Off Limits

chapter 5



Nix



I pop the top off my beer and lean up against the wall. I'm watching the party in progress, always comfortable to observe and never to be drawn into conversation. I've always been, by nature, a quiet and introspective person. My time in the Marine Corps, doing deep reconnaissance missions for MARSOC had taught me well the virtues of patience and silence. Some of my time in Afghanistan had been sitting in the frigid mountains, watching the Taliban movement below and reporting it to Command. I could sit for hours at a time and stare at a single spot if I had to. And I had no problems being quiet about it. It was, after all, my nature.

It's not that large, noisy crowds bother me. I like a good party as much as the next guy. As long as I can sit back, drink my beer and observe. And not be bothered. I'm just not overly fond of people in general.

Tonight, my brother Linc has gone all out and thrown a whopper of a party. Almost his entire hockey team is here, along with a slew of beautiful women. Linc never has a hard time coming up with a throng of ladies to ogle. They are basically hockey groupies, accepting the invite with the hope of getting laid and possibly landing themselves a hockey husband. But the ratio of single Rangers to the hungry ladies is vastly disproportionate and I will be able to take one of them to bed if I want.

For now, though, I'm just watching.

Finishing off my beer, I head into the kitchen and throw the empty in the recycle bin. I pull a new beer out of the refrigerator and twist the cap off. I feel like getting shit faced tonight for some reason.

Walking back into the living room, I resume my perch against the wall. Harley is mingling with the crowd. That dog will do anything for a scratch or soft word. And he is so f*cking cute, he always gets it. I often wonder if there is something wrong with the fact that I like dogs more than I do people. All I know...Harley has never let me down.

"Having a good time, bro?"

I look over my shoulder and see Linc standing there, holding his typical glass of Scotch. I give him a nod and hold my beer up in acknowledgment.

"Well, it's going to get better tonight. See those two women over there..."

I look to where he's pointing. Sitting on the couch are two ladies that are ferociously gorgeous. They're both wearing tight, short dresses and sky-high heels. I can tell at a glance that both have put copious amounts of money into breast enhancement.

Who says my observational skills in the Corps were wasted?

"Nice," I reply. And I mean it.

"They're for us...tonight ...after everyone leaves."

Of course, they are. Linc always looks out for me in that department. He thinks I have no clue how to talk to a woman or get one in bed. He takes my silence and unwillingness to engage people as an inability to get laid. I hate to break it to him, but it's not that hard. There are plenty of women out there who appreciate straight, simple talk without the need to spout poetry at them.

But I don't want to hurt his feelings so I just smile at him and say, "You rock, man."

Linc ambles off and heads straight over to the two women. He plops himself on the couch in between them and I watch as they fawn all over my little brother.

What a player!

I glance around and notice the front door open. More partygoers coming in. I recognize one of Linc's good friends, Ryan Burnham walking in, along with his wife, Danny. Now that is one cool chick. Linc told me she was a graduate of Julliard but she rocks some awesome dyed hair and face metal. So not what I picture a hockey wife and classical musician to look like.

And walking in just behind Danny...

My breath freezes and my bottle of beer stops halfway to my mouth. It's Emily. The girl that ran me over last week.

What the hell is she doing here?

As mad as I was at her last week, I've spent the last several days remembering how beautiful she is. And I see my memory serves me still. Her long hair shimmers like melted dark chocolate and her eyes are the lightest, warmest brown I've ever seen. They look like amber swirled with copper.

The whole incident with Emily was baffling to me. I was f*cking pissed that she ran my motorcycle over and part of me wanted to strangle her. And yet, by the end of our meeting, she had convinced me to let her make payments for the damages. I still can’t fathom why I agreed to it. Nix Caldwell doesn’t cut anyone slack.

I watch in disbelief as Harley barrels through the crowd and jumps up on her. I start to move forward to pull him off but she just grabs him in a big hug and buries her face in his neck.

I'm amazed. Stupefied. Bumfuzzled.

I've never seen a woman react to Harley that way. Usually, his hundred pounds of brute force tends to scare most people.

Emily gently lowers his front paws to the ground and continues to rub his ears as people come up to her to say hello. She clearly knows a lot of the hockey players here and I'm wondering if she's one of those women that are looking to get laid tonight or walk off with a potential husband.

The thought does not set well with me.

And then I see Ryan Burnham turn to her and whisper in her ear. She punches him in the shoulder over whatever he said, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. That's Ryan's sister. Duh...Emily Burnham. Watching them stand next to each other, there is no mistaking the family resemblance.

She must have been here at Linc's place when she hit me that day. He never said a word to me and he usually tells me about all of his sexual exploitations. Maybe Emily is special to him and he's keeping her under wraps.

As I watch her though, she looks over at Linc, who is still wrapped up in the double-trouble beauties. She just shakes her head with a fond smirk. She's clearly not upset that he is with other women. No...she had to have been here for something else that day. Not that I care nor is it any of my business.

So I just sit back...and I watch her.

***

I never leave my spot, leaning up against the wall. I finish my beer but I don't make a move to get another one. I'm fascinated watching Emily work the crowd. Ryan brings her a glass of red wine and a bottled water for Danny. Emily then proceeds to mingle around. She clearly knows most of the guys, and even makes small talk with some of the girls. I notice she laughs a lot and it's hard not to notice the way her eyes light up when she finds something amusing.

Probably twenty minutes of her laughing and joking with other people goes by, and then the inevitable happens. She glances my way and locks eyes with me. Instantly, the gregarious smile on her face melts and she actually looks disappointed to see me there.

Can't say as I blame her. I was a real prick to her the last time we met.

Oh, well. It's no skin off my back. That's who I am.

I turn away and walk into the kitchen to get another beer. After opening it up, I take a long swallow and lean back against the counter top. No one is in here and I'm enjoying the blessed quiet. It's my solace. I look down to study the Frye boots I'm wearing. They're getting pretty scuffed, and there's a nice gouge on the heel of the left one, compliments of Miss Emily Burnham running me over.

"Hey, Nix."

My head snaps up and Emily is standing there.

Up close, she's even more beautiful that I remembered. She's wearing a dress but it's not the hooker wear that most of the women in the living room have painted on their bodies. It's butter yellow, fitting nicely across her breasts—which are not surgically enhanced, by the way—and flows softly around her legs. The thin straps showcase creamy, sun kissed skin. The dress comes demurely to her knees and she has on a pair of gold sandals I notice after dragging my gaze down her shapely calves.

Emily is tall for a girl. She must be close to five-foot-six, as the top of her head comes about to my shoulder. It's the perfect height to pull a woman in close and press up against her body.

I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking?

I f*ck women and leave them. I don't take stock of the beauty of their clothing, or how soft their skin looks.

I look her in the eyes and I make myself be me. "Well if it isn't the lady that likes to run people over."

She blushes and averts her eyes from my gaze. I watch as she clasps her hands in front of her then grabs her lower lip between her teeth. The move is innocent and wrings of nervousness, but damn if it doesn't make me want to take her lip in between my own teeth and bite down softly.

I wait for her to say something. Finally, she looks back at me and says, "I have to talk to you about the money I owe you."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "What's to talk about? You owe me the money and you have about three more weeks to make the first payment."

"Yeah, about my ability to get the money...my source has sort of dried up."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I really shouldn't care about it but I find I want to talk to her more. So this is the perfect excuse.

"I...well...um..." She's stammering with pink cheeks and I find it adorable. Normally, that would be a major turn off for me.

"Spit it out, Emily."

She takes a deep breath and plunges forward. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm a trust fund baby. No surprise there, right? Well, I'm allowed to take out two thousand dollars a month until I turn twenty-one, which is in ten months. When I turn twenty-one, I get full control of the trust. I had planned to just turn over that two thousand every month to you. Unfortunately, I've managed to piss my parents off completely and they cut me off."

Emily blows out a long, slow breath and I see that it is painful for her to admit this to me. But I'm not moved. "You know this isn't my problem. Why don't you just give me your insurance information?"

"No," she exclaims. "I can't."

"Oh, that's right. Mommy and daddy will take away your Beemer, right?" I can't help the sneer in my voice.

She shakes her head. "It's worse than that. If you file an insurance claim, the police will have to do a report. And if I have another accident, I'll lose my license."

I watch her for a minute and she's chewing on that lip again. It makes me want to suck it into my mouth and see how she tastes. I start to feel movement below and holy hell, I'm getting a f*cking hard on just by looking at her lower lip. I realize, all of a sudden, that I want this girl.

And I want her bad.

But there is no way. She is clearly not a f*ck 'em and leave 'em kind of girl. She's the kind you bring home to meet your parents. And I've never...ever...had a woman I've wanted to do that with. I need to clear my head of Emily Burnham.

She is completely off limits.

I need to tell her to get the f*cking money or else.

Instead, I say, "How would you like to work off the debt?"

I have no clue where that came from but the words are out and I can't take them back. And I'm not sure I want to.

She looks at me, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"It turns out that I'm a decent welder and metal artist, but I suck at bookkeeping. I have a ton of administrative work that I need help with. How about you give me twenty hours a week and I'll let you work off the amount you owe me."

I watch as she contemplates my offer. I have to clench my fists not to reach out and pull her lower lip out from between her teeth.

Finally, her lip pops free and she says, "That will take me months to work that kind of debt off."

"A few things you'll learn about me, Emily. I'm not a nice man but I can be a patient one in the right situation."

Her eyebrows close in together as she considers my offer and she licks her lower lips to wet them. I have to bite my own tongue so I don't groan in response.

"Okay," she says. "But it has to work around my class schedule. I can commit Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons to you, and Saturdays, too if you want. Oh, and I figured out already that you're not a nice man."

Why those words cut me, I have no idea because they are utterly true. I'm a world-class prick, particularly to the female persuasion. And I've never thought I should be anything different.

"Deal," I say.

I hold my hand out to shake on it and she steps forward to accept. Her hand is warm and delicate but her grip is firm. She's close enough I can smell her and it's a light scent...jasmine, I think. It suits her well.

Releasing her hand, I walk past her. "See you on, Monday."

I reach into the fridge to grab one more beer and I head down the hall to my bedroom. I have no more interest in the party, and I certainly have no interest in hooking up with Linc's women.

The comfort of solitude is what I crave right now.