Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4)

by Shauna Allen

  I wanted to give him something in return and open up to him, but the words were trapped in my chest. What would he think of me if he knew the truth about what I’d put up with? Would he find me weak? Disgraceful? Pathetic?

  “It was my ex.”

  His brows curled down in confusion. “Huh?”

  “You asked me who made me feel bad about myself . . . It was him. He wasn’t very nice.” I stared down at the sand. Talk about the understatement of the year. “Stupid to let someone do that to me, but that’s what happened.”

  He cupped my jaw and lifted my face toward his. “It’s not stupid. It happens. I’m just sorry it happened to you. If I could erase it all, I would.”

  How could he be real? Where had this gentle Micah been hiding all this time?

  On impulse, I brushed a quick kiss to his lips. When I pulled away, he smiled at me and I’d swear it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Like a rarely glimpsed treasure.

  “No need to erase it for me, Micah. I’m moving on and creating new memories and a new life for myself.”

  He nodded once like he understood then faced the ocean again for a long moment. Then he stood and offered me his hand. I silently accepted and we continued to walk the beach, hand-in-hand, like we’d done it our whole lives.

  I’m not sure what happened, but a short walk on the beach turned into dinner, which turned into dessert, which turned into snuggling on my couch for a movie.

  I glanced over at the lilies he’d brought me on the dining table. I’d tossed the red rose in the garbage, but it was still heavy on my mind.

  Who’d left it there?

  I made a mental note to ask Officer Varga on Monday, though I found it hard to imagine him operating that way. He struck me as more of a pick-you-a-sunflower-from-the-field kinda guy.

  Maybe someone got the wrong vehicle. I wasn’t the only woman who drove a white Ford truck in Baybridge. Could’ve been an honest mistake.

  “What’re you thinking about so hard?” Micah shifted and paused the movie, freezing Tom Hanks on the screen.

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “How could you possibly know me so well?”

  He shrugged. “I’m observant.”

  “Uh huh.”

  He shut off the TV and leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes glued to the ground between his feet.

  “Why’d you turn that off?”

  He rolled his head in my direction. “We’ve both seen it and neither of us is paying attention anyway.”

  Fair point.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I frowned at him. Somehow I knew he wasn’t going to ask my favorite color. “Only if I can ask you something, too.”

  Now he frowned. “Like Twenty Questions?”

  “Something like that.” I sat taller as the idea blossomed in my head. “We can take turns asking each other things we want to know.”

  “Anything?”

  I swallowed. “Sure. But nothing leaves this room.”

  “And we reserve the right to refuse one question. No questions asked.”

  “Fair enough. You first.”

  He leaned back and studied me. His scrutiny had butterflies dive-bombing my belly. “What was his name?”

  I didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. “Nolan.”

  He pulled a face. “Like Nolan Ryan?”

  “Hey. Commenting on answers wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.” I studied him in turn, trying to think of a good question that would satisfy some of my curiosity, but not scare him off. I wanted to use this little game to my advantage. “When did you join the Marines?”

  “Right out of high school. When did you get into art?”

  “I’ve been artistic all my life. It’s my creative outlet. Do you always eat healthy?”

  “No.”

  I tilted my head. I didn’t believe that for a second.

  “What? I don’t. I take care of my body and watch what I eat, but I’m not a zealot. All things in moderation.”

  “What was the last unhealthy thing you ate? Not including the pasta at my place.”

  “Cheeseburger and fries with my friend today.”

  I grinned. “Huh.”

  “That was two questions,” he said with a smirk. “Now I get two.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  He shifted on the couch and sunk further into the cushion. “Favorite song?”

  “Ooh. Tough one. Maybe ‘Muskrat Love’?” I laughed at his wide-eyed expression. “’My Heart Will Go On’. Celine Dion.”

  “Typical,” he muttered. “Last time you went on a real date?”

  “I . . . well . . . when Nolan took me out for the first time.” I glanced away. If only I’d known what I was in for, I would’ve walked away right then.

  It was silent a long moment. “Your turn,” he finally said, his voice low.

  I peered up. “Your last date?”

  I’d swear he rolled his eyes. “I went out with a girl from the gym a couple of times, but it was under duress.”

  “Duress?”

  “She hounded me until I said yes to get her off my back. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. Not when she found out the silent thing wasn’t to be mysterious. She got bored with me.”

  “Sounds like a bitch. Stephanie?”

  He seemed surprised. “How’d you know?”

  “Girls. We know everything.” I winked.

  He groaned. “Fucking Blake and Jesse and their big mouths. They tell their women everything.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t I what?”

  “Tell your woman everything? If you had one?” I exhaled to calm my nerves. Why was I treading this particular ocean?

  His dark eyes lasered in on mine. “If I had one, yeah. I’d give her my soul.”

  We stared at each other for a moment and the air felt alive. There was no other way to explain it. I could almost feel every particle in the atmosphere brushing across my skin in an electric caress. “Whose turn is it?” I asked, my voice breathy, even to my own ears.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I tried to mentally rewind our conversation, but it was hard when he was staring at me like that. “I think it’s yours.”

  His eyes never left mine. “Did he abuse you?”

  My gut hardened into ice, solid and cold and lifeless. “Pass.”

  His jaw tightened, but he gave no other indication of what he was feeling. He nodded once to acknowledge me and kept with the rules. No questions asked.

  “What really happened in Afghanistan?”

  “Pass.” He did not move or flinch or even blink, but I felt the wall slam down, its finality ringing in my ears.

  “Okay, we don’t have to—”

  “Why did you agree to go out with me?” he pressed on.

  I sat up straight. Surely, he wasn’t serious. “Because I like you.”

  His black eyes glistened with something I couldn’t define, but it made my insides squirm. In a good way.

  “Why did you tell me I was beautiful?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  Micah left my apartment late Saturday night and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little shocked to be with him again Sunday morning.

  But, as promised, he showed up bright and early with the makings of breakfast, healthy Micah style.

  I smiled and let him in. “Good morning.”

  “Mornin’, your Eminence.” He bit his lip against a smile as he surveyed my hot pink robe covered in princess crowns.

  I felt the blush creep up my neck and I tucked the robe tighter around my waist. “Well, you’re early.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

  I ignored that and pointed out the bags he’d placed on the counter. “So, what’s for breakfast?

  “Egg white omelets with veggies and fruit smoothies.”

  I tried not to pull a face. I really di
d. “Am I going to regret inviting you over here?”

  He laughed and I was caught off guard. Genuine laughter from Micah Christian was a rare and precious thing. I liked being the source of it.

  I leaned against the counter and watched him work, once again struck by how quickly we were becoming used to being around each other. Some of the weight he seemed to always wear around himself like a cloak was absent this morning. It was like a whole new man was in my kitchen whisking egg whites.

  “So, have you always been a health nut?” I asked.

  He glanced up. “I prefer health conscious American.”

  I stared. Then I realized he was attempting a joke. An honest-to-God witty joke. I burst out laughing and he joined me. It felt good.

  “Actually, no. I ate like crap when I was younger. The Marines changed me.” He turned back to his task, firing up the blender and pouring in a mix of ingredients. He slid me a glass of the pink concoction.

  “What’s this?” I sniffed.

  “Strawberry, blueberry, and flax seed smoothie with almond milk. It’s good. Try it.”

  I did. It took a moment for the foreign taste to settle on my tongue, but it wasn’t bad. He nodded his approval then flipped the omelets.

  We sat to eat and I’ll admit it was delicious. Different, but tasty.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” he said when I admitted as much.

  We cleaned up the kitchen together and I considered telling him about the red rose and the weird sensations of being watched, but I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly wonderful day. I also didn’t want him to think I was an overreacting crazy person.

  “So, what’re your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked as we dried the last of the dishes.

  “Nothing much. How about you?”

  “I’ll probably hit the gym this afternoon. After that, I’m not sure.”

  “Oh.” I dried my hands on a towel.

  “Wanna come with me?”

  My gaze snapped around. “To the gym?”

  His smile was like a sunrise, startling in its beauty and brightness. “Yeah. Why not?”

  Why not? Self-defense was one thing. Purposely working out and showing him how out of shape I was . . . something totally different. “Oh, well . . .”

  He leaned in and trapped me between his arms, the counter at my back. “Spend time with me, Jewel.”

  I was distracted by the dark stubble on his face and those perfect lips. “Okay.” What the hell?

  And, so, I found myself at the gym in shorts and a loose T-shirt, hoping I didn’t embarrass myself.

  Micah didn’t seem to notice my incompetence as we warmed up on the treadmills and as he walked me through some simple weight exercises.

  I was just starting to get the hang of things when he faced me with a wide smile and sweat dripping down his temples. “Wanna learn some stuff before I teach it in class?”

  I was immediately wary. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Nothing too hard.” He pulled me in front of his body, my back to his chest. “Here.”

  I stared at his face in the mirror as he concentrated on positioning my hand with my palm facing out. He met my eyes in the mirror. “This is how you hold your hand for a palm strike.” He took ahold of my elbow and gently rocked it back then pushed it forward. “See? You can hit just about anything on an attacker’s body with the thick part of your palm. You’ll be most effective if you try to shove his chin toward the ceiling.” He moved in front of me. “Try it.”

  I frowned. “I’m not going to hit you.”

  “Of course not. Just pretend.” He smirked like I’d never get one over on him anyway.

  I readjusted my stance and the position of my hand, then shoved forward, a millimeter from his chin.

  He grinned. “Awesome. You’re a fast learner. Again.”

  I repeated the move, over and over, until he deemed it perfect. “Now let’s try an elbow strike.”

  “Like in Kung Fu movies?”

  His lopsided grin made my heart flutter. “Sort of.”

  With the patience of a saint, he showed me how to hit with my elbow vertically, horizontally, and even diagonally. His hands were on my arms, our breathing labored, as I stared up into his face.

  His gaze dropped to my lips as he used his thumb to wipe a bead of sweat from my cheek. His voice was suddenly low and ocean-deep. “You’ll do the most damage if you put moves together, like an elbow then a palm strike.”

  “Yeah?”

  His eyes drifted back up to mine. “Yeah. You’ll be a badass in no time.”

  I laughed, the spell broken. Yeah. Badass. That was me.

  “Let’s—”

  “Hey, Micah.”

  His hold on my arm loosened as Stephanie Harris sauntered over, all smiles.

  I studied the tense lines of his face. This woman made him uncomfortable. Why, I had no idea, but I didn’t like that, or the way she was eating him alive with her eyes.

  I spun to face her and stuck out my hand. “Hi. I’m Jewel.”

  She frowned and stared at my hand like it was diseased. “Stephanie.”

  “I know.” I stared her down with a fake smile plastered on my face until she took the hint and walked away with a sway to her hips that I’m sure was meant to tempt Micah. He didn’t even look her way.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “Any time.” I pivoted back to him, my eyes still on her retreating form in the mirror. “I don’t think I like her.”

  A smile twinkled in his dark eyes. “You don’t say.”

  Micah

  Sweet, timid little Jewel Jackson had just bared her claws and run Stephanie off. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes. The more facets of her personality she showed me, the more intrigued I became.

  We agreed to a picnic lunch, so after we finished up at the gym, we swung back by her apartment for showers. I sat on her couch as she cleaned up first, but with the first hiss of the shower, I was tense and antsy. All I could picture were her naked, wet curves under a stream of water . . . the way her green eyes would deepen with desire if I touched her bare skin.

  I adjusted myself and mentally cursed my wayward hormones. She was just beginning to open up to me. I couldn’t blow it by pushing. I was lucky she hadn’t shown me the door after kissing her. She enjoyed it, I knew, but I could also feel her holding back. Until I had her full trust, I couldn’t force anything more between us.

  “Okay.” My head popped up to where she stood in the hallway threshold, towel-drying her hair. “You can go ahead.” She tilted her head. “Do you have clean clothes?”

  “I always carry a spare set in my gym bag.” I stood and grabbed my duffel.

  Closed into her bathroom, all I could smell was her. Sexy and flowery without being too strong. I undressed and stepped under the spray, obsessed by the fact she had just been there. Wondering if she was thinking of me the same way I’d thought of her.

  “Get it together, Christian,” I mumbled to myself.

  I toweled off and tugged on my clean clothes then raked a hand through my wet hair. I kinda wished I had stuff to shave, but I wasn’t going to miss my chance at a day with Jewel.

  I found her in the kitchen, packing up our lunches. She glanced up when I entered, her face light and happy. A sexy angel. “Tuna on whole wheat okay? It’s the best I’ve got for healthy. That and bananas.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  We bundled up the food, drinks, and a blanket and made our way out to my Jeep. I’d already removed the soft top so we would be open to the sunshine and breeze. I studied her glowing blond hair as it fell around her shoulders and wondered if that was a bad idea. Women could be weird about their hair.

  As we drove, she grinned like a kid at Willy Wonka’s, surprising me. “This is awesome.” A hair tie magically appeared from her purse and she pulled it all up in a bundle.

  At the park, we walked in silence, her carrying the blanket, me with the cooler.
I was dying to hold her hand but I held back. She brushed against me once or twice and I caught her studying me like she was trying to puzzle something out.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She stopped at a shady spot at the far end of the park. “How about here?”

  “Looks good.” I helped her spread out the blanket and we sat side by side, our legs outstretched, gazing at the small pond near us. A fish kerplunked in the water and children’s noisy laughter floated from the playground. The shade of the large oak kept most of the heat of the sun away, but the breeze was still warm as the Texas summer came into full swing.

  Jewel offered me a water bottle from the cooler. I nodded my thanks, letting myself sink into the ease between us. I had no explanation for it, but after so many years of solitude, it felt like coming out of hibernation. I was desperate to know her, to know it wasn’t a dream or fluke.

  She faced me with a tender smile, her green eyes open and trusting.

  “Did he abuse you?” I took a chance and blurted the words that had haunted me since our little Twenty Questions game that had morphed into anything but a game.

  Her smile fell and her brows curled in. “Pass,” she said softly. “What really happened in Afghanistan?”

  Hell. “Pass.”

  She nodded once and turned her gaze back to the pond. “Least favorite food?”

  “Brussel sprouts,” I answered without hesitation.

  “Huh. Me, too.”

  “What scares you most?”

  She flinched, but kept her face impassive. I watched as she swallowed the automatic answer that came to her mind. “Mice.”

  “Mice? You don’t think they’re cute furry things?”

  “Ugh. No. They’re creepy little disease-carriers.”

  I laughed and sipped my water. “Your turn.”

  “Wanna play Frisbee?” She spun and produced a blue disk from her bag.

  “Wanna lose?”

  She rolled her eyes. “How do you win or lose at Frisbee? It’s for fun.”

  I stood. “So says the girl. Let me show you.”

  She ignored my outstretched hand and rose on her own. “Mr. Competitive.”