My brows pinch together, mirroring the concern tingling through my spine. “Lizzie. You can’t mean that.”
“I do.” Her voice barely rises above the natural bustle of the shop. “I’m leaving.” She pushes away her teacup, almost like she’s disgusted, and bores her vision into the floor. “I found another job in Boston. That’s where my dad was born, you know. I’ll be moving in with my cousin, John.” Large blue eyes lift from looking at the table by a hair. “It’s simple as that.”
“Simple as mud,” Cora spits out. Shoving to her feet, white knuckles grind against her hips. “You can’t just come back here after being away and give some lame ass excuses all while looking pathetic, weak, and—”
Lizzie’s eyes round. The sight acts like a whip, spurring me to action.
“Enough, Cora.” The legs of my chair scrape against the tile, and I’m on my feet, bouncing off my toe tips as a way to contain the perturbed energy growing in me.
Cora can’t see it, because she’s too dang tall, but when the word “pathetic” hit the air, Lizzie’s lips trembled, and her eyes went glassy with wet tears. A few more verbal lashings from Cora and they’ll fall. I know they will.
Making Lizzie cry should come with corporal punishment, because the sight of her heartbreak is downright sad. Her grief is quiet. Suppressed. Like you know her heart is probably shredding in half, but she won’t let you see it. Lizzie doesn’t need a hard word today. For once, the person who straightens everyone else’s crown needs help, because I think hers fell off a few weeks back. I’ll do everything I can to glue it back together and replace it where it needs to be. Lizzie deserves that much from us.
Cora’s nose screws up and she tries to recoil out of my grasp when I grab hold of her arm. “Bee, stop. We can’t let her—”
“Sit down and be quiet.” My fingers bite around Cora’s skin, and I yank at her, forcing her ass into her seat.
Knives poke at me with Cora’s squinted gaze, but I’ve never been scared of her.
Instead of shying away from the look, I plant my hip bone against the lip of the table and return the glare. “You’re upset. Understandably so,” I add after her grumbling sigh. “But you’re about to say something stupid and reckless. Don’t fuck things up forever with your best friend because you lost your head for a moment.”
Cora knits her fingers together, lacing them through each other and squeezing. After taking a deep breath, she flicks her gaze to Lizzie, who hasn’t made a peep since shit hit the fan. She slowly trails out the air she’s holding then looks to me. “Fine, Confucius. You win.” Collecting her book bag off the floor, she slings it over her shoulders and stands—like a normal calm person this time around. “Sorry, Liz.”
Lizzie smoothly strokes fingers down her long neck, keeping her eyes averted. A slight nod is her sign of acknowledgment.
Cora’s spine slouches, and she digs a toe of her boot into the floor, a sure sign she knows she went too far. Her eyes dart and flick around the room and she ruffles the back of her hair. “Call me later. I’m gonna leave now so I don’t shoot myself in the foot, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Lizzie ducks her head lower, making the shiny crown of her head the only thing we see.
“Cool. See ya.” Cora glides past and pats my shoulder on the way out—her subdued way of thanking me for stopping her. Cora has the crappiest way of showing she cares sometimes, but at least we understand her well enough to read between the lines.
I think Lizzie knows it too as she looks up and lifts the right corner of her mouth. “Thanks for that. You know how she can be.”
“Oh man, do I.” Returning to my chair, I extend my legs under the table. “She only said all that because she’s hurt.”
“I know.”
We exchange a docile stare, one not accompanied by words. After that blowup, I want to give Lizzie a moment to resettle. I’m sure she needs it, and I only dive in after her shoulders have loosened up and she’s reaching for her teacup.
“Lizzie, you know you can talk to me and Cora about what’s happening.” Shit, I might not be able to get her spill her guts but I’m sure as hell going to try. She’s moving away. To say there’s something major troubling her is an understatement.
“Oh, I know.” She twiddles with her long fingers in her lap. “I just . . . I just . . .”
Tentatively, I try to dive into the only topic I can identify. The one that made her change basically overnight. “Is this about Saber?” I say his name in a hushed tone, hoping it doesn’t scare her away.
Bingo.
I know I’m right when she nibbles at her lower lip and shifts in her seat like it’s made of thumb tacks.
“Lizzie,” I make sure my voice is soft. “Who is he?”
“We went to school together.” A mask of distance slides onto her slim face, walling off any discernible emotions from me. Her eyes glaze over while focusing on the wall past my shoulder. “He was the boy everyone knew, and I was the wallflower.”
“So.” I tilt my head, desperate for understanding. “He hurt you?”
“Hurt?” A bitter cackle leaves her lungs, making my heart twist into a knot from its disturbed sound. “He never even knew who I was.”
“Doesn’t sound that way to me.” From the noise I just heard, it sounded like he destroyed her. My brows hit my hairline in disbelief when she shakes her head.
“I’m serious. Growing up, we never had one moment of interaction.” Her shoulders slump, taking the strength of her voice with it. “One summer his family packed and that was that.”
I rub at my forehead, more baffled than before as I rummage through her dodgy time frame and meanings. Pretty sure I’m clutching for water as I try to learn more. “And Cora? Why doesn’t she know him?”
“Because he left the summer before she got here.”
A lightbulb pops off in my head, blinding me in realization. The summer before. Meaning the summer after Lizzie’s parents died. She doesn’t talk about it, all I know is their ends were grizzly. Instinctively, I touch my necklace, smoothing over the worn K. I’m stroking it like a genie’s lamp, wondering if some part of me believes that if I wish hard enough, Mom will hear my wish and grant Lizzie’s parents back to her.
From what I understand, she was young and her circumstances didn’t improve. I frown, being grateful that I at least had Mom for as long as I did. Lizzie was robbed of too much too soon. Now I’m wondering if Saber’s more deeply connected to her than she wants to admit.
Clutching around the charm, I force back a swallow. “Does he have anything to do with your parents—”
“Bianca . . .” The usage of my name is so soft and I wonder if she’s going to crack. When she speaks again, I think she’s gluing herself together just enough to finish our discussion. “Please. I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
My hand falls away, leaving the indentions of the letter in my palm. I nod in full acceptance. “Just know that I understand.”
“I know you do.” A small lightness turns up a corner of her mouth. “You more than anyone.” She sighs. “I just think—”
The bell to the shop catches on the door and chimes.
The man himself steps in.
Saber DuBois. Tall. Other-worldly handsome with his high cheekbones and opaque eyes of green. He’s dressed in a tailored wool dress coat, expensive-looking slacks, and patented leather shoes. He instantly captivates the air, making the room hush. My eyes dare to flick around, and I notice each head is turned to observe him.
If he’s aware of the spell he puts us under, he doesn’t give it any credence. He keeps his head down, dusting off a powdering of snow from his broad shoulders with his gloved hand. It’s not until his eyes pull up that he seems bewitched as well . . . but his spell is different from ours.
It happens when he spots Lizzie—eyes pinpoint to her and don’t move. I can’t even see his chest pulling up for air, and frankly from the heavy way he looks at her, I doubt t
here’s any oxygen left in the atmosphere. I think he’s killing it all.
I’m having a hard time breathing myself.
The moment fractures apart when Lizzie scrambles to her feet. “I have to go.” Panic rings in her voice, and she’s darting away, already crossing part of the room.
“Lizzie, wait.” I clamor out my seat, following after as fast as my legs can carry me, abandoning my purse and phone on the table.
I’m almost caught up when Saber cuts off our route, stepping out in front of us.
My feet freeze in place and my head cranes back, struggling to tilt all the way to accommodate his towering height. He’s taller than Brett, and not paying me any mind as he keeps his line of sight affixed to Lizzie.
Swooping back part of his coat, he gives us a peek at his custom suit underneath. He ducks his head in a greeting, reminding me of an old-fashioned gesture. “Good morning, Eliza.”
“It’s Lizzie.” She spits it out and her shoes shuffle on the floor while she retreats a step.
“Not to me, il fiore.” The ending word is smooth and flowy—too soft and sensual for anything casual. I mean damn, it even works through his eyes, lessening the shrewdness that lives inside of them. His gaze streaks with tenderness, but only when he stares at her. And I swear it’s like watching two magnets dance around each other as he steps closer and his chest strains for air. “Eliza—”
“Stop it.” Ice coats over her vocal cords and the reply is cold when she pulls away. Not like her at all. “My name isn’t ‘Eliza’ and I’m not your . . . your ‘fliolire.’”
“Fiore,” he corrects.
“Please, just . . .” Lizzie raises her hand in the air and shakes it. “Stop.”
He flinches at the word and his eyes pinch together while he extends his hand. “Eliza. Please—”
“Go away, Saber.” With expert litheness, Lizzie hops to the right, ducks past Saber, and floats out the door.
“Eliza!” But it’s too late. His muse is long gone and finally his eyes rest on me, telling me that he’s aware there are other people on the planet besides Lizzie. A blankness seizes over his features, and he sighs.
Folding my arms across my chest, I scowl. I’ve known Lizzie for ten years, and if you would have told me I’d see her react like this toward anyone, I would have declared you a liar. Lizzie’s always been so composed and calm, but in front of me stands a person who strips all that composure away. I chew the inside of my cheek in disturbance while sizing him up and down.
A groomed brow arches and when he speaks, it lacks the softness from a moment ago. “Is there a problem?”
“You seem to upset her, a lot. I’m not sure I like that.”
He closes his hand around one of his hips and spreads out his build. It’s hella intimidating, especially as he peers down at me past the end of his straight nose. I wish the floor would swallow me whole. “That’s your introduction to me?” He’s all calm and controlled. “Not a hello or anything? Hardly cordial, Bianca.”
“I . . . um . . .”
“Bianca isn’t cordial, Saber.” A large hand traverses down my back and I’m already familiar with the touch.
Brett. He’s entered the coffee shop without me even realizing it. “She’s difficult and stubborn. I told you that.”
My eyes want to roll to the back of my head at the sexy wicked way he utters each word. They eventually give in when he wraps his arms around me, his heated chest to my back, and hooks his thumb in the pocket of my jeans.
“Hey, sexy.” The low rumble of his voice reverberates down my spine like a gong, working its way into my core, convincing me I need to get him home with me immediately.
I tilt my head back, straining it backward so I’m staring up at him. “Hi.” The reply is low and sultry, and I’m certain he wants to rip my clothes off when he tugs at my pants and groans.
He plants a gentle kiss on my mouth. My skin lights up with a thousand electric currents. Tingling head to toe, I’m wondering how I went two days without him—regretting fighting him so hard in the beginning. We could have been enjoying each other from the start.
A plea for him to take me home and fuck me hard is on the tip of my tongue when it gets interrupted by Saber.
“I remember you telling me she’s stubborn. What you didn’t tell me is how amply she comes to the aid of her friends.”
Nestling into Brett, I tilt my head. “I’d defend Lizzie with my last breath if I had to.” My shoulders slump when I think of how she’ll be leaving. “Pointless, however, since she’s moving.”
Saber’s head snaps up, eyes dilated. “What?” His question cracks at the air, reminding me of a whip.
I retreat further against Brett. “You didn’t know?”
“Certainly not.” His inhale seems alarmed and he takes a step back. “When is she leaving?”
Damn. He’s staring at me so hard I think I’ll rupture into flames. It’s hard not to stammer over my own words. “She said in a month.”
“Shit.” The word mutters out low and dark. A sharp hardness spirals through his vision, making the hair on my arms rise. I’m glad when he directs it to Brett. “Go home with her. I have to leave.” He points to me, turns on his heel, and flashes out the door—his coat flapping in the air behind him like it’s struggling to keep up with his pace.
I can only assume he’s chasing after Lizzie, and I’m not sure how she’s going to feel about that. Hell, I’m not even sure how I feel about it. My lips pull down. “Should he be bothering her?” My heart flutters, rapid against my ribs when Brett chuckles and pulls me in closer.
“Leave them, little one. They’re adults. Let them solve their differences.”
“You’re right.” The advice settles right in my stomach, even though I don’t like it. What I do like however is how he turns me around and holds me in his arms. His large, calloused hand coasts down my torso, kneading hard through the fabric of my sweater.
“And I like what Saber said.” He winks, washing away some of this morning’s turmoil. “Take me home with you.”
Shimmying closer, I dare to gently push my tits against his chest, just enough so he feels it, and so we don’t get pointed stares in public. “Don’t you want coffee first?”
My plans for discretion crash out the window when he threads a finger through a loop of my jeans and yanks me toward him, making us connect.
We both grunt and his cock digs into my belly. I squirm, desperate to crumble around it.
“I came because I knew you were here. Now, take me home.” He lowers his head, hushing his voice so only I can hear him. “I’m sick of having to jerk myself off to you. It doesn’t work well ever since I’ve been buried inside of you.”
My hand trails down and I find his. Interlinking our fingers, I pull us to the table to gather my things and then I’m yanking us for the door. “Let’s go. I hope you’re ready to be holed up for the weekend.”
“More than ready.”
My blood hums in my ears when he unlinks our fingers and catches me in his arm, grabbing around my hip.
“The real question is, are you, because three days without you is too long. It’s going to be like we’re starting all over again.”
“Then,” I say, poking my finger into his arm, “why are we wasting time here?”
“True.” He shoves me out the door, pushing me toward the direction of my car. “You better speed home.”
“Yes, sir.” I squeal and jump when he spanks my ass. Hard enough to make it sting through my jeans.
“Good girl.”
Damn. He wasn’t kidding about us restarting. We’re not even in private and he’s rough and ready to go. It’s every indication that this weekend is going to be just as wild as the last . . . I’m ready for it.
Dirty. The word rings in my head as I keep my word by speeding home. Dirty.
But only for him—just the way I like it.
Chapter 20
“And you’re sure she saw us?” Brett pauses mid-mo
tion while reaching for his glass of whiskey over the rocks.
“Trust me, she did. You should have heard Cora when she broke the news. She wouldn’t lie about Monica seeing us.” I shake more salt into the pasta that’s bubbling on the stove, partially regretting my choice about coming clean regarding Monica catching us.
It’s not a topic I want to discuss, but I’ve gotten plenty of pointed stares and even more innuendos since Brett’s been gone. Now that he’s back, things are bound to heat up. Keeping it under the rug and pushing things aside isn’t going to work, so I’m coming clean before he goes out and faces the town. I decided telling him over a meal would be best.
Casting my eyes to Brett, I expect to find him frustrated, but I don’t see that. All he does is hum and scrape the back of his hand along his jaw stubble.
I can’t say I’m able to mirror the same calm he projects. In contrast, my grip around the salt container tightens and after a few solid squeezes, I opt to place it down. “Do you think she’ll say something about you guys, or you know . . . try to make it sound like you forced her?”
“She might.” His shoulders rise, then fall. “I don’t know her. Only how pissed she was when I blew up about her being married and ended our session early. I don’t think she was ready to stop.”
My nose turns up in disgust. “But how? How can she be the one that’s upset?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He slowly shakes his head, then brings the rim of his glass to his mouth, partaking in a lazy sip. The amber liquid splashes against his lips before washing down his throat. He even makes taking sips look sexy. “Some people have skewed viewpoints on life, you know? Always claiming to be the victim or whatever. I’ve seen it plenty.”
He’s not lying. My dad did that all the time. It was always Mom’s fault that she picked her end, not his. Never his. I still hate him for that. Damn. My frame sags, something I combat by swirling through our pasta noodles and focusing on Monica. “So what happens if she goes to her husband?”
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