Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “We will,” Shane reminded gently. “As soon as the shop is settled. I have big plans for you.”

  Greta looked up at him, her face open. Trusting. Whatever games Shane thought she was up to, she clearly wasn't. She looked so vulnerable in that moment that Shane had to do a gut check. Maybe Harrison's warning wasn't wasted after all. Did she get like this with all the guys she “helped?”

  “Let's go sit in the living room and wait out the tequila,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. “I have a feeling I'll be holding back this hair before the night is over.”

  “You'd hold my hair back for me?” She laughed lightly as she let him lead her back the way they'd come.

  “That's what friends do, right? Then we can paint each other's nails and talk about boys.”

  Greta snorted and Shane realized that was her drunk laugh. She honestly could not get cuter. He was starting to understand what people had been saying about her.

  “C'mere.” He guided her with his hands as he reclined on the sofa, pulling her down on top of him, tucking her between his side and the sofa. She easily snuggled against him and rested her head on his chest.

  She did have power over men. More than she was aware of, probably.

  She was warm against him, and he was unnerved at the fact that it went further than skin deep. Her presence pressed against the wall of ice he'd built around his heart after he'd left Lucy. But Greta was like a wildfire. She was all flames and insanity, and he was terrified of her. She smelled of velvet and heat and all the things that he needed to stay away from. She drained him of his abject complacency while simultaneously filling him with belief and resolve to follow her into the unknown.

  “How come you wouldn't go with your brother?” he asked, settling an arm around her shoulders and holding her tight, wondering if they would survive each other.

  “He's always bossing me around and I wasn't in the mood to be bossed.” She started to breathe more slowly and he was pretty sure she was going to fall asleep soon.

  “Are you ever?” he pointed out with a chuckle.

  “Nope.” She craned her neck up to grin at him and he smiled in return.

  His hand came up the back of her head and pulled some of her dark hair back. “Why didn't you tell me that we had met before?” He saw her eyes widen slightly and he held her gaze.

  “It didn't seem important.” She smiled contritely, and lowered her head back down. Her hand splayed out next to her face on his chest, and her fingers tapped along with the beat of his heart.

  Shane brought his outside arm up and rested his hand on her hip. She sighed against him.

  “Brady was right,” her husky voice broke the silence.

  “What did Brady say?” Shane asked apprehensively. Maybe he'd finally get the end of that sentence after all.

  “You're gonna break my heart.”

  Shane had no response except to clutch her a little tighter.

  He had no intention of breaking anyone's heart ever again.

  Her breathing evened out, and her body relaxed against his completely. A few minutes later, Shane fell asleep as well.

  Chapter 5

  Fire

  Greta squeezed her eyes tighter as the sun tried to penetrate her eyelids.

  That last shot of tequila was imbedded firmly in her skull like an ax.

  She groaned and rolled onto her back slowly, trying to figure out why she was on the couch and not in her bed. Then she sat up swiftly as the rest of the night raged into her memory.

  That had been a bad idea. Both hands flew up to hold her head still and she let out another groan. She waited for the spinning to subside before chancing a look around Shane's living room.

  The house was quiet, and Greta waited for several minutes before getting up and hurrying to the bathroom. Once she finished her business and did not hurl, a fact that she was very proud of, she looked through the rest of the house.

  “Shane?” she called lightly, not wanting to disturb the delicate agreement she had reached with her head. But the house was empty.

  She checked every room to be sure, then looked in the driveway to see his car was gone too. Without so much as a note. Whatever.

  Greta had no purse and no phone. Shane had basically abandoned her in his house with no way to get anywhere else. And she had to work that afternoon. He was honestly asking for some hardcore snooping from her at this rate. But her irritation and queasy stomach ended up being stronger than her curiosity. She bypassed the snooping and picked up the cordless on the kitchen counter, dialing the one number she knew would give her a rescue even if it came with a lecture.

  Brady picked up on the second ring. “Greta Garbo, how are you doing this fine morning?”

  His voice came through loudly and Greta winced slightly. “Hey, Brady. I sorta got ditched this morning.”

  “I'm outside,” Brady said, and it sounded like he was laughing a little.

  “What?” Greta frowned into the phone. Then she heard a car horn in the driveway.

  “I'm outside,” he repeated. “Get your hungover ass out here.” Then the line went dead.

  Greta returned the phone to the cradle and headed to the door. Sure enough, Brady's dark blue Subaru was idling in the driveway, with Brady's big, happy smile behind the wheel. Greta wanted to return the smile, but mostly she groaned.

  “How're you feeling?” Brady asked as she slid in and buckled her seat belt.

  “How did you know I was here?” Greta asked, wondering if maybe Shane hadn't totally dicked out and perhaps sent her a ride home.

  Brady backed out of the drive and turned down the street before answering.

  “I saw you leave with Brookings last night. Got up this morning, you still weren't home, so I followed a hunch.”

  “You drove all the way out here on a hunch?” Greta asked, incredulous.

  “Pretty much. You were hitting it pretty hard last night. I knew you'd need a rescue.” He glanced over at her at a stoplight. “Shane bail this morning?”

  Greta pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Yes.” She knew humiliation should be coloring her face but it wasn't. She couldn't even be properly embarrassed.

  “That sucks.” He turned his attention back to the road and Greta knew he had more to say. Then he said it. “You sure about this with him?”

  “No.” Greta rolled her eyes at herself. “He's so hot and cold, it's hard to get a read on him. One minute, we're besties. The next...” She let her voice trail off as her hand gestured to Brady who finished the thought.

  “He ditches you without cab fare.”

  “This is why my mom always told me to hide a twenty in my bra when I went out. It was a shoe for Miranda, but since I have a tendency to take my shoes off and leave them places, she recommended my bra. 'Cause everyone knows that sucker is staying on.” She leaned her head against the glass of the window, ignoring Brady's shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “Do I ever listen? No. The answer is always, no.”

  Brady reached over to pat her knee with a grin. “Buck up, camper. The day has just begun and I'm taking you for breakfast.”

  “Ugh. Food sounds like a very bad idea.” Greta pressed a hand to her wobbly stomach. Brady ignored her comment and kept driving.

  They pulled into a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Greta knew was Brady's favorite place in the whole world. She groaned in partial exaggeration, unbuckled herself and joined Brady on the sidewalk. “I have to work in a few hours, so you can't spend the whole time flirting with the waitress.”

  Brady hooked an arm around her neck, pulled her tight to his side. “I can't promise that.”

  After they were seated and Greta could smell greasy sausage and bacon in the air, she perked up considerably. It got even better when the waitress refilled her coffee and the food arrived.

  “Your hangovers are so short lived it's not even fair,” Brady remarked, taking a sip of coffee.

  “It's my metabolism. Everything burns right through me,�
� she answered around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  “This I know,” he agreed, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “You gonna hit the gym today?”

  “Of course. Probably after work now, though.”

  She looked around at the other patrons briefly and then up at their waitress, who was refilling Brady's cup again. Even though it wasn't empty yet. Greta looked down to Brady in time to catch the wink he threw at their server. She waited for the girl to leave again before giving him a hard time.

  “Every time, Brady Samson!” She shook her head and pushed back in her seat as he shot her a look of arguable innocence.

  “What?!”

  “Your face is smiling,” she pointed out dryly. “If you plan on pretending not to know what I'm talking about, you better get your facial expressions on the same page.”

  Brady barked in laughter and shook his head at her. “You're a nut.”

  “Why don't you just ask her out already? You're in here four times a week, you ask for her section, and you leave an ungodly tip. Pretty sure she knows you like her.”

  “I can't do that,” he said quietly and she knew she was getting ready to hear the dumbest reason of all reasons. Mostly because she had heard it at least four hundred and seventy-eight times before. “I like the food here. If it doesn't work out, I can't come back.”

  “Stupid,” Greta mumbled. Brady chuckled.

  “It is what it is. Besides, I already did.” He chuckled again when Greta's mouth fell open. “She's already seeing a guy. Football player at UCLA.”

  “Well,” Greta searched for a way to respond amidst her confusion, “why are you flirting with her?”

  Brady grimaced and took another sip of his coffee, looking around the room briefly before his gaze settled back on Greta. “So what happened with Shane last night? Break any of your rules yet?”

  So he didn't want to talk about the waitress anymore. Couldn't get more obvious than that. Greta could give him that; he was buying her breakfast after all. His question was loaded, though, and she didn't like it. Truth was, she had broken the rules with Shane. A whole mess of them. Starting with how much she liked him, which was a lot. But she wasn't going to tell Brady that. So instead, she stuffed her mouth with a giant piece of blueberry muffin.

  “Right,” Brady said softly, and Greta looked away. She didn't have to tell him, he already knew. But he probably thought it was worse than it actually was.

  She swallowed the muffin. “None of the major rules,” she clarified carefully. He watched her silently, his blue eyes scanning her face for any obvious signs of dishonesty.

  “You like him.”

  Greta's eyes snapped to his and she glared. “Stop it.”

  Brady's face tightened and he looked out the window. “Shit.”

  Greta resumed eating. She knew what he was worried about. But she had enough older brothers. It was seriously turning into a crazy collection of sorts. Some people collected stamps, coins, plushies, cats. Greta collected overprotective and bossy pseudo-siblings. Did everyone truly believe she couldn't make a good decision on her own?

  “I'll hit the gym with you when you get off work.” Brady's face had relaxed again and he pushed his back against the booth.

  He must have decided against the lecture she knew was on the tip of his tongue. She was grateful for that and nodded at his suggestion. Besides, she liked going to the gym with Brady, he knew his shit.

  She wiped her mouth with her napkin, her previous upset stomach now just a memory. “I'm ready if you are.” She gestured to his clean plate. He stood up, opened his wallet and tossed two fifties on the table.

  Greta snickered and shook her head. “That's easily an eighty dollar tip.”

  Brady draped a heavy arm across her shoulders and steered her out the door. “Now she'll know what she's missing. What's the point in having a trust fund if I can't be obnoxious with it?”

  “Right,” she said, using his word from earlier. Brady tousled her hair as they reached the car and broke apart to their separate doors.

  He grinned as he unlocked the door and she smiled back. She couldn't help it. No one would ever describe Brady as obnoxious. Generous, sweet, responsible. Never obnoxious.

  “Where to next?” she asked agreeably as he backed out of his parking space.

  “I need a haircut. You think you can hook me up?” he asked as he slid his shades onto his face.

  Greta eyed his bleached out, straw-straight hair that he'd worn shaggy and unkempt since the day she'd met him. “What do you have in mind?”

  Brady shrugged and rested a forearm on the steering wheel. “I wanna shave it off. Tired of it.”

  Greta didn't address the tenseness that entered his voice with his words. Or the way he acted too much like it didn't make a difference to him. Instead, she nodded. “You got it. Let's hit it right when we get home. I have to get to work, and I still need to shower.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced over at her momentarily, but she pretended not to notice. His eyes went back to the road.

  When Brady was ready to discuss what was on his mind, he would.

  ***

  Clarke: How do you feel this a.m? Was Shane a gentleman?

  Greta: I fell asleep on the couch, woke up and he'd gone to work. Home now.

  Where are you?

  Clarke: Stayed with Harry and Mike. Going to the recording studio.

  Greta: Jealous!

  Clarke: You should join us

  Greta: Can't. Have to work soon. Then I have to hit the weights.

  Clarke: I'll be home tonight, we'll talk.

  Oh, and I'm wearing Mike's underwear, but it's not what you think

  Greta: Bahahahaha! Can't wait for that explanation ;)

  ***

  Shane was in a piss-poor mood today and he really didn't have much of a reason. Well, yes, he did, but he doubted very much his reason would agree with him.

  He'd had to sneak out of his own house this morning. He couldn't face Greta. It's not like anything happened to be ashamed of, and more than likely she wouldn't remember any of what they talked about anyway. But she'd gotten under his skin and he had to get away from her for a minute. Because sometime in the middle of the night, her body draped languidly over his, he actually debated with himself on whether he should sell his shop and move to Auckland. Either that, or demand that she marry him and have his babies.

  See? She was driving him batshit crazy.

  Luckily, the three new hires he was training this week were top notch and didn't give him any trouble. At the rate they were going, Clarke was definitely going to have more free time. She'd been carrying the workload of four people. Shane was going to give her a big fat raise.

  The worst part about how he left this morning was that he didn't even leave a note or anything. He just left. Like the scared little girl he was.

  He looked at his phone a thousand times, wanting to text something but unable to come up with the right words. Now, it was getting late in the day, and he was only going to make things worse the longer he waited.

  Shane: What are you doing?

  That was brilliant, wasn't it? He used to be charming and suave once, right? Apparently all that was left was something resembling a jackass. A very cold, very stubborn jackass.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed a response.

  Greta: I'm at work

  Okay, she was at work. Now he felt even worse since he'd basically abandoned her at his house with no way to get home and she had to work later. Yeah, he was cool.

  Shane: Can I pick you up when you get off?

  Greta: No. Gym after work with Brady. Then home to see Clarke.

  Shane: After that then.

  Several minutes passed and there was no response. Maybe she was busy at work. Maybe she was mad at him. It was stupid that he cared so much about what she thought. But he did. He cared way too stinkin' much.

  Greta: Don't get clingy, Brookings. I'll see you when I see you.

&n
bsp; Shane stared at his screen for far too long. He wanted to say something smart-ass back, but he was too thrown by her reply to think of a good one.

  He stuck his phone back in his pocket and got back to work.

  Whatever.

  He'd be seeing her later.

  That day.

  ***

  Greta turned her phone off. She didn't want to know if he was going to reply. She poured her focus into her job: making kick-ass coffee. She knew her brother thought she wasn't living up to her potential, but she really didn't give a shit. She was good at her job and received more tips than anyone else. She chalked it up to her gregarious personality and ability to have fun doing anything she was presented with. Besides, it was hard not to have fun while making coffee.

  Her shift ended quickly and she headed straight for the gym. Brady's car was already in the parking lot. She grabbed her bag from the backseat and went inside to change.

  This is why Greta liked going to the gym with Brady. He didn't bother her. He didn't talk to her unless he absolutely had to. He stuck to his thing and let her stick to hers. If he was impressed by a particular set she did, he'd give her a chin lift. But that was it.

  He also brought a certain vibe with him that seemed to notify all others in the vicinity to give Greta her space, too. It was like her own personal Brady Force Field. Which was great, because every time she went to the gym alone, guys she didn't know would try to educate her on her form or something. Mostly it was an excuse to get all handsy, which she did not like. Brady's presence neutralized that threat.

  They finished at basically the same time and Brady met her at the door, ready to walk her to her car.

  “You heading home?” Greta asked as they crossed the darkened parking lot.

  “In a bit. Steve texted me, I have to pick him up from Adam's.”

  Greta nodded, unlocked the Jeep, and tossed her bag into the passenger seat. She turned to face Brady, intending to smile, wave, and be on her way. But he had stepped closer, blocking her in between the open door and his arm that was now stretched out and resting on the top of the doorframe of the Jeep. His blue-gray eyes swept over her face and his other hand came up to cup her chin.