Force

by Taylor Longford

  Okay, so yeah, I have a runaway imagination. Try not to laugh.

  As soon as Force was seated on the bench across from me, Brooke brought the menus along with a huge smile for Force that went on and on and on long after it was time to leave. She didn't look nearly as happy to see me but that was probably because of the way I'd whisked Force away the night before without giving her a chance to try out his lap.

  I handed her my napkin. "You might want to use that," I suggested.

  "What for?" she asked, her gaze targeting Force like I wasn't even there.

  "You're drooling," I told her, which was maybe a bit mean but also true.

  Now she acknowledged my presence. And sent me an acid look before she flounced off, swinging her hips in case Force was paying attention. But he didn't seem any more interested in her than he was in me. As far as I could tell, the guy just wasn't into girls.

  "What should we get?" I asked him, scanning the menu.

  "I don't know," he answered gruffly. "You order."

  "Do you like beef or chicken or pork or—"

  "I like food," he cut in. "All of it."

  "Okay," I muttered under my breath. "Me like food. Me want to eat."

  "I heard that," he said, and scowled across the table at me.

  "Do you like spicy?" I asked innocently, thinking I could really make him suffer if I wanted to.

  He looked uncertain. "Not too spicy," he decided.

  So when Brooke came back a few seconds later (with her lips freshly glossed), I ordered dumplings and egg rolls for starters then added a beef dish for Force and noodles for me. "How was your day?" I asked while we waited for our meals.

  He told me how they had been short-handed in the kitchen and he had to help cut vegetables while the dishes stacked up behind him. Then they ran out of dishes and he had to catch up. "It was crazy," he finished.

  "Still, it was a good thing that you were able to make yourself useful to the cooks," I pointed out. "Maybe one day you can move up to a better position."

  He looked appalled. "I don't plan to work here for the rest of my life."

  "A better position here can lead to a better position somewhere else," I pointed out.

  "As a cook?" he asked, like it was the last thing on earth he'd want to do.

  "I don't know," I muttered. "I just know that promotions lead to promotions. Was your day really that bad?"

  "Nay," he admitted, and his teeth flashed in a quick grin. "Jeffrey told me I was good with a knife."

  "I just bet you are," I answered, momentarily stunned by his killer smile…that was everything I'd thought it would be. And more. It did nothing to soften his looks, by the way. If anything, the flash of white teeth made him seem slightly more savage. But no less attractive.

  Brooke appeared to share my opinion, her wide eyes fixed on his mouth as she delivered our appetizers.

  As soon as the plates were settled on the table, Force stabbed his knife into a dumpling and flicked it into his mouth.

  "You can use your hands," I told him, picking up one of the egg rolls and nibbling on the crisp end.

  Force gave the dumplings a doubtful look then picked up an egg roll and demolished it in two bites.

  "Didn't you eat today?" I asked.

  "Not until now," he answered. "I didn't find anything to eat in any of those…dumpsters this morning."

  So it sounded like he'd been living off dumpster food before he met me. I guess that shouldn't have surprised me but still it made me sad. "What happened to the rest of your money? The other twenty?"

  "I still have it," he said after he swallowed another egg roll. "Plus the two Mama paid me today. I just wasn't sure where to go and how to use it. Or how much it would buy."

  "Okay, I'd better show you that," I said as Brooke slid the rest of our order onto the table.

  Force checked out the mound of sautéed beef and steamed rice on his plate. It looked like the boys in the kitchen had doubled the order for him, which was really sweet of them. "This doesn't look like finger food," he said tentatively.

  "Try the fork," I suggested.

  Looking relieved, he picked up his fork and dug in like he was starving.

  I teased some noodles onto my own fork and tasted them. The Lo Mein was perfect, as always. Not to criticize Force for his reaction to the PBJ sandwiches…but I couldn't help thinking this was food worth moaning for.

  By this time, the tables were beginning to fill up. Mama Chan has a lot of regulars so she never has a slow night unless the Broncos are playing. I've told her she needs to hang some televisions on the wall so customers can watch the game but she says she likes a slow evening every now and again. It gives her a break.

  Anyhow, halfway through our meal, the front door opened and a woman walked in. Now, normally you wouldn't notice someone walking into a crowded restaurant but this one was hard to miss because she looked so out of place. Mama's food is good but it's not fancy and this chick looked like she was used to fancy and then some. To be honest, she didn't look like she even belonged in Denver. She was more of a New York girl. And I'm pretty sure her purse was worth more than Mama's entire restaurant. She was also strangely beautiful with long white hair and dark, dark eyes.

  I watched her curiously and was a little unsettled when her eyes immediately targeted the back of Force's head, her eyes narrowing and her nostrils flaring. I'm not exaggerating, either. Her nostrils were actually flaring. And…I don't know how to explain it, but there was something almost soulless about those dark eyes.

  Anyhow, while Mama was seating her at a table not too far away, Force pushed into the bench seat beside me, which took me completely by surprise.

  "Wh-what?" I exclaimed on a low burst of laughter, shifting quickly to put a few inches between us because I was afraid that any contact with him would fry my nerve endings and melt the end of my twizzles. "What's going on?"

  "Sorry," he muttered, and pulled his plate across the table. "But I don't like sitting with my back to the door."

  I thought it was weird that he hadn't said something sooner. By now, he was halfway through his beef with snow peas! But I didn't call him on it. "Like Wild Bill Hickok?"

  "I guess so," he answered.

  "Do you even know who I'm talking about?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Aye," he answered, looking insulted. "And I know what happened when he broke his rule about sitting with his back to the door."

  I couldn't help but laugh. "You're a strange guy," I told him. "Sometimes I wonder what's going on inside your head."

  He shrugged and gave me a pointed look. "Just the usual."

  "Direction of attack?" I asked on a sudden hunch.

  His nod was almost imperceptible. "Best path of retreat."

  I looked around the restaurant. The closest exit was way off in the middle of the room. "So, how do you like your options?" I asked with a grin.

  "Not good," he said seriously. "It doesn't help that my sword and knife are hidden in a tree down by the river. But I can defend you if I need to."

  I started laughing but cut it short when I picked up on his expression. He looked ridiculously serious.

  "Well, that's nice," I snickered, following his gaze to the newcomer seated a few tables away and suspecting Force just wanted to check out the place for pretty faces. "But what would you need to defend me from?"

  "Anything," he answered. "Everything. This is just…the way we do things where I'm from."

  "Well, thank you," I said, with a touch of drama. "But hopefully the need to defend me won't arise and we'll survive the evening unscathed."

  "Hopefully," he agreed and seemed to relax while we finished our meal and sipped on our little cups of green tea.

  "What do you think of the tea?" I asked just to get him talking so I could listen to his unusual (read sexy) accent.

  "It's okay," he answered. "But not what I imagined."

  "What did you imagine?" I asked.

  But he didn't answer. Instead, he stiffened su
ddenly and I realized the woman with the long white hair was walking toward the back of the restaurant…which didn't make much sense because the restrooms are in the middle of the dining area and there was no reason to go back there. Unless maybe she'd recognized someone in one of the back booths.

  But she didn't stop to talk to any of the other customers. And when she reached our booth she slid into the seat across from us and smiled. "Hello," she said. "I couldn't help but notice you two sitting back here."

  Okay, that was a little bizarre, but I opened my mouth to say something polite anyhow…because that's how I was raised.

  But Force cut in before I had a chance. "What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

  I frowned, wondering why he was being so—um—rude. And while I was wondering, I flashed on her and saw her fingers moving over a red and black box with numbers on it. Like the touchpad on a security system. So that didn't tell me much about her except that maybe she was proud of her security system. Or she was proud of what she was protecting with her security system. But a woman like that probably had a lot of valuable things to protect.

  The woman looked puzzled by Force's less-than-warm attitude. She forced another smile to her lips and pulled a card from her purse. "I'm Olivia Olander of Olander Scientific Labs," she announced like we should immediately recognize the name. But honestly, I'd never heard of her before. "I have a close friend who owns a modeling agency in Boulder," she continued. "He's always looking for fresh new faces. Like yours."

  Okay, so that wasn't out of the question since I was sitting with quite possibly the best-looking blond guy walking the planet earth. And I wasn't exactly ugly. Maybe I was even pretty enough for modeling work.

  "Like whose?" Force demanded, his hand tightening suddenly on my knee.

  "Like…yours," she answered him with a warm smile. "But I'm sure he'd like to meet both of you. I could arrange a meeting at my office if that sounds good to you."

  "We're not interested," Force barked.

  "Wait a minute," I cut in, thinking what-the-hell and also thinking that a modeling job could bring me a lot of money. And also thinking that Force had no business making up my mind for me.

  His fingers clamped even tighter, making me wince. "We're. Not. Interested," he growled.

  "Well, okay," she said, looking a little flustered and moving her gaze to my face for the first time. She slid the card across the table toward us. "If you change your mind, call me. I don't have to tell you there's a lot of money in modeling."

  Just what I was thinking.

  "We won't be changing our minds," Force insisted in a menacing rumble.

  Disappointed, I watched Olivia slide from the booth and walk toward the front of the restaurant. Finally, Force loosened his grip on my knee.

  "What was that about?" I hissed, rubbing my knee with one hand and snatching the card with the other. But I didn't get a chance to register much more than the fact that Olander Scientific was in Boulder before Force grabbed the card back.

  "She wasn't a…nice person," he growled.

  "How do you know that?" I demanded, pissed, and wondering what gave him the right to make decisions for me.

  "I can…just tell," he answered. "I'm a good judge of character."

  "Yeah, well you're not the only person who can read people. I'm pretty good, myself."

  His gaze locked on mine. "What do you mean?"

  Of course, I didn't want to tell him about my "gift" because it would sound crazy and he'd never believe me anyhow. "I can just tell, too! And I didn't read anything bad about her."

  "Then your senses aren't as good as mine," he muttered.

  Yeah, his attitude wasn't doing much for me. "I get that you don't want anything to do with her. But that doesn't give you the right to ruin my chances at a modeling career."

  "Listen, Camie," he said in that commanding tone of his. "Do not have anything to do with that woman. Ever. Promise me."

  Like hell, I thought. You're not gonna tell me what to do. You're not going to ruin my future. I was so annoyed I got up and left. Yep. I took off for the front door and stormed out of the restaurant just in time to watch Ms. Olander drive off in her limo.

  Chapter Six

  Uh-huh, Ms. Olivia Olander had a limo with a chauffer. A black chauffer. Must be nice, I thought. To have so much money you can pay people to drive you around. I couldn't even afford my own car.

  By this time, Force had caught up to me. He grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "Nowhere," I muttered. "I just…need some space."

  "Gog and Magog, you're a difficult lass," he murmured. But he didn't say it angrily or meanly. He said it softly. And he didn't let go of my arm. Instead, he lifted his other hand toward my face.

  And to my eternal horror, I flinched. It was…one of those automatic things. I couldn't even help it.

  His eyes registered surprise as his thumb stroked into the corner of my mouth. Why did you flinch?" he asked quietly.

  "I don't know," I mumbled, surprised that his touch could be so gentle when his hand was so big and rough.

  "Who hit you?" he asked with a soft threat in his voice.

  I had no intention of answering that one. In fact, I tried to shrug him off. But he had a firm grip on my arm.

  "Who hit you?" he repeated. "Your father?"

  "No," I exclaimed without thinking. I didn't want him to think Darryl was like that because he isn't.

  "Then who?" he asked, his hold on my arm getting tighter, his voice getting silkier.

  "It was Carl," I muttered, trying to pull away again. "My mother's boyfriend. It only happened once. It wasn't a big deal."

  He looked stunned. "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah, I'm serious. It happens, Force. All the time. To other people. Other girls. Other women."

  "Well, it didn't happen in my family, nor in my community," he growled. "Girls and women were especially treasured."

  And that was a nice idea but I didn't particularly believe him even though I wouldn't have minded living in a fantasy world like that.

  "So…do me a favor and don't ever introduce me to your mother's boyfriend. Not if you want him to live."

  "He lives on the other side of the country," I reminded him lightly, trying to dilute the tension. "So I doubt that will ever happen."

  "And we need to find a new place for you to spend Christmas," he muttered as an afterthought.

  I couldn't help but sigh. "Force, I know you mean well. But you can't run my life."

  "I'm not trying to run your life," he insisted, raising his voice and jerking my frame into the heat of his big, warm body. "I'm trying to…"

  "Trying to what? I asked breathlessly, my eyes flitting between his beautiful eyes and his brutal mouth, thinking that I'd never been this close to him before, thinking that a kiss was just an inch away.

  "Protect you," he said slowly, his eyes getting this strange look of revelation, like he couldn't believe his answer. "I'm trying to protect you," he repeated. Finally, he released his hold on me, apparently so he could have a good long think about what he'd just said.

  I took a step away from him, away from his warmth (which wasn't easy). "Well, you don't need to protect me," I told him. "I can take care of myself."

  It took him a while to answer because he was still mulling over his last words. "I can see that," he finally said with this uber-dry look on his face.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I shot back.

  "That woman back in the restaurant," he rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head back toward Mama Chan's. "I don't know what she wanted from you. But she's a dangerous creature. And you were ready to walk right into her lair."

  "I think she was more interested in you than me," I argued with a dismissive sigh.

  "Do…you think so?" he asked slowly, like my answer had given him a new idea.

  "Uh-huh," I answered, and wondered what was coming next.


  "Then…can I ask you to stay away from her…for my sake? To protect me?"

  Wait. What? That was totally playing dirty.

  "Please," he murmured, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and pinning me with his gunmetal gaze. "Please do this for me."

  And he was so intense about it that I ended up promising him that I'd never get in touch with the dreaded creature, Ms. Olander.

  "You mean it?" he asked, searching my eyes.

  "I always keep my promises," I sighed, kissing my modeling career (and mucho dollars) goodbye. But I decided that maybe it was all good as we headed down the sidewalk. Because that Olander chick was a little weirding with those soulless black eyes of hers. "We'd better go back inside and pay for our dinners," I suggested.

  "Mama wouldn't let me pay," he told me. "She said to just leave a tip for the waitress."

  "How much did you leave?"

  "One of those twenties. Was that enough?"

  I sighed again, and started down the street. "More than enough. Brooke's gonna think you're in love with her."

  He made a face like he considered that a fate worse than death, and I couldn't help but smile at his reaction. "Why?" he asked.

  "Because you left her a twenty dollar tip on a thirty dollar meal."

  "Oh," he said, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he sauntered along beside me. "Was that too much?"

  "Way too much," I confirmed.

  "Well, I'm not in love with her," he said.

  "Didn't think you were," I muttered. "Do you have any money left?"

  "Two more twenties," he said.

  "I'll give you a lesson on how to spend it," I told him.

  Good of me, right? But it's not what you think. On our way across town, we stopped at the grocery store and bought a cash card with Force's money so we could use it to place an ad in the local newspaper. And when we got home, I started the laptop and navigated to the newspaper website. Force sprawled in my chair, watching me, making me self-conscious, so I handed him a book to read.