by Nia Arthurs
“I don’t have to know her to support her.”
“Yeah, but still…”
“It’s called being a good person. You should try it sometime.”
He laughs.
Low. Throaty.
My toes curl.
Why does everything about Teale feel so dang sensual?
“I’ll leave the selfless, Mother Theresa act to you, sweetheart, but you’re welcome to try and rub it off on me.”
The way he says ‘rub it off’…
He’s not talking figuratively.
I scoff. “In your dreams.”
“In my dreams we do a lot more than rub.”
“Is that all you think about?”
He strokes his chin. “You and me? Yeah. Last I checked, you were on the same boat.”
“No. I’m in a different boat. In a different ocean. On a different planet.”
He stares at me and grins. “I should have chosen the floor.”
“Huh?”
“Last week. When you offered. It would have been the floor. Right there where we were standing.”
Heat flames my cheeks. I whirl around. Glare at him. “Last week was a case of temporary insanity. Don’t expect that to happen again.”
He chuckles.
I angrily toss my braids over my shoulder.
The jerk.
I narrow my eyes. “Should you be here right now?”
“No place I’d rather be.”
I keep my voice calm, controlled. “There must be some poor, love-sick bimbo back at the club waiting for you.”
“Hm.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “You jealous?”
“Of course not.”
He straightens. Looks down at me. “I was there with Brendon.”
“Brendon?”
“A friend from college. He’s probably waiting for me. Although, he’d be sad to hear you called him a bimbo.”
A chuckle breaks free.
I shouldn’t be this relieved that he didn’t come to the club with a date.
What is wrong with me?
“There was this girl though.”
I stiffen.
Teale sucks in a deep breath. Exhales loudly. “Red hair. Nice body. I was just about to take her back to my place…”
My heart cramps.
I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from calling him a man-whore to his face.
Which isn’t too polite.
“But then,” Teale says, “I saw someone dancing in the crowd. Just looking at her, I knew I had to come over and introduce myself.” His eyes meet mine.
Me.
Teale’s talking about me.
My chest heaves.
I can’t breathe.
The line moves forward.
We’re up next.
I grab onto the distraction and sprint to the taco vendor. “It’s our turn.”
Teale grins and languidly strolls behind me.
We make our orders.
I don’t know why I’m so affected by the fact that Teale liked my dancing. I wasn’t dancing for him. I wasn’t dancing for anyone but myself. Music and movement have always been my biggest de-stressors.
Still…
He liked it.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to get it together.
I have to remember who Teale is.
And that’s a playboy.
He doesn’t even try to hide it.
Case in point—he admitted to flirting with some other girl. Dancing with her. Thinking of taking her home.
Which is fine.
He’s a single guy. He has no commitment to me.
I have to remember that.
To Teale, I’m just one of many.
Man, that makes my heart break like crazy.
I can’t do this.
I can’t handle falling for Teale again.
It’s not inevitable.
I have a choice. My feelings don’t own me.
He holds our bags of fragrant food with one hand and leads me back to his car.
I pause and study him. “Are we eating in your Jag?”
“Nope.” He winks. Climbs in.
I guess that’s all the information I’m getting.
Despite my best intentions, excitement bubbles in my stomach as he drives toward the coast. Music pumps through the speakers. We both sing along to the well-known song.
I like being here.
With him.
No B.S.
No flirting.
There’s a… I don’t know… composure about him all of a sudden? Like he’s showing me a quiet side of himself he never has before. Something more than the tear your clothes off and come here vibe that’s simmered under every interaction we’ve had since Teale came back.
The night sky is peppered with stars. No clouds in sight.
It’s a beautiful, romantic kind of night.
Which is dangerous.
He’s dangerous.
I need to remember that.
I need to care.
Broken heart alerts are flashing everywhere I look.
If I get hurt, it’ll be with my eyes wide open.
Teale parks the car on a hill overlooking the beach.
To my surprise, he pulls a picnic blanket from the back of his trunk.
My eyes widen. “You drive around with that?”
“It’s for emergencies.” His glinting eyes hint at exactly what kind of occasion that blanket is preparing for.
My fingers curl tighter around the bags of food.
“But we’re repurposing it tonight.” Teale spreads the blanket on the sand and gestures proudly, like a little kid who built the wonkiest sand castle showing off to his parents.
I smile.
Take a seat.
My dress is too tight to sit comfortably. I pull it all the way up my thighs and drape Teale’s jacket over my legs so I’m not flashing my panties at him.
He doesn’t seem to be a on a mission to get me naked right now—food is all that’s on his mind—but I don’t want to prompt him and become dessert tonight.
Not after my newly minted promise to be my own woman.
Teale opens the containers and sets it up in front of me.
A cool breeze tickles my face.
The food is delicious.
My first bite, I’m moaning hard.
Teale arches an eyebrow. “I’m about to get jealous of that taco.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckles. Leans back. Balances himself on his elbow. His eyes are on the sky. “Beautiful night. I missed the ocean.”
“You grew up near the coast?”
“Yeah.” He nods to the dark waves crashing and thrashing below. “Even if it was too windy and cold to dive in, there’s nothing like that view.”
“Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type.”
He grins and straightens up. His fingers prowl the container for another fried taco. “I got that from my mom.”
“Is she back in your home town?”
“In the same neighborhood. In the same house. I offered to bring her out here, but she refused. I offered to buy her a new house. A mansion. She didn’t want that. She’s stuck on the ghosts in that old place.”
There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.
Just a hint.
But it sparks my curiosity. “She loved your dad?”
“She loved a menace, but I get it. She’s not the first person who’ll fall for a man she knew was a bastard.”
“That bad?”
He takes a while to answer.
His sculpted jaw works for a second.
Finally, he replies. “Let’s just say, Dad hit every box in the stereotypical trailer trash checklist. He didn’t have much and what he did have, he used to control people.”
“Like your mom.”
He shrugs. “But she didn’t mind. She thought she loved him.”
“You don’t think it was real?”
“Maybe to her.”
“Convincing.”
“I got cursed with Mom’s fall-hard, fall-completely genes, but I don’t know the first damn thing about love.” He shakes his head. “I figure, if it takes the fight out of your eyes and the smile off your face, it’s not working right.”
I rub my chin. Teale saw his parents’ strained marriage and his mother’s suffering, and came to the conclusion that it was because of love.
That love hurt.
Or it wasn’t enough.
I grew up with my grandmother. Love was Disney movies, princesses falling in love in a day, princes swooping in—perfect smiles and hair—making everything all right.
My glasses were rose-tinted.
His were completely cracked.
But at least he’d had a father.
I sigh deeply.
He inches over. “What was that about?”
“Nothing.” I play with the bracelet on my hand. “Just thinking… was it better to have a dad like yours or none at all?”
His eyes stay trained on my face. “Have you tried to contact him?”
“No.” I shrug. “Gran never mentioned him and I was happy to pretend he died. But it’s too late.”
“Why?”
“I feel like, after all this time, it wouldn’t matter. I’m way past the age of needing a father.”
He nods in understanding, but I get the sense he doesn’t really believe me.
The sound of the ocean fills the silence.
Even though the conversation is heavy, I’m light and full and… safe.
Right now, with Teale, it feels like nothing can touch me.
Which is weird.
Our relationship is all about touching each other. Wanting to touch each other. The first time we touched each other.
But he’s keeping his hands to himself. And in the length of the night, he cracks only a handful of dirty jokes.
A record low.
After we’re done, we throw our trash away and climb back into the car. The silence between us is filled with pulsing tension.
“Food was great,” I say to break the monotony.
“Company was better.”
My cheeks heat. “You’re the one who repurposed the blanket.”
“Sweetheart, was that an invitation?” He grins over at me. “Because I can whip it out right now and use it the way it was meant to be. There’s no one on the highway.”
“Very funny.” I chuckle. “Keep driving.”
He does.
Twenty minutes later, he slows the car in front of my house.
I gather my purse and open the door. “Thanks for the ride.” I’ve already got my foot out when I remember I’m still wearing his jacket. “Oh.” I start to slide it off my shoulders. “Let me give you this back.”
He places his hand over mine. His thumb gently caresses my skin. “Keep it. I’ll get it later.”
My heart jumps.
Those feelings—the ones that had seemingly gone quiet while Teale and I were eating—roar right back to life.
“It’s fine. I don’t need it anymore.”
When I try to take it off again, he squeezes my fingers. “Leave it on.” He nods to the blazer. “That’s my excuse to see you again.”
My belly flips.
Butterflies flutter.
My body’s all gung-ho and ready to jump on the Teale-train in full force.
My mind is…er… slipping out of control, but I’ve still got enough common sense to resist him. “Then I really need to give this back.”
I yank the jacket off. Drape it in his lap.
Before he can say a word, I force a smile. “This was nice. It almost felt like we were friends.”
He blinks. “Friends?”
“Let’s… not tell Chandra and Cobie about this. The club thing, I mean. They’d just worry.”
He says nothing.
His expression says a whole lot.
I get out before he convinces me to stay.
“Thanks for the tacos. Good night, Teale.” I scramble out of the car, run all the way up to my porch and hurl myself inside the front door.
I wait there until Teale drives off.
Only then do I let out a breath.
See? That wasn’t so bad.
I wilt to the floor. Who am I kidding? That was so freaking awkward.
And I’m so freaking confused.
I like Teale.
I hate Teale.
I slept with Teale two years ago.
I kissed Teale tonight.
It seems like I can’t get away from him.
So maybe running isn’t the key.
Maybe redefining things will help me get over him.
I can do this.
I can be friends with Teale… right?
21 Teale
Friends? Freaking friends? The hell?
There’s no way I can be just friends with that little minx and we both know it. If tonight wasn’t proof enough, I don’t know what is.
When I was with Red Head, I felt nothing. Zero. Nada.
One glimpse of Zania, and my body lit up like a Christmas tree.
No dysfunction here.
I’m tired of keeping my distance from her. I’m tired of pretending there’s not something between us.
I gotta convince her I’m done fooling around.
And… I gotta get her out of that damn marriage agency.
Tonight might have been different but, someday, she’s gonna end up in some club with some guy acting like Mr. Perfect. And she’s going to fall for that crap because she’s the kind of person who sees the good in everybody.
Even if they only have a glimmer of good in their toenail.
Then she’s gonna marry them because she’s got some crazy notion that marriage will make her happy.
And then she’s gonna realize she rushed into it and she’s really got feelings for someone else, but it’ll be too late because she made a promise and she won’t want to back out of it.
Won’t be easy though.
If Chandra and Cobie couldn’t convince Zania to ditch the marriage agency route, there’s no way I can.
Not unless…
I grab my laptop. Log into the Make It Marriage agency website. There are pictures of happy couples at weddings. Videos of engagements. Testimonials promising marriage matches and long-lasting relationships.
Given the prices on their webpage, they should deliver.
I grab a beer and my laptop and start filling out the forms, a grin inching over my face.
If Zania won’t leave the marriage agency, I’ll just have to meet her where she’s at.
For her own protection, of course.
She asked to be friends? Well, this is what friends do.
My phone lights up.
A text.
I pick up my cell and notice I’ve got a bunch of messages from Brendon.
BREN: Did you ditch me?
BREN: You totally ditched me.
This last one came in a minute ago.
BREN: Don’t be a jerk. Buy her breakfast tomorrow.
I text back.
ME: No breakfast. Sent her home already.
BREN: Coldhearted bastard.
ME: Thanks.
ME: And thanks for the drink.
BREN: Don’t thank me. It’s my fault some poor girl got her heart broken.
I laugh.
Set away my phone.
Keep filling out the forms.
When the site accepts my payment, I lean back in my couch and try not to think about what I’ve just done. But the more I attempt to ignore it, the more those happy, smiling couples on the screen start getting to me.
Marriage.
Just the thought of it makes me itch all over.
And I just signed up for strangers to arrange it.
I close the laptop lid.
There’s no clause saying I have to go through with the ceremony. All I did was agree to go on a bunch of dates.
Not that I plan on doing that either.
I’m on a mission for one woman.
The rest of the details will just have to work themselves out.
22 Teale
One day.
It takes one day for my submission to be approved.
For some reason, I expected it to be more than that. This is marriage, after all. The concept is a lifetime spent together and all that crap, right?
I’d think a marriage agency would scrutinize their candidates more vigorously.
This is just more confirmation that Zania’s entrusted her future to unreliable forces.
I’m still nervous, but it makes my decision easier to bear.
The email welcoming me to the agency also has instructions for me to attend a meeting with an agent named Kayla Montgomery at eight thirty in the morning.
The next day, I’m showered, dressed and in my car at exactly eight o’clock.
The nerves start choking me at eight fifteen.
I keep driving.
Keep trying to find the reasons why I went through with this.
I stop at a red light. Tighten my fingers on the steering wheel. Glance at the clock on the dashboard.
Eight twenty-five.
I still have time. I can call. Say I changed my mind.
I should do that.
This is stupid.
Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
And that’s saying something. I pride myself on my recklessness. There’s nothing the world can throw at me that I won’t throw right the hell back.
But this…?
The light turns green.
It’s now or never.
Stay or go?
I could run.
I could…
A car horn blares behind me. The sound is long and throaty, like a Neanderthal mid-war cry. I expect a monster truck but, when I glance in the rearview mirror, I see a little suburban van and a tiny woman in the front seat.
She sees me watching, flips me off and then slams her hand on the horn for another long beep.
Anxiety thrusts my foot against the gas.
I surge forward. Almost crash into another car filtering into the main highway.
Yanking on the steering wheel, I avoid the near-collision and get my car back under control amidst the roaring chorus of other vehicle horns and the scream of burning rubber.
Terror grabs my nerves. Jumbles them into a giant mess.
Even as I drive ahead, turn down a narrow street and leave the chaos far behind, my heart still thuds.
The GPS chirps. A calm, feminine voice informs me that I’m close to my destination.