped town again. You left no messages for me. No way to get in touch with you. You don’t even have a social media account for fuck’s sake! And you turned your phone off or changed your number. Every time I called back, no one could give it to me, or they refused to…I don’t know which. It seems to me, you didn’t care if we never spoke again?” I glance at him to see if I can get a read on him, but he retains his poker-face, staying tight-lipped.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no, I didn’t care, Valley.’ You know what, if that’s the case, you had no right to interrupt my date and just expect me to leave with you. I have a life, Gray!” My voice rises higher and higher with each word, and I’m starting to sound a little hysterical. Not to mention, I’ve now begun spouting lies.

  His face softens the slightest bit as raw pain oozes out into my words.

  “That wasn’t a date, V. You and I both know you just met the guy. We’re not discussing this shit ‘til we’re out of the car. There’s no telling where the conversation will veer or what will happen. When it comes to you and me arguing, it probably isn’t safe.” The corner of his mouth twitches, but he never smiles, never says another word until we pull up outside my apartment building.

  “How did you know where I live?”

  He ignores my question, but opens the door for me and reaches for my hand so I can use him to help balance and steady myself. Glancing down at my feet, he frowns.

  “Those aren’t safe. What if you found yourself in a dangerous predicament?”

  I scoff at his statement. “Really Gray? That’s what you’re concerned about? My shoe choice?”

  He rolls his eyes, responding gruffly, “No, V. Your safety.”

  I stomp several steps ahead of him but he easily keeps up. We walk up the steps of my apartment building and my head and heart are rapidly switching places, I’m not sure which is which. It’s difficult to sort the two out, but I swivel on my heel to face him outside my apartment door.

  “My safety,” I scoff. “That’s ironic considering you’re the most dangerous thing to ever enter my life. You may have saved me from Jeremy that night in the barn among all the other chivalrous things you’ve done, but that crap doesn’t balance out the equation in comparison to the damage you did when you vanished on me. You cut ties and made it so I couldn’t contact you.” My voice lowers, vibrating with menace.

  His eyes narrow at my words, so I turn away to unlock and open the door. I don’t think I can do this tonight. I’m in shock. I’m going to explode into a mess of anger, then melt into a puddle of emotions, then cling to him and beg him to make love to me.

  My mental state is precarious at best—not exactly the best way to approach the discussion that needs to take place. I’ll just have to tell him to leave and come back tomorrow, or the next day preferably after I’ve had time to process everything.

  As soon as the lock clicks and I turn the knob, Gray shoves it open the rest of the way, pushing past me. Strutting straight through the kitchenette and into my living room, making himself at home. He kicks off his shoes
beside the coffee table and props his feet on top while relaxing back into my leather sofa like he’s king of the fucking castle.

  So much for that idea.

  Surprisingly, he continues the conversation. “You think I did damage to you?”

  “Isn’t that what I said? And I didn’t invite you to come inside,” I challenge, staring him down from my spot as I lean against the breakfast bar.

  He considers this for a moment, running his hands through the sides of his hair, his first show of having any feelings other than neutrality where I’m concerned. I watch intently as he removes his suit jacket and rolls his sleeves up over his thick forearms. He’s damn fine in a suit, but I can’t get used to it. Not when flannel shirts and boots were made with him in mind.

  Attraction aside, I’m still irritated. There are too many unanswered questions that demand an explanation. Like how he knows where I live, and how he ran into me tonight—which I have a nagging suspicion was more than sheer coincidence. I can’t contain such questions any longer.

  “How did you know where I live? Why did you stop me from going home with Pierce?” I question, taking a few steps toward him. His eyes dart up to my face at the mention of Pierce’s name, and I see some emotion flicker through them. Anger? Pain? I haven’t a clue.

  “Coincidence,” he attempts to lie and I actually laugh out loud at the absurdity in his believing I’ll fall for that line of bullshit.

  “There’s no way both those questions could warrant that particular answer,” I point out, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Well, it’s the truth. I’m in town for business. By some stroke of fate, I was passing by when you walked out of the library this morning and got into your car; almost thought I was dreaming. I followed you and saw where you lived, or at least, I assumed it was. I didn’t figure you might be visiting someone else, but from tonight seeing you with that guy, it seems that assumption was wrong.” I can’t help but wince as he says it, even if I realize I have no reason to feel guilty. I’m sure he’s gotten laid plenty in the past three years, why should I not be allowed to try and move on?