Trouble

Chapter Twelve


Mia



“My car or yours?” Jordan asks.
I look between his Mustang and my Mercedes.
The Mercedes that Oliver bought me two years ago. The day after he’d broken my arm.
Apparently he didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident.
It didn’t feel like an accident.
The car was supposed to be an apology.
All it did, all it does, is remind me of my weaknesses. Remind me of my life before now. Of every single beating before and after it.
It reminds me of him … them.
“Yours,” I reply. “If that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” Smiling, Jordan pulls his keys from the pocket of his jeans.
“I’ll pay for gas,” I say as I walk toward his car. I don’t want Jordan to think I’m taking advantage of his kind nature.
He stops by the hood, the smile quickly changing to a frown. “No way.” He shakes his head.
“Of course I’m going to pay for the gas you’re using to do me a favor.” I open the door and slide onto the leather seat.
The car dips as Jordan folds his tall, lean body into the car. “No way. I’m not taking any money from you for gas. End of.” His tone is forceful.
Instinctively, my shoulders pull in. The feeling of defeat washes over me.
Then out of nowhere, something spikes in me. Adrenalin floods my bloodstream, kicking my senses to life.
I know it’s only a small thing, and I know Jordan is trying to be kind in his own way … but I’m really tired of men telling me what to do and how things are going to be.
And I’m even more tired of the fact that I let them.
Well, no more.
I open the car door, climb out and shut the door behind me—a bit too hard—and head toward my car.
I know it looks like I’m overacting, but I’ve spent my whole life under-reacting. I need to start behaving like the woman I want to be, and this is me starting. Maybe it’s not the right way, but I’m new to this, and apparently my words don’t seem to work with Jordan, so I’m trying actions.
I hear his door open, and the sound of his confused voice follows me. “Mia, are you okay?”
“No.” I toss the word over my shoulder.
My body is trembling with nerves, but I hold firm.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds worried. I hear his door shut on a clunk.
I turn as I walk. “You. I don’t do well being told what to do.”
Wow. I can’t believe I just said that! That was awesome!
Face forward, I keep heading for my car.
“Okay…” He sounds confused. “And where are you going?”
“To Farmington. Alone.”
I hear his frustrated growl, then the sound of jogging footsteps over gravel heading my way.
I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t in my stomach. Or that my pulse is beating so loud it’s all I can hear.
I’ve just got my car door open when his hand comes on the door from behind me, holding it shut.
I bristle. He’s close. Millimeters away I’d say.
My body reacts with fear … and lust.
Quite an abundance of lust, in fact.
I know I find Jordan attractive—okay, I’ve got the serious hots for him, but the level of desire I feel right now is off the charts. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s coming off me in waves.
I’m all weak knees and wet panties. I’ve never felt this turned on before. One minute I’m pulling up my big girl panties, and the next I’m more than willing to drop them for him.
To say I’m confused is putting it mildly.
Getting back to my task at hand, I push all my confusing lusty feelings aside, take a deep breath in, square my shoulders, and turn around.
And … he’s smiling.
No, he’s grinning.
There’s something else in his eyes. I think I know what it is because it more than likely mirrors my own eyes right now, but I could be wrong.
I’m not exactly the most experienced when it comes to men.
And Jordan and me right now? Not a good idea. No matter how sweet, funny, and gorgeous he might be. Yes, he is the epitome of sex. So freaking hot. I bet he’s amazing in bed. I can only imagine what he looks like under those clothes of his…
I hear a low chuckle, and it snaps me out of my sex thoughts. I realize I’ve been ogling his body like a pervert.
Great. Just great.
My face flushes bright red. “Something funny?” I snap.
“Nope.” Shaking his head, he flashes me a glimpse of his white teeth.
I tilt my head to the side with my hands on my hips. “So, why exactly are you laughing at me?”
His eyes flicker down my body, then back up again. I feel it, like he’s just run his hands all over me.
“For a tiny thing, you sure can be feisty.”
Arguing the tiny part would be a moot point because I am vertically challenged. But a ‘thing’? Hmm … I don’t think so.
I fold my arms over my chest and straighten my back. “I’m not a thing.”
He eyes me for a long moment. His face suddenly a blank canvas. Then he leans down and says close to my ear, “Bad choice of words. You’re right. You are most definitely not a thing. You, Mia … are most definitely a woman.”
My stomach jolts, and I can’t help the gasp that escapes me. I press my thighs together.
From the laugh and cocky look on his face, he totally knows the effect he just had on me.
It annoys me.
And turns me on.
In equal parts.
Smiling, he runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. We’ll do this your way. You can pay for the gas.”
What?
What were we talking about again?
Oh, yeah. Paying for gas.
Wow. Well … that was easy.
I’ve never in my life won an argument. And that instantly makes me suspicious.
I narrow my gaze on him. “Why are you giving in so easy?”
“Why are you questioning it?”
“Because … uh … because…” Because this isn’t life as I know it. “Because the men I know don’t back down so easy.” They don’t back down ever.
Sorrow flickers briefly in his eyes. I hate the way it makes me feel.
Exposed and vulnerable.
The two things I really do not want to feel right now.
“Men you knew, Mia,” he says. “Not me. And surprisingly, I can compromise. Not all the time, so don’t go getting used to it.” He grins. “I just don’t want to spend the next however long disagreeing with you over this when I know I’m gonna end up giving into you anyway.”
“Because?”
Taking a step back, his arms fold over his broad chest.
“Because you’re a hard girl to say no to.”
Oh. Okay then.
I suddenly feel lightheaded.
And light-hearted.
“So are you going to take this win and get back in the car?” He sweeps a hand in the direction of the Mustang. “Or are you going to stand here all day being stubborn about it?”
I bite the smile that’s forcing its way onto my lips. “Well, I’m not one to gloat.” I throw him a smug grin as I walk past him, destination Mustang.
He’s quiet behind me. I only know he’s following from the crunch of the gravel under his feet.
“Did you know you swing your ass when you walk?”
What?
I stop, shocked that he’s just said that about my ass. And also a little turned on hearing him talk about my ass.
Turned on. Again.
Jesus.
I didn’t actually know that I swing my ass when I walk, but that’s beside the point. I scowl at him over my shoulder. “And your point is?”
“No point. Just an observation.” He holds his hands up in surrender, and his eyes crinkle from the smile on his face. “It’s kinda cute is all.”
“Cute?” I frown, ignoring the pull I feel for him in my lower half. “I’m not cute.”
“I never said you were cute. I said your ass-swinging was cute.” He gives me a wicked grin.
My face goes beet red. Embarrassed, I start walking again, ignoring his soft laughter behind me.
By the time I’ve reached his car, I’m feeling out of sorts. Vulnerable, edgy…
Horny.
Totally not how I expected to be feeling this morning. Jordan just seems able to throw me off kilter at any given notice. I’ve never known anyone like him.
And today, things between us have shifted. I’m not really sure where to, or what’s going on, but something is definitely different between us.
We get in the car at the same time. I buckle up as Jordan turns the ignition. The engine is rumbling, ready to go, but we don’t move.
I look across at him.
His head is tilted my way, his deep eyes staring at me, and he’s wearing an expression I can’t decipher.
“What?” I ask, feeling self-conscious. I push my short strands behind my ear, feeling myself heating under his stare.
He shakes his head, blinking himself free. “Nothing. I’m just really digging this assertive side of you.” A smile. Then he looks behind him and sets the car in reverse.
I’m left reeling.
Jordan digs me.
He digs me.
And just like that, the cold block of ice I carry around in my chest melts.

***

Jordan does most of the talking on the drive to Farmington. I think he’s doing it to keep my mind busy, and off what I’m going to Farmington for.
I was good until we got about ten minutes away from Farmington. I broke out in a cold sweat, and when we crossed the city limits a few minutes back, my heart went into overdrive. I’m pretty sure a panic attack is on the horizon.
It takes me a moment to realize the car has stopped.
“Are we here?” My eyes are wide and alert like a rabbit.
“A block away. I thought you might want a moment to yourself before we go to her house.”
“It might not be her.”
I look at him. I know there’s an edge of desperation in my eyes and voice.
“It might not be,” he says slowly. “But if it is?”
I shrug, forcing a casualness I don’t feel. “Then I’ve found my mother.”
We both stare ahead, sitting in silence.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
Jordan turns the engine on and pulls back out onto the street. A few minutes later he pulls up front a red brick house.
I turn to him. “Will you come with me?”
He smiles. “Already was.”
Taking a deep breath, I slip my sunglass on and climb out the car.
I hesitate at the top of the walk. Jordan takes my hand and tugs me forward.
Reaching the door, Jordan doesn’t let go of my hand as he leans across me and presses the bell. The scent of his aftershave momentarily soothes me.
“What do I say?” I whisper.
“Just ask if Anna Monroe lives here, and we’ll go from there.”
Meeting his eyes, I nod.
Then I hear footsteps in the hall. A figure approaches the door. My body freezes. Jordan gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re okay. I’m here,” he whispers softly.
The door opens, revealing a Chinese lady.
Nope. Not her.
Is it strange that I feel relief at this thought?
There’s definitely not a trace of Chinese in my pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Unless she’s not Anna Monroe.
I just need her to confirm this, and then I’m out of here.
“Can I help you?” she asks, eyes moving between Jordan and me.
“I was, um—” I clear my throat. “I, um…” Why can’t I get my voice to work?
“Does Anna Monroe live here?” Jordan’s voice come from beside me.
She blinks from me to Jordan. “Yes,” she answers slowly.
“Would it be possible to speak with her?”
“And you are…?”
“Sorry. My name is Jordan, and this is Mia.”
She shifts on the spot, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m Anna Monroe.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and then I’m out of there. Turning, and pulling my hand free from Jordan’s, I run down that path away from them both.
I know it’s wrong for me to abandon Jordan, but I can’t stop my legs from moving.
My heart is pounding. Blood is roaring in my ears. And all I want to do is eat.
And throw up.
I really need to throw up.
Climbing back into the safety of Jordan’s Mustang, I yank my sunglasses off, and sit on my hands, trying to steady my heart and calm the war raging on inside me.
Jordan gets in the car a few minutes later. He turns to me. “So … she’s not your mom.”
“What gave it away?”
I’m at an impasse at the moment. I either laugh or cry. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jordan, so laughter it is. It bursts out of me. I know I’m probably coming off as a little crazy, but I can’t seem to stop, or find the will to care.
When I finally regain control of myself, wiping my eyes dry on my hands, I find Jordan staring at me with an expression on his face that I’ve never seen before.
No one has ever looked at me like he is looking at me right now. Like he cares. Really cares.
He relaxes his gaze, a wicked grin sliding onto his lips. “You seem to be taking the disappointment well.”
His smile has me laughing again.
“Sorry, I abandoned you back there.” I gesture, still a little breathless from my crazy laughing.
“No worries. Come on.” He starts the car. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”
Food. Not a good idea for me right now.
“I’m not hungry.” I put my seatbelt on.
“Well, I am. You can watch me eat.” He flashes me those whites of his, and I’m too dazzled by him to disagree.

***

We end up in a coffee shop that Jordan seems to know well. Apparently, this place make the best Key Lime pie in the world.
I’ll have to take his word on it because eating right now is not a good idea, not while I’m with Jordan. I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop, and then I’ll end up exposing a part of myself that I never want anyone to see, especially not him.
“Guess it was a waste of time coming all the way out here.” I sigh.
“Depends on how you look at it.”
I rest my elbow on the table and prop my chin on my hand. “And how would you look at it?”
He leans back in his seat. “That it’s one less Anna Monroe on the list. Narrows the odds. Leaves us with two. So that’s a fifty/fifty chance on the next one we pick being your mother.”
Or neither are her.
“And I’m getting to eat the pie I love. I’d call it a lose/win.”
“Do you assess everything that way?”
His eyes darken. “Not everything.” His lips lift with a flirtatious tilt as he leans closer, over the table. He lowers his voice. “Only things that I know are a sure thing. And when I really want something … I get it.”
Gulp. Heat infuses my skin, firing off my pulse.
The waitress interrupts our moment, arriving with our coffee and Jordan’s pie.
I’m relieved.
And disappointed.
He was absolutely, definitely flirting with me then.
I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have someone as gorgeous as Jordan flirt with me. I guess what bothers me is that I don’t know what it means for him. Or more so, what I want it to mean for me.
“How’s your pie?” I ask, watching him dig into it like it’s god made.
“So good,” he murmurs through a mouthful. The sound is as delicious as he looks. “You wanna try?” He holds out a pie-filled fork.
I shake my head.
“You’re missing out on the best pie you’ll ever taste.” He waggles the fork in front of my face.
Laughing, I shake my head again.
He grins and puts the fork in this mouth, letting out an over-exaggerated groan of pleasure.
For a split second, I actually wish I was the fork.
I have serious issues.
I pour some sugar in my coffee. “Thanks for coming with me today. It really means a lot.”
“We’re friends. Friends help each other out.”
“We’re friends?” I tease, unable to help the smile that’s crept on my face.
He lifts a dark brow. “Hadn’t we already established that?”
I bring the cup to my lips and blow on the hot coffee. “I don’t think it had been confirmed, no.”
“Well, consider it confirmed.” He digs his fork in his pie, eyes smiling. “We’re friends.”
With benefits?
Holy cow, I can’t believe I just thought that.
“Well, well … Jordan Matthews. Didn’t expect to ever see you here again.”
I turn my head and see a guy about Jordan’s height and build, shaved head, arms sleeved with tattoos, heading in our direction.
My eyes move beyond him, and see two other guys walking behind, both tall and skinny.
From the corner of my eye, I can see that Jordan’s whole demeanor has changed. His body is rigid, tense.
The air instantly prickles with discomfort, and the sound of Jordan’s fork clattering to the plate makes me jump.
“Turn the f*ck around and walk away, Donnie,” Jordan hisses, the level of anger in his voice surprises me.
Donnie lets out a laugh. He grabs a chair from the empty table by us and sits down, his front to its back.
On closer inspection, I spy a tattoo on Donnie’s neck. It says F*ck You.
Nice
“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” he says.
Jordan laughs a hollow sound. “That’s the last thing I’d ever refer to you as.”
“You’re breaking my heart here, Matthews.” Donnie slaps a hand over his chest before moving his gaze to me. “And who do we have here?”
The way he looks at me sets alarm bells ringing in my head. I’m familiar with the look. I’ve seen it before from Forbes.
I curl my fingers together in my lap.
“Don’t answer that.” My eyes shoot up to Jordan’s. He stares at me for a long second, trying to convey something in his eyes that I can’t quite grasp.
He turns his head to Donnie. “Don’t f*ckin’ talk to her again, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Donnie tilts his head to the side. “What ya gonna do, Jordan? Set your daddy on me?”
Jordan’s jaw sets rigid. “Your issue is with me,” he grinds out. “So say whatever the f*ck it is you need to say, then f*ck off back to your cave, you sorry piece of shit. Just leave her out of it.”
Donnie lets out another laugh. “Jeez! Easy now. You must actually like this chick. Never thought I’d see the day. Isn’t your motto ‘f*ck ’em slow, leave ’em fast’? Gotta say though, can’t blame you with this one … she is f*ck hot.”
“Like your girlfriend was,” Jordan bites out.
Donnie’s face goes hard like granite, and for a moment I think he’s going to hit Jordan.
Instead, his eyes slide back to me. He gives my body a full perverse perusal. It makes my stomach turn. “Bitch, when he’s done with you, you pay me a visit, and I’ll show you a good time.”
Jordan jerks out of his chair, causing it to bang to the floor, bringing mine, and every eye in this place, to him.
“I said, leave her the f*ck out of it!” Jordan is bristling anger.
Donnie slowly gets to his feet, shifting his chair aside.
A glance to his friends tells me they’re standing too. The situation feels dangerous. My insides start to tremble with the possibility of what’s going to happen.
“Let’s go.” Jordan’s harsh voice comes my way as he jerks out a hand for me to take.
I look at Donnie who is staring hard at Jordan. I slip my hand into Jordan’s, allowing him to pull me to my feet.
The instant my skin makes contact with his, I feel the true level of Jordan’s anger. It’s rolling off him in waves and seeping straight into me.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel afraid. I don’t worry as to what will happen when we leave here, and I’m alone with him. What I actually feel right now is something I’ve never felt before.
I feel safe in his hands.
I know without a doubt that Jordan won’t hurt me. And I know unequivocally that he won’t let anything happen to me.
Jordan pulls on my hand, leading me through the coffee shop, away from Donnie, and toward the exit.
“How’s your dad doing nowadays?” Donnie calls out.
Jordan stops abruptly. I crash into his back. His hand tightens around mine gripping it to the point of almost pain.
“Heard he lost his badge. Real shame that, quality f*ckin’ pig that he was.”
Jordan turns, putting me behind him.
Donnie and his buddies are in the middle of the coffee shop now. Only a few tables parting them from us. I can tell from their stances and body language that they are itching for a fight. And by the way Jordan is bristling beside me, it seems like he’s going to give them one.
“I bet you really wanna hit me right now, don’t ya?” Donnie smirks. “How does this sound – I’ll let you have the first hit. Just you and me, one on one. Whaddya say? Winner gets your girl.”
Donnie tilts his head my way, the look in his eyes repulsive.
He thinks he’s affecting me. He’s wrong. I was raised by worse. But he is affecting Jordan. I can feel how tightly wound he is.
Jordan pushes his hand into his jean pocket, then presses what feels like car keys into my palm.
I look up at him, confused.
“Go to my car,” he says with a low voice. “Get in and lock all the doors. If I’m not out in five minutes, drive straight back to Durango. Don’t go to the hotel. Go to the diner, to Beth.”
I curl my hand around the keys. “And then what?”
“And then…” He shakes his head slowly.
Self-preservation is telling me to do what he’s saying and leave this coffee shop, but I’ve never been very good at listening to my self-preservation.
“I’m not leaving here without you.” I lift my chin and put my hand on his arm.
I’m purposely and willingly touching a man filled with anger. That’s a really big thing for me. Huge, in fact.
Jordan’s eyes flare, but it doesn’t deter me. “Don’t give him what he wants. You don’t have to fight this guy.”
His eyes close as if he’s in pain. “You don’t understand.”
“Are you gonna stop whispering sweet nothings to the hot piece of ass, and let us get this over with?” Donnie cracks his knuckles.
Jordan’s eyes leave me, and go straight to Donnie, hardening on him.
I see the other patrons heading out the back door.
“Leave now or I’m calling the police!” a shaky female voice, assumedly the waitress, says from behind us.
“You do that, sweet cheeks,” Donnie laughs. “I’ll be done with him before they even arrive.”
Ignoring everyone else, I keep my focus on Jordan. “Jordan.” He looks back to me. “I might not understand, but I don’t need to because I know that violence never solves anything. It won’t solve whatever this is.”
He stares down at me. I can see a war raging in his eyes.
After what feels like forever, he exhales. “Okay.”
I nearly cry out with relief when he takes my hand and shifts the car keys back to his.
“Not today, Donnie.” He turns, walking away, taking me with him.
“What? You’re leaving! You’re a f*ckin’ p-ssy, Matthews! A motherf*cking p-ssy!”
My heart is beating so hard, afraid that Donnie won’t simply let Jordan walk away from this and that he’ll come after him.
Jordan pulls some bills from his pocket and drops them down on the counter as we pass by the wide-eyed waitress. “I’m real sorry for the trouble, ma’am.”
Then we are of out of there.
I glance over my shoulder to see if Donnie is following us. He’s not.
Jordan squeezes my hand, pulling my attention back. “He won’t follow us. Despite his bravado, he’s a f*ckin’ p-ssy. He challenged me in there because he wants an audience. He wants me to hit him first so he can get what he thinks is his revenge.”
I don’t question what that revenge is. Jordan will tell me if he wants to.
We’re back at the Mustang in record time. He unlocks it, letting me in.
I’ve just clipped my seatbelt when I hear the sound of Jordan yelling. Seatbelt off, I’m back out of the car just in time to see Jordan’s fist connecting with the wooden fence by the parking space. “F*ck! Motherf*cking f*ck!”
Normally, in a situation like this I would be paralyzed by fear, but not with him. My feet carry me toward Jordan without a second thought.
He’s standing with his forehead pressed to the fence he just beat on and his hand clutched to his heaving chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Well I am.”
“Can I take a look at your hand?”
“Why?”
“Because you just punched a fence and the med student in me wants to make sure it’s okay.”
He tilts his face in my direction. The look on his face is hard. His eyes cold. The warmth I’m used to gone.
“I don’t need you to fix me, Mia.”
I feel my face flush under the harsh sting of his words.
Clearing my suddenly full throat, I say, “I’m not trying to fix you. I just want to make sure you haven’t broken any bones. Nothing more.”
His eyes close on a long blink.
Stepping away from the fence, he moves toward me and holds his injured hand out.
I take it in my own, ignoring the rush of sensation I feel, and begin checking his hand, making sure he hasn’t broken anything.
“All fine.” I look up at him a few moments later. “It’s just going to be swollen and bruised for a few days. Could do with some ice on it, and we need to clean that out.” I run my fingertip over the small graze on his knuckle.
I lift my eyes to his, finding Jordan already staring down at me with dark eyes. The air instantly shifts. My pulse quickens. Fireflies swarm my stomach, setting my insides on fire.
And what do I do?
I release his hand and step back, putting space between us.
I might not be afraid of Jordan, but I know what anger and sex combined can mean to a man.
Not that Jordan and I will be having sex. I just don’t want to confuse an already confusing situation.
He flexes his fingers out. “All you seem to do is fix us Matthew men up.” I notice his voice sounds gruff.
“I don’t mind.” I shrug.
“Mia…” He rubs his good hand over his hair, exhaling heavily. “I’m sorry I lost it just then. There’s just a real big ugly history with me and Donnie. It’s no excuse, but it was either that fence or his face. And better the fence, right?”
“Right.” I smile. “But I don’t think the fence would agree with you.” I poke my index finger through the hole his anger has left in it.
Jordan’s body starts to shake with silent laughter. His eyes smile at me.
I let out a little laugh. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His humor quickly dissipates. He stares at the ground for a long moment. “No,” he says, lifting his head. “Right now, I just wanna get drunk.”
It’s pretty early to be drinking … but what the hell. I can call day drinking part of the new me.
“I could go for that.” I smile.
“That’s my girl.” He grins.
His girl?
His girl.

***

We drive back to Durango and head straight into town where the bars are. Jordan says he’ll leave his car there and pick it up in the morning, so we’ll be getting a cab back to the hotel when we’re done.
I’ve never done anything like this before – going to a bar in the afternoon with the intention of getting drunk.
I’m kind of excited. Okay, I’m freaking thrilled. I feel like a rebel.
Sad, but true.
Jordan has brought me to a bar aptly called ‘The Bar’. I’m sitting at a table in the back. Jordan’s gone to get us some drinks. This round is his.
The next is definitely mine.
He comes back with four shots in his hands, two beer bottle under his arm. I guess we’re starting big.
“Tequila,” he says, putting two of the shots down in front of me.
I’ve never tried tequila, but what the hell. This is the new Mia. The new Mia could be a tequila drinker.
I pick up one of the shot glasses, but his voice stops me. “Salt first.”
Taking the seat across from me, Jordan picks up the salt shaker from the table.
“Hand,” he says.
I hold my right hand out to him.
When he takes hold, my body instantly fires on all cylinders, the traction heading straight to the right parts of my anatomy.
He pours a line of salt on the side of my hand and says, “Lick.”
Jesus Christ. That sounded really hot.
I could really get into this tequila drinking. Especially if I get to hear Jordan talk to me like that.
Doing as told, I lean my mouth down to my hand and lick the salt off.
Jordan’s eyes haven’t moved from me. I see them flare the moment my tongue touches the salt.
I may or may not make the most of the moment, taking my time licking the salt from my hand.
I kind of like the affect it has on him.
When the salt is safely in my mouth, dissolving away, Jordan says in a really hoarse voice, “Now, drink the shot.”
I pick one of the shot glasses up. Glass to my lips, I down the tequila.
“Holy crap!” I’m breathing fire. I place the back of my hand to my damp lips, my eyes watering from the burn.
Jordan laughs. “Chase it with the beer, it’ll take the edge off. I forgot to bring the lime over.”
I take a big mouthful of beer.
My eyes are still watering, so I run my fingers under them catching the leaks.
“Not a tequila drinker?” He grins.
I shake my head. “This is the first time I’ve had it.”
“And what do you think?”
“Tastes like crap.” I grin. “But it does the job. Am I drinking alone?” I nod at his untouched drinks.
He shakes his head, then makes quick work of his own salt licking. He throws back his shot with far more ease than I just did.
Glass down, his eyes smile brightly at me.
I lean back in my chair, taking my beer bottle with me, and start picking at the label. “You look like a seasoned pro at that.”
“The tequila?”
“Hmm.” I nod.
“I’m a hard liquor man. What can I say.” He grins and picks the salt shaker up. “You want another hit?”
I flinch. He notices.
“I meant the salt, Mia. Do you want another hit of salt for your next shot?”
I shift, embarrassed. My face burns with my shame. “Uh … yes.” Biting my lip, I hold my hand out to him.
Instead of pouring the salt, Jordan encases my hand in his. Normally I would feel intimidated by this, but with Jordan, I don’t. His hold feels safe, gentle … kind.
For the first time in my life, I’m with a man who literally has me in his hand, and I don’t feel fear.
Instead, I find myself feeling connected to another human being in a way I never thought possible.
Releasing his hold a little, he turns my hand over and runs his thumb over my palm. It leaves a delicious trail of sensation in its wake.
My emotions start to tilt on their axis, and straight in his direction.
Lifting my eyes, Jordan’s gaze instantly captures mine. Without moving his eyes from me, he runs his fingers to my wrist, guiding my hand to the side.
He slides his hand back along mine. Palm to palm. His fingers gently rest against my pulse point.
I can only hope he can’t feel that it’s practically beating the blood out of my body.
Tilting the salt shaker over our joined hands, he runs two lines of salt. One on mine. One on his.
“Do you mind if I…?” He tilts his head in the direction of our connected hands.
Unsure of the question, I raise a questioning brow.
“The salt?”
Still lost, I just nod my head, not wanting to come across as stupid. Hoping that by agreeing, I don’t end up looking stupid.
Then Jordan does something that I will forever remember as the most insanely intimate moment of my life.
And his question makes perfect sense when he leans forward and licks the salt from my hand. Slowly.
Holy. Crap.
Head still lowered, he looks up at me through long dark lashes with a look that turns me to mush.
“Your turn.”
What? He wants me to lick the salt from his hand?
Holy Jesus.
This is a really sexy thing to do. I’m not sexy. I have no clue how to do sexy.
No, come on, I can do this. New Mia here. I can lick salt from Jordan’s hand. No big deal.
Taking in a breath, I lean forward and sticking the tip of my tongue out, I lick the salt up onto my tongue.
All I can taste is him. The salt doesn’t even register. And now I’m begrudged to drink the tequila and take away his taste in my mouth.
“Drink,” he says, his voice sounding husky.
Glass to my lips, I tip the shot back at exactly the same time as he does.
His hand leaves mine.
I’m left feeling bereft without his touch, dizzy from the alcohol, and wondering if that just actually happened.
My hands start to fidget of their own accord. I reach for my beer.
“Second time easier?” Jordan asks, sounding completely normal as though we haven’t just licked salt of one another’s hands. Or maybe this is just what normal people do. What do I know?
Clearing my throat, I force a casualness I don’t feel. “Much easier.”
He smiles.
I start in on my beer label again.
“So…” he says.
“So…”
“I guess I should explain about earlier, what happened in the coffee shop.”
“Only if you want to.”
He gives a tight-lipped smile. “You remember I told you I used to gamble?”
I nod.
His eyes lower. “After my mom had died, I went off the rails. I’d always liked to play cards … but this went further. I was playing, gambling way more than I ever had. I was winning for a while, then the losing streak kicked in. I kept trying to make back what I lost, but before I knew it, I’d run up a massive debt that I had no way of paying back.”
“You owed the money to Donnie?”
He laughs a humorless sound. “No, Donnie’s just the hired monkey. I owed money to the guy he works for – Max. I used to regular a few places in Farmington to play, then I got involved in a poker ring that Max ran. There’s not much in the way here for card players like me. Like I was,” he corrects. “But over in Farmington … there’s plenty for a seasoned player.” He leans close, elbows on the table as he scrubs his hands over his face.
He folds his arms on the table, looking down. “I’m just real sorry that you got pulled in it back there, Mia.”
That’s why he didn’t want me to tell Donnie my name. He didn’t want those horrible people knowing who I am. He was trying to protect me.
Something about that touches me.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re okay now.” I put my beer down. “Do you still owe the money? Is that why he was trying to pick a fight with you?”
If he does, I’ll pay his debt. It’s not like I can’t afford it. He’s been so good to me, helping me with the Anna stuff, and I can finally do something good with Oliver’s money. Helping Jordan would count as something good to me.
“No, my debt was paid.” He scrubs his hand over his face again. “My dad. He used the money from my mom’s life insurance.”
Oh. Right.
Now I know where his guilt comes from.
I try to conjure up something worthy to say, something to make him feel better, but I come up with nothing. So I say the only thing I can, “I’m so sorry, Jordan.”
He takes a long drink of his beer. Drying off his mouth with the back of his hand, he shakes his head. “Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t deserve your kindness.” His eyes close on a long blink. “Do you remember I told you that my dad used to be a cop?”
I nod and take a drink of beer.
“Before the debt was paid, before my dad knew about any of it, the gambling and how deep in I was, I was out one night in town. Not in this bar,” he adds like that would have some bearing on his story. “I was out drinking with some buddies of mine, and later on in the night I was … uh, leaving the bar with … a girl.” He scratches his cheek, looking uncomfortable.
I ignore the unpleasant twist in my stomach brought on by the knowledge of Jordan leaving a bar with a girl he more than likely wanted to have sex with.
“We were headed to get a cab, when I was jumped by Donnie and a couple of his guys. It was meant to a warning beating because I hadn’t paid up, but I made the mistake of fighting back, instead of just taking it – I’m not one to take a beating.” He shrugs. “And I … mid-fight, to antagonize him … kind of told Donnie that I’d had sex with his girlfriend.”
“Had you?”
“Yes.”
Stomach twist. “Oh.”
“It was a one-time thing. A mistake.” He sighs. “But after telling him … well, that was when Donnie pulled out a baseball bat.”
“Dear god.” I wince, closing my eyes, feeling his pain as if was my own. I know how bad beatings can be. Especially when a weapon is involved.
“Anyway.” He drags his hand through his hair. “The girl ran back to the bar while it was happening, got my friends out to help me, called the cops…”
I see the rest in his eyes. “Your dad?”
“Yeah. He lost his shit when he saw the state they had left me in. The bastards had f*cked off the second they heard sirens, but my dad didn’t let up. He eventually found Donnie a couple of blocks over, and…” He lets out a long sigh. “…he beat the shit out of Donnie—who was unarmed by this point. He’d dropped the bat running. My dad hurt him. Really hurt him. Left him in a bad way.”
Jordan’s eyes search out mine. “You gotta understand, Mia … my dad … he’s not violent by nature. It’s just not who is. He’s a great guy – really great. The best. And he deserves a kid better than me. It was just … well, Mom hadn’t long since passed, and I’m his only child. I guess he just lost it when he saw me.”
I nod, letting him know I understand. I only wish I’d had a dad as caring and protective as Jordan’s.
“Dad was suspended pending investigation.” He leans back in his chair and rubs his eye. “After the investigation, he was found guilty and stripped of his badge and gun. He can’t ever work in law enforcement again – courtesy of my f*ck-up.” He lifts his bottle in mock-cheers, then presses it to his lips and tips his head back.
“Did anything happen to Donnie for what he did to you?”
Jordan lets out a hollow laugh. “He got a twelve month suspended sentence.”
“And you still had to pay off the debt you owed?”
“Yep. Just because Donnie and his boys kicked my ass, didn’t make the debt with Max go away. So dad lost out again. Bailed me out plus ‘interest’. I started attending Gamblers Anonymous and got clean. I still attend the meetings now.” His eyes seek mine out as though it really matters to him that I know this. “And now we’re flat broke, trying to keep a failing hotel afloat, and Donnie is still out for my blood for what my dad did to him. And because I screwed his now ex-girlfriend.” He gives a weak smile as he puts his bottle down.
Ignoring the third ache of pain I feel at Jordan’s crass words over his past sexual activity, I lean forward, placing my arms on the table. “I really am sorry this happened to you.”
“It didn’t happen to me. Everything that happened was my own fault. I f*cked up my life and took my dad down with me.”
“Your life is not f*cked up, and you definitely didn’t take your dad down with you.”
“It is. And I did. I’m not a good person, Mia.” He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat.
I can feel him withdrawing from me. I don’t like the way it feels.
“You’ve been good to me,” I press.
He lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re probably the only person on this planet who can say that.” His eyes fix me with a stare. “And I haven’t really done that much for you, Mia. Not really.” He looks away from me. “There’s nothing good about me, believe me.”
“I think there is a lot that’s good about you,” I push back.
So much. Too much.
His eyes come back to me. Dark and angry. “Did you not hear what I said before? I completely screwed everything up. I f*cked up my dad’s life.”
“No. Everything your dad did was his choice.”
“As a result of my actions.” I can see his anger rising.
This is normally the point where I back down, give in, and agree – not that I would have ever argued this far. But with Jordan I know I can, and I’m not backing down. Not this time.
“Everyone is responsible for their own actions.”
“I f*ck random women all the time. I use them for sex, then discard them like trash.”
My breath catches in my throat, and a jealousy I shouldn’t feel hits me with a harsh wallop.
Jordan grabs his beer and takes a long drink. His eyes don’t leave mine for a moment, almost like he’s daring me to look away, but I don’t … I can’t.
His confession just doesn’t fit with the Jordan I’ve gotten to know. But then when do you really ever know anyone?
I, better than anyone, know that.
But the thing annoying me most is the stupid little voice on repeat in my head. The voice that wonders why, if Jordan does what he says he does, hasn’t he hit on me?
I hate that I think this. I shouldn’t want him to hit on me, but I did … do.
I can feel my skin prickling.
Tapping my fingertips on the table, I swallow down my feelings. “And your point is?”
My response surprises him. I see it in the widening of his eyes.
Trying to hide his surprise, he straightens his back like he’s gearing up for round two.
“My point is … I’m responsible for those actions. They’re not the actions of a good person.”
He wants me to dislike him. Why?
I shrug, forcing a casual I don’t feel. Then using his earlier words against him, I simply say, “Depends on how you look at it.”
His eyebrows lift.
I’ve got his attention now.
He leans close, arms perched on the table. “And how are you looking at it, Mia?”
God, I totally love how he says my name.
“Well … the way I see it, you’re a lose/win. I’ve known men who do far worse things than just sleep around with lots of different women.”
Okay, so Forbes did that too – but that’s not going to help make my point, so I’ll just eclipse the fact.
His brow furrows. “Your ex?”
I take a deep breath. “The black eye wasn’t the first time he hit me.” I rub the instant chills from my arms.
I see Jordan’s jaw tighten. “How often?” His words come out punchy.
“Um…” I lift my suddenly heavy shoulders, my confidence slipping. Memories slam into my mind. A blur of memories, mixed with two faces.

Oliver…
Forbes…

Slammed up against a wall.
Thrown to a floor.
Pinned to a bed.
Thrown down the stairs.
Hit.
Slapped.
Kicked.
Punched.
Beaten.
Broken ribs, wrist, fingers…
Heart–broken – irreparable.
Worthless.
In pain.
All the time.
It never stopped.
No one ever saved me…

“Mia.” I feel Jordan squeezing my hand.
I blink my eyes clear.
“Jesus, are you okay?” His voice is soft, but his jaw is tight.
“Yeah, I … uh.” I touch a hand to my face, wanting to cover any emotion showing on it.
“I lost you again. Where did you go?” he asks gently.
Closing my eyes on a long blink, I shake my head and slide my hand from his.
I hear the grind in his teeth as he speaks, “How often did he hurt you?”
Swallowing down my shame, I answer, quietly, “More often than not.”
His face freezes. He looks like he’s in pain. “Why did you stay?” It sounds more like a plea than a question.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all night … week … year.”
“It’s not worth going into.”
He drives his hand into his hair. “But you left. Came here. What gave you the push?”
“He tried to rape me.”
I see my words hit him like a physical blow. He recoils, hands white-knuckle around the edge of the table.
There’s this horrible strained pause between us.
I feel sick.
My body has broken out in a cold sweat. Tremors running all over, settling into my stomach, a pit of fear and self-loathing.
I need food. And privacy.
Now.
I curl my fingernails into the bed of my hand, trying to control my urge to leap from my chair and run to the nearest convenience store.
Jordan’s eyes have not left my face. A myriad of emotions scrolling through them. I don’t want to look at him right now, but I can’t seem to bring myself to look away.
“He did what?” I don’t know if he actually says the words, or mouths them because my ears are ringing with the truth.
I pull my top lip into my mouth, biting it.
I blink once. Twice. “He tried to … rape me.”
“Jesus f*ckin’ Christ,” Jordan whispers angrily. Elbows on the table, he drops his head in his hands.
I shouldn’t have told him. Why did I tell him?
I shrink back into my seat, wishing to be invisible. Wanting to rewind time.
The atmosphere is awful. The silence painful.
When I reach the point where I can’t take it anymore, which isn’t long, I push my chair out.
Jordan’s head snaps up at the sound of wood scraping wood. “Where are you going?”
“I, uh…” I glance in the direction of the exit.
His eyes follow mine, then flicker back. “Don’t go.” He blows out a breath, pressing at his temples with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m not handling this right … I just—” He shakes his head, leaning close to me. “Jesus, Mia, I just can’t handle the thought of anyone hurting you – not like that – not at all.”
His words make it hard to breath. They matter to me more than I care to admit right now.
When his eyes rest on my face, they soften. “What can I do … to help you?”
And those squeeze my heart.
“Nothing.” I swallow past the huge lump in my throat. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t buy it. I can see it in your eyes that you’re far from fine.” A storm rolls in over his features. “Tell me where he lives.”
“W-what? Why?”
“Why do you think?”
I tense. “Jordan, I didn’t tell you so you’d go beat him up.” Why did I tell him? “I told you because…” I shake my head. “I don’t want you to beat Forbes up.”
He frowns. “That’s his name – Forbes?”
I realize this is the first time I’ve spoken his name in almost a week. And I wonder if Jordan knowing his name is a mistake on my part.
I say nothing.
He breaks my gaze and rests his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands again. Tension is pouring off him in waves.
Tilting his head back slightly, his eyes lift to mine. There’s a vulnerability in them that surprises me. “I need to do something, Mia.”
“Why?” My words are quiet.
“Because … I just do.” His are soft.
“You are doing something. You’re being my friend. That counts for a lot.”
“I need to do more.”
“No.” I shake my head, edging off my seat. “I don’t need more. I shouldn’t have told you. It was a mistake.”
The skin around his eyes tightens. “You’re wrong. The only mistake was not telling me sooner.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, keeping me from leaving.
I try to ignore the way his touch makes me feel. The ache in my chest of longing for something I never knew I wanted until now.
“I wish you’d told me before now,” he adds quietly.
He rubs his thumb gently over the back of my hand. It’s an unconscious move on his part but means so much to me.
Men don’t touch me gently. Not like this. Not ever.
And he’s done it twice in the matter of minutes.
“Have you told anyone else, aside from me, what he did to you?”
My eyes widen in horror at the thought. I’m still in shock that I told him and trying to figure out what that means, let alone tell anyone else.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He shakes his head sadly. “You need to report this to the police. He can’t get away with what he did to you.”
“What? No.” Panic squeezes my stomach like a vice.
“Mia…”
“No!” My voice is harsher than I knew I had in me. I rear back, taking my hand with me.
Whatever Jordan sees on my face has him placating, “Okay. No police.” He lays his palms on the table between us. “Just do one thing for me…?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “Don’t keep anything else locked up inside you. You need someone to talk to, someone to trust – that person is me. I won’t ever judge you. I will never hurt you. And I won’t let you down. I might have done some shit things in my past, I might have treated people badly … people who didn’t deserve it, but I won’t do that to you – ever. I promise.”
His words are impassioned, his face earnest. “You have me at my word. I won’t break it.” His mouth lifts into a gentle smile.
I want to believe him. I do.
But it’s just not in me to be able to trust. The ability is not something I’m gifted with.
I don’t know what to say. So I do what I do best, and avoid. Smiling, I nod and ask, “So, what now?”
Jordan’s dark eyes are curious on my face. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to push it further.
He doesn’t.
“Now…” he says, rising from his seat, “we drink more tequila.”