Bind (Manhattan Lux Book 1): Manhattan Lux
Page 4
“Told ya,” said Aiko. “I’ve got people to fire.”
“You can’t leave me!” Jinx hissed. “Alone…with him!”
“What’s your problem?” Aiko eyed her sister with suspicion. “You’ve gone all weird, even for you.”
“I just don’t want to be alone with him. I don’t know him. And…”
Aiko tilted her head and smirked. “And you liiiiikkeee hiiiimmm,” she whispered. “You think he’s seeeexxyyy.”
“Do not,” Jinx protested. “He annoys me.”
“You love people who annoy you.”
Jinx winced, a dozen snarky comebacks flitting to mind. But this hallway was no place for a sister argument, especially one with witnesses.
“Shut up,” she said. “C’mon…it’s awkward. This morning I thought he was a criminal, and now from the way Jack and Bryce were talking it’s like he’s some kind of military hero, or something. I’ve got whiplash here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think, or do for that matter.”
“Yeah, you definitely like him.” Aiko nodded.
“Say that again. I dare ya.” Jinx held up a fist, and Aiko laughed, put her arm around her sister’s shoulders, and walked her back to the apartment door where Wyatt stood, waiting, his eyebrows arched in puzzlement.
“Have a good nap, Wyatt,” said Aiko. “When you wake up, get Jinx to make you something to eat. She’s a great cook.”
“This is not a bed and breakfast.” Jinx shrugged Aiko’s arm off her shoulders.
“True,” Aiko said. “We don’t have mints or muffins, and our staff is barely housebroken.” With that, she leaned between Wyatt and Jinx and rapped her knuckles hard on the apartment door. A cacophony of howls, yowls, yips, and spazzy high-pitched barking erupted on the other side of the door. “Yep, that’s them now. Later guys.” Aiko walked back down the hallway and disappeared into a elevator with Malcolm.
Wyatt’s face was frozen in an open-mouthed contortion of what could only be described as unadulterated glee. “You have dogs?” he said, with awe.
“Yes. Four.”
“I love dogs.”
“Yeah well, sorry to break it to you but they may not reciprocate. Despite the lofty threats you hear them making now, they’re a bit skittish.” Jinx slipped her key in the deadbolt, turned, and then paused so that they could both listen to the sound of paws skittering a fast retreat. She threw open the door. “See,” she said, stepping into the foyer that opened into a large living/dining room combo. “Like cockroaches, they hide when they sense strangers.”
“Oh don’t worry about that,” Wyatt set his duffle bag on the floor and followed it, lowering quietly to his belly on a section of area rug just behind the sofa. He turned and spoke over his shoulder. “I’m like the puppy whisperer.”
“Whisper away,” she said, setting her purse and jacket on the kitchen counter. “I’m going to check on the guest room, make sure it’s ready for you.”
Wyatt nodded, held a finger to his lips, and turned his head to peer under the sofa, where one black paw was tentatively swiping from underneath.
Jinx strode down the hallway to the guest room, opened the door and flipped on the light. It was dust-free and tidy, if a bit stuffy. She knew the sheets were fresh, since she’d changed them last week. She walked into the bathroom. Also fine. Clean, with a small stack of fresh towels on a shelf next to the vanity. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, noted the hard line of her eyebrows and the downslope of her lips, and stared.
“What’s wrong with you?” She mouthed at herself.
Ugh, she knew what was wrong. This morning her world had been in order. She’d been secure and in control, and she’d thought, for one glorious hour, that she’d caught the bastard who’d broken into her club. Turned out the bastard was a good guy, everybody liked him, and expected her to like him too.
Jinx left the bathroom, and walked through the bedroom, back to the hallway. She could hear him in the living room, the giant blond toddler, making soft conversation with her dogs, trying to coax them out.
See, that right there - he ‘loved dogs’. Jeez. Wyatt was affable, experienced, capable, and she hated admitting it, really kind of hot. And, he was super fucking likable, which made her all the more inclined not to.
Her sister would say it was because she is contrary and a brat by nature. Jinx would say it’s because she just can’t switch loyalties that easy. She’d had him in her ropes, a prisoner, the enemy, and now she was just supposed to flip a switch and get on board with Team Wyatt?
She rounded into the living room, and stopped short. Wyatt was still on the floor, three small dogs standing on top of him, wagging their asses off while they fought over licking rights to his face.
Evidently the dogs had jumped loyalties easily and were already Team Wyatt. Traitors.
“They’re rescues, aren’t they?” Wyatt said, gathering the dogs gently in his arms so that he could sit up and look at her. “I noticed they’ve all got some kind of issue.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“That’s awesome. I thought you said you had four?” Wyatt asked, looking around.
“I do.” Jinx scanned the room, looking for her last pup. She heard him before she saw him, the tell-tale squeak of wheels giving his location away. He was just behind her, so she stepped aside and let him make the trek on his own over to the group. “He doesn’t like help,” she said in case Wyatt thought her cruel. “He really wants to do it himself. So, I let him of course.” Even though it kills me, every time, she thought.
Creak, scoot, creak.
Her littlest guy, a Yorkshire Terrier with wheels where his hind legs should’ve been, made his way slowly and oh-so-eagerly across the hardwood floor to Wyatt. The other dogs left Wyatt’s lap, instinctively making way for their brother. Wyatt held his arms out and cheered words of encouragement as the dog headed toward him. If she’d had to make a judgement as to which of them was more excited about this meeting, Wyatt or the dog, she wouldn’t have been able to. Each grin was equally broad, goofy and completely, heart-stoppingly sweet.
Goddammit.
Jinx felt tears well in her eyes and quickly turned her head to hide it and stamp it down. Shit, that little guy always got her. When she turned back she saw he’d completed his journey and was now trying to lick the scruff off Wyatt’s jaw with his tongue.
“Oh my God buddy, oh my God,” Wyatt said. “I know, I know. Me too. I love you too. Hey, let’s be best friends okay? Best buddies.”
The other dogs, no doubt jealous at this proclamation returned to Wyatt’s lap and engineered an assault on his chest that had him toppling back to the floor in a puppy pile of fur and sloppy kisses.
Goddammit.
There is no way you can continue irrationally hating on a dude when he’s covered in doggy slobber and loving every second of it. Jinx stood there, staring, helpless as she felt her walls come crashing down.
Goddammit.
And that, what was that? That tingly warm sensation in her nethers? Oh, just her panties bursting into flames.
Chapter Five
“What’s their story?” Wyatt asked. “How’d you end up with these tough guys?”
Tough guys. Jeez. He was killing her.
“I went in for one and came out with four,” Jinx said. She joined them on the floor, sitting cross legged opposite him, pulling the nearest dog into her lap. “I thought I’d get a cat, or a mid-sized dog or something. But there was this bulletin board, off to the side, and it had a photo of the boys on it. They’d all been brought into foster care as puppies, hand raised by a volunteer. Unfortunately she was moving out of the country and couldn’t take the dogs.”
“Oh man.”
“Yeah. She was working at the shelter the day I came in so…”
“So she marked you for a sucker and you got the hard sell?” Wyatt smiled at her.
“Kind of.” Jinx smiled back. “Ashley, the volunteer, she knew it was unlikely that they’d get adopted at all, much less
together, which was what she was hoping for. They’d really bonded when they were with her.”
“Well yeah, they were already a gang. You can’t break up a gang.” said Wyatt, tickling the dog closest to him.
She nodded. “They are inseparable. This one,” she said, lifting the black Pomeranian in her lap, “is totally deaf and partially blind.”
“That one,” Jinx said, pointing to a one-eyed Pug with a chunk missing from his ear that was grinning up at Wyatt, “Well his challenges are obvious, but he also has asthma.”
Wyatt scruffed the pug’s head affectionately. “What’s the other guy look like huh buddy? Bet you held your own.”
Jinx picked up a pale, quaking Chihuahua that was trying, and failing, to crawl into her lap, gave him a cuddle and continued. “This one is also partially blind, and being albino, really has issues with the sun. If I take him out I’ve got to keep his eyes and skin protected. He can burn right through his fur.”
“Poor guy,” said Wyatt. “And my new best friend here? What’s his story?”
“Car accident,” Jinx said. “When he was a puppy. We got him the wheels and he just blossomed. Total road warrior now.”
“Yeah I noticed,” Wyatt grinned and pointed to the flames paint job on the dog’s wheels. “So is his name Mad Max then?”
“No.” Jinx shook her head. “Clyde.”
“Clyde? How’d you come up with that?”
Jinx hovered her finger over the black Pomeranian. “This one’s Inky.” She pointed to the one-eyed Pug “Blinky—”
“Oh my God!” Wyatt howled and patted the albino Chihuahua on the head. “I suppose he’s Pinky?”
“Yes.” Jinx bit her lip and nodded. “And of course Clyde.”
“You named them after the ghosts in the Pac-Man game.”
“I really love Pac-Man. The fact that the names sort of fit their traits, well that was just a coinci—”
“Awesome!” Wyatt said.
“Really?” She squinted at him. “You’re not judging me? You don’t think it’s mean? Some people think it’s mean.”
“Hell no! SEALs give each other nicknames like that all the time. It’s a guy thing.” He turned to the dogs as if he was soliciting their opinions. “Right fellas? You’re tough. You’ve lived through it. Like men, er, dogs. Warrior dogs! Those names are a badge of honor.”
Jinx clutched Pinky to her chest and gazed at Wyatt as he rolled Inky over and gave him an epic belly rub. He got it. He liked her dogs, and their names. Blinky scrambled up into Wyatt’s lap and began licking his free hand like it was covered in beef gravy.
“Make sure he doesn’t swallow your ring,” she said.
Wyatt laughed and shot her a thumbs up.
The dogs were in love. How adorable was that? Completely. They didn’t meet new people often, so it was pretty cool when they could make a friend…right? No harm in it. It’s not like she was a single mom to human kids and she needed to worry about boundaries and attachment or anything. No big deal.
Then why did she have a lump in her throat? Why were her palms getting clammy?
Because he’s really fucking beautiful. Inside and out.
Wow! Where did that come from? Jinx put Pinky down and rose to her feet. Alrighty, it was time to change the subject, and the scenery, before she needed to change her panties.
“So, the uh, the guest room,” she said. “I’ll show you where it is.”
“Nap time fellas, sorry I gotta go for now.” Wyatt gently extricated himself from the dog pile, grabbed his duffle bag, and climbed to his feet. But he did so with difficulty, rising stiffly, and with a crease between his eyebrows that suggested he was in pain.
“Just at the end of the hall,” she said, walking ahead of him and pushing open the guest room door. “You’ve got your own bathroom. Fresh towels already in there.”
Wyatt dumped the duffle bag on a chair and turned to her, his smile hard.
“Do you need anything?” Jinx asked. “Aspirin? Ibuprofen? Morphine?”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow.
“Obviously kidding about the morphine, but seriously, you look like you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just need to sleep it off.”
“If you say so. Still, yell if you need anything. I’ll be around.”
Wyatt nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin tense line.
Jinx closed the door but didn’t move away. Instead she stood there, still and silent, waiting for the sound she knew was coming. A few seconds later she heard it. A low moan, followed by hissing sounds and a gasp, and then a whispered “fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuck.”
She opened the door.
He stood there in front of the bed, facing her, his pants hanging halfway down his legs, arms above his head tangled up in his shirt.
Jesus.
Washboard abs, tanned smooth skin with a sprinkle of dark blond chest hair over his pecs. She lowered her gaze, letting it glide over his stomach and down to that sexy muscled V at his hips, the one that pointed down to his groin, and the uh, the rather impressive bulge that—
“Boxer briefs,” she said, before she let her mind wander much further. “I thought you were an Underoos man?”
“Oh, you caught me. The one day I’m not wearing ‘em.” Wyatt smiled, and his time there was a little more light in his eyes. That was good, that meant he could be distracted from the pain at least a little bit.
“Yeah that’s a shame.” Jinx rolled her eyes. “So listen, cowboy, let me get a look at that knee you keep moaning about.”
“Why? You a doctor?” He asked, resuming his struggle with the shirt.
“Nope.” She shook her head.
“Well a nurse then? If you’re a nurse, please God, I hope you have one of those sexy nurse uniforms. I’ve always had a thing for that.”
Jinx crossed to him and began unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, then helped him pull it the rest of the way off.
“Why didn’t you just unbutton it?” she asked.
“Because this way is faster.”
She arched a brow.
“Well it is if you don’t get stuck.”
They were face to face now, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. So close she could smell the faint scent of aftershave, mixed with shampoo and just plain old, sexy man scent. Shake it off, she told herself. He needs relief, and you can offer it. Stay professional.
“Why did you get stuck?” she asked.
Wyatt sighed heavily and dropped to the bed, his pants falling to his ankles. Jinx knelt in front of him and lifted one of his feet into her lap. He’d already removed his shoes, so pulling his jeans off was easy, and she did so now, one leg at a time, before folding them and tossing them on the chair behind her.
He let her do it, elbows on his thighs, those large hands tangled in his blond hair. He just sat, not saying a word. She knew he was embarrassed, not about being nearly naked in front of her, that didn’t seem to faze him at all. No, it was a pride thing, a macho refusal to admit he was in pain. Pain equals weakness. A SEAL would find that intolerable.
“Wyatt?”
“Because my shoulder hurts.” He said it firmly, as if injecting the admission with anger would make it more manly, more acceptable. Still, she’d detected the faintest trace of a pout. Anyone else would’ve missed it, but she’d observed him enough by now to catch it.
“Why does your shoulder hurt?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Usually it’s just the knee that hurts, the shoulder thing, that’s new.”
“Okay let me look at you. Lie back.”
“You gonna wear that nurse’s—”
“Stop flirting,” she said, pushing on his chest so that he fell back against the pillows. “You’re using it as a defense mechanism, but I see right through you.”
He frowned at her, and shifting up higher against the pillows, tried to put both arms up behind his head, only to wince and then let them fall to his side.
“Cool.” Wyatt grinned at her. “So does this massage come with a happy ending?”
“Wyatt,” she warned. Moving down to the foot of the bed, Jinx rubbed her hands vigorously to warm them and glanced up at his knee. “You want to remove the brace or shall I?” She lifted the foot on his good leg, bent it gently and began massaging the sole.
“You’re the expert. You do whatever….” Wyatt’s head lolled to the side and his eyelids began to flutter. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “I could kiss you.”
“Heh, that’s what they all say,” she said.
“Jesus, that feels good.”
There was a little too much gravel in his voice, an edge that was a tad too close to what she imagined he might sound like during sex. The thought had heat rising in her cheeks, so she tipped her head down and focused on the massage, moving her hands up his calf, then switching to the other leg.
“You can just leave that on,” Wyatt said when she moved to remove his brace.
“Nonsense, I need to get a look.” Her fingers made quick work of the brace fastenings, and she pulled it away from his knee, tossing it to the other side of the bed. From the looks of the scarring, the swelling, the long sinuous trail of gnarled flesh that twisted down his calf this man was in constant pain. “Have you taken anything?” she asked.
“A handful of ibuprofen.”
“And does that help?”
“Not really,” he said. “It just takes the edge off.”
“And I bet you aren’t willing to take anything stronger?” Her fingers ghosted softly over the scars.
“Nope. That just takes the edge off of me.”
She looked up and met his gaze, studied him openly, assessing him like she’d done with all her patients in the past. The flirting, the silliness, she got it now. It wasn’t just his defense mechanism, it was his survival tool, it kept him focused on something other than pain. She knew what to do.
“What was that look?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.