Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  I know there is only one explanation as to why he didn’t sleep last night. There’s a difference between I stayed up and partied all night Trevor and I stayed up because I was running from my nightmares Trevor. The one standing before me is clearly the latter.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I kick off my boots and stretch out on his newly cleaned chair. I leave an ample amount of space between my legs and pat my chest. “How ‘bout we sleep on it, then?” For a moment, he doesn’t move—but my eyes never waver from his. I know he won’t refuse me. I can get him to sleep in under five minutes and he knows it.

  Without a word, he adjusts the chair the way that he wants it and then kicks off his shoes. He crawls into the space between my legs, resting on his stomach, and lays his head on my chest, just below my chin. I run my fingers through his hair and massage the nap of his neck. I can tell that he’s wound up and I wonder how much of that has to do with last night and how much has to do with work. I didn’t ask Willow about his last client. He usually likes to split his larger projects into two hour increments and I’m not sure how long his session was. Either way, he grows heavy with sleep as he relaxes against me. In just a couple minutes, he’s out like a light.

  And this is why I could never date anyone else—because it’s moments like this one that make every breath worth breathing.

  I’m not sure how long I lay with him in my arms before a soft knock sounds at the door. I don’t have to speak an invitation because the door opens a second later. I don’t bother to try and see who it is, knowing that I’d have to twist my entire body to look around the chair. Instead, I wait patiently to see who has come to pay us a visit. I smile when I see Grace.

  “Gracie,” I whisper with a grin.

  “Hey, you,” she whispers in return, her own expression beaming. “They told me you were back here.” She wheels Trevor’s work stool over and takes a seat beside us. “Daphne, a.k.a. the Trevor Whisperer,” she giggles soundlessly. “Thank god you’re here. He’s been such a pain all day.”

  “Happy to help out where I can,” I say proudly.

  “You’re coming out with us tonight, right? The Tap Room?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good.”

  “Does he have anymore appointments today?” I ask, tilting my head to indicate the sleeping man wrapped around me.

  “Nope. If we have anymore walk-ins, Willow can handle it. The shop’s only open for a few more hours and I don’t see us getting busy. Keep him under as long as you can.”

  Since they are open every day except for Sunday, they only keep late hours Thursday through Saturday, when they close at ten. Monday through Wednesday, they shut things down at eight. When the boys go play basketball tonight, it’ll be Grace, Willow, Coder and me hanging out until Grace locks up. Coder complains about being left out of the game, but we all know he likes being the man around the shop every Monday night.

  “I heard I missed homemade ice cream.”

  “Serves you right for skipping out on us! You know I want the skinny on your date with Trev. I got barely anything out of him, yesterday.”

  I fix her with a look that screams: Get real. “You know damn well it was not a date.”

  She holds out her hand and starts ticking off a finger as if she’s about to count. “Brand new suit, plus sexy dress, plus a classic/traditional wedding, plus adorable selfies, equals a date. Just because he didn’t kiss you goodnight doesn’t mean it wasn’t. Besides, the way I heard it, you two spooned all night. I just call it like I see it. Y’all can be in denial about it all you want; that doesn’t mean I don’t want the details.”

  It always amuses me, hearing people describe my relationship with Trevor from their perspective. It reminds me just how weird we are. Looking down at him, I can’t help but laugh at the fact that our current position doesn’t phase or confuse me, despite what it may say to other people. Do I sometimes wish we were more? Yes. But, like I tell Logan all the time, I wouldn’t trade this for anything with anyone else in the world.

  Grace, however, doesn’t fall into the general category of other people. She sees us for who we are. She thinks it’s bullshit, and tells me so every once and a while, but she never pushes or prods either of us about it. Mostly, she just likes to indulge in good-ole-fashioned girl talk, like a true southern gal. Since I’m sure Trevor left out all sorts of fun details about the wedding, I’m happy to oblige.

  She stays with me for about an hour. We talk about the wedding, what I missed yesterday, a recipe for coffee ice cream she recently found, and the budding office romance between Pete and Willow. I always love talking to Grace. There’s just something about her that’s so unique. I can’t even really explain it. She’s such a girly girl, but she fits in so well with the guys. She loves gossip, but every one of us knows we can trust her with our secrets. She’s sweet, compassionate, and nurturing, but she’s also straightforward and unapologetic. She’s Gracie and we’ve been friends since the day I came into the shop, dying to see Trevor for the second time.

  She held my hand while he drove a needle through my nose and I tried not to scream.

  It’s Harvey who pops in and interrupts us, informing Grace that she’s needed at the front. When she leaves, she closes the door behind her and the room falls silent once more. I think about pulling out my phone so that I can put some music on while I lay here, but I remember that it’s in my purse. That’s when I see Trevor’s phone tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. I reach for it. The moment I grip it between my fingers, he inhales deeply and moves. I freeze, wondering if I’ve woken him, but he turns his head so that he’s resting on his opposite cheek and exhales as he goes still. I smile and unlock his screen.

  Every stereo he owns is synced through bluetooth with his phone. In his house, in his truck, in the shop—he likes to be able to carry his music with him everywhere. Just another reason why I love him. It takes me two seconds to open up a playlist that suits this exact moment. It’s an acoustic collection of his favorite songs. As soon as I hit play, the room fills with the soft hum of the first track. I slip his phone back into his pocket and bury my fingers in his hair as I close my eyes. The notes seem to wash over me, easing away the effects of this day and the cares I wasn’t even aware I was carrying. Before long, I hear nothing at all.

  I’m yanked out of my sleep by a sharp pain. Someone just flicked the shit out of my ear.

  “Ow!” I grumble.

  “Keep it down, dummy,” demands Harvey in a hushed voice. “Daph’s sleeping. You, on the other hand, need to get up. We’re out in five.”

  He’s gone before I can fully register all that he’s said, the groggy aftereffects of slumber still holding me captive. I hear music that wasn’t playing before and smell a floral scent, which I associate with Daphne. It takes me a moment to put the pieces together. Harvey’s not-so-subtle wakeup call reminds me that I’m still at the shop. I lift my head up and Daphne’s hands slip from out of my hair and onto my shoulders. I watch her sleep for a minute and it all comes rushing back.

  It’s been a long ass day. I only had a few people on the books today, but by the time Zander showed up, I was grumpy as hell. Lucky for the both of us, he’s not a very talkative guy. As I worked on his back piece, I wasn’t forced to make conversation. Even still, by the time he left, I was so over dealing with people for the day. I seriously considered bailing on basketball to go grab a couple hours of shut eye. I thought better of it, knowing I would need a good distraction before finding sleep. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve gotten laid and I figured today was as good as any other to change that. I was wound up and in need of some sort of release. I contemplated going out to find just what I was looking for…

  Then Wings walked through the door.

  Now, as I look at her, the thought of being inside of another chick seems wrong. At least in this very moment, it does. Don’t get it twisted, I could still use a quick fuck. It’s not any secret that I go out looking to wet my
dick every once in a while. A guy has needs. Yet, waking up with Daphne makes it impossible for me to think about being in bed with someone else. Her magic touch soothed me in a way sex, even with the most talented of partners, couldn’t have. When she invited me into her arms, it was like she was asking me to let it all go, to give it to her. So I did.

  No, it wasn’t the physical relief I was after, but she coaxed me into a deep, dreamless sleep; not for as long as I would have hoped for, but long enough to put me in a better mood and remind me that the guys would kick my ass if I bailed on the game. That being said, going to the gym means going out with everyone after. If Daphne’s there, and I assume she will be, I won’t be heading home with another chick, whether I want to or not. It doesn’t matter that I’m not her boyfriend. I would never try and score with anyone else while I was out with her.

  Maybe Pete and I can go out later this week. He’s a pretty decent wingman.

  I push my thoughts aside as I carefully extract myself from Daphne’s hold. When I slide into my shoes, I notice that she’s still got my hat twisted backwards on her head. The sight makes me smile. I’ve never seen anyone look so ridiculous and so perfect at the same time. Her legs are still sprawled open, speaking of my absence. I gently guide her knees together and then look about the room for something to keep her warm when I’m gone. I’ve got a zip-up hoodie draped over the chair at my desk. I grab it and cover her with it.

  I’m about to make my exit when I remember the music. By the time I get to my truck, it’ll switch off, which will probably wake her. She’s always so in-tune with whatever music might be playing in a room, whether she loves it or she hates it—whether she’s awake or asleep. Knowing I’ll see her in just a couple hours, I decide to leave it. I set my phone on top of her bag. As I head out, I tell Grace that if they need to get ahold of me to call Harvey.

  Harvey, Pete, and I are the last to make it out of the locker room at the gym. Roman, Ryan, and Ashton are already on the court warming up. The six of us have been playing for about a year now. Before that, it was just Harvey and me. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I never played in school or anything, it was just something Rett and I liked to do. He taught me everything I know. I think about him every time I step onto the court.

  After last night, I wish I could just clear my head and not think about anything at all. In an attempt to drown out the memories that seem to be at the forefront of my mind, I play hard. Tonight, I’m teamed up with Pete and Ashton. I play an aggressive game, but it just seems to ignite a fire in everyone else, too. After a couple hours, I’m spent and satisfied.

  It wasn’t sex—but it felt good, anyway.

  After we all hit the showers, we make our way to The Tap Room, where the girls and Coder are waiting for us. As soon as we arrive, we spot them not too far from the bar. They’ve pushed two tabletops together, to accommodate all of us, and they’ve already started on their first round. Coder’s got them laughing about something.

  Typical. He probably feels like the shit, sitting around drinking a beer with five women.

  Naturally, my eyes zero in on Daphne first. She’s still wearing my hat, only now she’s got the bill tilted up and angled to the side and she owns it. For a second, I wish she was mine and that I could just take her home now and bury myself in her. I shrug the thought away immediately.

  Fuck. I need to get some sleep.

  I head straight for her, like I always do, and kiss the side of her neck in greeting. She smells good—too good for my tired and sloppy mind—so I don’t linger. “Hey. Did you bring my phone?”

  “Yeah,” she says, reaching into her pocket to retrieve it for me. “Thanks for leaving it. How was the game?”

  “Fine,” I say, not unkindly, as I slip my mobile into my back pocket.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you want me to come over tonight?”

  I know her invitation is innocent and offered with love. Drunk nights and shitty days—that’s our M.O. But I’ve already had one stray thought about having sex with her and I’m sure alcohol won’t help. I don’t trust my dick to play nice tonight and so I shake my head no. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Alright,” she says as she reaches for my hat.

  “No,” I catch her hand and return it to her lap. “It looks good.” She smiles at me and I wink at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Need another?”

  “Sure. Thanks. Whatever you order is fine.”

  Coder is so quirky, I can’t help but laugh at his lame jokes along with everyone else. For now, I’m just glad to be out of the office with a drink in my hand. I usually stick to beer when I come here, as they are known for their impressive selection, but I needed something stronger. I downed a shot of tequila upon arrival and now I’m nursing some fancy concoction the cute guy at the bar whipped together for me. I’m actually pretty terrible at ordering cocktails—but with the right smile, I usually end up with something that’s even better than anything on the menu.

  Whatever is in this glass is working and Judah is fading from my mind.

  I spent all afternoon trying to figure out what he meant by his flirtatious comment. That was flirting, wasn’t it? Ugh—fuck if I know. He was all business the rest of the day. Not that I’m complaining. He is way off limits. The last thing I need is another bitch on my hands with my new boss. I’ve got enough complicated in my life at the moment—something I’ve been trying to remind myself of repeatedly.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts when I see Trevor and Pete enter the bar. Trevor heads straight for Daphne and kisses her neck, his signature hello. Watching them relaxes me. If there is one thing I can be sure of, it’s that I’m doing the right thing, scheming with Roman in order to push those two together the way they should be. When he heads to the bar with Pete, Willow follows, leaving the seat next to Daphne open. Perfect.

  That is, until Roman walks in and sits beside her.

  What an idiot.

  A sexy idiot—a girl can’t help but notice—but an idiot just the same. First of all, it should be a rule that any time we’re out, all open seats beside Daphne should be reserved for Trevor.

  The problem with those two is that they don’t see themselves as a couple, like they should. They don’t make a big fuss about being next to each other in settings such as these. Instead, they are more than willing to endure an evening on opposite sides of the table. The way I see it, if they don’t make a fuss, someone has to. Apparently, Roman has left that responsibility to me.

  Speaking of me—why hasn’t he acknowledged my presence, yet? This isn’t just game time, this is primetime coverage!

  As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks my way. At first, I interpret his stare as an attempt to converse with me about his awareness that we’re supposed to be in character; but then I realize…he’s already in character. He’s totally checking me out.

  Damn. That’s hot.

  I decide to play along and rake my fingers through my hair, bringing it to one shoulder. I wink at him as I lift my drink to my lips and drain it of its remaining contents. I pull my eyes away from his for just a second and immediately start choking when I see Judah walk through the front door. I’m grateful for the overhead music and the buzz of conversation that fills the room, because the noises I make seem obnoxiously loud.

  “You okay?” asks Daphne, turning away from her brother to focus on me. I catch Roman’s eye again and he smirks at me, as if to say: Way to go!

  I manage a breath and nod that I’m fine.

  My eyes flicker back in the direction where I last saw Judah, but he’s no longer there. I have no idea why, but I decide to look to see where he’s gone. I regret it as soon as I spot him, tucked away in the back corner…staring right at me.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. What the hell does that mean?

  “Um, hello! LG?”

  I look at Daphne and then at Roman and then back at Daphne. I didn’t have a chance to fill her in
on the whole Judah situation before the guys got here. Now, I really wish I had made it a priority. But there’s no way I can hold back now—not with the man himself only a half a room away—Roman or no Roman.

  Then again, Roman should probably know about Jude. Jude certainly knows about Roman.

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I remember the comment he made earlier. Now he’s here—here! That must just be a coincidence. Right? Did I tell the girls at work where I’d be tonight? I can’t remember.

  “Are you—are you blushing?” Daphne gasps. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Short version?” I ask, finally finding my words.

  “Pronto!”

  “After lunch today,” I begin, hoping Roman can catch a clue, “I got assigned to this project at work. It’s an amazing opportunity and I was really lucky to be chosen as part of the team.”

  “Congratulations! That’s great. Doesn’t explain why you suddenly lack the ability to swallow, but—”

  “Edda chose someone from her Denver office to head the project. He’s—” I stop myself from telling them he’s an Adonis. “He’s here.”

  “Where? Is he hot or something?” asks Daphne as she starts to turn.

  “Don’t look!” I cover my eyes in astonishment—amazed that she would do something so obvious. I also laugh, amused that she knows me so well that she assumes he’s a total K.O. without me having to say a word about it.

  “So, why does this new boss of yours make you blush?” asks Roman.

  I drop my hand as I tell the both of them, “I think he hit on me today.”

  “You think or you know?” asks Daphne.

  “I think.”

  “Is he looking at you right now?”

  “I don’t know.” Something tells me that he is, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to get caught staring back twice.

  “Tell me where he is.”

  “Daph—”

  “Tell me where he is. I’ll be discreet,” she assures me. I give in and she stands immediately. “I’ll be right back, Trevor is—”