He’d taken a step back but other than that he didn’t move and he didn’t speak.
So I did. “I see I’ve made my point.”
“And I see we’re back at square fuckin’ one,” he returned.
“What?”
He leaned in, his face all I could see and I realized the aggressive way he did it that I’d vastly misjudged the situation and the atmosphere. I’d seen him very angry, scary angry.
Now, I realized he was enraged.
“Did you think,” he growled, “for one fuckin’ second, Ace, to maybe ask me about Neeta?”
But two could be enraged.
Because he showed me the promise of something special that night on his bike and through his kiss.
Then he walked away and didn’t even fucking call!
“Wood explained things pretty clearly,” I replied acidly.
“Wood,” he whispered.
“Wood,” I repeated.
“He fuck you yet?” Tate asked coarsely and I tried to step back forgetting I was already against the wall.
“That’s none of your business!” I snapped.
“He hasn’t fucked you but he will,” he stated. “Too bad for you there’s no one helpful around like Wood to tell you a few things about Wood.”
“Yes? Like what things?”
“Too bad, babe, with this scene, you lost out. You’ll have to find out on your own.” And with that he turned on his boot, walked away and I watched him, realizing I was breathing heavily until I stopped breathing because he stopped and turned back to me. “So all that’s for Wood?” he asked bizarrely.
“All what?” I asked back.
His hand did an annoyed flick that encompassed the whole of me.
“No,” I snapped.
“You looked better before, Ace. Now you just look like all the rest.”
And with that highly successful parting line, he disappeared down the hall.
Chapter Eight
Martinis and Manicures
It was the day after Tate came home and the day after I drove to Wood’s after work, pulled off my clothes, pulled on one of his t-shirts, crawled into his bed waking him just enough for him to roll me into his arms before he fell back asleep (but I didn’t).
In Wood’s arms, I didn’t toss and turn because I didn’t want to wake him but I couldn’t get that scene with Tate out of my mind.
Or his kiss.
Or him saying, But fuck Laurie, it’s good to be home.
Or him saying, You looked better before, Ace. Now you just look like all the rest.
Eventually I fell asleep and as usual Wood was gone by the time I got up.
I was lying out in the sun wearing my periwinkle blue tankini with a top that was made of netting that had royal blue embroidery at the hem and the top of the bodice. The shelf bra covered my breasts but the netting at my midriff hinted at the skin underneath. I had the royal blue sarong on the bottom of my lounge chair, a diet pop on the cool deck by my side next to my cell phone, sunglasses on my nose, sunscreen oil that made my body glisten and a trashy magazine in my hands.
I was also waiting for the last load of my laundry to dry. Ned and Betty had a laundry room at the top end of the building by their house, across from the room with all the vending machines in it. The washer and dryer cost a whack, much more than the Laundromat in town (I’d checked), but I paid it because it was convenient, just two doors away, so close, I could pretend it was just inside my garage instead of two hotel rooms away.
I was reading about celebrities going to jail and viewing pictures of them in orange jumpsuits when I heard the pipes of a Harley. It was summer. It was Carnal. Harley pipes were de rigueur so I ignored it totally.
That was, I ignored it totally until I heard the beat of motorcycle boots on the cool deck.
I looked around and up to see Tate heading my way. He was walking toward me but his head was turned to look into the parking lot so I twisted around to look over my shoulder.
Four Harley guys were outside looking like they were working on their bikes but two of them, one standing, one crouched, were looking in my direction.
My eyes moved back to Tate to find he was towering over me.
“Great show, Ace,” his rough voice growled. “Word gets out you live here, Ned and Betty’ll have a full house.”
Why had I ever even considered the option that this man, as beautiful as he was, was not a jerk?
“Can I help you?” I snapped.
“Yeah, baby,” he replied, his voice an insinuation and I knew that because his eyes were moving down my body. He had mirrored sunglasses on (and they looked good on him, which sucked) but I could tell his eyes were moving the length of me.
“Well?” I prompted irately, trying not to squirm under his stare. Tyler was a fantastic trainer but he wasn’t a miracle worker.
His shaded eyes came to mine.
“Krys needs you to train the two new girls. You’re on days for awhile.”
“And Krys couldn’t tell me this because…?”
“Because she’s at the bar on her own. We got some boys who rolled in and she’s busy ‘cause the minute Bubba saw me back, he took off. He was gone this mornin’.”
I stared at him. Then I thought about Krystal.