by Kat Bastion
Darren put his hand on my knee and squeezed it gently. “We’re gonna keep you outta the slammer, Flash.”
Warmth spread through my chest. That I hadn’t asked for help, but my knights came to my rescue anyway. It all made me love these guys just a little bit more. One in particular.
I glanced at Darren and mouthed, “Thank you.”
He gave me a hard look. The kind filled with intensity and clear meaning. It said with its ground-shaking silence There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
That warmth in my chest deepened, my heart melting for the man.
Then sudden fear settled in. What would happen if I cared too much, fell too hard?
The truth hit me like a bolt of lightning.
It’s already too late.
Darren…
The next morning, I balanced two coffee cups in a tray, gym bag hanging by a crooked finger, while I rapped on Kiki’s metal warehouse door.
My knock echoed.
Then silence.
Her Prius was tucked into its space. So I knew she’d made it home safely.
And I’d driven by the gallery on my way. No busted glass. Artwork all in their same places. No felony committed.
A sudden thump hit the side of my calf, and I startled, nearly dropping our coffees. Big hazel eyes stared up at me. Front paws were propped on my leg. A faint meow squeaked out.
“Hey, Chipmunky. Where’s Kiki?”
The kitten dropped down, threw his weight into a full-body rub against my jeans, then trotted off until he disappeared around the warehouse corner. I followed, passing under a rusted arbor that had steel vines snaking up and around through the arch.
Off in the far corner of a deep courtyard, Kiki sat on the edge of a raised planter with her back toward me. Sunlight glinted off her dark hair which fell in loose spirals over her shoulders. She hummed lightly, a thin white cord dangling from the ear I could see, while she snipped off the tops of plants with small scissors before dropping them into a napkin-lined basket.
A half dozen mismatched bistro sets were scattered over broken brick pavers along the perimeter, making the space look like a café graveyard. An old maple tree from a neighboring yard stretched its skeletal branches overhead, filtering the sun.
She turned slightly when she reached for another plant, showing her profile. Her lips were moving, and I could hear the faintest melody as she cradled various stems before selecting a few, then cutting them off.
A smile tugged at my lips. In the private time I’d stumbled into, she appeared peaceful. Happy, even.
No way in hell am I barging in on that. Didn’t want to ruin it. Felt lucky to witness it.
Instead, I sat in the sturdiest-looking chair. I slid the drink tray on a nearby table and dropped my duffel bag on another chair as I surveyed the patio I hadn’t realized existed.
It was sizable. The planter section where Kiki sat had herbs growing in a bright patch where sunlight streamed through neighboring buildings, but the foot-and-a-half tall brick planter bordered the whole enclosure. The patio floor had missing bricks in many sections, but in between, the ground was level. Dark green tufts of grass and moss sprouted here and there. The maple branches overhead had new leaves pushing out.
My attention swung back to Kiki right as she turned toward me. Her eyes widened then a huge smile brightened her face. My heart thumped hard at seeing her light up, just for me.
I worked one of the cups free from its holder, then offered it up as she yanked her earbuds down by their cords. “Darren!”
“Thought I’d bring you some liquid fuel.”
Her basket clattered onto the bricks before I finished my sentence. She rushed over and practically crashed onto my lap. Her coffee cup barely landed on the table with a clunk before I wrapped my arms around her.
“Whoooa.” She gripped my shoulders as we teetered on the back legs of the chair. The metal groaned out a low creak under our weight.
I spread my legs wider, preparing to lunge up with her in my arms if needed.
A second passed.
Another.
We didn’t topple.
Warm minty breath fanned between our mouths; her lush parted lips were less than an inch from mine. Her chest heaved from her excited sprint, bared exquisitely by her low-cut pale blue sundress.
“What’s with the gardening?” I wanted to kiss her. Bad. But the crackling tension, the anticipation between wanting and doing, made the drawn-out wait worthwhile.
“I was collecting parsley and chives. Thought I’d make us breakfast.”
When she glanced at her abandoned basket and tensed her legs to move, I grabbed her hip, stilling her.
She turned back toward me, touched the tip of her nose to mine, then smiled. “Or we could do breakfast right here.” Her lips hovered over mine again, teasing.
I growled and nipped her lower lip. Then I opened wider, kissing her more deeply. I loved her taste, a blend between mint and coffee. “You already brewed a pot?”
“You look surprised.” She suppressed a smile.
“It’s before noon.”
She shoved lightly on my shoulder. “I’m in training. The best runs happen in the morning.”
Gripping her hips harder, I positioned her right over my growing hard-on.
With a tiny gasp, she shifted her hand down between our legs, pressing firmly on the denim. Then she blinked on a heavy swallow. “Oh, my.”
I groaned low as her hand skated over my rigid length then found and squeezed the tip. I dropped my head into the crook of her shoulder. “The best everything happens in the morning.”
All of a sudden, a monumental idea hit me. My head popped up and I narrowed my eyes, assessing her patio space. Keeping a tight hold of her, I twisted, taking in the bigger picture.
“What’s the matter?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion.
Understandable. Since my excited mood-shift had nothing to do with the fact that sexy-as-hell Kiki sat on my lap.
And shocking—that so little blood left in my brain allowed me to connect obvious dots.
“This space.” I glanced at the roofline.
“My courtyard?”
“Invitation Only.” Thoughts raced faster than I could formulate words. I held on to her waist as I stood, then stepped away from her, pacing out the open area.
“Is this word association?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Belgian waffle.”
“No.” I shook my head. Then her reply registered in my sluggish brain. “Hungry?”
“Starved.” She bit her lower lip.
“You need to have a party.”
“What?” She grunted a disbelieving noise, then walked across the pavers before resting the back of her hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay? I’m about to be evicted. You throw a party when you move in, not when you’re being tossed out.”
I grasped her wrist, kissed her palm, then spun her around, tucking her against me. “Look at this amazing space. You already have artwork displayed: the walls of your outside maze. Invitation Only works like a well-oiled machine already. Use your sisters, your brother…me.”
She glanced up at me with a dubious look.
I ignored it. “Our band will fit over there.” I nodded toward a curve in the nearest maze wall. “Connect lights up there.” I pointed to the top edge of the roof. “Maybe drape them down to connect to the fence.”
“No, Darren.” She shook her head, pushing out of my hold. “I don’t want any handouts.”
“It’s not a handout. It’s a party.”
When she kept shaking her head and wrapped her arms around her middle, I glared at her, waiting until she stopped negating the damn idea.
“You ever have a housewarming party?”
She gave me another, smaller headshake. Good. She liked saying no? I’d work with that.
“Do you dislike parties?”
Another headshake, only this time her lips firmed into a line. She crossed her arms tighter and lowered her
brows. Like she knew she was losing a battle, but wasn’t going down easy.
Her face pinked in anger. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. “I don’t feel like partying.”
“You will if you sell some of your pieces.”
Her head tilted a little, her gaze settling on the ground. When my idea fully sank in, hope flickered across her face but disappeared just as fast. “It’s too late. The landlord already served the notice of eviction.”
“So give the landlord your ‘notice of staying,’ offer her an enticement.”
“Like what?”
“Like making up back rent and a few months in advance.”
She grunted in disapproval. “No way. I could never sell that many pieces at one event.”
“Depends on what kind of buyers you have.”
“I thought you said it was a party.”
“What if it’s a party…and an art showing?”
“But this isn’t a gallery.”
“Who said you have to have a gallery?”
Her expression clouded over. “All it’s going to do is get my hopes up.” Arms still folded over her chest, she drummed her fingers on her outer biceps.
I shrugged. “So don’t expect anything.”
“I only have six more days before the end of the month.”
“Next Tuesday?”
She gave a short nod.
“Best get crackin’, then. Lot to plan in three days—party’s on Saturday.”
When she didn’t move—refused to agree—I lowered my head, keeping her in my sights. Then I began to stalk her, squaring my shoulders, spanning out my arms.
She blinked, her mouth falling open. “What are you doing?”
“Going to convince you.”
Lifting her hands, she began backing toward her herb garden, shaking her damn head again. “You can’t convince me.”
“Wanna bet?”
The forgotten basket caught her back foot and she stumbled.
I lunged forward and grasped her forearms, staring hard at her. “Let me help you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you,” I whispered.
Her breath caught.
The words silently echoed in my head. I hadn’t meant to say them. Hadn’t fully realized I’d felt them. But I’d blurted them out, straight from my heart. With zero regret.
Tears sprang into her eyes. Her lips parted.
I put my fingers over them. “Don’t say anything.”
She exhaled, her hot breath fogging over them. Then she began to bounce. When I removed my hand, she scowled. “You can’t drop that…bomb…and expect me not to say anything.”
“You’re not ready.” I sensed that much. “But if you care for me at all, let me help you.”
Eyes sparkling with unshed tears, her shoulders slumped. Then she leaned into me.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close as I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “What do you have to lose?”
Her entire body tensed at the question.
I held her tighter, wishing I could make all her fears go away.
“Let me try and fix this—for me.” I closed my eyes, hoping she’d agree.
Because I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
Kiki…
You. I could lose you.
When Darren had said it before, I’d been afraid, when the risk wasn’t as great. It terrified me now.
On a shaky exhale, I clung tighter to him, gripping the back of his thin T-shirt.
He remained silent—simply held me close with his solid strength.
“Okay.” I finally relented with the quiet word.
My greatest fear wasn’t becoming homeless, although, no doubt, that would totally suck. It was anxiety about this unexpected hero of mine, a warrior for my cause, becoming larger in my life than I’d ever imagined. Then being stolen away.
Things that seemed too good to be true ended up being that way in my life.
But Darren was different, right? He would never betray me.
“I love you too.” I whispered my confession into his chest.
He pulled away and stared down into my eyes. “It scares you.”
“Yes.”
Holding my gaze, he let out a gentle sigh. “Scares the fuck out of me.”
“Good.” A smiled tugged at my lips.
He huffed out a short laugh. “Well, great.”
“Whenever I care too much about something” —I sucked in a shaky breath— “it gets ripped away.”
“I know.” His tone quieted. “Me too.”
“So…how do we get past that?”
He trailed his fingers along my jaw, then cupped the side of my face with his hand. “We fight harder to keep what we want.”
I closed my eyes, silently wishing it would be that simple: Want it, fight for it, and it’s ours.
His breath fanned over my nose, my chin. A gentle touch brushed over my mouth, then a tiny kiss pressed to one corner. Slowly he swept all the way across before gifting me another. Then his lips molded with mine in an incredibly tender kiss.
When he pulled away, I let out a tiny moan and opened my eyes.
His lips quirked. “Hence the party.”
I slapped his chest. “You’re relentless.”
“Always.”
“How is this even going to work? Six days is nothing.”
“We pull some strings. Remember how Dino kept asking you questions about your art?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “That’s how I ended up at the gallery contemplating the heist of my own sculptures. He bugged me to send him pictures of my best pieces.”
Darren cast me an amused look. “Seems my rich new boss, Dino, is a major art collector. Art collectors have friends. Maybe the party can be to both celebrate my new job and showcase your art.”
“Okay. I like that idea. Makes me seem like less of a charity case.”
“You’re not a charity case.”
All the talk about my art and party planning made me restless. While clipping herbs earlier, I’d been zoned out listening to the playlist of drag-rhythm music he’d emailed me. I liked losing myself in uncomplicated stuff.
I picked up my herb-filled basket, looped an arm through the handle, then veered wide around him.
“Where are you going?” He blinked, turning as he watched me.
“Inside.” After I rounded the corner, I spun and walked backward.
He edged into view, curiosity in his expression. “What about the party?”
“What about that convincing you threatened?” A corner of my mouth curled into a smirk.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “It’s not a threat if you’re looking forward to it.”
On the next step, I lunged toward the door. I barely had time to fling it open before his hand caught the edge with a deafening clang.
A stinging smack landed on my left butt cheek as I charged through the doorway.
Laughter rang out as we raced through the sculptures and into the living room. I darted toward my worktable, then rounded its far corner before facing him with the hefty piece of furniture between us. I flung my herb basket from my arm, and it spun across the table’s surface. It teetered then toppled over, spilling out its loose stems.
Darren slowed as he approached, tilting his face downward as he smoldered at me from beneath those dark brows. His chest heaved with labored breaths. His hands clenched into fists held low at his sides.
I drew in a slow breath as delicious warmth sizzled over my skin and settled low, between my legs. My body pinged to life from that heated look—the promise hidden there.
A loud noise echoed between us. From my stomach.
I held my breath, blinking.
Had he stopped breathing too?
We both pressed our lips together, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter.
His expression gradually hardened. “You’re hungry.”
“Famished.” But right now, not about food. At all.<
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“You’re gonna eat first.” He straightened, then walked around the other side of the table toward the pot of coffee.
“Won’t we get a cramp?” I let out a slow breath, trying to calm my rioting pulse.
“That’s swimming.”
Annnd…a picture of us naked underwater flooded into my mind. I swallowed hard, imagining water flowing over my body, his warm, muscular frame holding me, caressing me, gripping my hips as he plunged…
“This almond butter fresh?” He glanced up at me from where he squatted in front of my open minifridge.
“Um, yeah.” I blew out a hard breath, clearing out the unexpected fantasy. My mind rifled through mundane topics, trying to cool my overheated body. “You left your stuff outside. Coffees…and what’s with the gym bag?”
“Softball later. Thought I’d change here.” He pulled out the half-full container of almond butter and a jar of apricot preserves, then grabbed two spoons from a cup beside the coffeemaker.
“Oh.” I stared as he unscrewed the lids to both jars. “What are we, prisoners?”
An amused expression flashed over his face before he arched a brow at me. “You want to make a full breakfast now?”
I glanced at the spilled herb basket, then bit my lip and shook my head. “No.” Earlier, I’d wanted to make omelets. Upstairs. Too far away and too long from right now to contemplate.
“Good.” He dunked a spoon into each jar resting on the table. “Come here.”
The command rang into my ears but coasted through me like a whole-body caress. Without thought, I obeyed, closing the distance between us. The second I came within reach he grabbed my hips and lifted me.
I squealed as he plopped me onto the edge of the table.
“I like this,” he growled, lifting my dress hem up my legs until the blue gingham bunched at my hips.
“My dress?”
“Yeah. First time I’ve seen you in one.”
“I’ve been in skirts before.”
“Not the same.” He lifted a spoonful of nut butter.
“Hannah’s wedding: I was in a ball gown. Other part—”
He gently pushed the spoon between my open lips. Sweet crunchy nut butter hit my tongue. When he released his hold on the spoon, I grabbed it and continued to lick it clean.