The Darkest Flame
Page 21
Now I live in the Midwest with my husband and son—my two favorite guys. I've been a clinical social worker and a special education teacher. But it wasn't until I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper that I realized I could turn the fairytales inside my head into the reality of writing fiction.
I'm addicted to lip gloss and salted caramel everything. I believe in true love and kissing, so writing romance novels has become a dream job.
I write Adult, New Adult, and M/M Contemporary Romance. I also own a hand-stamped jewelry business, which requires me to stamp letters and/or words onto pieces of silver. They go hand-in-hand perfectly.
You can always find me on Twitter.
Or on my author Facebook page.
Sign up for my newsletter to be notified of upcoming releases, here.
Excerpt from THERE YOU STAND
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and leaned over to pat Chopper, the dog I’d inherited a couple of months ago from Joe, my latest asshole boyfriend. The dude skipped town without him and I didn’t have it in me to drive him to the pound.
What a damn sucker I was, because the mutt had a mind of his own, didn’t obey commands for shit, and was demanding as hell. He got along well with my older dog, Ace, when he wasn’t jockeying for position and trying to hog all the attention. Damn needy pain in the ass.
He was getting restless while I was stopped to take another swig from my water bottle. This had become my morning routine. I’d walk Chopper and Ace a couple of miles around town and always end up at Washington Park. My eyes couldn’t help but wander to the bowl, where the skaters from the hood hung out. And without fail my gaze was immediately drawn to him.
Like a damn weed to the sun. Because I’d give my left nut that Jude York was as straight as they come.
I whistled through my teeth as his lean and hard body sailed high, his knees bent in flawless formation. He landed smoothly on the far wall of the ramp, his skateboard gliding effortlessly along the curved cement.
My back was on fire again, so I readjusted myself on the uncomfortable wooden bench. Staying past last call at the bar would do that to you. At least that’s what I told myself. But deep down I knew it was due to my injury, which would always be a bleak reminder of that one tragic night.
Ignoring the discomfort, my gaze again slid beyond the statuesque trees. Jude was beautiful when he rode. Graceful and strong, the muscles in his legs taut as he climbed those hills. I never noticed him talking to the other skaters, other than with a nod, as if it was an unspoken agreement that he was simply there to do his thing.
I had no clue whether or not he knew that I watched. Might kick my ass if he found out. I always had my dogs with me, so it was a decent excuse. I’d sit on this bench, hide behind my dark shades and trusty knit cap, and refill my water bottle at the fountain behind me.
Rumor had it that Jude moved here to make a fresh start. Others said he was hiding from his past. I’d seen him around for months now, either skating in the bowl or working in the back of the shop at the Board Room. Most recently he had walked into Raw Ink, and scrolled through the portfolios in our waiting room, considering a new addition to his ink.
I’d walked a customer up front that afternoon, my gaze immediately drawn to his long fingers, rough calluses, as they flipped through the pages. Jessie gave me a look from behind the front counter. A look that told me she was just as intrigued.
Dex, another tattoo artist who spent one too many nights at the local bars, said he heard Jude was a transplant from out west. Said there was talk of a secret past, maybe some jail time, though he was hard- pressed to find anybody who had actually spoken to the guy.
Could be because Jude was quiet, kept to himself, and rarely made eye contact. But the combo of his dreads and sleeves of ink made him look threatening—hard around the edges—and that made some folks around here anxious. Add the fact that there was a darkness in his eyes, and that he seemed almost hyperaware of his surroundings. People figured he had a lot to hide.
But I didn’t see it that way. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to get close, so he performed the part. I played a role, too. After David left me three years ago, I applied for the job at Raw Ink. So little did Jude know, his darkness—which I assumed must be rooted in a pain similar to mine—only drew me nearer.
Besides, I could only imagine what had been said around town about me. I was openly gay, but understood all too well about keeping secrets. I figured Jude was a decent but silent guy, and had good reason for it.
At least that was the fantasy I kept about him in my head. Fuck, I was pathetic. But plenty of straight boys had filled my deluded brain over the years, none nearly as mysterious as him.
Hadn’t I learned early on that it was impossible to bend a straight arrow? Especially if you didn’t want that arrow to pierce your heart?
I bolted up on that thought, not wanting to feel as needy as this damn dog. Or hard up for that matter. There was plenty of fresh meat around this town anyway. Just not the kind I wanted or needed. Not anymore.
Chopper was thrilled that we were on the move again and he tugged hard on the lead. “Easy, boy. Let me get my these leashes untangled.”
But as he lunged away from me, the leash cut across my shin and I tripped over the taut line, releasing my grip. Suddenly Chopper broke from my grasp and began running free. Fucker was going to get himself run over by a damn car someday. “Chopper, get your ass back here!”
At the sound of my voice, he looked behind him, his tongue wagging in an almost taunting smile. Then he kept on sailing free. Ace was barking and going ballistic beside me, so I tightened my hold on his line. As I began gaining on Chopper, my only hope was that he’d stop of his own volition.
Halfway across the grassy field, he spotted a squirrel in one of the trees and went wild, climbing halfway up the trunk, jumping and barking.
While he was distracted, I silently moved toward him, hoping to grab hold of that leash. But just as I approached, he took off again, following that same squirrel who’d taken a leap to the next large maple.
I was out of breath and now beyond frustrated. Remembering the treats in my pocket, I figured I could lure him as my final option—and it was now fast approaching. I shoved my hand in my hoodie, my fingers closing on a sturdy dog cookie.
When I looked up again, Chopper was headed straight for the skate park.
“Chopper, goddamn it,” I called in some last-ditch effort. “You don’t listen for shit.”
Unexpectedly, Jude neared the cement barrier at the entrance to the bowl. His board clutched in his fist, he seemed to be assessing the situation as the large dog charged nearer.
He left his board on the concrete walkway and stepped into the lawn. He squatted down in the grass, made eye contact with Chopper, and the dog changed course to sail directly toward him. What the hell was that about?
Some type of deep whistle emitted from Jude’s lips and instead of slamming into his chest, Chopper came to a sudden halt beside him. Like Jude was a damn dog whisperer or something. His strong fingers grabbed hold of his collar and he reached down to mutter something in the dog’s ear. Chopper sat down in the grass. Actually fucking sat down—I had never been able to get him to do that.
I became motionless as I watched them, even though Ace was eager to inch closer. At least one animal heeded my command. I wondered what it was about Jude that compelled Chopper to run toward him. I mean, I got the appeal, so maybe it was just pure animal instinct.
Except only a minute ago, Chopper was attempting to roam free, not be detained. The muscles in Jude’s forearm flexed as he stroked Chopper’s head and the dog’s tongue hung out in a happy pant. The little fucker.
I forced my legs forward because I needed to bring Chopper back home. I had a shift at Raw Ink in an hour. And besides, Jude had done enough. I couldn’t help wonder what made him come to my aid. Was he an animal lover? Did he have pets of his own?
As I walked closer to Chopper, Jude’s eye
s lifted to mine. And for the first time I saw an array of other emotions alight in them. The most blatant being amusement, as if his irises contained a flicker of light. His lips tilted at the corners in an almost imperceptible smile and he looked so dazzling right then. As he held my gaze for the first time ever, something tightened like a fist inside my chest.
Shit, he was stunning. In that exotic kind of way. His hair was a mass of short blond dreadlocks, his skin inked mainly in black, and his eyes were the most gorgeous light green I’d ever seen—almost like cellophane. And now those same eyes locked on mine and held steady.
“What the hell are you doing, crazy dog?” I asked Chopper, reluctantly forcing my gaze away from Jude. “I’m sorry, man.”
Jude shook his head as if to say no problem. Even now, in this casual, inane situation, he was unwilling to speak. Had I not heard all the rumors, I might’ve thought that he was a mute. But Jessie assured me that he in fact had a voice. Used it to ask about a tattoo. But she’d said he was a man of few words.
I sprang into action because he was still holding on to my dog. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Chopper,” I reprimanded, kneeling down at his level. “Do that again and I’ll ship your ass back to your original owner.”
When Jude arched his eyebrow, I couldn’t help the junk that spewed from my mouth. The mouth he was now staring intently at. “My ex’s dog. Left town for a new job and didn’t take Chopper with him. What kind of guy does that? Anyway, wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t have the balls to place him up for adoption.”
Jude’s eyebrows slammed together at my revelation. He was either perplexed that I’d had a boyfriend or that the guy had abandoned his dog.
When Ace cautiously stepped forward to sniff at Jude, he reached out with ease to scratch behind my other dog’s ears. I continued blathering because I couldn’t help myself. “This is Ace. Had him since he’s been a pup.”
He nodded and then opened his hand to allow Ace to lick his palm.
“You look like you’re pretty used to dogs,” I said. “What was that thing you did—that noise you made?—calmed Chopper right down.”
He shrugged, not meeting my gaze. A line of red crawled across his neck, as if embarrassed that I’d pointed it out.
“What I mean is, you seem like a natural,” I said. “Must have a dog of your own.”
His eyes snapped to mine and I saw a flicker of pain there, so brief, I might’ve even imagined it.
“None of my business,” I stammered, standing to my full height. “Thanks for helping out.”
He stood up, tipped his chin, and took a step back.
“I’d still be chasing him if it wasn’t for you,” I said, begging my brain to get my mouth to shut the fuck up. But silence had always been hard for me. I’ve always felt the need to fill up any quiet lags. That way my mind wouldn’t have the opportunity to go there, to that dark place. “He could’ve been clipped by a board or a car.”
Something changed in his eyes at that comment. Something that looked like sadness and regret. Like he could identify with that scenario in some way. His mouth opened as if to say something, but then he held himself back.
My heart was thrashing in my chest. Did he have a story of his own to share?
But then the moment passed and I realized I had kept him long enough. But damn if I didn’t want to linger longer. I had never been this close to him and I wanted to know more. To know everything. A ridiculous wish for sure.
He bent across the dog to hand me Chopper’s leash. As I took it, our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt of electricity. I inhaled sharply and stared at him. His expression hadn’t changed but I noticed how his chest moved up and down at a quicker pace.
Could he have felt that, too? Now I was just dreaming.
I tugged at Chopper’s leash and reluctantly turned to walk the dogs out of the park. “Thanks again,” I threw over my shoulder.
“You’re quite welcome.” The shock of hearing his voice made me stop in my tracks. Not only because it was deep and rumbly, but also because it was distinctly British, and I was so not expecting that. “Aren’t you an artist at Raw Ink?”
I turned to face him again, trying like hell not to stare at his full lips. “Yeah. The name’s Cory. Saw you in the waiting room the other day.”
He gave a curt nod, like he was unwilling to say anything more.
And instead of creating another situation where I’d need to put my foot in my mouth, I turned and kept walking. My mind flashed to the day he’d been in the shop. I had never introduced myself to him. In fact, he never even looked up from the portfolios. But somehow he’d been paying attention.
“Cory,” I heard him mutter.
I sucked in a breath and twisted to look back once more. I wanted to see those eyes. But he was already walking away. I watched as he picked up his board, jumped astride, and rolled across the pavement away from me.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Other Titles by Christina Lee
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Thank You For Reading
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Excerpt from There You Stand