Truth in Pieces

by RC Boldt

  At the thought, my chest grows painfully tight. I force away the regret that it’ll never happen and clear my throat. “If you could travel back in time, who would you wanna talk with?”

  Olivia falls quiet for so long that I glance over to find her staring out the window. When I turn my attention back to the road, she answers quietly. “My parents.” As if realizing clarification might be necessary, she hastily adds, “The ones who raised me.”

  I squeeze her hand, trying to offer some comfort to her. We drive in easy silence for a bit, and it isn’t until we hit Rickenbacker Causeway that I speak. My voice sounds gravelly, and I don’t bother to mask the emotion in it.

  “They did a damn good job.” Without looking her way, I raise our hands and place a kiss on the back of hers. “They’d be proud as hell.”

  I park the car on the side street in a neighborhood that’s older and not necessarily run-down, but many of the places could use a fresh coat of paint. In my periphery, Marcus and Tino park at a distance, dutifully waiting in the car, scoping things out. Even though Santilla’s gone quiet again, I’m not taking any chances.

  Olivia whips her head around in surprise. “Here?”

  “Here.” Hell if I don’t like that I’ve surprised her. “I’ll come ’round and get you.” I get out and circle the car to open her door. When she lets me help her out, the way she peers up at me with those beautiful eyes makes me feel like I’m one of those goddamn storybook princes.

  No matter that I’m the furthest thing from it.

  My damn heart nearly beats out of my chest when she gives me what’s got to be the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. And we’re not even to the surprise yet.

  I hit the key fob for my car alarm and lead her along a sidewalk that’s seen better days. As soon as we turn the corner and she spots the old sign, she lets out a little laugh. “Literally. The Hole In The Wall.”

  “Heard they got the best damn jukebox around.”

  Her eyes dance with excitement. “This, I must see.”

  As soon as we step inside, I nod at the owner who’s wiping down the bar counter. He offers a quick lift of his chin before getting back to his work. Then I get Olivia settled in a booth near the back of the bar that’s spotted with duct tape used to remedy the rips. This booth also affords me a clear view of the entrance and the tiny hall leading to the rear exit.

  “Whatcha want from the bar, birthday girl?”

  Those blue-green eyes crinkle at the edges when she smiles up at me. “My birthday was yesterday. But I’ll take a Key West beer, please.”

  Her breath catches when I lean in closer. “You celebrated it with your girl yesterday. Now, it’s my turn.”

  Her expression morphs into mischief. “I was under the impression we did a bit of celebrating last night.”

  I groan before stamping a quick kiss on her lips and turn to head for the jukebox. But I don’t miss the way her eyes spark with something that looks a lot like…affection.

  41

  Olivia

  I busy myself by taking in the random assortment of decorations adorning most of the walls, ranging from dollar bills with patrons’ names or their hometowns written on them stapled along the wooden beams to beer logos and faded Polaroids of their grand opening years ago. The main wall behind where the two pool tables sit is the most eye-catching of all. From floor to ceiling, the wall is graffiti art with:

  Great music + Cold beer + Good people = Good life

  Nico ventures back with two ice-cold beers, glasses covered in drops of condensation, and I can’t help but admire the man’s natural swagger. He commands attention with his walk and how he carries himself, but the smirk teasing the edges of his mouth has me wondering what he’s up to.

  I don’t immediately register the click of the old jukebox cueing up a new song until the first few notes play. My lips part while my heart lurches. Nico sets the beers on the table, then holds out a hand.

  “Let’s dance, Professor.”

  I slide my hand into his and follow him to the tiny dance floor a few feet away from the jukebox. We garner a few curious glances from the regulars at the bar, but Nico doesn’t pay them any attention.

  He pulls me close, his jaw dusting my temple, and the way I fit in his embrace has me wishing for the impossible while the sound of Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World” surrounds us.

  I close my eyes and memorize the moment. He holds me close, as if I’m something precious he’s afraid to part with. His trademark scent envelops me—the clean bodywash he uses combined with something so utterly male.

  The fact that he brought me here instead of some fancy restaurant, that he knew this place had a jukebox with an old song that holds so much meaning for me, has my heart clamoring for him.

  But the truth remains: though it may be beautiful, whatever this is between us won’t last. I live my life as a law-abiding citizen, whereas he’s the furthest thing from it. Our lives were never meant to intersect. But now that they have, it still doesn’t mean it’s right. That it’s meant to be.

  That we’re meant to be.

  I lean back to thank him for this, and the instant our eyes meet, the warmth in his gaze has my defenses cracking wide open, leaving me vulnerable.

  “Thank you for this. It’s…the best birthday gift.” And I mean it. I’ve never been caught up in material things, but when it comes to a thoughtful gesture—like someone driving forty-five minutes to a hole-in-the-wall bar that has a special song on the jukebox—it means the world to me.

  Gold flecks glimmer in his brown eyes and that familiar smirk makes an appearance. “Nah…this ain’t your gift, Professor.” He tugs me back to him, holding me even tighter, and murmurs in my ear. “That’s waitin’ at the house.” His hand descends my spine in a gentle caress. “This is just somethin’ little.”

  We sway until the song ends, and the entire time, I wonder if he knows how untrue his words are.

  Because this isn’t something little. Not to me.

  Not by a long shot.

  42

  Nico

  After bonding over songs played on the jukebox, Olivia’s a little tipsy from the two beers she had after we shared an order of mozzarella sticks and a basket of fried calamari. Now, there’s an infectious happy and carefree air around her.

  Once I slide behind the wheel, a sense of nervousness edges in. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten that gift for her. Fuck.

  I stare out the windshield, warring with what to do when she lays a hand on my forearm. “Thanks for this.” Exhaling a happy-sounding sigh, she fastens her seat belt and rests her head against the seat, closing her eyes. A smile lingers on her lips, and all the times I achieved success in my work pales in comparison to the surge of male pride and satisfaction I feel at the sight of Olivia’s smile.

  Securing my own seat belt, I check my phone and shoot a text back to Rafe to let him know we’re heading home. The ride back is quiet with Olivia asleep beside me.

  She rouses, cheeks a bit flushed, once I pull beneath the covered entry of the house and Marcus and Tino pull in behind us.

  “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.” She smooths a hand over her hair.

  I reach over and unfasten her seat belt, easing it around her body. “It’s all good.” When a shadow hovers near the car—Rafe—I settle my hand on my door handle. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Exiting the vehicle, I toss the keys to Rafe before opening Olivia’s door. He eyes me curiously. “Went down to the Hole?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.” His eyes flick to Olivia once she steps from the vehicle. “What’d you think? Tell me you got the calamari.”

  She laughs. “Yes. And the mozzarella sticks.”

  “That’s just wrong.” Turning, he squints at me. “Bossman ain’t ever brought me there for my birthday.”

  I stare at him deadpanned. “’Cause you ain’t even close to bein’ as pretty as my professor.”

  It doesn’t hit me until
a beat of silence greets my words. Ahh, fuck. Rafe looks like one big smug-ass motherfucker while Olivia…well, hell. She’s fiddling with her purse and avoiding my eyes.

  Maybe she didn’t like the “my professor” bit. Tough to say.

  I tell Rafe, “I’m off for the night,” while I walk past and snag Olivia’s hand.

  “Got it, Boss.”

  I tug open the door and gesture for her to precede me. I feel like maybe I made a huge error in calling her that. As we walk through the house and make our way down the hall leading to our bedrooms, I try to figure out how the hell to remedy this.

  Dammit. What if she doesn’t want to stay in my room tonight?

  When we near her bedroom, I slow to a stop. She peers up at me with an indecipherable expression. Hit with an unrelenting bout of nerves, I drop her hand and step back, dragging my hands over my head before I drop them at my sides.

  “Look, I ain’t gonna pressure you, but if you wanna…” I scratch at the side of my jaw that doesn’t itch—just for something to do with my hand. “Maybe sleep in my room again tonight, you can.” I wince because I sound like a fucking douche. Christ. “I mean, I’d like it if you did.”

  Jesus, fuck. I take a big step back and duck my head. “You know what? I’m just gonna—”

  “Yes.”

  My head snaps up. “What?”

  She steps closer until we’re nearly toe to toe. “Yes, I’d like to sleep in your room again tonight.”

  A slow smile spreads across my face. “Yeah?”

  She nods. “But on one condition.”

  I sober, listening intently. Maybe she didn’t like me holding her? Ah, damn. It’ll suck if that’s the case, but I’ll roll with it. Hell, I’ll even put a line of pillows between us if that’s what she wants.

  “Can I borrow your shirt to sleep in again?”

  I blink and wait, thinking maybe I didn’t hear her correctly. Then I ask, slowly, “You wanna borrow my shirt to sleep in?”

  Is that it? Because, shit, I’ll donate every last one of my shirts to her if that’s all it’ll take to get her to stay in my bed each night.

  “Yes.”

  “Consider it done.”

  She smiles up at me before backing away. “I need to grab a few things. I’ll meet you in your room in a minute.”

  She takes one step inside her bedroom when the offer spills out of me. “Bring whatever you need to get ready for work, too.” Hurriedly, I tack on, “If you want.”

  She turns to me with a shy smile. “Okay.” Then she disappears from sight, leaving me standing in the hall with the biggest damn grin on my face.

  I don’t give a shit that I’m happier about sleeping in the same bed with a woman than I’ve ever been about getting laid. Olivia’s different. Just being around her makes me feel lighter. Better.

  It’s selfish as hell, but I’ll take whatever moments I can get with her while she’s here.

  Before she finds out the truth and everything changes.

  43

  Olivia

  I’m familiar with the human psyche. It’s my specialty, after all.

  My career is built upon the study of the brain and the dynamics of human emotions and thoughts. Which means, by all accounts, I understand Stockholm syndrome and the fundamentals behind it. I know it isn’t what’s spurred my feelings for Nico.

  I want to try with him. For the first time in forever, I want to see if I can officially put the past behind me.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I realize something crucial. I’m not afraid. No, I’m not the least bit terrified at the prospect of having sex with Nico. Because I know with certainty that he’ll do anything he can to put me at ease.

  Once I have my toiletry bag in hand, along with my outfit for work in the morning, I head down the hall to his room. The door is closed, and when I raise my hand to knock, I find that I’m trembling.

  “You can do this,” I whisper to myself, flexing my fingers and curling them into a fist again. But the door is yanked open before my knuckles make contact with it.

  A shirtless Nico stands before me, clad in low-slung gray pajama pants. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” My voice is soft, hesitant. “I was about to knock.”

  His expression is hard to read, tone gruff. “Thought maybe you changed your mind.”

  Oh, wow. He was actually worried that I decided not to spend the night with him.

  “No.” I offer a tentative smile, but he doesn’t move to let me in. “Unless…you changed your mind?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He steps back, holding the door wider for me to enter. Once he closes us inside, he exhales a hefty breath. Reaching for my heels and dress whose hanger I looped my bra and panties over, he takes them into the walk-in closet to join his own wardrobe.

  I can’t help but watch the play of muscles in his back and arms when he hooks the hanger on the shiny rod beside his button-downs and suits. Then he sets my shoes beside pairs of his own.

  He pads over to me. When he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants, it causes them to slouch lower, drawing my eyes to the faint V outline disappearing into his—

  “Olivia.” Nico practically growls my name, and when I jerk my eyes up, searing heat floods my face.

  “Sorry.” I avert my eyes to study his shoulder as if it contains the secret to establishing world peace. “I didn’t mean to ogle you like a butcher admiring a choice cut of beef.”

  A bark of laughter erupts from him, and I get the feeling it catches us both by surprise. He reaches past me to grab the folded T-shirt lying on the bed and hands it to me. “As requested.”

  Accepting the soft, well-worn cotton, I tip my head toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll just be a minute or so.”

  Warmth blazes in his eyes. “Take your time.”

  Once I shut myself inside the bathroom, I make quick work of washing up and changing. Then I second-guess myself because I’ve just washed off my makeup. Perhaps I should’ve kept it on. Although, the man has seen me when I’ve been a sobbing, waterlogged mess.

  Get it together, I scold myself. I’ll be offering the man my body. It’s doubtful he’ll care whether I’m wearing makeup.

  Drawing in a deep, calming breath, I emerge from the bathroom. I expect to find him in bed, with his phone in hand, tending to whatever business needs to be handled. Instead, he stands at the windows overlooking the bay with his back to me.

  He appears so uncharacteristically relaxed right now. His voice sounds husky yet holds a gentle quality when he says without turning, “I got somethin’ for you.”

  His hands are in front of him, out of my line of sight. But when he turns, it’s not the shiny gift bag that garners my attention. It’s the vulnerability etched on his face.

  “Is that my birthday present?”

  “Yeah.” An edge of his lips tips up. “Wasn’t sure what to get you, but I thought”—his casual shrug is at odds with the hesitance in his eyes—“maybe this’ll do.”

  I venture closer. “May I?” My fingers hover over the bag’s opening while he holds it. He nods, and I wonder if it’s just me or if he’s actually gone pale.

  When I peel back the tissue paper masking the contents, my eyes dart to his curiously.

  “Go ahead, Professor.”

  I reach inside to lift out the wooden box. It looks to be antique in style with hand-carved swirls and heart-shaped designs covering the outside. There’s a hinge on one side, and I wonder if it’s a jewelry box.

  Nico offers quietly, “It opens up.”

  The instant I raise the top—the second the first few notes begin playing—my heart stalls in my chest.

  Nico gave me a music box that plays “What A Wonderful World” for my birthday.

  My words are forced through an impossibly tight throat in a barely there whisper. “You remembered I had a music box that played this?”

  “’Course I remember,” he says quietly with that trademark arrogan
ce I’ve come to know. When he adds, “I remember everythin’ you tell me,” he obliterates any remaining resistance I’ve held on to.

  Peering down at the music box that still plays, I swallow past the enormous lump of emotion lodged in my throat. Gently lowering the lid, I set it on the bedside table and smooth my fingers over the top of the wood.

  “Nico?” I ask softly.

  “Yeah?” There’s caution in his tone, but I plan to remedy that.

  “I suggest you toss that bag down and get ready.”

  I barely give him two seconds before I whirl around and rush him, framing his face with my hands and steering his mouth to mine. With the gift bag strewn on the floor, one of his arms snakes around me while the other cups the back of my head to drive the kiss deeper. Fisting the hair at my nape, his tongue licks into my mouth as frenzied lust courses through my veins.

  A shudder wracks his body when I nip at his bottom lip. I soothe it with my tongue before easing back to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the gift. I love it.”

  His tone is husky and low, eyes sparking with both heat and a tinge of humor. “Yeah. Think I got that when you jumped me.”

  “Hey,” I scold playfully, shoving at his chest, but he tightens his hold and dips his head closer.

  “Ain’t sayin’ I don’t approve.” He drags his lips lightly over mine. “In fact, I’d prefer you thank me like that all the time.”

  “You would, huh?” I whisper against his mouth.

  “Yeah.” His eyes flash with something unique that I can’t quite pinpoint.

  When I ease away, he tightens before reluctantly releasing his hold on me. I walk backward until the backs of my legs hit the bed. Then I grasp the hem of the T-shirt and raise it slowly, gauging Nico’s expression.

  His gaze goes from wary to molten hot. A thread of caution edges its way into his eyes by the time I toss the shirt aside and stand in my panties.