Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)

by Kat Bastion

  “I’m so sorry, Darren. That’s a horrible home life.” On top of it all, he’d lost his mom.

  “Don’t be.” He gave a headshake. “Wasn’t that bad. Lo and I came out all right.”

  “At least you have each other.”

  “Exactly.”

  Talk of family made me remember the invitation I’d extended to his sister on the rooftop. “You and Logan able to make the barbeque tomorrow?”

  He finally glanced my way. “Yeah. Logan’s looking forward to it.”

  “Only Logan?” I arched a brow.

  His gaze held mine. “No. Not just Logan.”

  Loud music streamed through the powerful speakers behind him, but the moment seemed quiet, tense and frozen. His eyes searched mine as he inhaled a slow breath. “What about you?”

  “Me?” The barbeque?

  “Your favorite memory.”

  “Oh.” Because, yeah. I was looking forward to the barbeque too.

  I rolled my body the other way again, relaxing onto my back, staring at our socked feet pressed to the wall. “Mine is a holiday too. Christmas Eve. Is it weird that it doesn’t actually involve anyone else?”

  When I glanced at him, he had partially propped onto his side and stared at me. “Depends. What are you doing?”

  I relaxed my head back and closed my eyes. “I’m standing outside. If I’m lucky, it’s snowing. One winter, I think I was sixteen, it was the first snow of the season. I was standing out in our backyard and these big fat flakes floated down from a bottomless black sky. An excited hush fell over everything and everyone. I almost stopped breathing it was so beautiful: nature coating the world in pristine white; the wound-up energy underneath it all of kids going to bed, parents wrapping presents, lovers tucking a special gift into a stocking.”

  The rock song ended as I thought about that moment of pure happiness. Every year I had a ritual of standing outside, thinking of the snow, hearing the hush.

  Silence stretched for a beat. Then another.

  Right as a new song began, he cleared his throat. “You had a lover at sixteen?”

  I didn’t need to look his way to feel the weight of his stare. I knocked the back of my hand into his hip. “No. But I was a dreamer. A romantic. And I wanted to have one—imagined it happening.”

  Finally, he settled again beside me. His hand brushed against the back of mine, then stayed there. “Seems like you’ve always been a glass-half-full person.”

  “Ever the optimist. That’s what Cade always says about me. I get caught up in the falling snow, not how it clogs the streets. And I think about the glittering presents, not some hideous sweater bound to be waiting under the wrapping.”

  “Like your art.” His hand rubbed up, over my knuckles. When it settled, the tips of his fingers tangled with mine.

  An electric hum buzzed between us at the small contact. I flexed my hand open until the pads of my fingers brushed his. Heat spread across my skin, warming every nerve ending in a spreading cascade. A low ache began to flare between my legs.

  On a hard swallow, I struggled to focus on what he’d said. “My art?”

  “Sure. You find beauty in rusted scrap metal.” He tightened his hand, trapping my fingers in his grasp.

  “I do.” My quiet admission held conviction. I stared up into the dark rafters over my carved-out home in the middle of a warehouse. I saw the world with a different perspective. Always had. And it floored me that Darren saw me—the girl beneath it all.

  The moment hung on that note, heavy and right. We stared up toward my roof and listened to song after song. On each successive one, he pointed out the drag.

  “There, do you hear it?” He thumped the thumb of his free hand hard on his thigh, marking time with the lagging beat.

  I nodded, watching his thumb snap the faded denim surface, mesmerized by that one beat made all the more intriguing because of how it nearly strayed off course.

  Without thought, I closed my eyes, lulled by the intoxicating sensual rhythm.

  Excitement charged the air around us. My pulse thrummed, heart nearly stalling with each drag beat. Our hands remained connected, fingers loose, barely touching. But something seemed to be happening between us, this thick unnamable thing growing more intimate with every heartbeat.

  The playlist ended.

  Only the sounds of our breaths remained.

  His. Mine.

  I swallowed hard, not opening my eyes. The anticipation, the unknown, the strange beauty of the unexpected filled my heart with a warmth I didn’t want to end.

  A metallic ping echoed. Then another. In the next few seconds, a thousand tiny raps tinged out against the metal high above us.

  “Oh, shit.” I bolted upright, blinking hard. “Is that rain?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  Heavier raps followed, like machine gun fire, and I flew off the bed and sprinted across the room. “I left my car windows and roof open!”

  Bare-socked, I raced down the stairs. His louder footfalls clanged on the metal steps right behind me.

  Blinding light flashed through the south-facing windows as I swiped my keys from the corner of my worktable. A second later thunder boomed, rattling said windows.

  “What’s the big deal?” He nudged my shoulder once we’d cleared the last of my metal sculptures. “It’s just a little rain.”

  “Says the man whose windows are up. Are you even listening? The sky just cracked open.”

  I unlocked the bolt and opened my front door a crack. The wind caught it and tore it from my grasp, slamming it against the metal wall with an echoing clang.

  He reached for my keys. “I can—”

  Dodging his hand, I pointed my car remote. “So can I.”

  Cold fat drops pelted my face as I watched for some sign that my remote had worked. “The signal’s worked from here before. Think the rain’s interfering?”

  In a flash of movement, he snatched the key from my hand, then bolted into the downpour. I gaped, unable to say anything. He had no jacket. No shoes. Only a black T-shirt that plastered to his body in an instant, jeans, and once-white socks that browned as he ran through muddy puddles.

  Halfway there, he held out his arm. My car suddenly blinked its lights. The glass began to close. He stood there, waiting until my car sealed up tight before he turned around.

  Still shocked that he’d done that, I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

  “Better me than you.” He slogged past me through the doorway.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m bigger.” He dropped me a look, one that dared me to argue.

  I scowled, closing the door. “How is that even an answer?”

  “Bigger body mass equals more body heat. I’m good. You’d be a Popsicle by now.”

  “You’re a dripping mess. And don’t tell me you’re not cold.”

  “I am.”

  “Well, c’mon. Let’s get you outta those wet clothes.”

  “Exactly what I hoped you’d say.”

  I blinked, then glared at him. “Underwear on.”

  “What makes you think I’m wearing any?”

  My heart jumped into my throat, mind flashing to images of his large feet and corresponding equipment lurking behind his fly. “Please say you’re wearing underwear.”

  “I’m wearing underwear.” His reply was quick.

  “Are you really?” My eyes narrowed a fraction.

  “Yes.”

  “Boxers or briefs?” My cheeks flamed at the bold question. But I wanted to prepare myself.

  “Boxer briefs.”

  I blew out a hard breath.

  He didn’t move. Just stared at me. Dripping. Waiting. Like he wanted to see what my next move would be.

  My breaths quickened as the seconds ticked by. My gaze drifted down from his intense stare to the pulse at his throat, then to the shirt stuck to his body, defining so beautifully every ridge and groove of the muscles beneath. The image before me would make an incredib
le sculpture.

  He lowered his head a fraction until I glanced back up at him, met his gaze.

  “I’m not taking my clothes off.” His tone had quieted.

  I blinked again. “You’re not?”

  “No. I have to go. Need to check on Lo. She’s got a boy over. Need to make sure no one takes their clothes off tonight.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s important to be ready for a big step like that.” He cast me a serious look.

  He wasn’t just talking about Lo. My thoughts scrambled at the new information I hadn’t prepared for. Could I take that step? Would I ever be ready?

  “Maybe a towel though?” He arched his brows “And my phone and shoes?” An easy smile suddenly warmed his face.

  “Yes. A towel.” That, I could do.

  And as I ran back up the stairs, grabbed two of my fluffiest from the linen closet, and pulled his phone from the cord before hooking my fingers into the back of his running shoes, I pushed aside my fear about the rest.

  As I’d learned in the last couple of months—with everything in my life—the only way to keep moving forward when monumental things worried me was to ignore them until I was ready to deal with them.

  By the time I dropped his shoes beside him and handed him the towels, he’d already shed most of the water into a puddle on the concrete. And the unexpected storm still raged outside.

  “Take those with you.” I nodded to the towel he’d tucked under his arm while he rubbed the other over his head. “You may need them by the time you make it to your truck.”

  “Thanks.” He’d taken his socks off. Must’ve wrung them out, because the soggy never-going-to-be-white-again things were half-tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

  I stared above them at a narrow strip of exposed skin, a ripple and shadow of one of his abs, then swallowed hard.

  “Tomorrow. Noon?” He wrapped the towel around the back of his neck.

  “What?” I blinked, confused. My thoughts had gotten stuck on his hidden body again.

  “The barbeque?” He held my gaze as he worked his feet into his shoes.

  “Right. Yes.” I nodded, brain finally unsticking. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  As he stared at me, indecision flashed in his eyes for a split second—like he didn’t want to leave.

  I pressed my lips together, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t have him stay—needed him to go. But a growing part of me wanted to take a crazy risk, invite him to take those clothes off, see where it could lead.

  Common sense overrode what I wanted, what he wanted.

  I made the choice for us, giving him a stern look as I opened the door. “Tomorrow.”

  Darren…

  The following day, I sat on my couch and stared at our latest exchange, all eight texts, one more time. Kiki had started sending them a couple of hours ago. I’d found her first one thirty minutes after my earlier shower.

  Thanks for the talk last night.

  And the songs.

  And the Chinese.

  I’d replied.

  Welcome.

  You never picked a favorite.

  Her response fired right away.

  Song?

  I’d volleyed it back.

  No. Chinese dish.

  After that, her replies had come through slower. The next, about twenty minutes later.

  Not one of them.

  An instant additional text popped up.

  All of them.

  I smiled now. Rereading with anticipation for the next part. My response had been basic. Smug-laced from my point of view, but basic.

  Good.

  Her last text still stunned me.

  My favorite of the 3? The talk.

  The talk. I stared at her words.

  She might have been spooked before. But now? She seemed to be inviting me over to her side. What side was that exactly? A one-night stand had been out from the beginning—she knew that. Was she ready for something more than friends?

  “Better prepare yourself, Kiki,” I muttered.

  I checked the time on my phone again, then glared up at the ceiling, impatient. “Logan! You ready?” I shouted. “It’s a barbeque not prom.”

  “Coming!” She rounded the top banister corner before bounding down the stairs. “Oh, good. You’re wearing jeans too. I had on a summer dress and cardigan, but looked like a preppy housewife. Then I put on shorts and a tank top. But that felt too casual.”

  I roped an arm around her neck and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You look great. Perfect for a barbeque. And they’ll love you no matter what you wear.”

  With a grin, I let out a relieved breath. It felt great seeing her want to impress others. It meant that being accepted was important to her—that the world seemed worthwhile and she wanted to be part of it again.

  I was also glad I wasn’t the only nervous one. Did I know everyone there? Sure. We were all loose friends through Loading Zone and Invitation Only parties that Kiki and her family ran.

  But this was the first time I’d be going as something more. Someone Kiki had attached herself to—even if she didn’t know it yet.

  The drive over lasted only the two-and-a-half hard rock songs Lo had chosen.

  “Turn right here.” She glanced up from reading the map on my iPhone. “Whose house is this?”

  “Hannah’s.” I found an empty spot along the curb and parked. “Well, now Hannah and Cade’s. Kiki said this was the house Hannah grew up in.”

  A sign on the front door said OUT BACK with a long arrow underneath pointing left. We walked along the grassy side yard and through a wooden gate. We were about fifteen minutes late. Which apparently was right on time.

  Down on the backyard lawn, Mase and Ben raced back and forth, playing keep-away with a barking and chasing German Shephard. Mase caught my gaze and tossed me a chin-up greeting. I replied with a slight nod as he lobbed the ball toward the far corner of the yard before the dog raced after it.

  Beyond them was an aged wooden dock that led to a waterway. Houses stretched along the opposite bank. A few boats and kayaks glided over the water’s surface.

  Someone nudged my hip. As I turned, Kristen pulled me into a hug. “Hey, Darren. Glad you could make it.” When she let go, she leaned in, lowering her voice. “Got any grilling skills? My husband thinks he’s King Barbeque. If you can humble him in any way, please do.”

  I glanced at Jason who manned the massive grill. “Uh, I’ve flipped burgers. Burn hot dogs every time.”

  “Great.” Defeat flattened her tone. “He’ll impart his searing wisdom to yet another victim.” She put her hands on my shoulders and gave a light push. “Go.”

  I half-turned, hesitating as I glanced at my sister.

  “You must be Logan. I’m Kristen, the oldest sister. I’m very happy to meet you.” She wrapped a gentle arm around Logan’s shoulder. “He’s got grill duty. What are you good at? Salad tossing? Table setting?”

  When I didn’t move, Kristen shot me a glare. “Go.”

  Logan arched her brows, amusement in her eyes.

  I held my hands up in surrender. “Going.”

  On my way to the grill, I scanned the backyard for Kiki. Not on the grass. Not on the patio.

  When I turned toward the house, the back door swung open. Cade stepped out with a large yellow bowl balanced on each hand. Hannah followed, gripping a brightly striped platter loaded with rolls.

  And right behind them, her short yellow-and-green skirt gently fluttering in the breeze? Kiki.

  She glanced my way, then beamed me a huge smile.

  I swore my heart tripped.

  “Ready to sauce?” A mason jar appeared in front of my face, brush sticking out of it. Jason nodded toward six sizzling racks of baby back ribs, blond spikes of hair that poked through his backwards baseball cap bobbing.

  “Sure.” I knew jack shit about saucing. “Light coat?”

  “Yep. Got another
jar if you need.” He pointed his barbeque tongs at a spare jar on the shelf to his right. “Give a good swipe down each rib.”

  I obeyed, brushing on a thin coating.

  While I smeared on sauce, I kept glancing toward the house, where Logan had disappeared with Kristen. Logan had been excited about coming, but I wanted to be sure she fit in okay—felt comfortable. Kendall came out the back door, two large pitchers in hand, one looked like iced tea, the other lemonade. Logan and Kristen immediately followed, each holding armfuls of large glasses stuffed with green napkins and silverware.

  And Logan wore another one of those big smiles that I’d been missing the last couple years.

  “Beer?” Jason popped open a small fridge down below.

  “Yeah.” I coated the last rack, then grabbed the opened bottle he offered.

  He took a long pull from his, then swallowed, staring at me the whole time. His eyes narrowed a fraction, then he nodded toward the picnic table. “So you and Kiki.”

  That obvious?

  I took a healthy few swallows, unwilling to admit anything. “We’re friends. Was cool she invited us.”

  He flung a loose arm around my shoulders, gave the far one a gentle slap, then a squeeze. Those hair spikes bobbed repeatedly as he slowly spoke, “Awful lot of sparks flying for just ‘friends.’”

  He’d noticed that from where he stood at the grill?

  Or maybe their close family had talked about it.

  Had Kiki?

  He released his grip, then began loading the ribs onto two platters.

  I shrugged, acting unconcerned. “Friends attracted to each other.” Truth. It had ventured far beyond that. But the simple explanation was enough to satisfy the hanging question without him digging further.