Eye of the Tiger

by Melanie Greene

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She'd told the Bucks they wouldn't like that redbrick house. But they were prepared to spend millions. Changing to an early morning flight was a small price to pay for clients tractable enough to view the properties she knew they'd like.

  No price at all, in truth. She'd paid up front for a fully changeable fare. Just in case something came up like the Buck's urgent need to see a house she'd explained didn't have the beams to support two grand pianos in the second floor game room. She said as much to Evan in the quiet conversation she wasn't confident he'd remember when he fully woke up, alone, in their hotel room.

  If she wasn't fooling herself, well, so what? She could reoccupy the head space of the woman who'd first proposed this friends with benefits scenario, and fool that version of herself. The version who hadn't faced the fact that New Orleans had hurt her.

  She donned her impervious cloak as she pulled onto her street, suspecting she wouldn't beat Evan home. She'd touched down at seven-thirty that morning, so her ride home had been swift, but even on a Sunday afternoon he would encounter light traffic. All those years dating Chris had given her a precise handle on transit times from Hobby airport to her door.

  His car was at the curb. She tucked some loose strands into her bun, brushed a spray of dust from her blazer, palmed her keys.

  She didn't need them; he opened the walk door from the garage seconds after she lifted her overfull messenger bag from her trunk. He wasn't smiling. Well, neither was she. She was tired, she hadn't slept well, she'd been a cheerful professional in three-inch heels for six solid hours. If she wanted to let the mask slip within the confines of the only sixteen hundred and twenty square feet that she owned in the world, she had every right.

  So long as she remembered to wear the impervious cloak at the same time.

  "Hey."

  "Hey." She set her bag and purse on her sideboard, leaned against the wall while she slipped off her shoes. Wiggled her toes on her cool slate floor. "How was your flight?"

  He shrugged. "Uneventful. Smooth landing."

  "They must have headed north some to avoid that line of storms in the Gulf."

  His blank face gave her pause. She'd screwed up. Taken off her mask and taken up the staff of knowledge about meteorological aeronautics. Wrong boyfriend, Natalie, she told herself. Except that was wrong, too. Evan wasn't her boyfriend.

  She collected her shoes and, standing, glanced past him up the stairs. When all else fails, go upstairs and change, right?

  He picked up her bag and a fragrant box from Pink's Pizza and followed her. And what could she say? Impervious Natalie was fine; she agreed with the things he'd said to his sister about them keeping things light. Their arrangement was all about sex and stopping the parental meddling. And until twenty-odd hours before, it had met both those goals with ease. Marisa and Koray, in welcoming her as their son's partner, stopped their daily emails fretting about Evan's solitude. Elaine was keeping her distance from what she'd taken to calling Natalie's 'love nest.' They'd removed their parents from their backs.

  The sex--well, they both liked the sex. It was hot, and fun, and wasn't everything great between them when they focused on the physical? She'd have avoided every hint of hurt in New Orleans if they hadn't been faking a relationship. Likely she was wrong about her precious feelings, and had simply gotten too far into the role. She didn't even need a cloak of imperturbability. She needed--they both needed--to strip down to nothing and reclaim the fun, hot ground of their arrangement. And since he'd dogged her steps all the way into the bedroom, the timing was right. She pivoted and, dropping her shoes, leaned into him, kissing away any words he might be trying to say.

  "Nat." He broke off for a breath.

  She kissed again, scoring her nails across his nape, running a foot up the outside of his leg. He groaned, and she knew she had him. She took him. He took her. It was mutual, and fun, and hot. As advertised.

  Right up until they were collapsed on her mattress eating pizza, and Evan said, "We could have done that before brunch, too, if you hadn't left."

  "Hadn't had to leave, you mean. I told you."

  He grunted, folded a pillow under his head. "Did they make an offer, then?"

  "No." She lifted the duvet from the floor and covered her torso. "I've got hopes about the third place we saw, though."

  "So I was making flimsy excuses all morning and it was for nothing?"

  "You didn't have to make flimsy excuses. I had to leave for work. I texted your parents. They said they understood."

  "I guess that's all that matters."

  "Well, we're only doing this for their sake."

  "What, fucking? First time in my life I've done so for my parents' sake."

  She made a small attempt to rein the snark back from her tone. "Yes. That's exactly what I meant."

  He slid over an edge of the duvet to cover his own ass, not paying the slightest attention to how that left her skin bare. "Look, I get your client was impatient. They knew you were out of town. Are you saying you would have lost them if you hadn't snuck out of the room first thing this morning?"

  "I did not sneak out. I told you I was going. And I left a note. And yes, Evan, I could have lost them. This is how my job works. You know this."

  If she had a mind to, she could interpret the way he blew air between his lips as pretty darn rude. But she remembered her impervious cape, and chose to start the shower instead. He followed her.

  "I respect your job, Natalie. But you used it as a shield, because you didn't want to deal with my sister. Why not admit it?"

  The thing about showering was, she had to take off her cape to get properly clean. "Dealing with Chloe wasn't a problem. She was exactly who I'd prepared to meet."

  His bitter laugh wasn't in the least like a ringing bell. "Maybe that's why, then."

  "Why, what, Evan?" She shut off the shower before the water got fully warm, and wrapped herself in her biggest, fluffiest towel. Not that he was looking at her body. He was glaring at the toothbrush holder, which hadn't done a thing to earn his wrath. And she was just as innocent.

  "Why everyone is so convinced you dislike them," he said. "Because you went to New Orleans all closed-minded and didn't give them a chance to know you."

  Right. She was the closed-minded one. "I played charades with them. I let them tease me about oysters. I gave Ben the password to your dad's music library. What else did you want me to do to prove I was ready to practically be part of the family?"

  "No one wanted you to be part of the family."

  "Right. I got that."

  He grabbed a towel of his own and tucked it around his waist before throwing his hands in the air. "That's not what I meant. You're twisting everything up. Chloe was out of line, and I had to spend hours pretending I was talking to her, and I had to do it while also pretending things were cool with you and me. I ran out of knock-knock jokes. I've never been so holed up at the kids table that I've run out of knock-knock jokes before."

  Between the low-watt overhead fixture and his thick lashes, Evan's eyes were almost black. She pressed her lips together, refusing to get into why his siblings were so happy to consign him to the role of uncle instead of brother. It was something for him to work out with them on his own, if it bothered him.

  She leaned back against the sink, wrestling on her imaginary cape. Her shoulders felt fused in place, like rolling them would produce the loud screech of rusting machinery. She turned the shower knob again, listening to the spray hit the tile for a cleansing moment before offering Evan a small smile. "I'll admit to leaving more...precipitously than necessary. I wasn't comfortable with the idea of another day with everyone, I caved to Mr. Buck's insistence. But since I'd made nice with your siblings--and I did make nice with them; it was easy, for the most part. I like them. Most of them. We bonded, and I thought our ruse had succeeded. Especially for your parents. I wasn't leaving so I could leave you in the lurch. I was putting myself first."

  He no
dded. Shrugged. Nodded again. "And I'll admit you had every right to leave. Clean slate?"

  His eyes sparked as he held out a hand for her to shake. She turned half her mouth up into a smile, pumping his hand firmly. "Clean slate."

  Still holding her hand, he swiveled and stepped into the shower enclosure, then pulled her in after him.

  "Hey," she protested, trying to toss out her towel before it was soaked. His grip tightened as he watched her nipples pebble in the warm spray. She arched back into the water, giving her head a toss to throw her hair behind her shoulders. His erection grew, tenting the towel around his waist, and she couldn't stop her smile.

  "Just trying to make sure our slate is thoroughly clean," he said, pulling her palm to his crotch. She got a grip on him through the towel, and he groaned, stepping into her, blocking the warm water with his hot shoulders, and hotter mouth, and completely soaking her second-fluffiest bath towel. He used it to pad his knees when he knelt before her, and before long Natalie was done worrying about her clients or his family or the danger of rust to her invisible armory.

  The sex and pizza ought to have shut his brain down. The entire point of sex and pizza was to shut down brains. His evening had included plenty of both, but he was slouched against her shower wall with no synaptic shutdown in sight.

  He put himself in her place the night before. Overhearing Chloe--whose timing, he was well aware, was deliberate. Knowing she had no expectation he'd defend a pretend relationship to a really pissy sister. Her lack of faith in him was the most cutting of the thorny thoughts he'd been holding back all day. Saying a sleep-fogged goodbye in the morning. Rereading her note before heading down to brunch with his family. Slipping the shoes she'd forgotten to pack into his bag. Promising to pass hugs from his folks on to her. Gluing on her impassive expression when Chloe added her own hugs to his courier responsibilities.

  It was past dusk and his emotions weren't getting any brighter. "I know I said clean slate," he said, watching drops trickle down the tile instead of her reaction. "But for the record, I planned to leave early with you if you wanted. Or skip all the family stuff today and let you take me on that graveyard tour. But you ran off. You didn't give me a chance to make amends."

  She pushed past him and wrapped the last dry towel around her torso. "Why do you have to be so challenging with me all the damn time?"

  His laugh was bitter even to his ears. "Nat, you've been challenging me twenty-four seven since the first time we talked."

  She blinked at him. "I have?"

  Somehow he resisted laughing again. "Yes. I tried asking you out, remember? You said no first."

  "You told me I could say no."

  That he had. But not so she could actually do it. Which she'd known perfectly well. Which is exactly why she'd done it. "So, yeah, if I'm challenging you, it's nothing but turnabout. I can't make any headway in this relationship because every time I try, you either run at me sword drawn, or run away."

  "Non-relationship," she said. It might have been the bathroom walls that made her voice echo hollowly.

  He followed her into the bedroom. With Nat, it was so often a case of follow or be left behind. "Right. Non-relationship. How dare I forget? There's nothing real here at all, because of your mom. Well, how's this for a challenge, Nat: you're thirty years old. You don't have to define your life in opposition to your mom anymore. It's the same fight or flight thing you do with me. You're not some forlorn kid with no one else to turn to anymore, and you're not a rebellious teen who has to prove she can make it on her own. You can just decide. Whatever you want to decide. Independent of Elaine. And another thing, you don't have to do it all on your own. There are people on your side, people who have your back." He rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes then looked past her at the bed. "Hell, sometimes I've got your back and your side and your front all at once."

  She slow-clapped. The sound made some internal spring snap and lodge askew in his chest. "Well done, Evan, ending with the innuendo. I was afraid you'd forget to be sarcastic for a minute there, which was a real breach of faith for me. I may not know how to have an adult relationship with my own mother, but I know there's zero chance you won't go for the laugh."

  "I don't see you smiling."

  "No. Sometimes I don't want everything, including me, to be a joke to you."

  He looked back at the rumpled sheets, as an alternative to showing her his expression. "I can care and still want to have fun, Natalie. There's nothing wrong with life being fun. You even wrote that into our very serious, rigid contract, the one whose boundaries I'm not allowed to explore."

  Shrugging, she turned to her dresser and pulled out a long shirt. He, of course, would have to leave the room to clothe his nakedness, since his presence in her house didn't impinge on her environment. And his towel was wet. Rumpled sheets it was. He sat and pulled them over his lap.

  She perched on the edge of the mattress beside him. "Sorry. I know you have a serious side."

  It was his turn to shrug.

  "And I know I defined everything between us."

  Okay. They were getting somewhere.

  She edged her hand over so their fingers touched. "And I know my hang-ups about Mom seeing me as an independent, self-sufficient woman are on the extreme side."

  He began to interlink their pinkies. He could reassure her about Elaine, after his apology.

  She turned her palm and squeezed his hand before standing up. "It'll be easier to do that after you move out, I guess."

  The spring in his chest lurched. "After I what?"

  "We did what we said. Gave it a few months, followed all the plans to prove to our parents we tried. But with me leaving early this morning, your whole family already knows we're at odds. And you're right that this ruse of ours feeds the bad dynamic with my mom. So it's best to end it now, take the New Orleans kerfuffle and blow it up enough to give us an out. Your siblings will stop hassling you, and I can focus on retraining my knee-jerk response of running every decision through the Mom filter."

  Kerfuffle? What even was a kerfuffle, and how did he blow one up? "You want me to move out?"

  In the ping-pong of who was looking at who, it was her turn to swerve off the table. "I can't think of an easier time to end this without blowback from your parents. And like you said, we're supposed to be having fun. This," she met his eyes briefly, spoke softly, "it's not so fun, is it?"

  The hell of it was, right at that moment, Evan couldn't disagree.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lionel Harbison phoned Monday morning. She was still at home; Evan had taken a garment bag and duffle back to his place, and she was intent on convincing herself that she relished the solitude of Pajama Monday. In addition, she had to tell Elaine about the breakup. Talking to her while Carter eavesdropped wasn't on her to-do list.

  It was a bonus that Carter didn't overhear the call from Lionel about her application to Houston Health and Housing.

  "Natalie East speaking."

  Lionel reminded her of their talk at the Fourth of July party. A memorable night for so many reasons, but Lionel was unwittingly giving her a way to supplant some of them. "It's not exactly my department, but once they'd posted the job, I asked about your application. You're an interesting woman, and clearly care about the work we do here. They let me have a look at your resume, impressive indeed, and they were pleased to see your certifications. You'll be getting called in for an interview soon."

  She sank against the chair back. "Lionel, you've given me a jolt to my system. That's wonderful news. Thank you."

  "Don't thank me just yet. You still have to get through the interview. But I wanted to let you know that as far as I'm concerned, you're a shoe-in." He sounded smug. Natalie wondered if getting the job would mean a career of obsequiousness whenever she saw him. She wondered if she cared. It was her dream job, and Lionel was mild enough, for a man with as much privilege as he'd inherited.

  When they'd disconnected, she spun her desk chair in a c
ircle, hugging her knees to her chest, smiling wide.

  Evan would be stoked that running into Lionel at his work party had been an important spark in the engine that was poised to propel her away from Carter's insidious office politics, and her irregular working hours, and the restless feeling she could be using her skills to help people without the ready resources of her current clients.

  She dropped her feet to the floor, a little dizzy. She wouldn't be telling Evan. They weren't speaking.

  Just as well. He'd probably make a stupid joke, anyway. Undermine the months of research and networking she'd done to identify this dream career, investigate the local agencies, and tailor her experience to ensure she'd be a good fit when a job opened up. Reduce all that effort to a rhyming couplet.

  She called her mom. Elaine said nice things about the job, but, being Elaine, wasn't focused on her daughter's independent success. "Is Evan taking you out to dinner to celebrate?"

  Natalie's jaw tensed, but she exhaled slowly so her voice would stay calm when she said, "No. We broke up last night." She'd known what words were about to come out of her own mouth, so they shouldn't snag at the loose-woven gossamer protecting her chest.

  "Oh, no. My poor darling. But he just took you to New Orleans. What happened? Did you say something rude to Koray or Marisa?"

  "Mom."

  "Well, I can't think why else he would leave you. You're pretty enough, and it seems like he didn't mind doing all the housework."

  Flexing then relaxing her toes, her arch, her ankles, her calves, Natalie waited for calm to radiate up to her heart. "We shared the housework. And it was my decision."