by K. C. Crowne
"The last owner was a bit neglectful," Harold explained as he flicked on the lights.
As the room became bathed in the electric glow of the overhead fluorescent bulbs, Gabby gazed around in awe. "Wow, it's wonderful," she said. "Just what I always wanted my store to look like."
"It's ideally outfitted for someone looking to start an outdoor sporting business, but you could always gut the place and start fresh," Jackson suggested.
"Oh, no. There’s no need for that. It's absolutely perfect in every way."
She looked like a kid at Disneyland running from room to room and shelf to shelf, pulling open all the doors while oohing and aaahing at everything she found.
"Oh my God look at this! Wouldn't this make a terrific office? And look at that! I could put a changing room in there. I could put in a fancy sofa and decorate it like a winter wonderland."
Harold's eyes met mine. He knew she was sold on the place.
"I'll let you have a look around on your own for a little while," he said and stepped outside to make a call.
I caught up with Gabby in the storeroom as she ran her fingers down the walls.
"The walls are even the same shade of blue I always imagined them to be," she murmured, smiling to herself. "What are the chances of that? It's like someone 3D printed what was in my brain and placed my dream store right in front of me. I just don't believe it."
"So...you'll buy it?"
The enthusiasm in her face fell and she sighed. "How am I supposed to do that? I don't have the money."
"Like I said, you could always get a loan."
She began picking at her fingernails anxiously, a habit she hadn’t had before.
When did she start doing that?
“And I'd have to move up here," she said. "That would mean breaking my lease."
"So break it."
She looked up at me and frowned. "Everything's so easy for you, isn't it?"
Everything but you, I thought.
Chapter 9
Gabby
He was looking at me like he expected me to jump for joy and buy the store at the drop of a hat, but was he not listening to me? Did he not realize that I would have to drop everything and move up here? And how exactly was I going to afford it all?
"No," he said. "Not everything is easy."
His eyes met mine with an intensity that held my gaze and sent a ripple down to my stomach.
"But you're a smart girl, Gabby. You could run this place, no problem. And what's keeping you in Denver anyway? Some low-paying office job you hate?"
"And my parents."
"They wouldn’t want you to realize your dreams?"
Of course they would. Not to mention, ever since they'd retired, they spent most of the year in Florida or going on cruises. They weren’t feeble and homebound.
"Look, this place is freakin' incredible. I love it. Really, I do. But it's not practical to just move here."
"If you're worried about finding a place to stay, you could always...” His voice trailed off.
“Always what?” I asked, my voice suspicious.
“Move in with me."
At first, I thought I must have heard wrong because no one would ever say something so stupid.
"I'm sorry, I thought I just heard you say I could move in with you,” I repeated, sarcasm dripping from my lips. “But of course you wouldn't say that because that would mean you had officially lost your fucking mind."
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, all cocky confidence and that wicked smirk on his face that always hit me right in the heart.
The sight of him was appealing to the reptilian part of my brain that made my cheeks flush and my panties wet.
Get a grip of yourself. Don't get sucked in by that body of his or that flirty smile. You’re not some dumb teenager anymore.
I straightened, crossed my arms defensively and looked him dead into his eyes. "I'm not buying this building, and I'm sure as shit not moving in with you."
"Fine," he said with a shrug. "But if you change your mind, the offer still stands."
"Pffft. Believe me, I'm not changing my mind." I walked outside and shook Harold's hand. "It's wonderful," I said. "But it's just not the right time for me. Sorry."
"That's a shame. Of course, I'd be happy to negotiate on the asking price. After all, there's always wiggle room for a friend of Jackson's. How does knocking off ten percent sound?"
"Ten percent?”
That changed things. He looked as though he was desperate to sell me the building and would happily knock off thousands from the asking price without being prompted.
No, don't do it. Don't fall for it. Move here and Jackson will be in your life again. You don't want that, do you? You don't want your past creeping up on you.
"Sorry," I said. "I really wish I could, but I can't. I appreciate your offer, though."
"Oh, very well," Harold sighed. "Please call me if you change your mind."
I walked back to the truck where Jackson was waiting for me. He shot me an expectant look, but he knew he'd blown it. I cranked the heat up and watched the snow batter the windshield before melting into slushy piles around the wipers.
"Feel like grabbing lunch somewhere?" he asked.
"Actually, can you just take me back to Jared's?"
"Sure."
We drove in silence until we pulled up in front of the apartment complex.
"That building could have been yours," he said. "Still could be."
"And what comes with that? A place in your bed?"
"That's not what—"
"I can see right through you, Jackson.”
“I was just trying to help you. You said you wanted a store, so I took you to one. I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you sign the papers.”
"No, but you certainly pushed hard enough. And for what? Do you really want to see me succeed, or do you just want me back in your bed?"
"What the fuck, Gabby? I'm just trying to help you here."
The anger was blazing in his eyes again, but I didn't have time to appreciate how it made his face come alive with raw power that set me on fire. I climbed out of the truck and slammed the door.
"Thanks for breakfast," I said.
I walked away, leaving him staring after me. From behind me, I could hear the sound of his truck accelerate before speeding away angrily.
Move in with him? He must be a nutjob if he thought I'd just say yes to that.
I pressed the buzzer for Jared's apartment with a heavy heart.
He's crazy. He's actually crazy.
Jared was waiting for me at the front door with a coffee in his hand.
"Hey Jared.”
"You okay? You've been gone for like two hours. And where's breakfast?"
I looked down at my empty hands and felt like an idiot. "Uh, the bakery was closed."
"Really? And the store at the end of the road?"
"Yeah, that too. Something about the terrible weather."
"Aw, damn. No worries. We can all head down to the diner."
"No!" I blurted a little too forcefully. "I mean, you two go ahead. I think I'm just gonna stay in and take a nap and warm up in bed. I'm freezing. Can't feel my fingers."
We both looked at Carly, who was at least sitting up now. She shrugged and gave a pathetic thumbs up as, though she had to muster all her strength to raise her hand.
"I'll grab my coat," Jared said. "Come on, Carly."
Five minutes later they were shuffling out the door, and I waved to them from the living room window. The snow was getting heavier by the minute and the depressing realization that Roxi Lane's show might be canceled became a reality.
Rubbing my frozen fingers together, I shuffled into the bedroom and jumped beneath the duvet. My skin was almost purple from the cold, my limbs creaking with the effort of moving. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so cold.
Sinking beneath the covers with a shiver, I gradually started to feel my limbs thaw out.
I probably had at least a couple hours alone before Carly and Jared came back. That gave me times to think, time to process what had just happened.
I couldn't believe how utterly insane Jackson was, thinking we could somehow pick up where we left off. Like I could just move in, just work across the road from him and pretend everything was perfect.
What was he thinking?
But at the same time, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked as he sat across from me, frothed milk stuck to his top lip and that cocky smile I'd always adored spread across his features.
When we were together, I'd thought he was perfection, but I could never have believed he could look any better. War had aged him and brought a serious, dark glint to his eye, but the maturity suited him, made him harder, angrier, and so, so much sexier.
Once again, my hand drifted downward between my legs, and there was no one in the apartment to interrupt me.
I shouldn't feel like this.
I shouldn't still be this attracted to him.
But don’t you remember the way he looked at you? The way he kissed you. The way he saved you from that little creep.
I closed my eyes tight and tried to stop my hand, but it was too late. It was already sinking deep between my legs into the wet, hot slickness that waited for it.
There's nothing wrong with him remaining a fantasy, I reasoned with myself.
Circling my clit with my fingertips, I massaged myself, feeling a deep, hot wetness flow out of me. I could feel my body begin to reach a fast, desperate climax already and slowed down for a moment.
"Oh God."
I remembered the way he held me in his truck, how his heavy, muscular hand had squeezed my thigh before making its way up. I remembered the feel of his tongue as it brushed mine, low rasping groans escaping his mouth as he kissed me tenderly.
Then I remembered all the times we had been together. The shape of his naked body as it lay on top of mine, the feel of his hands gripping my sides as he entered me. The size of his thick cock as it hardened.
He used to make love to me slowly, softly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. But would he still be like that? Or would he be rougher now?
As a hard, fast orgasm approached, I threw my head back and clenched my eyes tight, thinking of him flipping me onto my stomach and holding me in place as his lips drifted down the side of my neck.
My fantasy didn't show a young, fresh boy eager to please me. It showed an older, rougher Jackson who knew how to dominate me. I imagined him entering me roughly from behind with one hand pulling my hair while the other squeezed my breast. I thought of him fucking me hard, groaning and grunting as he filled me up time and time again as I screamed and cried out for more.
Down below, I massaged myself harder, my fingers growing wetter as I became hot and engorged. I imagined him inside me as my thighs trembled and the bed creaked beneath me I came with a violent shudder that knocked the breath out of my lungs as my whole body shook. A scream escaped my mouth, something that had never happened on my own. Then I collapsed on to the bed, sweat clinging my hair to my face as any trace of the cold had dissolved from my body.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I gasped, opening my eyes and seeing stars.
For a long while, I stared at the ceiling, wondering how an orgasm so good could come from my own hand.
Just imagine what Jackson could do to you in real life.
I pushed the thought away and rolled over to the window where the snow was battering against it in clumps.
Don't go there. He can only be in your fantasies.
As the wind howled outside, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep and instant sleep.
Chapter 10
Jackson
"You all right, buddy?" Dylan asked as he swaggered into the office. "You look kinda distracted."
"Just tired," I said.
"Don't tell me, you've been up all night getting busy with your girl."
"No. I haven't."
I knew he was only poking fun at me, but I wanted him to shut the hell up. She wasn't my girl; she'd made that perfectly clear.
You're an idiot. It was asking her to move in with you that did it. You scared her off.
But that really wasn't what I'd intended. Genuinely, I just wanted to help her set up a business and have somewhere to stay. Not that she'd ever believe that.
Lucas was next to saunter into the office, looking as fresh and full of himself as always.
"Where's Jared?"
"Hungover," Dylan answered. "I bumped into him and Carly in the diner earlier. The pair of them look like hell."
"He's still young. He'll learn.”
Our office was situated in the closest thing Station Springs had to an industrial row. It felt weird getting a nice pristine office with immaculate cubicles like they had in more ordinary businesses. We were soldiers, used to sleeping on the hard-packed dirt. No fancy office with mahogany desks and a nice water feature would do for us. We got straight down to gritty business, and that meant we needed premises that would reflect our no-nonsense, hard as nails ethos.
So it made sense we set up shop in the old arches beneath the ancient, unused railway bridge that led from the oldest part of Station Springs into the heart of the mountains. People thought we were nuts when we bought it.
"You won't get much passing trade in a place like that," people told us.
But that wasn’t what we wanted. We wanted privacy and anonymity, and looking a little intimidating didn't hurt either. After we'd moved in, Dylan volunteered to be his own version of an interior decorator and fitted the place with steel desks, a large leather couch, and a flat screen TV that looked more like a cinema screen. It was all hard edges, cool colors, and pure masculinity without a single cushion or scented candle in sight.
In one corner of the main room lay a plethora of gym equipment that spilled out toward the office area where Lucas, as the most sensible member of the team, kept fastidious accounts and records of all our clients.
I sat on the couch watching Dylan sip a protein shake as he lay on the bench ready to press a hundred pounds. Behind him, the news played on the TV where an anchor was freaking out about the upcoming snowstorm.
"Why the hell won't they shut up about the weather?" Dylan moaned. "It's not the first time it's snowed."
"It's the first time it's snowed like this," Lucas pointed out from the back of the room.
He was tapping away at the computer with a serious expression on his face.
"I reckon they'll be canceling Roxi Lane tonight.”
"No way. Thousands of people have come to town to see her. They'll go nuts if they can't see their beloved Roxi."
"I don’t understand what the big deal about her is," Dylan said, grunting as he lifted the barbell above his chest. A thick vein was popping out on the side of his head with the effort as he strained his whole body.
"Don't let the wife hear you say that," Lucas commented. "She's supposed to be going tonight. I think she loves Roxi more than me."
He yawned and rubbed at his eyes.
"Why are you so tired?" I asked. "Don't tell me you were out last night too."
"Nah. My youngest had a colicky tummy last night. Had to sit up all night with her."
"Rock-n-roll," Dylan jeered.
"Did you just say tummy?" It was so weird to hear a guy his size with a voice so deep say the word.
He ignored us both and continued tapping on his keyboard, the look on his face becoming increasingly serious.
"What are you up to?" I asked. "I thought today was a paperwork free day."
"It is, but I just got an email from that old dude Higgins, you know, the barber over on North Street?"
"What does he want?" Dylan asked, sitting up. "Complaining about those Godforsaken rapscallions on his street again?"
The old man was well-known for constantly calling the police every weekend if he so much as glimpsed a teenager in his neighborhood. And when the cops stopped listening, he
turned to us.
"Actually, I think he's actually onto something," Lucas said.
"Really?"
"Uh huh. Come look at this."
I grabbed a seat beside him and looked at the screen. “What's that? Photographs?"
"Yep. Looks as though the old boy has been doing some intelligence gathering of his own."
"That's our job," I said. "What does he think he's doing?"
"Catching mobsters, apparently."
"What?" Dylan laughed as he abandoned his weights and joined us. "What the hell is he up to?"
The three of us crowded around the screen as Lucas clicked open a series of JPEGs.
"Okay, apparently Higgins said there's some dodgy shit happening at the hotel across the road from him."
"It's a hotel," I laughed. "There's probably all sorts of things happening there."
"I mean with the Giannis."
Dylan and I shared a confused look then moved in closer to the screen
"He's been seeing this car the last few days. Pulling up at all times of the day and night and hovering about town.
"Silver Mercedes with tinted windows," Dylan observed. "That could be anyone."
"Maybe. But check out the license plate," Lucas said, moving his hand over to the mouse.
Zooming in on the picture, the license plate filled the screen, grainy and distorted, but it was impossible to ignore the numbers and letters that flashed in front of us.
M4R10 G
"Mario Gianni."
"That little shit Benny Junior's older brother."
We all looked at one another, concerned.
“Call Jared,” Lucas said. “He needs to see this. We need to act quickly.”
“On it.”
I reached for my phone and dialed his number. When there was no answer, I sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose as a headache began, and looked out the window.
The snow was falling heavier now, the sky vanishing into a gray haze while the street outside disappeared from view.
“He's not picking up,” I said. “I'll head over to his apartment myself.”
“Good,” Lucas said, his eyes still fixed on the image. “Dylan and I will put our heads together. Figure out what our next plan of action should be.”