“I’ve known Jet since he was a kid. I’ve seen him play a thousand times. I’m trying really hard not to drink, and if I stick around here one more second, that isn’t going to be possible.”
We stared at each other in silence. I didn’t know if I should take that as he shouldn’t drink anymore to avoid making mistakes like the one he made with me, or that he needed to stop drinking because he was out of control and it wasn’t helping matters.
Rowdy ordered us another round of shots and I saw Rome’s jaw clench. I wasn’t sure what was going on, so I defaulted to my usual glib manner.
“Captain No-Fun strikes again.”
I saw his dark brows lower and felt Rowdy tense next to me. It was rude and it was uncalled for, but before I could apologize, he put his hands on the table in front of me and bent down so that we were face-to-face. There was a storm brewing in that blue gaze and I didn’t think I wanted any part of it, or maybe I wanted to be the cause of it and that was why I was acting so awful.
“Pretty sure you know what my idea of a good time is. I’d be happy to remind you in case you forgot.”
My breath got caught in my throat and I saw Rowdy shift uncomfortably next to me.
“No thanks. I think Catwoman wants a turn.”
He sneered at me and started to walk away throwing over his shoulder, “You would know that there’s more than enough to go around, Half-Pint.”
It took me a second to catch my breath after he was gone. I couldn’t bring myself to watch and see if the brunette ended up leaving with him or not. Rowdy let out another low whistle.
“Dude, I didn’t think I would ever see the day anyone got the last word with you. Totally sideways.”
I ignored him and picked my beer back up. I couldn’t do this with Rome. Couldn’t run him off, these were his friends and family, too. I couldn’t be bitchy to him just because I was jealous and envious that his hotness was undeniable. I was going to have to put on my big-girl panties and have a showdown with him, have the talk that I really didn’t want to have and clear the air. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with him exactly, but there was something in all the messed-up ways we were around each other I didn’t think we could ignore. But first I was going to drink all the Jäger in Colorado and try to block out the image of that leather-clad skank with her paws all over him. I also was going to steadfastly avoid the knowing looks Rowdy kept shooting at me; either that or I was going to punch him in the nose.
The next morning I was feeling a little rough, but it was totally manageable, especially since all I had to do was throw on a cute sundress, slime some product in my hair, and slick some gloss on and be good to go. Short hair rocked. My sundress was bright turquoise, the same color as my odd blue eye, and it had a big sunflower in neon yellow on the hem. It was bright and cheerful, so I figured no matter how grouchy Rome was, he wouldn’t be able to stay too mad in the presence of such an awesome summer dress. Plus it made my legs look great and made it appear that I actually had some cle**age.
When I pulled up to the Victorian, Nash was coming down the front steps. He had stayed to shut the bar down with me and Rowdy, so he looked about as haggard as I felt. He had a ball hat pulled down low on his forehead and dark sunglasses covering half of his face. He pulled up short when he saw me and walked over to lean on the fender of the Cooper.
“What are you doing here?”
I tried not to fidget and pushed my own sunglasses up on my nose.
“I need to talk to Rome.”
I saw his eyebrows dip below the frames and the corner of his mouth turn down.
“Why?”
“Because I do. Leave it alone.”
“I told you it was a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my bad idea, so back off. I just need to talk to him. Where are you off to so early?”
“I’m going to talk to my mother.”
I blinked in shock. It was no secret that Nash’s relationship with his mom and his stepdad was anything but rosy.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Because something is going on with Phil and I need help pinning him down. He’s dodging me left and right, so she’s my last resort.”
“Wasn’t Phil your real dad’s brother?”
He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. I could see even mentioning those dynamics made him uncomfortable.
“Yeah, but ever since I was little, I mean long before I even understood that my dad took off, Phil has been unable to tell my mother no. She says ‘jump,’ he asks her what river she wants him to leap into. It’s weird but I figure she’s the only way to get some answers.”
I patted his bicep and moved toward the front of the apartment they shared. “Good luck with that, it sounds like a whole lot of no fun.”
“He’s not here.”
I pulled up a step and looked back at Nash over my shoulder. Unbidden visions of Catwoman and her hands in Rome’s pants flew through my head. I didn’t like the way that they made my stomach drop at all.
“He didn’t come home last night?” I could hear the dissatisfaction in my tone and clearly it wasn’t lost on Nash because he scowled at me.
“No, he was here when I got home. Alone. He just doesn’t sleep so great, ya know? He was up really, really early. I think he went running or something. You want me to let you inside so you can wait for him?”
I nodded. I needed a cup of coffee and a second to formulate what I wanted to say to Rome.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Cora. Rome isn’t the kind of guy you can just manipulate and twist around your cute little finger. What happened to holding out for Mr. Perfect?”
I made myself at home in the small kitchen and pulled my sunglasses off to set them on the breakfast bar that separated the very masculine living room from the even more manly kitchen.
“Stop being such a worrywart, I just want to talk to the guy.”
He headed back toward the front door but his words stayed with me after he shut it behind him.
“Talking with you is what normally gets people into the most trouble.”
I appreciated that the guys were worried about me. I didn’t have the best track record with disappointment and boys, and I had been going on for a long time about my perfect man. They all knew I was after a guy that seemed rock solid, that wasn’t carrying around a truckload of emotional baggage, that came across happy and set with his lot in life. They knew I was ready for a guy who wanted to promise me forever and a future that was as bright and shiny as I tended to be. I wanted the happy-ever-after that Rule had given Shaw and the peace of mind that Jet had given Ayden. I wanted a partner and someone who was ready to travel the long, twisting road of commitment with me.
It made sense that they could all see that Rome was almost the exact opposite of what I had been describing, so they were just trying to save me from more unnecessary heartache because by now it was obvious he was getting to me. I just didn’t know if my idea of what I was holding out for was a viable option anymore. There was something happening between us—more than chemistry, more than wistful longing, and more than a little crush. I knew when a plan was falling apart. I had seen my first plan of a life with Jimmy go up in smoke and now I could see the idea of Mr. Perfect, this fictional ideal I had built up in my head, start to tatter under the force of everything that was Rome Archer. It didn’t matter that he seemed to be as lost as a child in the dark, that his baggage was heavier and harder to handle than most, or that he couldn’t even see his tomorrow, let alone a future with someone else. I wasn’t sure I was ready to fully let go of the dream just yet; only Rome was standing in the way of me getting my hands on it anymore. I couldn’t ignore that something was happening between us and it was time to stop being scared and find the answers to exactly what that something was.
I heard the front door open and heavy footsteps make their way toward where I was in the kitchen. I was rinsing off the dishes in the sink, mostly because I needed something to do with my hands, but also because they looked like they had been there for a while. Gross.
“What are you doing here?”
The tone was not nice. There was no welcome, none of the flirty and teasing he normally tossed at me. It sounded like each word was having to fight its way out of somewhere deep in his chest and that they tasted bitter and sharp on his tongue. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and turned around to face him.
Holy hell. How was I supposed to have a coherent, grown-up conversation with the man when he was wearing only a pair of black track pants and an iPod holder wrapped around one bicep? His dark hair was even darker with sweat and all those muscles and planes that made up his amazing physique were standing out in stark relief since he wasn’t wearing a shirt and had clearly just put himself through some serious paces. That just wasn’t fair.
“The dishes. You’re welcome.”
He grunted and pulled the iPod off. He stepped past me to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I tried not to drool in an obvious way when some of it missed his mouth and ended up running a damp trail over his chest. He just watched me with almost zero expression on his handsome, but obviously exhausted face.
“I was going to do them later this afternoon. I need to take a shower. I stink.”
I cleared my throat and leaned back against the sink. “I was hoping we could talk real quick.” And maybe he would go put a shirt on so I could form words and not sound like a moron.
He rubbed both his hands, hard, over his face and head and I noticed how really worn he actually looked. Those blue eyes were sort of faded and he had dark shadows resting underneath.
“Listen, Cora, I understand. I’m jacked up, you aren’t into it, whatever. It just messes with my already overworked mind when you tell me one thing and then look at me like you want to lick me all over like an ice cream cone in the same breath. I’m trying to figure my own shit out. I don’t have the mental fortitude or the patience to try and figure yours out as well. I just ran six miles on less than two hours of sleep. I need a shower and maybe if I’m lucky, a nap.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond. He just turned on his sneaker and left me standing there gaping at him. For the second time in as many days, I was not only speechless but also left without being able to get a final word in. I hated it. The butt-head didn’t even give me the opportunity to apologize for being needlessly bitchy last night. I shoved off the counter and went down the hallway to the room at the back of the apartment. It was Rule’s old room when he had lived with Nash, so I knew that there was a bathroom attached.
I could hear the water running and he had the radio on somewhere in the room and it was playing Tom Petty. Oddly fitting, Rome totally struck me as a classic-rock kind of guy. His room was also neat as a pin. All those years in the military had obviously bred good habits into him. The big king-sized bed was even all made up. There wasn’t so much as a stray sock on the floor, but there also wasn’t much to define the space as his. The only personal effect that was visible was a black-and-white photo of a much younger Rome and the twins.
Rule looked like Rule, only without as much ink, and he was smiling, something he didn’t do much of until he and Shaw had figured their situation out. Rome looked tall and proud, every bit the protective older brother. And the other twin, Remy—it was crazy to see an exact replica of what Rule would look like as a typical guy—still beautiful, but so boring, so common.
I was lost in thought, staring at the photo, so I didn’t hear the water turn off. An arm shot out over my shoulder and picked the picture up. Startled I turned around and came face-to-face with Rome in a towel and that’s it. Man, this was turning into a total test of my self-control. Track pants were nice, a towel was better. He smelled clean but still looked annoyed that I was all up in his space.