“You know she’s gonna be pissed.”
“And you know it’s worth it,” I say, a mischievous grin brightening my demeanor.
Catching sight of Gwen fighting her away against the tide of bodies, Melanie leans in closer to me and whispers, “Here we go.”
Winking back at her I take a long swig as a slightly frazzled Gwen approaches.
“It seems my seat isn’t the only thing you’ve acquired while I was gone,” she tells at me, hands on her hips.
“Didn’t want it to get warm,” I toss back at her. Sliding off the barstool, I lean close so the two women can hear me over the band which has started warming up. “Unless you ladies need anything, I’m going to call it a night.”
“But we just got here,” Melanie complains, frowning. “And the band hasn’t even started yet.” I give the young men, who all appear to be in their early twenties and extremely nervous, a once over and cock an eyebrow at Melanie.
“You can tell me about it on Monday.”
“Alright fine,” she pouts before giving me a big bear hug goodbye. Chuckling over the top of her head I look at Gwen.
“You owe me a beer,” she says, all spit and fire as she leans back against the bar.
“I’m good for it,” I mouth, stepping back from Melanie and turning to get the hell out of there.
Chapter 15
Gwen
I have a fleeting sense as I watch Kade waltz out of the bar that something’s bothering him, but Melanie and I quickly fall into easy conversation and I forget about it. A few minutes later the band gets going and, to our surprise, they aren’t too bad. I can’t make out half of the lyrics, but their first few songs have an uplifting beat and we quickly find ourselves rocking out from our stools.
Halfway through my old-school impression of head banging, I overhear the woman next to me say, “God, I hope he’s in the calendar this year.”
“Yeah, Mr. February can make me a house call anytime,” her friend chimes in.
“February? Why February?”
“Because silly, it’s my birth month and those wintery blue eyes are to die for.”
Giggling, their string of compliments continues, and spreads around the bar like wildfire. Lifting my head, I run my fingers through the unruly strands of my hair, smoothing them back into place as best I can after my recent dance exploit. I don’t even have to glance up into the mirror: I know exactly who those women are talking about. My fireman has arrived.
Reaching into my purse, I grab my lip gloss and apply a fresh coat of shine. Sitting up straight on my stool, I take a deep breath then silently count to three before gazing into the angled mirror above us.
The firemen have most certainly arrived, and every woman within spitting distance of their table is on high alert. While most of them are casually dressed, sporting jeans and their navy logo t-shirts, a few of them are rocking the uniform. It’s the work of a moment for my brain to dismiss most of the party and lock onto the face of one uniformed man.
Yes, his eyes are a soft wintery blue; the woman next to me got that much correct, but there’s so much more to them than that. From my perch at the bar, I’ve seen frost in those eyes on occasion and, let me tell you, the reflection of the winter storm can be just as glorious as the friendly glow they’re exuding tonight.
Shivering slightly, I hold my breath as my eyes continue to drink him in. He’s fair-haired with sculpted cheek-bones and lightly bronzed skin (the healthy kind that comes from spending time outdoors), and tall enough that I have to tilt my head back a little to look into the splendor of his face. Leanly muscular but not too bulky, his body moves with the easy grace of an athlete.
Shaking my head from side to side I sigh, looking down at my beer bottle for distraction. It goes without saying: I’ve been stalking this fair-haired Viking god of a man for quite some time. In fact, he’s the reason Melanie and I started frequenting The Spotted Dog on Friday nights.
“Here,” says Melanie, handing me a shot of something. Giggling she says, “You look like you could use one.”
Holding her glass up we both smile and simultaneously throw back our drinks. As the warmth of the alcohol spreads through me, I begin to relax. Melanie and I take up our familiar pattern of ogling the firemen, people watching, and dancing. Clapping for the guitarist as he finishes a well-executed solo, my eyes are suddenly attracted by movement in the mirror above. I see my fireman making his way toward the bar.
Sensing him approach along every nerve, I sit stone-still on my stool and stare straight ahead. He leans up against the bar directly between Melanie and me and proceeds to order a couple pitchers of beer from José before turning toward me.
“Are you planning to come over and say hello to the guys tonight?” he asks me.
“No, not tonight,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible. Stifling a grin, I glance over into his eyes and ask, “Are you going to dance with me tonight?”
Looking over at the band he pauses for a moment before directing his gaze back to me and answering, “No, not tonight.”
Flashing me that crooked, school-boy grin, he collects his order from José and heads back to his table.
Laughing at our by-play Melanie leans closer to be heard above the music and says, “Smooth, Gwen, really smooth.”
Not fazed by her razing in the least, I arch one eyebrow and respond, “Oh, and I suppose you could do better?”
“Of course I can.” Hopping down from her stool, she fluffs her hair, adjusts her shirt, and assumes a man-eater swagger. Briefly looking back at me over her shoulder, she mouths, “Watch and learn.”
Reaching for my bottle, I swiftly twist around on my stool so I can watch her work her magic firsthand. Until this moment, few women have dared to broach the invisible line between the firemen’s section and ours. Scanning the room I laugh; every woman is glaring daggers at Melanie as she confidently strides up to one of the young, handsome firemen. A few minutes of animated flirting later and her dark-haired prize is escorting her to the makeshift dance floor. I tip my bottle to her as she passes by me and mouths, “And that’s how it’s done.”
After a couple songs, Melanie rejoins me at the bar. Dinner has been served at the firemen’s tables and Melanie’s guy bows out to go enjoy his meal.
“Alright, I admit it - you are pretty smooth,” I tell her.
“That was a lot of fun, and Pete’s a good dancer,” she explains. “Did you see all the dirty looks I got when I headed over there?”
“Yes,” I chuckle.
“You gotta be more like that, Gwen.”
“Uh huh,” is my only response. Not ready to concede I’m not as badass as I think I am when it comes to the art of flirting, I prepare to pull the last trick up my sleeve.
“You about ready to call it a night?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says. Grabbing the pen from my purse, I quickly jot something down on the back of a business card and fold it in half.
“Okay, meet me by the door; this will only take a second,” I tell her.
Shaking out my hair, I assume my most confident stride and head straight across the room to my fireman. Without any hesitation, I lean down close to him at the table where he’s currently engaged in a hand of poker and slide the business card into the front shirt pocket of his uniform in full view of the table. Then, assuming my sexiest smile and angling to face the rest of the table, I say, “Goodnight, boys,” before waltzing away toward the exit.
Melanie is all smiles when I get there.
“Well played girl, well played.”
Smiling back, I reach for the door, holding it open for her.
“Are they watching?” I ask.
Tilting her head to see around my shoulder she answers, “Every one of them.”
“After you then,” I say, gesturing to the door.
* * *
After dropping Melanie off at her place, I head home. Sometime later, after starting a load of laundry and picking up the kitchen, I find myself readin
g a book in bed with the covers snuggled tightly around me. I’m so engrossed with the story I almost miss the tapping sound.
Looking up from the page I’ve been reading, I intently listen, waiting to see if I’ll hear it again. Sure enough, a few seconds later it begins again. What I mistook for a tapping sound is actually a knock at the front door.
Climbing out of bed I wrap my bathrobe around myself and silently tiptoe to the entry. I hold my breath and peer through the keyhole to see who could possibly be outside my door this late at night. The tension quickly drains from my body, and I release my breath as I recognize that the person standing outside isn’t an axe murderer. Unlatching the deadbolt, I slowly open the door to the uniformed man standing on my porch.
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but we got a call down at the station about a cat stuck up a tree.”
“You did!” I exclaim. “Well, I’m sure it can’t be mine.”
“Why is that, ma’am?”
“Well, I don’t ever let her outside. She’d freeze, I’m afraid.”
“San Diego has a pretty mild climate. I doubt any cat would truly freeze to death, even at night,” he responds.
“Yes, that’s probably true for your run of the mill tabby cats, but my kitty is bare.”
A fluttering heartbeat is all I get before my fireman has crossed the porch and has me in his arms, crushing me to his chest and kissing me deeply. My lips quiver under the intensity of his attentions. I pull back slightly, and he smiles down at me. Running his fingers through my hair and supporting my head, he continues kissing down my neckline while his other hand slides under my robe and up my thigh. Gently walking us back into the house, he slams the door before hitching my legs around his waist and carrying me into the bedroom. Setting me down next to the bed, I stare as he shucks his shoes then quickly unbuttons and removes his shirt. My eyes traverse the planes of his chest as he reaches for my robe, releasing the tie and exposing my naked body.
“Gwen,” he whispers into my hair as he slides the robe from my shoulders and lays me back on the bed. Leaning down over me, he claims my mouth again while my hands roam across his muscular frame, getting hung up on the external obliques—those muscles that make smart girls dumb.
Like kryptonite, I think to myself, outlining them again with my fingertips before moving along his beltline and becoming completely lost in Ben.
Chapter 16
Kade
Slamming the helmet on my head I rev the bike’s engine and floor it. Feeling a little better with my quickly increasing speed and every mile I put between me and the bar, I smile, embracing the sting of the wind on my face. What I wouldn’t give to be astride R’ad racing across the countryside. Alas, the stallion, my old friend, died over a century ago and, with mankind’s advances in automotives, the days of horseback-riding are long gone. I still own several of the majestic creatures at my ranch house, but I haven’t been to visit in months. The motorcycle is a poor substitute for the noblest of God’s creations, but it’s the closest thing I have these days.
Hitting the highway I head north for no particular reason and try to channel Halim. I could use his clear head and wisdom right now.
“Fuck me!” I shout, venting my anguish into the night and catching a bug in my mouth for the trouble. Spitting I dislodge the insect. It’s been almost two years since it’s hit me this hard. Priding myself on being dispassionate and controlled I have no recourse when my emotions decide to knock me flat on my ass. Halim had been there for me the last time, a desperate, late-night phone call from some rest stop outside of Los Angeles.
I’d returned to work at Preston-Ward after having been gone on Wanderer business for over three weeks. I’d hoped to steal Gwen away for lunch. When I reached her office I hesitated, hearing voices inside. Melanie was going on about a ring, what sounded like honeymoon details, and a wedding or elopement, I wasn’t sure which. The way she was carrying on I expected congratulations were in order because the peppy little blonde had decided to take the plunge. Knocking and then opening the office door my congratulations turned to ash in my mouth and the smile died from my face.
Melanie was indeed admiring an engagement ring, but it was attached to Gwen’s finger. When she saw me Melanie popped up off the desk and enthusiastically pulled me into a hug.
“Isn’t it great, amazing even!” she rambled, face buried in my stomach. Turning her exuberance up a notch, she turned back to Gwen. “I can’t believe you’re married! How cool is that.”
Stunned I tore my gaze away from Melanie, meeting Gwen’s eyes for the first time. They looked greener than ever before and sparkled, illuminated with inner fire.
She’s happy, breathtaking.
“Yeah, uh, I just wanted to let you girls know I was back. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow?” It’s all I could get out.
Both agreed before Melanie plunged into conversation again. Capitalizing on the distracting little blonde chatter-box, I took my leave of the room. Somehow I made it out of the building and onto my motorcycle. Dazed, overwhelmed, emotionally charged, fueled by feelings I didn’t even know I possessed, I drove away.
Twilight had descended before I noticed how late it was, having become trapped inside my own head. Noting the upcoming off-ramp, I exited the freeway into a rest area. I parked the bike and began to pace until the few other travelers began to eye me warily, at which point I stalked off toward the tree line.
Limbs shaking with exhaustion from the posture of my ride, I was forced to stop. I sat on the top of a picnic table with my head drooped, hanging over my knees. I wrapped my fingers around the cell phone in my pocket.
Sighing I pulled it out and called Halim.
“Kade.”
“Gwen … I lost her.” The heart-wrenching fear I’d been running from all day crashed over me, flooding my voice with emotion.
“What are you talking about, my brother?” Halim asked.
“She’s married.”
“Where are you?”
Genuinely looking around for the first time, I rattled off the name on the only sign I could see.
“I’m on my way.”
Turning my phone off, I set it down on the table beside me and waited. A handful of heartbeats later Halim materialized before me in a wisp of green smoke. Loving concern was etched on his face as he came to rest beside me on the picnic table.
“You finally figured out that you love her.”
Whipping my head up, eyes raw with pain, I met his gaze, taken aback by the callousness of his statement.
“I didn’t know.”
“Yes you did, my brother. You just didn’t recognize it within yourself.” Resting a fatherly hand on my shoulder, he continued. “Love for us is confusing. It wasn’t in our nature when we were Sylph. And now ...” Halim sighed mid-sentence. “As immortal beings, it is not something many of us have embraced, given the short mortal existence of everything else on this planet.”
“You did,” I reminded my brother.
“Yes and I’m better and worse off for having done it,” he replied, eyes filled with compassion.
“It hurts.”
“Yes, Kade, it does. Let me ask you this: If you had known sooner, would you have done anything about it?”
Leaning back I looked up at the stars, pondering his question. “I ... I don’t know.”
“I think you do. But realize this: Unless your answer is yes, you have no right to stand in the way of her life and any happiness she can garner from it.”
A short bitter laugh escaped my lips. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It wasn’t supposed to,” Halim answered.
Together we sat in sweet silence, gazing up at the heavens until I whispered, “What am I supposed to do now?”
Not lowering his eyes, Halim replied, “Now that is the million dollar question.” Smirking at him, I responded, “And I suppose you aren’t going to tell me.”
Meeting my eyes, he answered, “It’s not my place to do so—th
at you must reason out for yourself.”
I shake the memory free and channel the emotions coursing through my system into rage.
No, I won’t be calling my brother tonight, I tell myself. Oh how I’d love to hate the guy who swooped in out of nowhere and stole everything that was important to me. But I can’t because, in actuality, it’s my own damn fault. Fuck. Recognizing the “Welcome to Los Angeles” sign I smile and get ready to pull off the highway.
* * *
My body is being tossed into the back of a familiar vehicle as dawn breaks. With my one good eye I try to lock onto the driver’s seat of the Yukon, but I can’t—the room is still spinning. Squinting with one eye isn’t helping either so I give up and shut my eyes completely. The slice just below my left eyebrow is throbbing and the hastily applied bandage itches. Thankfully it’s also preventing me from bleeding all over the leather interior.
The driver’s side door slams shut, and I hear the ignition turn over and the engine coming to life. With a lurch, the vehicle moves forward. A groan escapes my lips; the sudden motion jostles my aching body and threatens to throw me to the floor. Bracing myself with my arms as best I can I try to lie still, battling back a wave of nausea.
“I’m not stopping for you to vomit and don’t fucking think about doing it in here!” Z yells at me. I chuckle from my bench.
“Shit. What the fuck were you thinking? I thought we were past this!” Z says, slamming a palm against the steering wheel. He’s completely enraged but in my current state of inebriation everything is funny so I laugh.
“Fucking asshole,” Z mutters. Eyes shut, stomach clenched, I hear Z using the Yukon’s hands-free feature to make a call. Moments later Halim’s voice comes through the speakers.
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