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by Kylie Scott


  “Holy shit,” he mumbles against the side of my head.

  It takes me a minute to catch my breath. “Adrenaline from the fight.”

  “Maybe. Or it might be just you. I can’t get enough.”

  I brush some stray strands of hair back from his gorgeous face. Except he’s beautiful inside and out, this man. And there’s that weird and unfortunate heat and expansion inside my rib cage again. Honest to God, I could stare at him forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.

  “Anna, baby . . .” he says in a low voice. His gaze is so warm and intense and oh my God. Everything. He’s looking at me like I’m everything and it’s too much.

  “Hmm?”

  “I, uh—”

  “What do you feel like for dinner?” It’s out of my mouth before I’ve even given it any thought. Safe neutral territory. Not that he was about to make things weird or anything. I’m probably being oversensitive or not sensitive enough or something. Or just somewhat deranged, who am I kidding?

  “Dinner?” he asks, raising a brow.

  “You’re right. I need to get ice for your eye first.” I crawl off of him and stand, smoothing down my dress and hunting for my panties. “You deal with the condom and I’ll go in search of medical aid.”

  “Okay,” he says. And if anything, he sounds sort of bemused. Whatever.

  Nothing is wrong. I just came twice and it’s a beautiful summer night. I empty a tray of ice into a kitchen towel and hey, presto. A couple of ibuprofen would be a good idea too. Meanwhile, Leif is back up on his feet and fetching two beers out of the fridge while being at least half dressed, which returns a little of my sanity. Though every time I look at him or hear his voice or enter his general vicinity I go a bit crazy. He shouldn’t have such an effect on me. It’s unnerving. Emotions are so wrong. They’re dangerous and they can hurt.

  Which is when I see them on the side table. A vase overflowing with flowers. Daisies, lavender, lilies, carnations, and roses. They’re beautiful. All I can do is stare. “Where did they come from?”

  “Huh?” he asks, flopping onto the lounge. “Oh. Yeah. I picked them up on my way home earlier. Mom is all keen to meet you, by the way. I don’t think you’re going to get out of going to family dinners for long. She’s way overexcited.”

  “Really?”

  “Come on,” he says, holding a bottle of beer out to me. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you play nurse.”

  To this, I say nothing. But I do take the seat and the beer and hold the ice to his poor wounded eye. I also hand over the pills.

  He winces, the smile falling away. “At least I broke the fucker’s nose.”

  “Never again.”

  “Which I will never do again because violence is wrong, even though he started it and deserved it.”

  I take a sip of beer. “Thank you.”

  “Like I was saying, Clem and Ed were singing your praises at dinner and now Mom is all hyped up to meet you. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  He smiles encouragingly.

  “You know, as long as she understands . . .”

  “What?”

  “That we’re . . . that it’s early days and we, um . . . well, you know . . .”

  “Sure,” he says eventually, putting me out of my word-stumbling misery.

  “Okay. Great.”

  “Clem mentioned she and Tessa had asked you to hang with them.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You never mentioned,” he says, gulping down some beer. “They like you a lot. Apparently they want to incorporate you into their girl gang or something. Secret handshakes may be involved. I’m not sure what the process is exactly.”

  “That’s very kind of them.”

  “But it’s not what you want?” he asks.

  “No. I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re just holding back. Being careful.” His gaze is gentle. “It’s understandable.”

  “Is it?” I ask. “In some ways it feels cowardly. Like I’m putting my life on pause again.”

  “Trust takes time.”

  I frown, and my gaze darts back to the flowers and oh shit. He definitely saw that.

  “You’re not into flowers.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Never mind. Next time I’ll get you something else.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  At this, he just blinks.

  “I love them. I’m just a bit surprised because I thought we weren’t sort of really being serious like that, you know?”

  He gently pushes my hand holding the ice away from his face. “Anna, I was just thinking of you and wanted to make you smile. They don’t have to mean anything if you don’t want them to.”

  “And meeting your parents?”

  His eyes go wide. “Huh. Okay.”

  “What?”

  “You’re freaking out.”

  “I am . . . I am not freaking out. It’s just all a bit sudden.”

  He laughs.

  “Why are you laughing?” I ask, voice tense.

  “Sudden?” he asks with that damn eyebrow raised in query again. “No, come on. We live in each other’s pockets, Anna. This is not sudden.”

  “Well, it is for me.”

  “You’re kind of in denial then.” He licks his lips. “You’re holding back with me too.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “I have been making a concentrated effort to woo you for a while now. Please tell me you’ve noticed.”

  “We were taking things slow.”

  He wrinkles his nose. “Sort of, but not really.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, you’ve been through a lot. I get it. And I’m all about you taking your time and feeling safe. But, baby, we live together, work together, and sleep together. I don’t see how we could be any more together if we tried,” he says, stopping to take a breath. Like he’s trying to be patient, but right now it’s costing him. “If me buying you flowers or you meeting my folks is upsetting then we’ll put it off for now. But don’t tell me that absolutely nothing’s going on here between us, please. I don’t think my heart could take it.”

  I just stare. And hold my beer and the ice.

  He takes another deep breath and lets it out slow. “Maybe I’m a bit on edge after the whole Ryan thing. This isn’t something we should be fighting about. Everything will be fine, okay? I’m going to take a minute and cool off, all right?”

  “All right.”

  And he gets to his feet, goes into his bedroom, and doesn’t come out again that night.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Leif has already left for work when I wake in the morning. I slept in due to staying awake half the night listening for him. Because he never did come back out of his room. Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe he’s sick of my shit. I just don’t know. And everything I thought to say stalled on my tongue long before I worked up the nerve to knock on his door. Possibly he just needed some space. It happens. I’d have to be a needy, pushy bitch to interfere with him having said space. Or maybe I’m a coward. It’s a hard call. So we haven’t talked since he accused me of holding back on him.

  The truth of it is, I am. Of course I am. I’m fucking terrified of where this is heading and if it’s going to emotionally wreck me like the divorce. What if Leif meets someone else and likes her better? What if he decides I’m too much trouble? And if that isn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy then I don’t know what is. Dammit.

  I spent a good part of the night listening to the unbroken quiet of the condo, staring at my bedroom door, and gnawing my heart out. If there was some sort of world record for worrying, I’d have been a sure contender last night. And the truth is, Leif deserves better. I just have to figure out how to say it right. How to retain some pride and not burst into tears. Little things like that.

  I wasn’t supposed to be working today, but there’s no way I can wait until tonight to talk to him. We’re sure as hell not resolving this over the phone. After a
good long shower, I throw on some jeans and a dressy white boho blouse with embroidery. Put my hair up in a stylishly messy bun and apply some makeup. An effort that hopefully says I want to be attractive to him and care about how I look. If he could take one look at me and fall at my feet, that would great. I am not, however, holding my breath. Hopefully the makeup will also cover my red eyes and any and all dark circles. Maybe I should bake something to take with me. Use that as my excuse for stopping by. Only waiting any longer to see him might actually kill me. Because when I walk into the tattoo parlor and he looks up and sees me, that’s when it’s going to happen. That’s when I’ll know. When my nerves will be put to rest. From that look I’m going to be able to tell where we are. If we’re irretrievably broken or if I’m just being overdramatic. Fingers crossed for the latter.

  Banging on the door happens just as I’m slipping my purse over my shoulder. It has to be Ed or Clem, because anyone else would have rung the buzzer on the outside of the building. Only I’d have expected both of them to be at work by now. Maybe Clem has a day off and wants to do something. In which case, I’ll say yes. After stopping by to see Leif, of course. But I’ll stop letting my anxiety rule me and I’ll take a chance. Perhaps if I stop pausing and putting up walls then we can become great friends. Who knows?

  Only it’s not Clem standing outside the door. It’s an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a flannel shirt sitting open over a tee. Greasy jeans and battered sneakers complete the look.

  “Do you know me?” he asks before I can think to say anything.

  “Do I know you? Um. No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you know me?” I ask, bewildered and well beyond weirded out. “Where did we meet?”

  “No. Pay attention. Really look,” he insists, stepping closer. When he was already much closer than I liked. His face is lined and his eyes messed up somehow. It’s the pupils. They’re like pinpricks. “Look.”

  “I’m looking.”

  And that’s when I see it. The lump beneath his shirt, tucked into his jeans. My father used to have a gun in the house for security. Though he always kept it locked up tight. It might not be a gun hidden beneath this man’s clothes, but what the hell else would it be?

  “You don’t recognize me at all?” he asks, hot breath stinking in my face.

  “No. Not at all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He waves on his feet a little. Whatever drugs he’s taken, it’s hitting him hard. “You better not be lying. It’ll be real bad if you were lying.”

  “Absolutely. I am not lying. I swear.” Except I am lying because now that I think about it, he is kind of familiar. The old dude looking at Mom at the café yesterday. And maybe he was sitting in his car outside during that whole fight with Ryan as well. Only he had sunglasses on that time. But I’ve definitely seen this man before. Not that I let it show on my face. I hold myself rigid, ready to attack. Not that I know a damn thing about attacking. I do have my keys in hand, however, with the pointy tips sticking out through my fingers. Maybe I can jab him with one in the throat or eye. If he makes a move, I have to do something. Defend myself somehow. My heart is pounding and sweat breaks out across my back.

  “You don’t want me to have to come back here,” he says, going heavy on the threatening. “Neither of us want that.”

  “No,” I agree. “Neither of us want that.”

  “Nothing about me is familiar?”

  I shake my head.

  His hands hang restless at his sides, and he reaches up to tug on his shirt self-conscious like, only his hand sits there waiting. Then he slips his fingers beneath the tee, touching the weapon, making contact. Next he raises the shirt a little to let me see. Yep. Definitely a gun. A compact black pistol that would kill me just fine. My gaze is stuck on the thing. And he’s obviously made his choice. He’s going to shoot me. Why would he show it to me otherwise?

  This is the end of me and this time there’ll be no second chances and I’ll never get to say goodbye to the people I love. My family and Briar and Leif. Because I do love him even if I didn’t realize right up until this minute when I’m most likely breathing my last breaths. It’s crazy and maybe a little reckless and sort of impossible. But it doesn’t make it any less true.

  “All right,” the man mumbles, letting the hem of his shirt drop back into place. “That’s good.”

  My whole body is shaking and my throat is painfully tight.

  “Don’t forget now,” he says simply, then turns and walks away.

  The front door slams shut in the wind behind him. I don’t know what makes me move to follow. Some strange burst of courage or curiosity. But I watch through the front glass door as he climbs into a silver sedan parked at the curb. The front corner of the car is crumpled and scratched to shit. As if it’d been in one hell of an accident.

  My breath stops in my throat.

  One hell of an accident. Just like the accident that rolled my car and caused Leif to crash. And Leif said it was a silver sedan that first time we talked. I remember it clear as day now.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter, amazed. Before I can open the door and sneak outside to see the license plate, my brain kicks in with a very valid point. Thank God. Because that man still has a gun and is very obviously unhinged and under the influence. The dude also kind of threatened to kill me. Let’s not forget that salient point. “Security cameras,” I say, still talking to myself, as if saying it out loud makes me more likely to listen to myself. “There are security cameras out front of the building and they catch the street. Leif said so. Don’t go out there. Just stay put. Okay.”

  Thank God I listened to my better judgment for once.

  It takes hours for the detectives to get here. Then they have to contact the building super and get him to hand over the security footage and so on and so forth. Leif bursts into the condo just as they’re leaving. I have never been so happy to see someone in my life.

  “Anna, what the hell?” he says, wrapping me up in a tight hug.

  “You got my text?”

  He cups my face in his hands. “The one that said you’d like to talk to me sometime soonish? Yeah. Then your mom called and told me to get my ass home pronto.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you think maybe if it’s an emergency like someone threatening to kill you, you might call the shop direct next time?” he asks in a gentle though still chiding voice. “I don’t look at my cell when I’m with a client, okay?”

  “Okay. That makes sense.” I take a moment to think it through. “I don’t think my brain was working quite right after the surprise of it all. I wanted you here, but I . . .”

  “You what?”

  “I just wanted you here,” I admit, throat feeling choked again.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here. You’re kind of spun out, huh?”

  “Just a little,” I admit, sliding my arms around his waist. My hands are still shaking a little and giving them something to do helps a lot. “They have his name, and they know the car. They’re hoping to go pick him up now. I’ll feel better once he’s in custody.”

  “I bet.”

  “Never had anyone threaten to kill me before.”

  “Let’s hope it never happens again.”

  “I can’t believe he came here and did that,” I say, voice full of fear and wonder. “If he hadn’t, no one would have ever known he caused that accident. What an idiot.”

  “Drugs can make you paranoid as all hell. Part of his mind probably thought you were just waiting to bring down his whole world or something.” Leif rests his cheek atop my head. “When I find out who let him in the building, I’m going to have some stern words with them.”

  “Yeah.” Just listening to his heart beating strong and steady against my ear makes me feel better. “Oh, by the way, I’m sorry about last night and I love you.”

  The man freezes.

  “Okay?”

  “Are you in serious
shock or anything?” he asks carefully.

  “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I can admit when I’m wrong,” I say, somewhat churlishly. Just because.

  “Yeah, it was more the other thing you said.” He rubs a hand up and down my spine with brisk, sure movements. “The second thing.”

  “Oh, that.” I sigh. “Well, when your life flashes before your eyes for probably the second time in a year, it clears away a lot of the bullshit and debris.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I was neither looking to fall in love with someone right now nor particularly wanting to, but here we are and I’m done lying about it. To myself and to you.”

  “You know I was going to tell you last night?” he asks, pulling back to show me the sly smile on his gorgeous face. “That’s why you freaked out and started babbling about dinner, right?”

  “Maybe. All right, yes. I just wasn’t quite ready to hear it.”

  “I had it all worked out and everything. You would’ve been the first woman I’ve said it to in about a decade.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” he says. “I wasn’t angry with you, exactly. A bit frustrated, perhaps. I get why you’d want to take your time and it’s perfectly understandable. Just needed to get my thoughts in order and shit. Then the meds and the general excitement of the day and all kicked in and I fell asleep. With all of the fucking we’ve been doing lately I may have needed it. You’re very demanding.”

  “That’s a very valid reason. But I hated sleeping apart from you. My brain may have been spinning wildly out of control without you.”

  “Let’s not do it again, then.” He smiles again. “I do love you, you know?”

  “I know.” And I’m smiling too. In fact, I’m grinning like a lovesick fool.

  “Good.”

  “Saying I love you and getting into fights.” I make a humming noise. “I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

  “Not even a little.”

  He presses his lips against mine, soft and sweet. It’s a kiss so perfect it scatters the memories of any that came before. And if this is the man I get to kiss for the rest of my life, hot and heavy or soft and sweet, I’ll be very happy indeed.

 

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