by Skye Jordan
“Ouch.” This comes from Laiyla, and when I look at her, she’s wincing.
“What?”
“You’ve never been a pleaser, have you?”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“When you’ve been conditioned to believe your value is based on how well you’re liked, what she just did—skipping the speaker introduction, putting down the mic, and walking past him as if he’s not there—probably felt like committing hari-kari to Chloe. Add to that her cell-deep belief that we are all one and that everyone deserves to be treated as we want to be treated, and the simple disrespect toward Bodhi is a double whammy for her.”
I stare at Laiyla’s profile, trying to distill all she said. “You’re saying Chloe feels bad for not introducing him.”
She laughs softly. “That’s a drastic oversimplification, but basically, yes.”
I tip my head. “Then why isn’t she concerned about having me like her?”
“Because that”—she lifts her chin toward the front where Bodhi is taking the stage—“left deep marks.”
I sigh. My hopes of getting a real shot with Chloe are dwindling, despite our freshly triggered chemistry. “How long do marks like that last?”
“Sorry, that I don’t know.”
7
Chloe
I feel like my head has finally slowed its spin. Like I can take a deep breath.
The young women I’m speaking with want to gossip, so I offer them each a business card with a discount code for three free months in my Spirit Junkie’s online membership and move on.
Gossip is something you can’t cure immediately by telling someone how it creates negative energy and hurts their ability to bring light into their lives. It’s a habit that takes work to break. And even then, it’s seductive. The ego is always trying to lure you back in to someone else’s drama so you feel better about yourself.
I take a breather from chatting and straighten up the dessert table. After two hours, the cakes, cookies, and pastries are almost gone, we’ve gone through several cases of wine, and I’m pretty wiped out.
One of the servers opens a fresh bottle of chilled Riesling, and I take a glass. Sipping, I scan the room. KT and Ben have headed home to put their girls to bed, and I pushed Laiyla and Levi out shortly after. Laiyla was exhausted from the prep and anxiety over her first big event in a realm she doesn’t completely understand and worried over how I’m dealing with Bodhi.
Bodhi is currently charming a group of attractive thirty-somethings who are hanging on his every word. Xavier, on the other hand, is laughing with a few women in their late forties, early fifties, despite being stalked and chatted up by every beautiful woman in the room.
He glances my way, catches my eye, and smiles. He’s been keeping his eye on me all night. Whenever Bodhi tries to initiate a conversation with me, Xavier’s right there, sliding his arm around my waist or taking my hand in his, threading our fingers, kissing my temple.
As I hold his gaze and return his smile, I feel something deep inside me ache for the kind of connection I’ve been avoiding for over a year. Despite starting off frustrated with him for perpetuating this false relationship, I see the wisdom in the gesture. It occurs to me that maybe he understands Bodhi better than I ever did. Xavier, after all, is an expert in liars and criminals.
But, as much as it pains me to admit, I see a change in Bodhi. He’s been respectful with my limits and hasn’t taken offense to Xavier claiming many rights Bodhi used to own exclusively. The clips of conversations I’ve picked up in passing show a man sincerely dedicated to discussing all aspects of spirituality in a personable way.
I catch glimpses of the man I fell in love with all those years ago and wonder if he’s telling the truth about changing his ways.
Xavier closes out the conversation he’s having and wanders toward me. His gaze slides directly to Bodhi, assesses, then returns to me as he approaches. “Ready to head out?”
I glance around the room and nod. I finish the wine in my glass and touch base with the resort’s catering staff before we leave.
Xavier curves his arm around my shoulders, I wrap mine at his waist, and we meander back down the main road toward my boat.
“You’ve gone above and beyond,” I tell him.
“Always happy to mess with the mind of a jackass.”
“You sure had your share of female admirers tonight. All ages too. I love the way you can talk to anybody. You know you can bail on these events anytime you want, right?”
He doesn’t answer, and when I look up at him, his gaze is distant. “And what if I don’t want to bail?”
I get the idea we’re not talking about the same thing, but I can’t address his topic, so I shrug. “Then you stay. You’re always welcome. You know that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Bingo.
We reach the dock, and his hand slides down my back, then he wraps his fingers around mine as we continue toward the boat. I’m still considering the “What if I don’t want to bail?” question when we arrive at my door.
“I wish I could explain how much your friendship means to me,” I tell him.
He steps close and frames my face with his hands. I realize this intimate proximity has become comfortable. After only a little over twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from having all my barriers up to not being able to find them at all.
“Am I ever going to make it out of the friend zone?” he asks.
My chest squeezes. “I hate the way friend zone sounds. Some friendships are so much more than others. There’s not always a way to describe the nuances in friendship. I care about you. I look forward to seeing you. I love our time together—”
He lowers his head and presses his mouth to mine. The action isn’t exactly shocking anymore, but there is still definite surprise, especially after the intensity of our kiss earlier in the evening. When I don’t pull away, the kiss turns sultry and seductive. Oh, so seductive. I love the feel of his mouth as much as the way he uses it.
“What about this?” he murmurs. “Do you love the way I kiss you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he teases me deeper, little by little, drawing me in, making me want more. The way his lips move against mine creates sensation after sensation that drift through my body and haze my brain. I can’t think. I can’t stop. His hands slide down my back. His arms wrap around my body and pull me against him. He’s a big guy, well over six feet, with a ton of muscle mass, and I feel so small in his arms.
My heart is pounding, and I can’t catch my breath. I swear every inch of my body is on fire.
He breaks the kiss and lifts me off my feet like I weigh nothing.
“Z?” I say, unsure what’s happening.
With one arm around my waist, the other hand slides down my thigh, under my skirt and hooks behind my knee. He pulls my leg to his hip, and to balance myself, I do the same with the other.
He presses me back against the wall of the houseboat, then leans into me. There’s no mistaking the hard length of him pressed against the softest part of me. Lust springs through me like a geyser.
“Do you love the way I feel against you?” he asks, even as his hips make an erotically charged gesture.
Then both his hands are under my skirt, sliding along the backs of my thighs, taking my ass in both hands. And, Jesus, the way he moves makes me see stars. “Do you love the way I touch you?”
We need to stop. I need to stop. If we don’t, I’m going to have a very unexpected response to all this. A response I haven’t had in well over a year. My body doesn’t even remember this kind of passion. But then maybe that’s because I never had it with Bodhi.
Xavier kisses a path across my jaw and down my neck. His soft growl vibrates against my skin.
“Z?” My hands are in his hair. How did that happen? “Xavier?”
He lifts his head and meets my gaze with something I could only describe as devilish lust. “Do you?”
I don’t un
derstand. I can’t keep one thought straight. “What?”
His gaze lowers to my mouth again. “Love it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and give my head a shake. “I can’t think.”
His grin is fast and hot. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You also need to take it as an I’m not sure, because I can’t process what’s happening right now.”
His eyes close. His jaw ticks. But he eases me to my feet. “Then I guess you ought to think on it, because what’s between us is more than any description of friendship I’ve ever heard.” He cups my face in his hands and places a lingering kiss on my forehead. “It’s also not going away.”
8
Xavier
I’m coiled tight as I head to my car, curling and releasing double fists as an outlet for the tension in my body.
Walking away from her tonight is the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time. It physically hurts. It also kills me to know Bodhi hurt her so badly that she can’t seem to take a chance on anyone. Especially when that someone is me, a good friend and someone she cares about. Someone she also wants. There’s no disguising that fact.
All the fucking pieces are here, but she can’t seem to allow herself to put them together.
Voices drift to me from the main road, people making their way to the marina to load up in pleasure boats and return to their houseboats for the night.
I stop walking, not sure why at first. I glance back at Chloe’s boat. There’s one dim light on in the bedroom. I know she secured the doors, because I stood there and listened as she turned the locks. But my intuition is shooting off electrical currents in my brain, so I turn and head back to the boat.
On the deck, I ease into a chair in the shadows and wait. I easily spot Bodhi in the parking lot because he’s wearing a white shirt that screams “cult leader.” Muslin fabric, rounded collar, half sleeve, buttons halfway down the front.
I watch as he chats with several women. But instead of heading toward the dock where all the pleasure boats are waiting, he does exactly what I expect—he heads straight toward Chloe.
He either didn’t see my police unit still here or he’s here to talk to Chloe legitimately. I’m betting on the former. He showed no interest in getting within ten feet of me all night.
I pull my phone from my pocket, tap the camera, and start the video.
He’s not acting sneaky, just approaches the door, then stops. I remain motionless, just another shadow. Bodhi stares at the door, one hand rubbing his jaw, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to knock.
Instead of opening the screen to knock, he cranes his neck to peer through the front window. Anger surges through me, rushing my body with heat. I sure as hell hope Chloe’s changing for bed out of sight of this fucker.
I end the video. “Hey, Shannon.”
Bodhi startles and whips around to face me.
I stand and shove my phone into my pocket. “This looks like a peeping offense to me.”
“No, no, no,” he says, half laughing. “I know this doesn’t look quite right, but—”
The front door opens, and Chloe fills the doorway wearing a look of confusion and a T-shirt that hits her midthigh. “What’s going on?”
“I just stopped by to talk,” Bodhi says.
“Lie,” I say, deadpan. I look at Chloe. “He was looking in your window.”
Her eyes grow wide, and her gaze turns on Bodhi. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t want to knock if all the lights were out, that’s all.”
She pushes open the screen, steps onto the deck, and meets Bodhi’s gaze directly—or would have if his attention hadn’t dropped to the mouthwatering way this woman wears an oversized T-shirt. A shirt I can now see is mine because of the Wildfire Police Department logo on the upper left chest. I have no idea where she got it, but the sight makes my insides warm up again.
“Let me make myself clear,” Chloe says. “I will absolutely not put up with any bullshit. The next time you do anything the least bit off-color, I’m throwing you out and taking over the retreat. And that includes spending the night where you don’t belong. I won’t have these women victimized by someone they’re supposed to trust. Get back to your boat and stay there. If you want to talk to me, do it during regular event hours.”
“Of course.” He’s surprisingly contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, and I can see now how this could be taken the wrong way. It won’t happen again. We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”
When Bodhi steps off the far end of the dock and heads toward the last pleasure boat still here, Chloe says, “That was…odd.”
“It only seems odd to you because you don’t talk to liars every day.”
She meets my gaze, still puzzled.
“You don’t actually believe that shit, do you?” I ask, gesturing toward Bodhi’s exit.
“I don’t know what to believe. He’s not the arrogant man I walked away from, that’s for sure. He’s a lot more like the man I fell in love with, something I haven’t allowed myself to remember.”
I exhale frustration and rub my eyes. I’m not going to lecture her. That won’t solve anything. I drop my hand, and my gaze travels down her body and those long, tan, toned legs stretching on forever. “You look good in my shirt.”
Her confused gaze swings from me to her body, then back to me, this time with a smile. “You left it here the last time you went swimming. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
I laugh, an unexpected burst of relaxation from my chest.
“Look,” she says, “I appreciate having you in my corner, but I’m okay.”
I disagree, but I’m not going to start an argument after how well the night went between us. “Lock up.”
“I will.”
She closes the door, and I wait, listening to the locks turn before walking away from her for the second time tonight.
On my drive home, I leave the windows down to let the evening air cool my annoyance. I fill my lungs with the scent of freshly baled hay and sweet grass. I’ve discovered countless things I love about this small-town gig, and even though I’ve been saying I’m going to leave for San Francisco, I’m great at finding excuses not to. At least not yet.
My mind drifts back over the night and lands on Piper. It’s only a little after ten, so I decide to swing by her mom’s house. Better to explain what Chloe and I are doing now than later.
The subdivision is quiet. Karen’s SUV isn’t in the driveway, but every light in the small house is on, so I park at the curb and wander toward the front door. Some sort of rap-pop music streams from the open windows of Piper’s bedroom, along with female laughter.
I knock on the front door, and the laughter cuts out immediately. Then Piper’s feet sound on the wood floor.
It reminds me of better times, when Piper was little, when her father was alive. But now, instead of having Piper run at me so I can toss her in the air, the fifteen-year-old calls through the closed door. “Who is it?”
“Uncle Z.”
A moment of hesitation follows, confirming my gut feeling that Piper’s doing something she shouldn’t. She opens the door a few inches and stands in the gap. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“I think a better question is what are you doing?”
“Nothing, you know, just chillin’.”
I lift my brows. “Where’d your manners go?”
She shifts on her feet. “It’s just, you know, Mom’s not here, and she always says, ‘Don’t let anyone in while I’m gone.’”
“We both know I’m not ‘anyone.’ I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”
Her eyes go wide, and her voice dips. “Uncle Z.”
“If your mom’s not home, who’s here with you?”
“No one. Just me.”
Irritation springs to life. “Piper, what is it going to take for you to stop lying to me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stay in school,
kid,” I reach over her head and push the door open, “because you suck at lying.” I pass by her and call down the hall. “Whoever’s here, come out.”
Out saunters Willow Raven, a disaster waiting to happen. “If it isn’t the hottest cop in town.”
At sixteen, Willow has the body of a twenty-five-year-old and a reputation for using it indiscriminately. This isn’t the first time she’s sized me up as if she’s considering adding me to the notches in her bedpost.
Hands on hips, I meet Willow’s defiant gaze. “What are you girls up to tonight?”
“Nothing,” Piper answers immediately.
My gaze swings to Piper. “Does your mom know she’s here?”
“Of course.”
I slide my phone from my back pocket. “Then you won’t mind if I—”
“No,” Piper cuts in, her expression shifting from annoyance to fear. “Don’t.”
I look at Willow. “Time for you to leave.”
“Sure,” she says, running her tongue over her pierced bottom lip. “Can you give me a ride home, Officer?”
Knew that was coming. I lift my phone and speed-dial dispatch. “Sandy, it’s Xavier. Can you send any free unit to Piper’s house? Willow Raven needs a ride home. Thanks.”
The benefits of living in a small town, everyone knows where the trouble spots lie, and there’s always a unit somewhere nearby. In this case, right around the corner.
Willow gives a throaty laugh. “Afraid to be alone with me, Officer Wilde?”
“Uncle Z, come on,” Piper whines. “All we’re doing is listening to music.”
“Not by the smell of it.” The strange sweet scent in the air tells me they’ve been vaping.
Piper’s gaze drops to the floor.
“Piper tells me you and the yoga queen are getting busy,” Willow says. “She’s cool, I guess, but I’d leave you way more satisfied.”
“Willow, stop it,” Piper says, clearly disgusted. “He’s my uncle.”
The sound of movement draws my gaze toward the sliding glass door at the rear of the house. Then the familiar “Stop. Hands up. Let me see your hands.”