by Nashoda Rose
“I do. But I prefer it here. Quieter.” He was watching me … eyes lazy as he continued. “And there is something here I want.”
That threw me completely off balance, and my coffee spilled on the table as I set it down too hard.
He shrugged. “But touring is a good time, too much drinking, too little sleep, and yes too many chicks. Although, Crisis would never admit to that.”
It felt as if a lead weight crushed into my chest. So he had been with other women. Well, not that he wouldn’t; there was no reason why he wouldn’t. We weren’t together then or now. Shit, we’d never been a couple. So why was I so upset about the thought of him being with another woman? Or more than likely women. Was that where he’d gone when Emily said he disappeared? To have sex with some chick?
He nudged my leg and I looked up at him. “What’s up?”
My fake smile was good—I mean I could get it past Matt and Emily without being detected as a lie—but my smile faltered when he scowled back at me. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. You’re thinking about something and it isn’t good.” He reached across the table and linked his fingers with mine. It passed the boundary of friendship, but I didn’t pull away because I liked it—a lot. His thumb stroked back and forth, and it was intimate. Too intimate. I thought of Lance and quickly yanked back. What was I doing? Christ, I know Lance and I were just dating, but holding hands was past the friendship rule. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to embarrass you?”
I balked. “What?” There was no chance I’d tell him that I was upset he’d been with other women.
“Embarrassment it is.”
I grabbed his hand but he easily slipped away and then slid out from the table. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t to go talk to the bartender. After a short conversation he walked over to where the band had set up for tonight’s performance. I should’ve snuck out right then, but I didn’t embarrass easily and I was curious.
Ream slung the acoustic guitar over his shoulder and sat on the stool. When the music started I felt the heat rise in my body because his voice had a dynamic rippling effect on me that grabbed hold of my insides. There was no microphone, no electric guitar, no background music, just his magnetic voice and the strum of his fingers across the strings of the guitar.
Ream sang right to me, and as I looked around the bar, everyone smiled and looked between Ream and me. He thought it would embarrass me, but it didn’t one bit. Ream had a gorgeous, deep voice that had a slight rasp to it, and listening to him was a gift no matter what was between us.
I slid out from the table and walked toward him. His eyes never left mine as I approached. I stopped a few steps away, closed my eyes, and started moving. Dancing was my thing and maybe he’d done this on purpose because he knew that. I’d dance anywhere if I could. After being shot, I’d had to keep my movements calm instead of my usual crazy-ass dancing or my legs would react.
It was a slow song and I moved unhurried and seductive, his voice urging me on as it spun a web around me and held me captive. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel him watching me and I knew if I opened them his heated gaze would make my knees shake and my belly drop. When his voice drifted off, I stopped and looked at him. His hand rested on the guitar, his body stiff, and there was that dark intensity back in his eyes.
“Kiss her,” someone shouted as the patrons clapped and hooted and hollered.
Ream set the guitar aside then approached me. He looped his arm around my waist and brought me in close. The crowd went wild and yet I didn’t really hear what they were yelling because all I could do was try and maintain some semblance of control when everything in me was screaming to jump him.
He leaned in. “You’re not embarrassed.”
“And you’re not half bad.”
He chuckled. “Thank you. I get by.”
“Kiss that hot piece of ass before I come over and do it for you,” a guy yelled from across the bar.
Ream stiffened and went to move toward whoever shouted. “No.” I put my hand on his neck and curled my fingers in his hair. “Leave it. But, Ream, I can’t kiss you.”
“One kiss. For the crowd.”
“Ream, I’m seeing someone.”
“You guys serious?”
“Not exactly. But kissing another guy, one I’ve … been with before … wouldn’t be fair.”
“So it’s fair that you’re not giving me a chance?”
“Ream.” There was no question we had chemistry, but it didn’t start out that way. Actually, I specifically recalled him saying when we were lying in bed that when he first saw me, he thought I was one of those stuck-up, spoiled, know-it-all bitches.
A second chance was something I didn’t give people because life was too short to waste it with a guy that got scared the second he saw my drugs. He even admitted that it reminded him of his sister and the hospital and his shitty past. He’d proved it to me twice already. He may have stayed at the hospital until I was out of critical condition after I was shot, but he still left me. Friends didn’t do that. He said he cared, but actions spoke louder than words and his actions sucked ass.
“Fuck, man, kiss her,” the same voice shouted, and before I could stop him, Ream leaned in and his mouth stole my words, my body, and my soul. His lips took and at first I sunk deep into him, the crowd’s applause lost to me as I pressed in close, the familiar dance of his tongue, the warmth of his lips that were hard and yet pliant.
Oh God, what was I doing? I violently drew back, breathless and trembling. I stared at him and he was looking completely irresistible with his smoldering eyes and freshly kissed lips.
Then within a second it washed back out to sea as the waitress came over and asked for his autograph. Ream slipped out of my arms and took the pen and paper from the cute brunette. They chatted for a minute while I started back for the table. I didn’t get far before his hand grabbed mine and tugged me back in beside him.
He gave the girl the paper and some bills for our tab and then started toward the door, keeping his hand tight in mine. As soon as we were outside, he stopped abruptly and I slammed into his back.
He was mad. Shit, what the hell? This guy had issues. I was the one who should be furious after he kissed me when I told him we couldn’t.
“Don’t walk away from me.” I went to smart mouth him back, but he was quick, cupping my chin and placing a finger over my mouth. “I mean it, Kat. Friend, girlfriend, or my fuckin’ wife. I don’t want you walking away from me when some other chick is vying for my attention because no matter what we are … you are more important than them.”
Not very often was I speechless, but Ream did it to me. There was no arguing, no smart-ass remark, no discussion; it just was a beautiful thing to say no matter what he was to me.
He made an abrupt nod of his head, as if satisfied that I got what he was saying and wasn’t going to argue the point. Then he let me go and we went home where I escaped into the sunroom, away from Ream and what I was struggling to deny.
***
Her hand stroked my back up and down like a yoyo.
Stop it.
I hated it. They always did that to me after they hurt me.
I gagged then threw up the last of my dinner into the toilet.
She flushed and I watched the water swirl around and around. It was me. It felt like me, helpless to do anything, but submit.
I blocked out her soft words telling me it would be okay. That it wouldn’t be so bad.
I wanted to slam her head into the toilet. She had no clue what I faced week after week.
The shadow appeared in the door, and I spit into the fresh water staring back at me.
I stood.
She took my hand and my stomach cramped with disgust.
Then we followed the shadow to the basement.
It wasn’t until dark that I heard the loud holler of Crisis and realized I’d been lost to the rainbow of colors all day.
I plopped my brush into t
he jar of murky gray water then went into the kitchen to see Crisis with Emily in his arms swinging her around. Logan stood close by, arms crossed, looking none too pleased that another man had his hands on his girl. I could see by the way his muscles twitched that he was barely tolerating it, and if Crisis didn’t let her go soon, Logan was going to do something about it.
“Our girl is getting married,” Crisis yelled to me as he placed Emily back on her feet.
I smiled at Emily and then caught a glimmer of the ring and gasped. “Damn, missy.” I went running over and grabbed her hand, staring at the magnificent ring on her finger. It wasn’t just a rock; this was a ring with two delicate horse shoes sprinkled with tiny diamonds. To connect them together sat a beautiful cut diamond. It was perfect for Emily. Subtle, but it held so much meaning. The abused horses healed Emily just as much as she healed them, and Logan had given that to her.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered. Then I glanced up at Logan who looked real proud of himself. “Fine. You did good, sexy. You can marry her.”
Logan laughed and Emily looked up. I saw her body sag as she watched her soon to be husband. She really loved him. It was the most beautiful sight, watching the two of them. They read one another so well, as if Logan knew how Emily felt better than she did herself. He knew what she needed from him and he gave it to her.
“Avalanche,” Crisis announced. “This calls for drinks. Where’s Ream and Kite?” He took out his phone and started texting.
“I’ve got Georgie,” I said and hugged Emily again before I fished out my phone and texted her. Then I called my brother and told him to save us the usual table, to which he groaned and complained that the band was too popular now and he’d need to call in more security for the night. Then I bitched and complained that he hadn’t been to the farm in weeks to see me. He shut up.
I sent Lance a text too. We didn’t have plans tonight, but he liked knowing what I was up to. I thought it was nice and it was, but nice … well, nice was just nice. I told him we were going to Avalanche to celebrate Emily and Logan’s engagement but didn’t invite him, even though any normal girl dating some guy would. But with the way Ream was acting, throwing Lance into the mix was pulling the pin from the grenade and dealing with that on a night that was for Emily … I wasn’t taking the chance of it being ruined.
Ream’s car was gone and Crisis complained that ‘my boyfriend’ wasn’t responding to his texts. I smacked Crisis hard on the shoulder for the boyfriend wisecrack and was silently glad that Ream was AWOL. Alcohol … emotions teetering on a tight rope and a volatile history … well, it was safer Ream wasn’t joining us.
We made our way through the crowd to our reserved table near the stage. It was busy as usual and I noticed Matt had a few security guys around I didn’t recognize.
I stopped to chat with Molly, one of the waitresses who’d been at Avalanche for three months. Cute girl with bright red hair, obviously dyed since she had black roots. She had pale skin with freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and brilliant blue eyes—too brilliant. I suspected she wore contacts. No one had eyes that blue.
Molly was twenty-four and I remember Matt nearly didn’t hire her because she looked sixteen and he thought she was using fake ID. It was only when the tears fell and she begged that he decided to give her a chance. But first he took her driver’s license and had it checked by the Ministry of Transportation to make sure it wasn’t a phony.
A few weeks ago Brett told me Molly had escaped an abusive relationship and had moved here from Vancouver with nothing except the clothes on her back. She supposedly lived in a rundown house in a rough part of the city with a couple of unsavory roommates. Brett had offered to find her something a little safer, but she refused to take any help.
Kite smiled and winked at Molly on his way by. “Hey, lovey.”
I smiled when I saw her hide her face in a curtain of hair like she usually did. She mumbled something back to him, although it was too soft to hear over the music. I didn’t know how she managed getting through a night at Avalanche she was so shy and easily embarrassed, and the regulars were relentless with their teasing.
“Looking appetizing as usual.” Crisis smacked Molly on the butt and sent her staggering forward. I had to help steady her and the tray of beers she held.
“Crisis,” I chided.
He held up his hands. “What? She looks hot. Girl needs to hear it.” Before I could say anything else, he was already weaving through the crowd.
We chatted a few minutes more before I saw her look over at the bar and then she quickly made her excuses, stumbling all over her words and darted off. I glanced at the bar and caught Brett watching Molly and he was frowning. Brett rarely frowned. I searched for Molly and saw her serving a bunch of guys, and one of them had his hand on her arm.
Interesting. Was Brett hot for Molly? I’d never seen him with a girl, and he took plenty of numbers from working Friday and Saturday nights. The guy was a mystery, a successful real estate tycoon, hot, charming, and rarely lost his cool. He could have any girl he wanted, but he chose to serve them drinks at a bar instead of spending his weekend nights taking them to fancy restaurants.
Maybe Molly would change that? I smiled to myself then made my way across the dance floor toward our table.
I stopped.
My breath hitched. Then I stared and it was me watching him without him noticing. For a brief flicker I set my emotions free, and it was like leaving the door to a bird’s cage open. Hesitant to leave the protective cover at first, and then spreading its wings and experiencing the freedom. It was cathartic and I wanted to stay there and allow him in.
He was sitting with a beer in hand, slowly turning it in a circle, his head down. There was a hint of sadness, something cracking his confident all-encompassing attitude. I wouldn’t have seen it if he knew I was looking at him. The slight defeat in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw line, and the longer than usual blink as if he wanted to close his eyes.
He had one arm slung over the back of the chair next to him, and it was then my eyes hit the petite brunette sitting in it. He wasn’t touching her, and it wasn’t that chick that sent my blood pressure on the rise. It was the other girl who walked up and was hanging over him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she leaned in whispering something to him. I knew the tactic; shit, I’d done it. Slight touch, nothing too much, voice low and sexy letting your breath whisper across his ear.
The cage door slammed shut.
Jesus, why did I care? We were done. This was good. Maybe he’d stop playing with my head if he hooked up with another chick. But the thought of Ream screwing the blonde was like a punch to the stomach. The combination of anger and feeling ill threatened my usual cool, and I had to look away for a minute to collect myself again.
“Kat?” Emily came up beside me. She looked at Ream then back at me. “It always happens. The girls around them. You get used to it.”
I flicked my hair over my shoulder and pulled my shoulders back. “He can have any girl he wants. There’s nothing between us. I’m dating Lance, Eme.”
Emily nodded, although I knew she didn’t believe me. Shit, I didn’t believe me.
As I approached the table so did Crisis, and he slapped Ream on the back and drew his attention away from the girls. “Hey, buddy.”
Ream nodded to him and said something I didn’t catch. Crisis gave a curt nod, and I caught the quick look at me before he threw his arm around the blonde and carted her away. My eyes drifted to Ream’s tatted arms that were now flexed with tension then traveled back up to his face. He was watching me.
My lips parted as I took a few deep breaths and locked gazes with him. He never took his arm off the back of the chair with the brunette, and to anyone who didn’t know him, they’d think nothing was wrong.
I knew though. I saw how his brows twitched and the twirling of his beer stopped. The slightest tightening of his grip on the bottle and then the shift of his legs so they were no longer cr
ossed at the ankles, but rather ready to react. I felt like the rabbit caught coming out of the hole with the wolf lurking nearby.
“Sis.” Matt came up beside me and pulled me into a hug, breaking my view of Ream.
Matt was lean, over six feet, with broad shoulders and dark blue eyes that were just like our mother’s. He would’ve been a star quarterback if he hadn’t had to stay with me when our parents died. Being eight years older than me, eighteen at the time, he gave up his scholarship at Western University in order to raise me. I was only ten and when he told me what had happened to our parents. I could remember begging over and over again to see my mom while Matt cradled me in his arms. But no matter how much I begged, I never saw her again.
“You’ve lost weight.” He looked me up and down then leaned in keeping his voice low. “You okay? It’s the fucking drugs, isn’t it?”
Not really. And no, I wasn’t okay. I was used to ignoring what I didn’t want to face, and Ream wasn’t allowing that. I was off-balance and my body reacted to it. I knew a pill would help, but I was trying to control the amount I took.
“Kat?” He squeezed my hand.
“Umm yeah?” What had he asked again?
“You’ve lost too much weight. What’s going on?”
“It’s fine. I’m just trying something different with my diet. There’s an adjustment period.”
He still didn’t look satisfied by the way his lips pursed together. He pulled me a little farther away from the group. “You’re too skinny, Sis. You want to try and eat healthier, we’ll see a nutritionist.”
“God, I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. And you’re not sleeping.” I tried to hide the black under my eyes with makeup. Guess I failed. He nodded toward the table. “It’s Ream, isn’t it? Fuckin’ guy. I know shit went down between you two and it’s obvious he hurt you. I don’t like it. I don’t like him.” Ha … if my brother knew Ream called me bitch and a whore, he wouldn’t have been allowed inside Avalanche.
“We’re fine.”
“A lot of fines here, Kat.”