by Chelle Bliss
Dale kept quiet and folded his arms across his large chest, his expression shifting from surprised to soft worry. He covered his mouth with his fingers as he watched me, ignoring the constant vibration of his phone; watched and waited for an explanation he had to know I wanted to make.
I obliged, shooting my gaze from my folded hands in front of me on the table to his face. When I spoke, my voice was level. “What I’ll accept has changed, and I’m not gonna go back.”
Another vibration from his cell and I wondered why Dale ignored it. It could have been his SEAL brothers. He always answered for them. It could have been his kid sister back home in New Orleans. It could have been Kane, but something told me Dale knew who had been calling. He knew and made a point not to answer.
“You know, if I was different… If things were…” He looked down, shifting in his seat, looking uncomfortable, like his jacket had suddenly grown too small for him.
Dale wasn’t good at apologies. He wasn’t good at talking, not about stuff that mattered. He was so scared by it that he hadn’t even mentioned what might have happened if no one had shown up to pick a fight at the cabin. That’s why we were here. I’d gotten tired of waiting for him to stop making excuses. I was tired of those improbable maybes.
“If I was…different…”
“But you’re not, and you know it.”
I couldn’t hear it. Not again. The excuses never changed. They hadn’t when he’d banged on my door after he left the hospital, begging for me to take care of him. They hadn’t when I’d spotted him and Trudy on the set the day he returned to work. They hadn’t when he’d left drunk messages on my cell after I’d left for Portland. They wouldn’t now.
He opened his mouth but didn’t speak.
My head shake kept him from doling out another excuse that wouldn’t matter. “You aren’t going to be who you can’t be. You aren’t going to…”
I wouldn’t do it for him.
Couldn’t.
I’d helped Dale through a lot of his shit.
I’d been his best friend, but I had to draw the line.
For my own damn sanity, I had to draw the line somewhere.
“It…tore me up.” The words left his mouth in a bundle, a rush of syllables that were sounds through a long breath. Dale’s features twisted, and the indistinct lines around his eyes deepened. The frustration and exhaustion taking over his face as though he’d rather punch something than say what was on his mind. When his cell vibrated again, he silenced it, holding it in his left hand as he spoke. “That day. You were gone. I went to your place, and you were just…gone. You just… You left. Me.”
Another ring. This one immediately going off again the second Dale silenced it. I knew who it was and why Dale was so adamant about not taking the call. He didn’t fight me when I jerked the phone from his hand, but he did hold his breath. He watched me as I read Trudy’s name and the local number across the screen.
Holy hell.
A year later and that evil cow was still in the picture.
“Yeah, well, tore me up to hear you call that bitch your wife again.” I threw his phone at him, and he caught it. “Guess we’re even now.” I ignored him as he called after me, throwing a ten onto the counter as I left.
Trudy could have him.
I was done with Dale Hunter for good.
4
Dale
Didn’t much see a point in weddings.
Hell, I didn’t much see a point in marriage, but then, it was that attitude that left me sitting on my own yesterday morning as Gin marched right out of the diner.
Fucking Trudy.
I swear to Christ, my ex-wife was a cancer that had no damn cure. She’d shown up last year when I’d landed in the hospital after some mafia asshole didn’t get the hint that Kiel’s woman didn’t want him.
I’d been protecting the people I cared about, Gin among them. Hopped up on morphine, I forgot myself and went all moony and stupid when Trudy showed up.
That had started all sorts of hell with Gin.
It had taken all of six hours for me to cut that devil loose once the meds wore off.
“You can’t leave,” she’d told me. Her ironed scrubs and hospital badge without a spot on them, like always. Told me enough that Trudy probably still wasn’t much of a fan of hard work, even at her nursing job.
“I got it covered.”
“But I thought we… I mean, you and me…”
She hadn’t taken too kindly to how loudly I’d laughed in her face, but it got her away from me. It cut her loose of whatever hold she was angling to have on me again. Took a threat against her freedom and her daddy to finally be rid of her. That and security on the set to ban her. Woman just couldn’t get the point, but even that didn’t keep Gin from leaving.
Had no clue why Trudy was blowing up my phone again. Or why in God’s name Gin had to see that nonsense right when I was working up the nerve to spill some heavy shit to her.
She wasn’t interested in what I had to say.
Not if the way she was carrying on told me anything, and fuck me, it did.
If I was being honest, I couldn’t fault Carelli or any man for wanting Gin. She was beautiful, that was true enough, and I’d know. Women all over the world were beautiful. I’d been to enough places. Seen enough of them to say for sure that every part of the world had beauty. I’d seen exotic Sudanese women with flawless onyx skin and luscious mouths. Nordic women with hair the color of straw and eyes like ice. I’d seen Colombian women with thick, corkscrew hair and skin the color of a fawn. Welsh women with pale, smooth, alabaster skin and hair the color of a gun barrel. All were beautiful. All had held my notice, kept it for a while, but none had taken hold of me like Gin.
None had ever made me think there could be another chance, a life outside of the disaster I’d made for myself.
It had been subtle. So subtle I hadn’t realized what was happening until it was too late—asleep on my sofa with my best friend curled up next to me and an old Clint Eastwood movie playing in the background. She wasn’t hard edges then. She was calm, cool, and at peace. I’d try to shake off the growing attraction, even though I’d caught on to how she felt a solid year before I’d had similar thoughts, but it just wouldn’t go away. With Gin’s body leaning against mine, I felt something I’d never once felt in my life—peace.
Now, I couldn’t even get her to look at me. I didn’t have a single idea how to change that shit either. She’d avoided looking at me for longer than ten minutes since she’d left the diner yesterday morning. She didn’t bother saying much at the rehearsal or at the wedding tonight.
I knew time was slipping away from me.
She danced in the middle of the banquet hall, place stupid with folks dressed in monkey suits and fancy dresses to celebrate Kane and Kit’s wedding. The music was loud, the food was abundant, and the women were beautiful. But the only one who held my attention was the redhead in the middle of the dance floor laughing with her friends, her hands over her head as the music thumped and beat my senses like a fucking drum. This wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I couldn’t move from my spot. Not with Gin twisting and shimmying the way she was, looking as beautiful as she did.
She and Cara had their hair up. Cara was pregnant. Looked beautiful and glowed. She fit the Grecian goddess theme both women had going with the dresses Kit picked for her bridesmaids. But the gold color suited Gin better.
Where Cara’s round belly protruded and made her look like some sort of fertility goddess, Gin’s hugged her breasts, dipped low, showed off what I’d only guessed she had going on under all her T-shirts and flannels she preferred to wear on set. It did something to my head watching her. Being this close to her, seeing her like I never had before, I realized I’d underestimated everything I thought I knew about her.
“You know, Hunter, I can’t blame you.”
Johnny Carelli didn’t know shit about me. He might have learned what he could from Kiel. Maybe he had people who cou
ld find out a thing or two, but there wasn’t enough money—no amount of mob money anyway—to get my file. He stood next to me, his elbow grazing my forearm as we both watched Gin dancing with her friends. It took effort not to sock him in the jaw.
“She’s bella. Sweet. Smart.”
“Plenty of beautiful, sweet, smart women for you in New York, Carelli.” I didn’t bother to look at him when he nodded. I could make out his grin and quick shrug. “Maybe you should go back there and find one for yourself.” I turned, hating to break my appraisal of Gin, but I needed this asshole to see my face, to see the threat in my eyes when I made it.
He watched me, holding up a finger when one of his men stepped to his side. “Easy, Angelo,” he told the guy before he looked up at me. “Hunter and I are just having a conversation.”
“That what we’re doing?”
Carelli moved the ice around in his glass, gaze slipping to the dance floor before he looked at me again. His mouth held an easy smile I knew he didn’t mean. “It’s true. New York has plenty of beautiful women. Plenty to keep me company, and if I’m lucky, that’ll include our favorite redhead.” He lifted his glass to Gin, offering her a smile.
There was an uneasy grin on her face when I glanced at her, like she didn’t understand why I was standing in front of Carelli and what we had to say to each other. But then Kit pulled Gin away from the dance floor, shoving her bouquet into her hand as they moved toward the bandstand and Kit landed in Kiel’s lap. Kane knelt in front of her, trying to get at her garter under her skirts.
“That’s not Gin,” I told Carelli, looking away from the crowd. The threat itched on my tongue, ready to come out in a whip of anger and curses to make this asshole understand I wasn’t fucking around. “If you had any idea about her, you’d know she doesn’t do well in the city.”
“She’s done well in Portland, heading her own crew for the network.” Carelli handed his man his glass and took a step. He didn’t touch me but was close enough to put me on alert.
“Portland ain’t New York, not by a mile.” I came closer too, hands in my pockets, irritated when I remembered I wore a stupid suit and not my jeans and boots. It would be easy to trounce this asshole if I weren’t worried about losing traction in these stupid shoes.
“Maybe not.” His eyebrows moved together as the crowd at our side began a countdown. “But that won’t stop me from offering her a spot on the new rehab show I’m producing. She’ll be great at it, and it will give her opportunities Portland can’t.” He leaned forward, and he ran his gaze over my face. “It’ll give her opportunities nothing or nobody on the West Coast can give her.”
There was a roar from the crowd, a lot of squealing laughter, and I had to remind myself I couldn’t fight this bastard in the middle of my boss’s wedding. It wouldn’t look good in front of the network bigwigs sitting at two tables across the room. Plus, I didn’t much care for the idea of Kane or, hell, worse than him, Kit threatening my balls if I ruined their wedding reception.
Carelli’s stare shifted, his eyes moving to the right, over my head, and then something slapped against my neck. I jerked a hand up, not taking my gaze from his smug grin.
“Congratulations.” He nodded at the fabric I grabbed as I pulled it off my shoulder. “Looks like you’re next.” Then the asshole walked away.
I stood there holding Kit’s blue silk garter between my slack fingers.
5
Dale
“Well, I’m gonna miss you.” Kit was a little drunk. Her words came out as if they’d been lodged in her throat. She leaned on Gin like her feet could use a break. But I caught the frown she wore and the way she looked on the verge of tears.
The place was dark, the crowd thick, but even I, dense as I was sometimes, could make out a teary-eyed woman when I spotted one. But Kit’s tears and the pause in her wedding day glee wasn’t what had my throat knotting up.
“You can visit me, you know,” Gin said, talking over the music still pulsing around the reception hall. “New York is just a plane ride away.”
That did it.
Throat knotted, stomach gurgling, chest twisting like a broken Slinky.
“It’s just so…so quick.” Kit led Gin closer to the door.
I stood inside it, against the wall in the lobby, doing my best to catch the breeze from the half-open door. Shit was stuffy in that hall and stupid with women who had gotten more annoying the longer the night went on. Liquor made inhibitions fly right out the window, and Neva had downed about six of those pink drinks in the champagne flutes. That woman had a strong grip for someone so tiny.
“I know. It’s crazy, right?” Gin said, reminding me that she was leaving and doing it quickly. “But I gotta go, don’t I? I need to move on from…”
“Everything?” Kit asked.
“Yeah. Everything.” There was a little too much breath in that answer. Too much meaning that I worried was wrapped up in me and my bullshit.
Shit. Carelli wasted no time. I glanced into the hall, scanning the room for that bastard, spotting him dancing with Lexi in the middle of the dance floor. Good. That might buy me some time. She’d had two more of those drinks than Neva, as far as I spotted.
Gin nodded to Kit as the bride was pulled away from her, and the redhead slipped into the hallway. I took my chance, following behind Gin. Had no clue what I might do or how I’d handle myself, but I had to say something. Had to at least try. The way Carelli was moving, he’d probably pack her up and have her on the next flight to New York, and then where would I be?
She headed toward the ladies’ room, greeting several members of the crew as she passed them, then stopped in the middle of the hall when Asher and his girl Lydia spotted me.
“Dale, hey, man,” the kid said, looking away from Gin to wave at me.
“Bowtie,” I greeted, sticking with the nickname Kane had given him when he showed up on set sporting suspenders and a damn bow tie—hipster bullshit that the kid had thankfully retired. The nickname stuck, though. Asher stood across from me as I leaned against the wall, and Gin spared a look as I watched. My attention was only on her as she excused herself and let Lydia follow her into the bathroom. I got landed with the kid.
“Some party, right?” Asher nodded down the hall. He wasn’t the same annoying little shit he had been when we first got stuck with him. “Hey, you caught the garter. Why aren’t you wearing it?” But he was still annoying.
I cocked my eyebrow at him.
He grinned, raising his hands to disregard his own question. “Can’t believe Kane and Kit…” Then he was off.
I’d only needed to add a few nods, one or two “yeps” maybe a “no shit?” here and there for the kid to keep talking. He could go on forever if you’d let him. The only space I had in my head was for watching the door and grabbing Gin as soon as she left the bathroom.
“No shit?” I said when Asher looked at me, ignoring his nod as the door opened. I caught Gin when she tried to slip by us. “Catch you later, kid. I gotta have a chat with Gin.” I offered Lydia a nod then moved farther down the hall, ignoring the low curses Gin muttered as we came to a darkened room at the end of the hallway.
She didn’t fight me. I knew if she wanted to get away from me, she could manage that easy enough. I’d seen her take down a 225-pound rugby player that got a little handsy one night in Tacoma. Coors Light bottle straight to his junk. Gin didn’t have a bottle on her, but she grew up in the system. She could handle me well enough if she wanted to get away from me.
“Five. Damn. Minutes,” she said when I closed the door behind us, and the overhead motion sensor lit up the dimmers. “I mean it, Hunter. Five.”
Shit. She threw my surname at me. My “Motherfucker, I’m gonna cut you” warnings were sounding.
“Fine. I’ll get to it,” I told her, feeling stupid and twisted up and, yeah, okay, jealous that Carelli had managed to convince her she’d do better away from Seattle, from her friends, from the job she loved, from the home she kne
w. From me. It hadn’t been hard to do. “Gingerb…” I clammed up, taking the glare she gave me as another warning. “You can’t go to New York.”
Gin blinked, taking a step back like I’d gotten my hands on sensitive information above my security level. Damn that. My paygrade was higher than hers.
“How the hell did you hear about that?”
“I got ears. Besides, that asshole practically announced it not two hours ago.” She nodded, stepping away from me with her arms folded, gaze down like she needed to take a second and not look at me. She didn’t react when I stepped closer. So close that I caught something that smelled like flowers coming off her neck. It made my mouth water. “You…you can’t go,” I tried again.
Gin jerked her gaze at me. “Why the hell not?”
The memory was fuzzy. It came back to me in fragmented images, but I remembered kissing Gin that night on Kane and Kiel’s balcony. I just couldn’t help myself. Gin had stayed with me, keeping watch. We drank coffee spiked with whiskey and watched the perimeter at three in the morning, talking about nothing at all, listening to the forest around us, side by side. There was nothing to say then. Just the sound of our own breathing and the heat between us to keep us company. The day and the whiskey we’d poured into our coffee had gotten to her, and Gin had leaned against me as she started to nod off. I hadn’t hated the way it felt, having her light weight against me, feeling the curve of her breast against my arm.
I’d kissed her because it wasn’t in me to stop myself. There’d been too much wanting. Too much hoping. Too much wondering and I didn’t think. Her eyes had slipped closed, and that beautiful face covered with moonlight made her look fucking sweet and beautiful, and I…just needed to kiss her. Soft, like. Simple. Because I wanted her. Because I suspected she wanted me too.
That night, I took just a little bit of her.
Wanted that again. Right now.