by KC Enders
The woman he’s with is gorgeous—what little I can see of her. But, really, who fucking does that?
Just as an oversize serving of my sister’s tiramisu is placed in front of me, I snag a flash of movement. The chick to the right grabs her mostly empty drink and chucks it right at the asshole next to me. There’s so little in it; it has to be the most pathetic drink toss in the history of bad dates. All that hits the guy is a small splash of something with the unmistakable scent of tequila along with a cherry and the plastic stirrer straw. But this guy, the asshole, goes fucking ballistic.
“What was that for? Jesus, you ruined my custom-made shirt.” His rant is completely over the top, like he’s got to have all the attention on him. Spoiled, pretentious prick. “Your company will be getting billed for this, and I don’t think my father will be happy, having such an aggressive, angry bitch in his office for the rest of this week.”
“It’s a fucking shirt, Brooks. Wash it.”
Good girl, sticking up for herself.
I’m not sure what’s going on, though it doesn’t sound like it’s the date I thought it was. Sassy Chick pushes back from the bar, obviously ready to be done with this asshole, when he grabs her wrist and hauls her in close.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving,” she states, trying to pull out of his grasp. “That hurts. Let me go.” She seethes, striving to keep things low-key.
These two are complete opposites. He’s all about being the center of attention, and she is doing everything in her power to downplay the situation and just get away.
“Hey, man, sounds like the lady’s about done here tonight. Why don’t you be a man and respect that?”
Their situation has nothing to do with me, but there’s no way I can stand by and watch a woman get treated like shit. I just can’t.
“And why don’t you just mind your own business, man?” He’s distracted by me just enough for Sassy Chick to break his hold on her wrist and grab her crap.
It’s more than obvious that she’s done, and I am all for that. She just needs to leave this guy behind.
He throws a few paltry bills on the bar, barely enough to cover a couple of hotdogs in the park let alone anything they could have ordered here, and grabs her elbow, halting her escape. “You’re not going anywhere without me—” He spits her name at her, like it’s laced with venom, but I miss it.
I miss everything once his fingers curl around her arm, dragging her back to him. Once his lip sneers up in a possessive snarl. Once I see her wince and hear a gasp leave her cherry-red lips.
“Dude, let the lady go.” I stand to my full height and place a hand on his shoulder. “She’s made it abundantly clear that she’s not interested in what you’re offering.”
He turns to give me his full attention, and finally—finally—I get a good look at this woman.
“Gracyn?”
It can’t be, can it?
I hold my breath, my heart stuttering in my chest as it decides if it’s going to stop right here and now or slam against my ribs, racing for all that it’s worth.
“You know this … dirtbag?” The asshole’s disdain bleeds through as he takes me in. The hair. The tats. All of me. “Figures.”
He’s still spouting off his hate, but the only thing that registers is Gracyn. She’s here. Standing an arm’s length away from me. Looking fucking gorgeous.
She looks away, avoiding my eyes, her chin jutting forward, those full lips pursed.
Embarrassed maybe?
I don’t know, but all thoughts of how not right this whole thing is have just amplified through the fucking roof. This guy has already made it perfectly clear that he thinks I’m a loser, not that image has ever really been my thing. I reach up, pulling my hair back to secure it with the purple hairband that I’ve had with me at all times since Destin.
“I think we’re fucking done here. Why don’t you pay your bill for real?” I toss a nod at what he’s thrown to the bar and square up to him, leaving no doubt in his mind that I’m the bigger guy—and right now, size does matter. “Gracyn, why don’t you wait for me by the door?” I talk to her over my shoulder, not wanting to take my eyes off this guy. No way am I afraid of him. I just want to keep him on his fucking toes.
“Seriously?” Gracyn huffs out, shaking her head. She turns to face the piece of shit standing next to me, jamming her finger into his chest. “I will gladly talk to your father—my client—about this shitshow tonight and the many lines that were crossed after he was so graciously concerned for my well-being. I’m sure he’d love to hear that his son grabbed the new accountant’s ass and pretty much told her to watch what she ate because she didn’t have any spare room in her clothes.”
“Sounds like harassment to me,” I offer up, thinking I’m being supportive, helping her get her point across.
But, when Gracyn turns her attention to me, my heart really does stop.
“And you. You of all people should know that I don’t need saving. I can take care of myself. No white knight swooping in, no damsel to save here.”
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
The chandelier above the table behind her highlights her wavy golden hair, just like the moon did that night on the beach. The night she flipped me and just about beat my ass.
“Wait for you by the door? No, thanks.”
I watch as she stalks toward the front of the restaurant, winding her way through the closely set tables.
“Bitch.”
I drag my gaze away from Gracyn’s retreating form and stare at this schmuck. My jaw muscles twitch while I take a second to decide.
Am I going to walk away from this dickhead or school him on life?
My debate ends when I hear him mutter some shit about her being a cocktease.
The din of the restaurant fades as I turn to face him. “Probably a waste of my time, dick”—I purposely stress his new nickname—“but let me clue you in on what it is to be a man. I’m not being a sexist asshole—far be it from me to try to dethrone you there—but a real man treats a woman with respect. Has the responsibility to honor and protect her from the dickheads of the world. Commits to that shit and owns it. A real man desires a woman for who she is, not just because of some fucked-up notion that she’s weak and there for the taking.
“That woman … the one who just walked out that door? She’s the best thing you’ll never have. You can only hope and pray that, someday, you’ll have matured enough to earn the privilege of her company again.”
I toss a couple of twenties on the bar, grab my guitar, and book my way out of the restaurant. Stray hairs that have broken free of their confines blow across my face as I swivel my head from left to right, searching. I catch sight of Gracyn across the street, climbing into the back of a car pointed uptown. Weaving my way through the blissfully light traffic, I grab the door handle and slide into her Uber, almost losing my guitar to a passing taxi.
“Get out, Gavin. I’ve dealt with enough shit tonight.”
Gracyn pulls a scarf out of her bag and starts to wind it around her throat. An oddly familiar purple scarf with lyrics printed on it is wrapped gracefully around that throat. I remember the taste of it, the sounds she made when I licked my way up it to her pouty kiss-swollen lips.
“Not a chance in hell, G. We need to talk. It’s been a long time.”
Our driver looks over his shoulder at Gracyn. “What are we doing? Are you sharing a ride? This wasn’t on the app.” At least he’s fucking respectful to her. A hell of a lot better than the shit she was out with tonight.
“Go ahead. He can find his own way back.” Gracyn sinks back into the seat and blows out a huge, frustrated sigh. “What do we need to talk about, Gavin?” She finally—finally—meets my eye.
I hold on to her closed-off, pissed-off glare.
And wait.
Wait until Gracyn starts to shift in her seat, until her eyes soften a little.
“I want to know why you did it. Wh
y you snuck out of your condo in the middle of the night and took off.” I lean in close, breathing in her perfume. It’s still the same. “I want to know why you just disappeared when all I wanted to do was give us a shot.”
Chapter 18
Gracyn
“I had things I needed to do.”
How could this one day change so drastically from how it started? The possibilities were endless. The soundtrack was remarkable. I just want to go back to the park. Back to my bench and my coffee. To the music and serenity.
“What? What did you need to do, Gracyn? We had just”—Gavin rubs a hand down his face, the bristles of his scruff rasping across the palm of his hand—“discussed the possibility of trying to keep up with each other. To see where things would go. And you took off. You fucking disappeared, leaving me with nothing. I tried to find you. I tried, but you sure as shit didn’t leave me with much to go on, Gracyn.”
“I needed to finish college. I needed to get my degree and take the CPA exam. I needed to do those responsible things, so I could get this job. Pay my bills, be an adult,” I bite out in full defensive mode, blood thumping, tears burning the backs of my eyes. Cheeks flaming red. My heart breaking all over again. The only way I know to get myself under control is to get mad. Let the anger take over.
“What the fuck?” Gavin pulls the band from his hair, letting it fall loosely down around his shoulders. He pulls at the elastic, stretching it between his hands before he pops it in place around his wrist.
It’s like I have no restraint as I watch my fingers lightly trace the purple hair band. “Is this … this isn’t the one I gave you in Destin, is it?”
It can’t be.
When the car lurches to a stop, my fingers make contact with his wrist, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. It’s still there. The fire. My base reaction to Gavin.
I pull my hand back, putting space between us but barely breathing. I have got to pull my shit together.
“Are you done? With the ride?” The Uber guy is trying to politely kick us out of his car and get away. I don’t blame him one bit.
“Yeah, um, thanks.” I push open the door and grab my bag, spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Maybe you can just take him wherever he needs to go,” I call over my shoulder as I try to get away as well.
Gavin raises his eyebrows at me, eyes wide open, and snorts. “I’m exactly where I need to be,” he grunts as he pushes out of the car after me.
The car takes off as soon as we’re clear of it, tires screeching and horn blaring. I stare at Gavin, taking in the changes. Taking in everything of him that’s exactly as I remember. He shifts his weight and settles his arms across the top of his guitar case. It’s the same case from the beach.
The same arms but with ink peeking out near his wrist.
The same eyes staring into me, undressing my soul. Searching for the answers to questions we’ve barely touched on.
The same man but so much more.
“Do you live here?” He looks up and down the street, like he’s trying to picture my life now.
“No. I’m just staying in my dad’s—I mean, the company apartment while I’m working for Mr. Langston.” I cross my arms and square my shoulders—the complete opposite of Gavin’s relaxed, unaffected stance. “What do you want, Gavin? Do you want me to thank you for coming to my rescue? You sure as hell didn’t need to do that. I had it covered.”
He does that slow-nod thing that tells me he’s thinking. Picking his words.
“I know you had it covered. I know that now, but I can’t stand by and let some asshole treat a woman—any woman—like he was treating you. I had no idea it was you, not until he—”
“Brooks,” I fill in for him, not sure why I need to give Gavin his name.
“Not until Brooks shifted to the side.” Gavin finishes that thought, letting a lazy smile stretch across his face, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “It’s good to see you, Gracyn.” He takes his time looking at me, taking me in from head to toe.
“Yeah.” The wind whips up the avenue, chilling me to the bone. “I should get going.” I nod like that’s the end of the discussion and turn to cross the sidewalk and drop down the stairs to the bottom-floor apartment. Tucking my chin down into the folds of my scarf, I stutter away, ready to be done with today.
Above the bustle of the street, Gavin sighs out, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” stopping me in my tracks. When I turn to face him, he’s fixated on my neck, the scarf wrapped around my throat. “It was you at the park this morning.” He crosses the sidewalk, stopping at the top of the steps. “And yesterday? Were you there, on a bench by Strawberry Fields?”
He strides down the narrow stairway until he’s standing on the step above me. Reaching out, he slides the silk of my scarf through his fingers, pausing when he reaches the side of my throat. His lingering touch sends shivers down my spine.
“You were there. You sat behind me while I played, singing with me.” His voice is soft and faraway, but he’s looking at me. Different from the head to toe he just gave me. This time, it’s like he’s seeing me, into me. “I tried to follow you this morning. I had to see who was there with me. I fucking felt you—you—but couldn’t believe I would ever be that lucky. That it could really happen.”
I’m stunned. My private concert with my morning musician is Gavin. Lis teased me about it just this morning, saying that I needed to go look and see if the voice that sang to my soul belonged to the one who had gotten away. If she only knew. I shiver again as his palm slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
“Hand me your keys, Gracyn.” His words echo in my head, taking me back to the night it all changed.
Sliding the key ring from my palm, Gavin unlocks the door and follows me into the apartment. He props his guitar case against the wall, and I realize how little I’ve said since stepping out onto the sidewalk. How tongue-tied I’ve been.
Heaving out a breath, I back deeper into the apartment. “Gavin, I need you to go. I have to work in the morning. I’m going to have to deal with Mr. Langston and what happened with Brooks tonight, and—”
“What did happen with that asshat? Are you dating him?” Gavin follows me into the living room, taking one long stride for each of mine, and in the course of three steps, he has gained enough ground that we are almost chest-to-chest.
I place my palm flat between his pecs to stop him. With his heart thumping beneath my fingers, I recognize my mistake almost immediately. Our current, the electric pull between us, is not lessened by a T-shirt and a jacket. It’s still there. The desire is right there as well, causing me to close my eyes and try to steady myself.
“We’re not dating. I … I haven’t really done that in a while.” Whispered words hang uncomfortably between us. “Mr. Langston took us to dinner to celebrate a new working relationship, and—”
“And someone thought that meant he could treat you like a piece of property.”
Chapter 19
Gavin
I need to watch it.
Jumping in her Uber was one thing, and she sure as hell didn’t stop me from following her into the apartment, but seriously, I need to chill.
Our proximity …
The fact that she’s been sitting with me in the park. Singing with me.
The lyrics I was working out on that bench. The ones that were all about her.
And, now, I’m standing here with the heat of her palm searing through the layers of my clothes, practically burning my skin. Months of pent-up frustration, lust, and desire dance through my body, my muscles clenching and ready to spring at her. Wrap her up and go back to that night when everything felt so right.
“Gracyn, why would you allow someone to treat you like they owned you, like you were nothing more than an object? That’s not you.” I take another step forward, guiding her back toward the couch.
She moves with me until the backs of her legs make contact, and then everything about her changes. Every musc
le tenses, and she pulls her lip into her mouth, firmly tucking it between her teeth. Her eyes dart to the corner of the couch, to the pile of blankets there. The suitcase lying open on the floor.
“G, is someone else staying here with you? Sleeping on the couch?” I don’t like the way this feels. Don’t like the idea of someone else sharing her space.
Gracyn stumbles, reaching for a pillow, trying to tidy things up, fussing over the mess. “No, I …” She catches herself, stopping her awkward tumble. She tries to stand and ends up falling back onto the cushions, head hanging, shoulders slumped forward. “I just hate it here. This apartment, it’s … I don’t like staying here.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it? The mattress lumpy or …”
All color drains from Gracyn’s face, and her eyes blow wide open.
“Are you afraid? Has something happened?” Hands resting on my hips, I take in every corner of the apartment. There are no less than four different locks on the door. It’s below the sidewalk, but the windows look new, sturdy. “Gracyn, what’s wrong? Babe, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t go in the bedroom. I can barely stand to be in here at all. There just aren’t any other options when I stay down here for work.” This strong, kick-ass girl is deflating, folding into herself, and that shit don’t fly.
I will never forget how she literally turned my world upside down in Florida, when I watched the horizon twist and turn. The soft sand slamming the air out of my lungs as I landed on my back. I don’t even know who she is right now.
The coffee table looks solid enough, so I park my ass on the edge, right in front of her. “Why? What happened in that bedroom, Gracyn?” Someone sharing her space is the least of my worries now. My mind skitters over all the shitty things that can happen to a woman. Not being sexist, but there are some fucking assholes out there who have no problem taking what a woman won’t willingly give. Finger under her chin, I tilt her face to mine. “Did someone—”