by T L Gray
“You ready?” Darius asked as he hit the gym lights.
“Yes. Just let me grab my bag.” I ran to my office and gathered my stuff before turning off all the lights. The rest of the crew was waiting for me by the front doors with Matt. My heart picked up pace as I approached them, wondering again why he was still there.
We exited and Darius made sure the doors were secure for the night. Tired of feeling so much anxiety, I turned to Matt as we walked to our cars.
“I’m starving. Have you had dinner already?”
Surprise crossed his handsome features and he paused, no doubt considering whether he wanted my company, since I’m sure he knew whether he was hungry.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fi—”
He interrupted, glancing at my suit. “The place I have in mind is casual. I don’t suppose you own a pair of jeans.”
Only Matt could excite and infuriate me in one sentence. “Yes, I have jeans. Why don’t you follow me to my apartment so I can change real quick.”
He nodded and started his bike, waiting for me to get into my car. The picture of him straddling that huge motorcycle sent flurries in my stomach. I wondered what it would be like to ride with him.
I pulled out of the parking lot, silently scolding myself. I was crushing hard on a guy who barely tolerated my presence. A guy who embodied the words dark and mysterious. A guy who, to my dismay, I could not stop thinking about.
Matt was already off his bike before I opened the door to my apartment.
“You should really look around before you just open your door like that.”
I turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if someone is casing you or this place, you are a walking target. You should do a loop around the parking lot, make sure no one’s following you. Always be aware of your surroundings. Aren’t you from New York, Duchess? Didn’t your parents ever teach you this stuff?”
He was mocking me again in that condescending tone of his. And how was I supposed to respond? Tell him the truth? That I had a driver until a week before I came to North Carolina? That my doorman opened my car door and escorted me inside every time I arrived home? Yeah, he’d have a field day with that one.
“We lived in a pretty safe area,” I choked out instead, pushing hard at the door.
“Well, you don’t anymore.” He followed me in, glancing around at the disarray in my living room. The place was clean, but the sheets were still on the couch I had crawled onto at five that morning, hoping for at least an hour of restful sleep. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“I’ll be just a second.” I hurried off to my room, happy to escape his suffocating presence in my apartment. For some reason his being there made my home seem smaller, dingier. I knew he would notice every crack or broken tile, things I never saw until the day he and Jake helped me move.
Rushing around, I found a pair of jeans and a casual blue tank top. It was conservative and hung gently, so I hoped he wouldn’t find the silky fabric too pretentious. The jeans were designer with fancy pockets, but there was nothing I could do about that. I owned expensive clothes, always had, and never before felt a need to apologize. But Matt made me feel as if wearing them marked one more strike against me. I exchanged my heels for some sandals and made a mad dash to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and brush my teeth. This wasn’t a date, just two friends having dinner, yet I was more nervous than I had been four years ago when Stewart took me out for our first official night as a couple.
The lights above my vanity flickered, making me scowl. They had been doing that since I moved in, and the office manager had yet to get them fixed. I was half tempted to go to a hardware store and replace the silly lights myself.
Finally ready, I took a calming breath and headed back to the living room. Matt had found a seat on the couch, having moved aside my bedding, and was looking through one of my fashion magazines. I cringed internally, wishing I had a National Geographic or something equally impressive.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He glanced up at me and then I noticed his mouth open slightly before it closed again. Two creases formed above his eyes as he stood, never taking his gaze off me.
“Your couch has seen better days.”
“Huh?” I had been so lost in his eyes that I hadn’t heard a word he said. They looked green just then, with only a slight blue hue.
“Your new bed,” he explained, gesturing toward my run-down sofa. “That can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s better than the floor.” My curt tone was intentionally dismissive. I was tired of having to explain my choices. Matt followed me out the door and waited while I locked it behind me. Next thing I knew, he was straddling his bike again and offering me a helmet.
I glanced quickly at my Mercedes. “Y-you don’t want to take my car?”
He grinned and my whole body responded. “That car doesn’t really fit in where we’re going. Come on, Duchess, I’ll make sure you’re safe. Unless you’re worried about your hair.”
Matt was toying with me now, waiting to see how I would react to riding with him. I tossed back my hair, grabbed the helmet, and took a seat behind him. He started up the monster machine and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist before taking off.
As he accelerated, my body tensed with fear and excitement. But soon I found his rhythm and was able to move with him along the curves. Being this close to him, I could smell his cologne and the shampoo on his hair. The scent was clean and masculine, yet so uniquely Matt that I wondered if he even knew how appealing it was. Any question I had about our connection was answered. The electricity between us was undeniable.
He stopped in front of an old building that had a lit-up sign flashing “Pit Stop.” Except the second t was burned out, so it looked like “Pit S op” from the road. The parking lot was full of beat-up trucks and a few other bikes like Matt’s.
“This place may not look like much, but they serve the absolute best barbecue in the state.”
I nodded and Matt locked up our helmets before guiding me inside. The minute he pushed open the door, I was lambasted with the smell of smoked barbecue. The air felt about ten degrees warmer, and I realized why as soon as I saw the open-pit grill right outside the back doors. Long tables were covered with brown paper, and everyone sat on benches like they were all part of one big family.
My head snapped around at the sound of a shrill female voice. A girl no taller than five foot two was enveloping Matt in a huge hug.
“Matt Holloway! It’s been way too long. Where you been hiding, my love?” She glanced at me and I tried not to scowl. “And who is this?” Her words were suggestive, making me blush.
Matt simply chuckled and released her. “Carol, this is Grace. She’s new in town, and I figured she couldn’t become a true North Carolinian until she had some of Max’s famous brisket.”
I had been holding my breath for his answer, eager to see how he would refer to me. Of course his response gave me nothing except the knowledge that once again Matt was warm, affectionate, and friendly with anyone who wasn’t me.
“Ain’t that the truth!” she agreed, flapping one hand with a flick of her wrist before handing us each a menu. Matt nudged my back a little so I would follow her, and we sat at the far end of one of the back tables. As he settled in across from me, I feared I would have no escape from his intense stare all night.
A few seats down were two huge men with overflowing plates and paper towels tucked in their shirts like bibs. I tried to glance away before they caught my shocked stare, but Matt noticed and started snickering.
“I told you it was the best barbecue in the state.”
“I guess you come here often?” I asked.
Matt shrugged and smiled. He seemed relaxed in this environment and I silently prayed he’d stay that way the whole evening. “I used to. Bruce took me here when I first moved to town and we’d come for lunch at least once a week. Now we’re both so busy it’s hard to find the time.�
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I didn’t know who Bruce was and wondered if I should ask. After a back-and-forth battle in my head, I just thought, Forget it. Stop analyzing every word out of your mouth and relax!
“Do you still get to hang out with him? Bruce, I mean.”
Matt casually leaned forward on the table, removing some of the distance between us. “Bruce is my boss, so I pretty much see him every day.”
The way Matt was positioned, I could clearly see the tattoo design on his forearm. The pattern made no sense to me. It twisted and curved sporadically, following no clear path. Matt noticed me staring, and the muscles along his forearm flexed.
I darted my eyes away, feeling slightly embarrassed for ogling him.
“I got it when I was sixteen. Body art was a way to express all the things going on in my head.”
I studied the black ink for a moment before looking into his eyes, which had suddenly turned sad. “Why did you choose this one? There doesn’t seem to be any sort of pattern to it.”
“Exactly. It represented chaos.”
I waited for more, but he didn’t offer anything. “And the others?” I had seen some ink on his neck and a small line that was barely visible on his other arm when he had been wearing a T-shirt.
“The others were first. Little ones that represented my mood or state of mind. I got my last one right before I came to Asheville, a parting gift.”
“What is it?” I didn’t know when I’d become so bold, but knowing Matt, the defensive walls would go up again at any minute, and I wanted so desperately to understand him.
“A cross, right here.” He pointed to his heart. Tears flooded my eyes. He was giving me a glimpse of himself, this man who had overcome mistakes and terrible circumstances. I wanted to know more, wanted to know every moment in his life that had turned him into the complex guy in front of me.
“You guys ready?” Carol interrupted the connection, a hand on her hip.
We hadn’t even glimpsed the menu. “You pick for me,” I offered, looking up again at Matt. His vulnerability was gone.
He gave our order and turned back to me when she left. “Now it’s my turn. Why North Carolina?”
Surprised by his quick change of topic, I played with my rings as I answered, a nervous habit I had. I touched the empty space where there had once been an engagement ring, then quickly lowered my hands to my lap. “The job, of course.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying it. Darius mentioned that Sam is starting a new center in New York, which is why funds are so tight. Why not just work up there with him?”
“Well, for one he didn’t offer me that option. But truthfully, I wanted to get away from my family, try something new.”
“Get away?” Matt asked, pondering my response. “You don’t like your family?”
“Oh no, it’s not that. My family is great. I just wanted to see if I could make it on my own, chart my own course.” I smiled shyly at him, hoping he wouldn’t make me feel like a spoiled little kid again.
He didn’t. Instead, I almost melted from his warmth. “That takes a lot of guts, Grace. Most people spend their whole lives trying to achieve what you walked away from.”
I loved it when he said my name. He only seemed to do so after I’d say something to impress him. “Thanks.”
Our eyes met again, creating that surge of tension that so often choked out any coherent thought. Clearing my throat, I gazed around, trying to look at anything but Matt. “What about your parents? Do they live in North Carolina, too?” I knew from his background check that he was born about an hour away, but there was no information about his family.
Matt’s warm expression disappeared and the hard wall was back with a fury. “Both my parents are dead.” His voice held no inflection or sense of grief. The words just rolled off his tongue as if he were saying, “My parents are teachers.” I immediately felt terrible for asking.
“Matt, I’m so sorry.” I hope he could see that I meant it and that I wasn’t downplaying the significance of his loss.
He just shrugged and changed the subject. Soon we were talking about the center and Marcus. All personal talk was over. But the divisive line between our two worlds had been crossed. He’d let me see past the armor around his soul, offered me only a glimpse. And like a drug, I wanted more.
Chapter 11
* * *
MATT
Grace was beautiful. Even with that small spot of barbecue sauce above her lip. In fact, it only added to her beauty because it made her seem real and not untouchable in her perfection. I made her laugh several times tonight and found myself drowning in the wonderful sound of it. She finally relaxed, and despite the warning bells ringing loudly in my head, I liked her ease.
With a slight brush of her napkin, the spot was gone and she sat back, holding her stomach.
“Oh my goodness, I’m stuffed. I’ve never tasted anything so delicious.”
“What? No room for banana pudding?”
Her expression was almost pained. “Not a chance. Ugh, I hurt just thinking about it.” She giggled slightly, making her already bright eyes dance, the blue in her shirt setting them off perfectly.
I had planned to say something to her about how she dressed for work, but one look at her in jeans and I quickly realized that the form-fitting skirts and suits were the lesser of two evils. Her body was stunning and I doubted if anything she wore could hide that.
Carol brought the check and I quickly handed her cash, not liking the smirk she gave me whenever she looked at Grace. In seven years I had never stopped in with a girl, and I knew Carol would chew my ear off the next time she caught me alone. She’d tried to set me up at least five times and felt it was her personal mission to see me attached.
I should have thought of Carol’s nosiness before I brought Grace along to the Pit Stop, but then again, I liked seeing her in my world. She fit in better than I ever thought she would. For all of Grace’s family’s money, she didn’t have a snobby bone in her body.
“You ready?” I stood, tossing a few more bills on the table.
Grace smiled as she moved away from the table, too. “Thank you for dinner. Best meal I’ve had since I moved here.”
Strolling next to her, I offered my hand. She shot me a look of surprise but slid her delicate hand in mine. I laced our fingers together before guiding her out the door. As much as I knew touching her this way was a mistake, I couldn’t find the strength to fight it anymore.
Reluctantly letting go of her when we reached my motorcycle, I moved a piece of hair away from her eyes before carefully slipping the helmet onto her head. She watched me without a word, but there was no need to say anything. Sometimes our shared moments of silence said more than our conversations did.
I mounted the bike and felt her slender arms wrap tightly around me. I could have stayed there forever, with her body pressed up close to mine, her helmet lying softly against my back. I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had held me the way she did. She gave everything, total trust, never once stopping to question if a monster lurked below the surface. Her world had been all light, mine darkness. How could I ever expect to be with her and not ruin the rose-colored glasses she looked through?
Sadness overwhelmed me as I drove Grace home. I can’t do this. Her body moved closer as she snuggled up next to me, and I cursed my father for making me this way. Cursed him for leaving a legacy I couldn’t break free of.
Pulling up to her door felt like saying good-bye, because I knew deep down we couldn’t do this again. I was falling, hard and fast.
I didn’t take her hand again as we walked to her door, but I sensed the longing in her gaze and the way she hesitated before putting the key in the lock.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets so she’d know my intent, I nodded toward the door. “I’ll wait till you get inside.”
“Oh, okay.” She quickly opened the door and slid in, closing it halfway. “Thanks for tonight. I had a wonderful time.”
I nodded aga
in. “Get some sleep.”
She shut the door and I slapped my palm to my forehead, wanting to kick anything in my path. I was such a jerk!
That night I knew the nightmares would come . . . even as I closed my eyes.
It was the same dream as before. I was walking down the long hallway, only to find my mother beaten and packing. The difference this time was that she looked terrified, as if she knew that she would die that night.
After I threatened again to kill my father, she rushed over to me and took my face in her hands. “Matthew, no. You are better than this. Better than him. One day I want you to let go of this anger and make a life for yourself.”
Shaking as I tried to get control of the fury, I made her a promise. “We will make a life. You and me, Mom. He will never hurt you again. I won’t let him.”
“Such a good boy.” She sighed and kissed my cheek before turning around. We hurried faster, with her urging me along.
“Where is he?” I asked, zipping the last suitcase and throwing it over my shoulder.
She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know, but tonight was different, Matthew. We need to leave now.”
She picked up the other bag and we both walked out the door, ready to leave the nasty apartment for good. But he was standing in the hallway, gun pointed straight at us. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I pulled my mother behind me and defiantly faced my father. He curled his lips up and then the shots filled the air. I looked down, feeling a searing pain rip through my chest as I tried to breathe. I was falling, but there was no apartment, no floor. Closing my eyes, I was ready to surrender until the ground hit hard beneath me, forcing my eyes open.
I lay on the floor, stunned, then grabbed at my chest and took deep, desperate breaths. My back hurt where I had hit the ground, forcing me to slowly crawl to the nightstand to get my journal. Each dream held more information, like a puzzle coming together piece by piece.