“You don’t want to discuss it,” she snapped. “You never want to discuss it.”
Gideon let out a breath and abruptly lifted his arm from the doorway, stepping back to run a hand through his shaggy black hair. “Fuck this. Just go to bed, okay?”
Zoe bit her lip, her anger ebbing whether she wanted it to or not. He sounded tired, and she hated it when he sounded tired. In fact, he’d been tired a lot the past few weeks. She knew; she’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes. They were there right now, small black shadows, as if he hadn’t been sleeping very well.
Guilt gave a sharp, unwelcome twist inside her. She shouldn’t have been such a pain in the ass. It was late and since she’d told no one where she was going tonight, he must have looked all over the neighborhood for her before eventually finding her in Anonymous. No wonder he was angry.
Oh, harden up. You’ll never get what you want if you keep being such a pushover.
But the rest of her anger was already leaking away like water out of a cracked bucket, leaving her feeling dizzy and a bit sick. Yay for alcohol.
“I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just wanted . . .” She trailed off. What was the point of explaining? If he didn’t understand now, he wouldn’t.
He shook his head, his hand dropping. “Just . . . go to bed, Zoe.”
This time she did what she was told without a word.
* * *
Gideon flipped the pancake with casual expertise and stared at it as it landed perfectly back in the pan.
Sunday morning pancakes were kind of a tradition with him and Zoe. He’d started making them for her back when she’d first come to live with his last foster family. He’d been sixteen, trying to coax the silent Zoe out of her shell and hoping that pancakes would do it. She hadn’t talked quite then, but she’d eaten the pancakes he’d put in front of her. Every last one.
He’d been making them almost every Sunday morning since. Though, given the probable hangover she’d no doubt be nursing this morning, she may not want any.
He wasn’t feeling all that shit-hot himself and he didn’t even have alcohol as an excuse, just a lack of sleep. It wasn’t anything unusual—he hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, his head too full of what was happening with his friends. But what bothered him about last night was the fact that it hadn’t been Zoe lying to him or even concerns about Novak that had kept him up.
It was the kiss he’d interrupted.
He couldn’t seem to get it out of his head. Zoe with her head tilted back as the guy had leaned in and covered her mouth. Her eyes had fallen closed as if this had been something she’d been waiting for all her life.
What would have happened if he hadn’t turned up? Would they have gone further? Would Zoe have actually gone home with the guy?
Gideon scowled at the pancake, the memory replaying in his head yet again. Why the fuck did he keep thinking about it? His interest in Zoe’s love life was less than zero.
Sure. That’s why you went ahead and hauled that prick off her like he was touching a holy relic.
No. He’d only been protecting her, that’s all.
The smell of burning pancake filled the little kitchen and Gideon cursed, snapping himself out of it. Grimacing, he slid the pancake out of the pan and onto the stack he had keeping warm in the oven, then ditched the pan in the sink.
At that moment his phone in his back pocket vibrated with an incoming text.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was from Rachel.
You track down Zoe?
Quickly he sent her a text back. Yeah. She was at the club. By herself.
Rachel’s reply was to the point. What’s with her?
No fucking idea.
There was a brief pause, then: You want me to talk to her?
A burst of annoyance went through him. He’d never had any issues with talking to Zoe, and she knew she could come to him if there was a problem. Talking to her was his job, not anyone else’s. No, he texted back. I’ll figure it out.
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he checked the time, then stuck his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. It was ten o’clock. Normally, Zoe would be up by now, especially seeing as it was pancake day. That was unless she was either still asleep, avoiding him, or feeling lousy.
He was betting he knew which it would be. Too bad. Time to have this out with her, see what the hell her problem was.
“I want to go have a good time, go get drunk, and then go get laid.”
The memory of her defiant words did not improve his temper as he stalked down the narrow hallway toward Zoe’s bedroom door.
If all she’d wanted were a good time and a few margaritas, then Jesus, he’d have been happy to go with her out to the club. That wouldn’t have been a problem at all. But the getting laid part?
“Unless you want to do the honors?”
That unsettled feeling twisted again inside him at the memory of what she’d said. At the belligerent look in her golden eyes, as if she was daring him.
It was never a good idea to dare him.
Why not? You thinking about taking her up on the offer?
Shock like an electric current ran straight down his spine and he stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out just what the hell it was. Because by rights the thought of helping Zoe out with that particular problem should have either disgusted him or amused him. Yet that feeling wasn’t either disgust or amusement, which was a real fucking worry.
He shook himself, ignoring the feeling. Maybe he’d been too long without a hookup. Maybe that’s all it was. And it had been a long time, what with everything that had been going on. He didn’t do girlfriends, not when keeping Zoe safe, the garage, and looking out for the rest of his little family took up most of his time. But he did have a woman he saw on occasion, whom he had an understanding with. Tori, who was happy not to have anything demanded of her the way he was happy to have nothing demanded of him.
Yeah, maybe it was time to give Tori a call.
Moving on down the hallway, Gideon paused outside Zoe’s door, listening. There was no sound from inside. Raising a hand, he knocked quietly. No response. He knocked again, louder this time, but got nothing but silence.
So he opened the door and glanced in.
The room was small, only enough room for a double bed and a desk that had Zoe’s computer and various other things scattered on top of it. The chair pushed into the desk had clothes dumped on it, and there were other clothes lying in piles on the floor. Opposite was a dresser with a mirror above it, the top of the dresser covered with toiletries and makeup and other sorts of female paraphernalia. Necklaces and other things dangled from the corner of the mirror, tiny jewels glinting in the sunlight coming through the gap in the faded blue curtains.
The sunlight that also illuminated Zoe, lying facedown on the bed, her arms and legs spread out like a starfish, the sheet wound around her waist. Thick black curls covered her pillow and most of her face, so he couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not. He thought she probably was, certainly given the deep, even sounds of her breathing.
“Zoe,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Your pancakes are going to get cold.”
She didn’t move.
It was probably an asshole thing to do to wake her up now, but there was some stuff they needed to get straight between them and he wanted to get it sorted out as soon as possible.
“Zoe,” he said, louder this time. “Wake up.”
She let out a tiny snore.
Irritated for no good reason, he went over to the bed and crouched down beside it, pushing away some of the hair covering her face. She was fast asleep, her lashes lying thick and silky on her cheeks.
He sighed, his irritation draining away. Jesus, she was so young. At least it felt that way to him. Far too young to be going out and getting drunk and picking up random guys to get laid. Especially when it seemed like only a few years ago she’d been th
at quiet girl, the one no one could get anything out of. No one except him.
She’s twenty-five, remember?
He blinked, something inside him lurching at the thought. Which was odd because he knew how old she was; of course he did.
Zoe sighed and shifted on the bed, rolling over onto her back, and he rose to his feet, vaguely unsettled again with no clue as to why.
She was wearing a light blue tank top and a pair of tiny little black shorts that left a lot of smooth, coffee-colored skin on display. The top also seemed to be very tight-fitting, clinging to a pair of small, high, and perfectly rounded breasts.
A strange shock hit him. Like he’d accidentally brushed against a live wire or an electric fence.
Why the fuck was he looking at her tits? He’d never looked at them before so why he was looking at them now, he couldn’t think. Zoe was a child and he’d never seen her as anything but, more like a little sister than anything else. Certainly not as a woman.
Yeah, but she’s not a kid anymore.
Gideon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shoved that particular thought right out of his head. Tonight. He was going to call Tori tonight. “Zoe,” he said, her name coming out a lot grumpier than he’d intended. “Wake the hell up.”
Her face scrunched, then her lashes fluttered and lifted, a flash of amber catching the sunlight. She groaned and flung an arm across her face. “Is it morning?”
“Yeah. Ten a.m.”
She gave another groan and rolled over onto her front, burrowing into the pillow. “Leave me alone. I want to die in peace.”
He would have been amused if he hadn’t been so fucking unsettled. And he still felt fucking unsettled.
Because now she was lying on her front and the sheet had pulled away and those little shorts of hers did nothing to hide the rounded curves of her ass. One side had pulled up, exposing more satiny, brown skin.
Had that guy last night touched her there? Had he cupped her butt in his palms? Squeezed it gently?
Gideon blinked as he realized the direction his thoughts were taking. Holy shit, what the hell was wrong with him this morning?
“I’ve got pancakes.” His voice sounded rough as cheap bourbon, yet he couldn’t seem to tone it the fuck down. “You’d better get up if you don’t want them cold.”
Zoe turned her head, looking at him with one slightly bloodshot amber eye. “Pancakes?”
“Yeah. It’s Sunday, in case you’d forgotten.”
She pulled a face. “I don’t know if I can eat anything.”
Well, that was unsurprising. “Serves you right.”
Her mouth turned down. “Gee. Thanks for the sympathy.”
“Well, what do you expect? You wanted to get drunk and so you did. There’s always a price to pay for the good times, Zoe.”
She turned her head a little more, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “At least I had some good times. Until you came along.”
He let out a slow, silent breath. Christ. He’d handled the whole situation badly the night before, he knew that. Allowing his worry to get to him, then Zoe being so goddamned stubborn. That wasn’t how he usually dealt with problems.
He liked to keep things calm, be the cool head. Be rational and understanding. He was the still point for everyone else, the calm that made everyone feel safe, and it was concerning that Zoe’s telling him a stupid lie about where she was and one kiss should have wound him up so damn much.
Novak. That was the real problem.
Gideon came over to the bed and sat down on the side of it, leaning his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers. Then he glanced at her. “What’s up, little one?” He kept his tone gentle, using his usual endearment, a reminder to himself of who she was to him. A reminder to her, too.
At this point, Zoe would normally stop being mad at him and tell him what the problem was.
Instead, her gaze narrowed and her mouth went flat. “So we’re heading into patronize Zoe territory, are we? You should have brought some Advil with you. My head hurts enough as it is.”
His patience—usually limitless—felt thin and frayed this morning, eaten away by lack of sleep and worry, and definitely not up to the task of dealing with Zoe being stubborn.
Still. He tried.
“I’m not being patronizing. All I’m trying to do is have an adult conversation with you about what was going on last night.”
She shifted onto her side and propped her head on her hand, a position that did not make his unsettledness any better. Not when it pulled her tank top tight across her tits, making it very obvious that she didn’t have a bra on underneath it. “An ‘adult conversation,’ huh?” That belligerence was back in her voice again, the way it had been last night. “Like we don’t normally have adult conversations or something?”
He kept his gaze on her face, trying not to let the strange awareness of her progress any further. “Now you’re the one who’s being a dick,” he said. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Color crept into her cheeks. “Is there really any point in us having a conversation? You don’t listen to me anyway.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it? I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you keep putting me off. Telling me you’re busy or that we’ll talk at some other time. But you never do. How is that anything but not listening?”
He shifted on the bed, uncomfortably aware that’s exactly what he’d been doing. He’d had his reasons of course, but she wouldn’t know that and he hadn’t wanted to tell her. Because it was all big stuff. Frightening stuff. Stuff to do with her mother.
He hadn’t wanted to bring all that old, bad shit back up. He’d been trying to protect her, just as he always did.
You can’t protect her if she’s going to keep pulling stunts like she pulled last night.
No, he couldn’t. Which meant he was going to have bring all that old, bad shit up again whether she liked it or not.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “So I’m listening now.”
Chapter 3
Zoe gave him a narrow look. The expression on Gideon’s face was neutral, his black eyes giving her nothing but his usual endless patience.
Normally, she would have found that comforting, but right now, for some reason, it irritated her intensely. She didn’t know what she wanted from him, but this quiet acceptance wasn’t it.
You know what you want. You want a fight.
Maybe she did. Maybe she was sick of him looking at her like a parent trying to understand his difficult teenager. Sure, she hated it when they argued, but it was better than this . . . insufferable patience. Like she was a child or a small dog.
She wanted a reaction. She wanted him to stop being so fucking calm.
Like he was last night?
Zoe swallowed. She had a headache, and her mouth felt drier than Death Valley, but the thought of how he’d been last night still made her whole body shiver.
He definitely hadn’t been patient then. Especially the way he’d hauled what’s-his-name off her. Like a jealous lover, almost. And then the way he’d picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder. Okay, it had been humiliating, but part of her had found it thrilling, too, the fact that she’d finally gotten some kind of reaction out of him that wasn’t just . . . this.
Now he was sitting there on the edge of her bed, with his hands laced together, looking all calm and rational and so very Gideon it irritated the crap out of her. It didn’t help that he was wearing one of her favorite T-shirts of his—a deep blue one that provided perfect contrast to his bronze skin, black hair, and dark eyes. She wanted to lift it up, look for the edges of his tattoo—the Japanese cherry blossom that spread its branches up his side and over his chest and back. A strangely delicate tattoo for a hard-edged guy like him. But she knew what it meant—it was for his mother.
She’d seen it a lot over the years and had always loved it. But to be able to touch it, trace the branches with her finger . . .
“I’m listening, Zoe.” His voice, deep and slightly gritty, almost made her jump.
She scowled, hating the direction of her thoughts. They were pathetic, truly pathetic. He’d never shown any interest in her whatsoever, so why she kept letting her brain go there was anyone’s guess.
“Too bad,” she said grumpily. “Because now I don’t want to talk.”
The calm expression on his face wavered a second. “Fine. If you don’t wanna talk, you don’t have to. But I have a few things I need to say to you.” He unlinked his hands and stood up. “Get dressed and come get your pancakes.”
He didn’t wait for her to agree, striding toward the door as if he suddenly had somewhere he needed to be in a hurry, closing it with a thump after him.
She sighed and rolled over onto her back, directing her scowl at the ceiling instead.
Maybe it was time to face the fact that he was never going to see her as anything more than the little foster sister he had to protect. It wasn’t what she wanted, no, but wishing things were different wasn’t going to make it happen. And this continual mooning after him was only making her miserable. Not to mention it was embarrassing, since the others had noticed the bad case of hero worship she had going on.
Which meant that she had to deal with it. Push it to one side and move on. Like, really move on, not just pretend.
She had been trying the night before, of course. At least until Gideon had shown up. And she could kid herself all she liked about the fact that he’d been angry because he was jealous, but the most likely scenario was the one he’d told her. He’d been angry because she’d lied to him. End of story.
So yeah. She had to move on. Put an end to her crush. In fact, there were a lot of things she had to put an end to. Gideon wasn’t going to like them, but that was too bad.
She was twenty-five years old and she wasn’t going to let him dictate the course of her life anymore.
Galvanized, Zoe slid out of bed, debating the merits of a shower, then deciding it was probably a good thing given how vile she felt. The hot water made her feel marginally better, as did a clean pair of jeans and a tee. At least enough that when she finally arrived in the kitchen, the smell of frying bacon didn’t make her want to hurl.
Sin for Me Page 3