The Sirens of SaSS Anthology

by Anthology

  Maybe in his mind, the money guaranteed my time. Money secured our association, sure. But so did our friendship, I hoped.

  A soft knock sounded and I peeked through the peephole, not prepared for the ragged face on the other side. “Oh, my God.”

  I pulled open the door and Noah looked at me from under low brows and glassy eyes. “Your doorknob does work.”

  “What happened to you?” He looked like death, pallid skin wearing a glaze of pasty sweat, clothed in too many layers for the temperature of the building, bloodshot eyes, and his blonde hair shooting every which way.

  “I’m fine.”

  He was not fine. “Are you sick?”

  I pressed my fingers to his cheek. His eyes closed, his face leaning into my touch. He was burning hot.

  “Mmm. Feels good.”

  “Come in.” I pulled him into my apartment and he dutifully followed. “Sit down. I’ll make you some soup.”

  He collapsed on my couch and groaned. “Your pillows smell like you.”

  I opened a can of basic broth because I wasn’t much of a chef. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “You smell like … heaven and cookies and girl stuff … and sunshine. A breeze … on the beach … on a hot August afternoon… Christmas morning…”

  My brow quirked at his ramblings. Though he wasn’t making much sense, he definitely wasn’t sticking to the friend zone with those sorts of compliments. Playing it safe, I ignored his description. “This’ll only take a few minutes to heat up. Sorry, I don’t have anything better than broth.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Once the broth was hot I added some parsley, because that was always good for the immune system, and poured it into a mug. I carried the steaming cup into the den only to find him out cold, sleeping with his lips slightly parted and his hand curled under his cheek like a little boy.

  “Look at you. You’re not a tiger or a wolf. You’re just a sick little lamb.”

  A glassy, blue eye opened and shut. “Tired.”

  I placed the mug on the coffee table and sat in the crook of his hips. My hand pressed to his brow again. He was really hot. “Maybe you should take some aspirin.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t get sick.”

  “You’re such a man.”

  Despite his weak demeanor and exhausted state, he flexed his hips. “Damn right.”

  I sighed. This subdued patient was not the Noah I was used to. “Get some sleep. I have things to do.” I stood.

  “Do you love him?”

  Pausing, I frowned. He appeared sound asleep. “Who?”

  “The guy you were with tonight. He kisses you. I don’t think he’s just business.”

  “Noah…”

  “Don’t love him, Avery.” His words were quiet and slightly slurred. “Love me.”

  My head tipped. “Do you even know what you’re saying right now?”

  “Lay with me.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Noah.”

  He was silent and I figured I’d lost him. Stepping away, I removed my earrings.

  “I’d love you … better than any of them. Let me … love you.”

  He was delirious. Letting him sleep for a little bit, I changed into pajamas, but he needed to get some fluids in his system. By the end of the night, I got him to drink the broth and finish a bottle of water, but he wasn’t much for conversation, so I suggested he crash on my couch.

  Closing the door to my bedroom, I paused, eyeing his still form and suffering a strange sense of awareness. It had been years since anyone slept under the same roof as me. I turned the lock and told myself this was just simple charity, nothing meaningful.

  The next morning I was up at dawn and on my way out the door to hit the gym after briefly checking on my sleeping patient. Noah slept in a twisted mess of blankets, one bony foot peeking over the arm of the sofa. I figured it was fine to leave him there.

  When I returned he was awake and sitting up, drinking something out of a mug.

  “You’re awake.”

  He watched me but didn’t say anything.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better. I barely remember getting here last night. Sorry for passing out on your couch.”

  I smiled. “It’s fine.” Leaning in, I placed my hand on his head and he stilled, his sapphire eyes watching me closely. “Your fever’s gone.”

  “I think this is the most you’ve ever touched me. I’m pissed I was too out of it to appreciate it.”

  I sat on the coffee table across from him. “Last night you were mumbling some pretty weird stuff.”

  “Sorry.”

  We suffered through an awkward silence. “Noah, I want us to be friends.”

  “I want more.”

  “I know, but all I can be is your friend right now.”

  The arrogant mask was gone and he looked at me with honest curiosity. “Why?”

  “It’s not about you. I don’t date. I work and go to school and I just want to finish my degree and move on. Dating complicates things.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

  But it was complicated. He was bossy and I was bossy, both of us gunning for the upper hand. I tried that before, after Gavin. I couldn’t take it. I needed to be in control or I couldn’t enjoy myself.

  And that wasn’t the only thing that made us incompatible. We bickered like children and, eventually, he’d object to the way I earned a living. I couldn’t deal with that. My life was mine and I was in the last mile of a marathon.

  “I like the way I manage my life. I only have to think about myself and take care of me. I don’t want to change that.”

  Something shifted in his eyes, a flash of hurt or vulnerability. “But you’ll date them.”

  “That’s different, Noah. There’s no emotional attachment.”

  “I don’t believe you. I saw the way that guy treated you last night. I’ve seen you with him before. There’s something there, Avery, and it’s more than business.”

  “Micah’s special. He takes care of me.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he might stop? Where’s the security in that?”

  “I’d survive.” And Micah wouldn’t just vanish out of my life. He wouldn’t abandon me like that.

  He laughed with little humor. “The irony is, if I paid you, like them, I’d get to date you.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t accept you as a client.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” With Noah there was emotion. “Because we’re friends.”

  “You’re scared. You don’t know how to give up control. Every little part of your world is orchestrated down to the second you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. That’s not living, Avery.”

  “It is to me. I’ve done the uncertainty thing. I don’t want that sort of life. I’m not like you. I don’t need to fling myself out of a plane to know I’m alive. I like balance and security—”

  “You date a different guy every night yet claim you like structure. You’re the most closed off woman I’ve ever met. I don’t understand you.”

  “Because that’s how I prefer it. I only let people in when I choose the boundaries and I determine how long they stay. And I might go on dates with various men, but I’m not dating anyone.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?”

  My lips pressed tight. The loneliness was the hardest part, but I was too much of a control freak to rely on others when it came to my happiness. Even in marriages, people walked away, people changed, people died. “I manage.”

  “Let go, Avery. Just for one night. If we’re really friends, trust me and let me take the reins.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, Noah, I can’t. I have a system and—”

  “Fine. But in my mind, friends go places and hang out together. And sometimes friendships evolve.” He stood. “I’m sorry I crashed here last night.”

 
I bolted to my feet. “You’re leaving?”

  “What do you want from me? I’m not your buddy. I’m a guy who’s painfully attracted to you and no matter what I do or say, it changes nothing. Every time I hear your door open it’s another man taking out the woman I want. I can’t do this anymore. You won’t even give me a chance.”

  “The reason I won’t go anywhere with you is because to you it would be a date, when to me it would be nothing more than friendship. It wouldn’t work between us!”

  “How do you know? If life’s so damn predictable then why do you need so much control?” He shook his head. “You won’t even admit you’re attracted to me and I know you are. We have chemistry and I’m not buying that it’s one-sided. We might work as a couple, and that’s what scares you. At least I’m open-minded enough to consider the possibility. The unknown excites the fuck out of me.”

  “Noah, please…”

  “This…” He waved a finger between us. “This can’t go on. You have plenty of empty relationships with men who are trapped in the friend zone or client zone or whatever you call it. I don’t want to be your safe friend. I want to be everything that makes you nervous and unsure, everything that scares and excites you. But you won’t let go enough for us to be anything more than neighbors.”

  He was all of that. He was the nervous energy that made my heart race for no apparent reason. He was the thrill of a narrow hall shrinking around us. He was unpredictable and intense and sometimes sweet. He could also be a total dick, which I strangely enjoyed sometimes. He was … Noah. And now he was walking away.

  “Wait.”

  He paused at the door but didn’t turn around to face me.

  “You’re right. You scare me. I don’t know what you’re going to say or do and I like that, but I also hate it, because I like the order in my life and I don’t want anyone or anything to interfere with my goals.”

  Scowling over his shoulder, his gaze narrowed on me. “News flash, a good guy doesn’t fuck with his girl’s goals. He supports them and encourages her.”

  “In a perfect world. Think about my job, Noah. Think about how you’d feel if we were involved.”

  “There’s other work—”

  “Nothing that pays like that. I’m not some genius. I struggle to make B’s and I wish I had twice as many hours in the week to study, but I don’t. I work less than part-time and can clear over five grand in a week if I play my cards right. There’s no other work like that. Not for my skill set.”

  Come next September I would hopefully be teaching in a classroom with a respectable career, a new legal name, and a modest paycheck. I didn’t have a wealthy spouse or established parents to give me a leg up. I needed to build my own foundation and I was running out of time. The next eight months were my last shot at earning enough money for my own home, somewhere that matched the modest paycheck I’d be making every week.

  No. I couldn’t let him interfere with my plan. I couldn’t let my heart do my head’s thinking when things were so close to the dream I’d been chasing for years. Survival first, before everything else. Always.

  “I’m sorry. I need money and I’m good at what I do.”

  He turned and scowled. “You’re more than a tight ass and pretty face, Avery. Those things shouldn’t be your skill set. I’m done negotiating. I told you I’m out and I meant it. I’m sorry. I just … can’t do this with you anymore.”

  He opened the door and my heart jackhammered against my ribs. It wasn’t fair that the sight of him walking away had the effect of a lowering coffin. This was nuts. I didn’t need his friendship and I certainly didn’t react to ultimatums, but…

  Damn him!

  He admitted to feeling the chemistry, too. What if this was a once in a lifetime connection and I was blowing it? I didn’t want that sort of connection with anyone now, but I might want it later. Wait. No. My occupation was only part of the problem. Noah would never bend the way I needed a man to bend. He wasn’t the right guy for me. Or was he? Fuck!

  Our words from the other night echoed in my mind.

  I’m in charge. Always. And I don’t think you’d like that very much.

  Maybe I would.

  Damn him for making me second-guess my first instincts. Torn, and none too happy that my feet were now moving after him, I rushed into the hallway. “One date.”

  He paused and I caught my breath. He didn’t jump with joy or gloat or anything that I expected. More unpredictability from the curious Noah Wolfe.

  I kept my distance and tried to remain firm, even though I was conceding in a big way. “I’ll give you one date. I can’t… You’re my friend, Noah.”

  I laughed at how pathetic I sounded, but I had to see if there was something special here, seeing as he was being so damn persistent.

  “You have plenty of friends, Avery. Let me be something more.”

  “Don’t you get it? You’re my only friend. The others... They don’t know me.”

  “Well, you don’t make it easy.”

  “They don’t know me because I don’t want them to. None of them see inside my apartment and they don’t know where I go to school or what I do in my free time. You think I don’t open up with you, but you’ve seen more of my personal business than anyone else has in years. I’ll go out with you on one date, but if it doesn’t work out promise we can be friends.”

  A slow smile curled his lips. “Deal.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But Avery, this isn’t business. It’s pleasure. There are no ground rules, so prepare for anything.”

  I swallowed, fearful he’d do something terrifying like take me go skydiving or bungee jumping or convince me to sleep with him. “Okay, but—”

  “No rules, Avery. That’s the only rule. No rules.” He grinned as he shut the door behind him.

  “What did I just agree to?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Come on…” I fussed with my hair, which was not cooperating no matter how I styled it. Up, down, half-up, sloppy bun, nothing looked right.

  I growled and threw my comb at the mirror. “Damn it, Avery. Focus!”

  It was just a date. A stupid date. I went on four to five dates a week. This was no different.

  “I have too much makeup on.” Returning to the bathroom I scrubbed my face clean and started over.

  Halfway through lining my eyes, my phone pinged with a text from Noah.

  You ready?

  Shit. It was almost seven.

  Not yet. Thirty minutes.

  I stared at my phone as text bubbles bounced, disappeared, bounced, and disappeared again. Then I waited another minute, but nothing came.

  I didn’t have time to sit there and wait for his response, so I went back to my makeup. The text came through a few minutes later when I was just finishing up my eyes.

  Time’s up. I’m coming over.

  My gaze shot to the mirror. My hair wasn’t done. If it was staying down I had to curl the ends or at least add a braid. A knock sounded at the door.

  I rushed into the hall. “I’m not ready. Come back in twenty minutes!”

  “We agreed on seven.” His voice was muffled through the door.

  I took several slow steps to the door but didn’t touch it. “I’m not dressed.”

  “Perfect. Let me in.”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Avery.”

  “Please…”

  He sighed. “Fine, but your ass better be ready in five. Hurry up.”

  I shook my head, not used to that sort of talk from a date. Rushing back into the bedroom, I flipped over my head and roughly brushed out my hair, spritzing it with some product meant to give it a beach look.

  I applied a light layer of gloss to my lips and jerked on a pair of boyfriend jeans with an intentional tear at the knee. My cropped, off the shoulder, cream sweater paired with cream stilettos took the look from casual to sassy. I just needed to find earrings.

  He knocked again. “Time’s up.”


  “I’m coming!” Distractedly, I yanked open the door.

  “You’re not supposed to come until the end of the date,” he greeted with a cocky grin. And damn, he looked good.

  I rolled my eyes. “I just need to find my earrings.”

  “Wait.” He caught my hand and pulled me back to face him. “You look great. I love your hair like that.”

  “Th—thanks.” I disentangled my hand and searched the living room for my little gold hoops.

  “Are these them?”

  Turning, I came up short as he held up the earrings, not ten inches away from me. Why the hell was I so out of breath? I needed to calm down. “Yes, thank you.”

  “You look great. Let’s go.”

  He took my hand and I nearly forgot my purse and coat. “Where are we going?”

  “To a tap house.”

  “A brewery?”

  “Yeah.” As we stepped into the elevator, his arm curled around my hips.

  My sweater was cropped and my coat was still in my arms. As his thumb brushed the bare skin of my back I shivered.

  He glanced down at me and smiled. “Ticklish?”

  “Not usually.” Nothing about this was usual.

  We stepped into the lobby and he helped me with my coat. “Button up.” He carefully slid each button into its hole. “It’s chilly out there.”

  I wasn’t used to him touching me so much or with such familiarity. The instinct to pull away was there out of habit, but as if he sensed my tension, he held tighter each time I thought to put a little space between us.

  Winston greeted us at the front door. “I have your car, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re driving?”

  “Yup.”

  His car was a beautiful, black BMW 328i hardtop convertible. He held my door and I was pleased to find the seats already warmed. “This is a nice car.”

  “Thanks. Buckle up. We’ve got a thirty-minute drive.”

  “We’re leaving the city?”

  “Heading to the suburbs. I want you all to myself tonight, so I figured I’d take you somewhere we wouldn’t run into anyone you know.”

  He focused on the congested roads as he navigated his way to the interstate, but once we were cruising down 95 North, he appeared totally at ease. “Are you warm? We can turn down the heat.”