My Undead Heart

by Kacey Shea

  His doe eyes harden with my words and he steps back until he’s out of kicking reach. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go.” But he doesn’t. He stands there holding my stare as if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. I didn’t think he could be more of a dick, but I was wrong. “I think you’re making a big mistake,” he finally says.

  “Bye, Nick!” I shout a little too loudly, and he glares before turning on his heel. He stomps toward his office, and I can’t help but add a little extra to insure he doesn’t decide to come back. “Be sure to use the cream or the itching only gets worse!” It’s immature, sure, but it brings me a sick sort of satisfaction when he drops his chin and scurries the rest of the distance before shutting his door with a slam.

  Not thirty seconds pass before Jared’s at the entrance of my workspace, his hands on each side of the flimsy walls and blocking my escape. Gossip queen. I’m sure he was too busy listening through our shared wall to come save me. “So, Nick . . .”

  “Total fucking dick,” I growl and shake my head.

  “He was right about one thing.” Jared’s eyes light with mischief and he steps over to my desk, leaning his hip against the top. “You’re rocking that outfit. Meow. Well done, Kitten. I wish I were straight so I could properly appreciate the conservative sexuality. Total nerd babe.”

  When I don’t smile or laugh he pouts and pokes the tip of my nose with his finger, “What’s with the sour puss?”

  I lean back into my chair, completely frustrated with myself. It’s not all Nick’s fault. He didn’t help, but it’s still the stupid bet with Matt. I exhale a harsh breath and groan before admitting what I know will only inflate Jared’s ego. “You were right . . .”

  He beams. “Of course I was. Remind me about what this time?”

  “Me and Matt.”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he bugs his eyes. “Oh, my God! You little vixen!” He practically dances with glee but when I shoot him another glare he stops, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Please tell me it was good. It was really good, wasn’t it? God! Of course he was. The man must be hung like a horse—”

  “Jared!” I pop up out of my chair but he’s not even sorry.

  “What? It’s not illogical. He’s a big guy and so—” Jared’s eyes widen again.

  I hold my hands out because as entertaining as this is, there’s a more pressing matter at hand. “Jared, please! Pull yourself away from his dick. I’ve got bigger problems.”

  “Burn.” One of the programmer’s from across the open hallway snickers as he passes by with his coffee in hand.

  “Stop eavesdropping like a little girl, Larry!” Jared shouts before turning back to me with eager eyes. “Tell me what you did . . .”

  “I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Of course that’s what he’s thinking.

  Jared pats my shoulder and squeezes me to his side. “Aww, Kitten. Don’t feel bad. Not every guy goes for the . . . black heart and stay-the-fuck-away vibe.”

  I pull out of his reach, my hands on my hips. “No! Would you shut up and listen. That’s not my problem. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but we were having dinner. Discussing his website. Then, bam! I bet him he couldn’t last four dates with me and he took the bet.”

  Jared’s smile doesn’t dim, if anything it only transforms into a know-it-all smirk. “Well, yeah, he’d be a fool not to.”

  He’s missing the point. I shake my head and throw up my hands. “I didn’t want him to take the bet! I was saying ridiculous things because he told me he never makes bets.”

  “Never say never. Good God, Biebs was onto something.” Jared sighs.

  “Jared! This is no laughing matter. What do I do?”

  He tilts his head and takes in my harried state with actual concern before he grips both of my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “You go on those damn dates, Kitten. You go on those dates and get yourself some meathead lovin’.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to say yes!” I’ve already covered it, yes, but that’s where I’m stuck.

  Jared doesn’t seem to share the same outrage because once again his lips upturn with that sly smile. “He tricked you.”

  I shake my head; that’s not it. “No. He didn’t. If anything, I tricked him and that’s what makes this entire ordeal more annoying. If I hadn’t been so adamant about the stupid bet, I wouldn’t be going on four dates.” Why am I so damn stubborn? Probably goes back to when my mother made me eat vegetables before anything else on my plate. I went three days without eating before she caved.

  “He tricked you,” Jared says again.

  “That’s impossible! How could he?”

  “I don’t know, Kitten, it’s pretty obvious to me. You were training with him all week, I’m sure he noticed how . . . obstinate you are.” Again with the damn smile, and that’s when it hits me. Jared’s so fucking right.

  “Damn it! He tricked me!” I fall back into my chair, my hands covering my face from the reality of it all.

  “That’s what I’ve . . . never mind. This is good, Mia! You can finally break your dry spell!” Jared claps as if I’ve won a Grammy.

  I stare at him until it probably begins to burn.

  “What?” He shuffles a few inches away.

  “Matt is not breaking my dry spell. We’re going on four dates. That’s it. I already informed him sex was off the table.”

  “And he agreed?” Jared’s eyes widen and his jaw drops.

  “What? It’s too unbelievable he’d want to spend time with me for my stunning personality and exceptional wit?” At this I want to giggle, but it’s kinda fun to watch Jared squirm so I hold my bitchy glare in place.

  “No. Yes. Whatever.” He shoos me with one hand. “I love hanging out with you and never once wanted to get freaky in the sheets.”

  Right. Because Jared bats for the other team. But Matt . . . Matt would look fine as hell in bed. That well trained body leaves very little to the imagination. The stamina from long workouts would transfer to the bedroom, wouldn’t it? Then there’s the way he’s so authoritative when he’s in charge. I can practically hear the deep timbre of his voice instructing me what to do. “Oh, my God . . .” Groaning, I drop my face into my hands, this time to clear the naughty images from my mind.

  “What am I going to do? I can’t back down. Not with the cocky smirk he’d flash knowing I was being downright chicken. And dating him? How’s that gonna go? We get along great, but that’s because there’re no expectations. We both know it goes nowhere. If he starts to get ideas . . . like, I can’t handle it. Not with Matt.”

  “Jesus. You’re worse than women who start a Pinterest board for the wedding after the first date, only in reverse. He doesn’t want a relationship with you; he probably wanted to call your bluff. So, don’t fold. I’m sure you’ll have fun together, though I don’t know how you’ll keep your hands off of him. Or why you’d want to.”

  “No. I don’t.” The words pop out extra sassy.

  Jared chuckles. “Just say it. I think you want to.”

  “What?”

  “I give the best advice ever. You’re welcome. Now get back to work before Stanton sees the long break you’re taking! Especially with the partners in town!”

  “You were the one—”

  “You’re welcome. I know, I couldn’t live without me either.” He winks and turns to leave.

  “Delusional,” I mutter.

  “What was that?” His head snaps back to raise his brows.

  “Superstar. That’s what you are,” I grind between a forced smile.

  “Madonna. Nice. Break for lunch at eleven?”

  I nod because really, did he even need to ask? We’re best friends and sure, we give each other a hard time, but I couldn’t survive without Jared’s advice and insight, even if I do the opposite of most of it. Twisting back to my computer screen, I wonder if he’s right. Could Matt have known I’d make a bet like that? No way. I’m not that easy to read. The real me,
the one very few ever see, is guarded safely behind a good ten different levels of carefully designed defenses. Hell, most men never make it over the first firewall before I install a new virus protection and swear off relationships for another year.

  Some women are really good at being a girlfriend. When they care about the man they’re dating, they go out of their way to show him. Cook him his favorite meal. Hand over the remote so he can watch his show. Yeah, I’m so not that girl. I don’t like modifying my choices for anyone, especially a man. If that makes me selfish or undeserving of a boyfriend, I’m totally okay with it.

  But this bet with Matt is different. I’m not going out with him because I want to. Hell, he didn’t even ask me, I asked him—even though I thought he’d say no. Shit. This entire thing is stupid and I don’t know why, but it has my stomach twisted in little knots. Probably because it’s like a science project that leads to the worst possible conclusion of all.

  That must be it. Because I like Matt. Not in a mushy way, but in a you’re-actually-not-the-douchebag-I-assumed-you-were kind of way. And I didn’t expect to enjoy learning self-defense but it’s something I now look forward to, including the ride home on the back of his bike. I don’t want to ruin that, but I’m certain after spending more time with him outside of the gym, I won’t enjoy his company anymore. It’s more probable he’ll really begin to grate on my nerves and I’ll have to give up our training altogether.

  My phone buzzes from the top of my desk and I glance over to see a message from him.

  Matt: Doing research. Date #1 is in the works. Hope you’re ready.

  A grin takes over my face and if anyone were around to see I’d have to mask it. Since they aren’t I pick up my phone and indulge in an answer back.

  Mia: Good luck with that. Every date I’ve been on sucked monkey balls.

  His answer comes almost immediately.

  Matt: Ixnay on the monkey balls. Got it. Back to work I go.

  I think about responding but I don’t know exactly what to say. Instead, I set the phone down and pull up my email so I can answer a few questions from my boss before breaking for lunch. Not a minute goes by before my phone buzzes again.

  Matt: Training tomorrow night? 10?

  Unlocking the screen, I tap out my response.

  Mia: Yes.

  I almost suggest hitting a meal of food truck hotdogs on the way home and counting that as our first date, but then I don’t want him to think hotdogs are code for something dirty.

  Matt: Good. Maybe I’ll give you a clue about our first date. I know it’s all you can think about.

  Shit. I roll my eyes because sure, it might be taking up a lot of mental space at the moment but not for the reason he’s implying. Knowing he’s joking anyway, I get the last words in with my reply text and slide my cell inside the desk drawer so I’m not tempted to check it again.

  Mia: You wish.

  A little reminder so he doesn’t forget exactly what this is—a bet and nothing more.

  You wish.

  Her reply forces a chuckle to erupt in the back of my throat and catches the attention of the other guys on the job. I haven’t worked on one of my uncle’s crews since before my fighting career took off. I’m not scared of the hard work, or the early wake up call, because those are two things I’m no stranger to. But working under someone else’s thumb, having to ask for everything—including a trip to the john—is something I’m having to reacquaint myself to.

  “Break time’s over, big shot,” the site supervisor calls over to me. He’s a condescending asshole and going out of his way to let me know who’s boss around here. I get it, I do. He doesn’t want me to receive special treatment simply because my uncle signs the paychecks, but he’s still a total dick about it.

  “Don’t mind him. He gets his rocks off on feeling important,” one of the guys on the job says out of earshot. “I’m Jesse.”

  “Matt.” I hold out my hand to return the shake. His grip is firm and I’d guess he’s about the same age as me, give or take a few years.

  “Haywood, yeah. I’ve seen you fight before. You own that gym now, South Side?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Your brush strokes as good as your left hook?” He grins and nods across the room. We’ve spent the past hour prepping the space by taping down a shitload of plastic. The floor is huge and there’s more to be done, but boss gave us a fifteen-minute break before getting back at it.

  “I hope not.” I chuckle at my own joke. “But I think I’m here for the grunt work anyway.”

  “Good.” He nods over to our supervisor. The dude’s heading our way, splitting the crew into more specific tasks. “Carl,” Jesse says, and our supervisor glances over. “You mind if I bring him with me to get the paint? Seems like he could handle the fifteen gallons okay.”

  “Yeah,” Carl nods, his lips ticking up with what must be his grin. “Grab him when you need him. ’Til then, Haywood, I need you prepping those offices. Start over there.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, but Carl doesn’t seem impressed.

  Giving a once over that reveals his distaste for me, he nods back to Jesse. “Actually, Jesse. Why don’t you show him how it’s done? Don’t need some rookie wasting a bunch of supplies and having to do the work twice.”

  I keep my mouth shut and follow Jesse over to one of the executive sized offices and listen as he walks me through how to tape up the room. No knock to his profession, but this isn’t the first time I’ve done this, and I know how to tape the windows and protect the carpet without a step-by-step instruction.

  “Any questions?” Jesse says.

  “Nah, man. I think I got it. Uncle Jimmy had me working for him since before I could drive.”

  Jesse chuckles and shakes his head, peeks his head out the open door and drops his voice. “Carl’s a jackass sometimes, but he’s not all bad. Probably just worried Jimmy sent you here to take his job.”

  “I’m not looking to do anything other than make a few extra bucks.”

  He nods. “Then we’re all cool. Can you tape up the rest of these offices then come find me? I really could use your help loading the truck and bringing up the paint buckets.”

  “You got it.” I already like Jesse and I’m okay with doing the heavy work, especially if it means running a few errands with him. There’s something about being stuck inside an office like this that makes me antsy. I don’t know how people come to the same building day in and day out, or worse, one of these offices with the floor to ceiling windows. Being tempted by the gorgeous view of the busy city beyond the glass, but chained to a desk job instead. No, thank you.

  The morning goes by quickly as the crew works together. The workspace is being re-modeled by a new company so it’s nice that we don’t have to shuffle around furniture. The floor fills with the scuff of plastic sheeting laid out and taped down while AC/DC blares from someone’s Bluetooth speaker near the elevator banks. Before I know it, it’s time to find Jesse and head out to pick up the paint.

  After a few final instructions from Carl we walk over to the elevator. It only takes a moment before the doors open with a ding. I follow Jesse inside but stop short. Holy fuck. There she is, owning the sexy library look with the same confidence she brings to any other outfit I’ve seen her in. Fuck me. This brings a whole new level of sexuality.

  Surprise widens her big brown eyes the second they meet mine, but I’m just as taken aback to see her here. “Mia . . . What are you—?”

  “Oh, good Lord . . .” The guy at her right, the same faux hawk friend from the bar, fans himself and repeats that staring thing that makes me slightly uncomfortable.

  “Are you stalking me?” she says with such alarm it’s apparent that’s her actual conclusion as to why we’re sharing an elevator.

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m going incognito as a painter. How am I doing so far?”

  Her jaw drops open and she assesses my clothing. Worn jeans, work boots, and a long sleeved tee with
my uncle’s company logo across the front that reads Haywood Construction must pass the test. “You paint too?”

  “Handy and built as fuck. Praise Jesus,” her friend says aloud and everyone inside the car, including Jesse, chuckles. He almost looks apologetic as Mia sends him a glare. “Sorry.”

  The elevator comes to a stop and we all shuffle off. I step to her side. “Just for the next few weeks. My uncle needed extra help with his crew. I take it this is where you work?”

  “Yep.” She nods.

  “Twelfth floor if you feel like a visit.” Her friend’s smile is full of mischief and earns another glare from her.

  “Today’s not a good day for that,” she says as if she’s worried I might take him up on the offer. Is she really that private about her personal life, or embarrassed to have a lowly construction worker visit her fancy office? I can’t tell, but it puts me a little on the defensive.

  “Yeah, well. I’m here to work, not socialize. See you around.” I wave and turn, but catch a glimpse of hurt spread across her face before she’s out of view. I instantly feel bad, too. My words were petty and intended to sting, but she doesn’t deserve that.

  “Friends of yours?” Jesse asks as we step outside the building and hoof it to where his truck is parked a few buildings over.

  “She is, yeah.”

  “She’s a looker.”

  “Yeah, she is.” Seeing her today is another smack of reality. She’s way out of my league, and while I don’t usually date, I’ve never dated someone like Mia. I’m almost certain there’s no one else like her. Or that I don’t deserve a chance. But here I am being dealt this amazingly good luck of the draw. The pressure is on, and while I could fold and walk away without being behind, that alone feels like a loss. When it comes to Mia, I’m not even sure what I’ll win, but I’m sure as hell sticking around for the fight.

  Kind of disappointing, but there are no more run-ins with Mia at the job site. While it’s highly improbable considering the sheer size of the downtown office building and the number of people who come and go, I still can’t help but keep an eye out for her long locks in the crowd. They’re a deep, almost burgundy red, a color that’s most obviously not natural and teeters on unprofessional without crossing the line. Although I assume they have pretty relaxed guidelines at her company since her friend rocks a blue faux hawk.