Declaration (12 page)

“Uh-huh. You’re such a diva, dude. How Crystal puts up with your steady flow of crazy is beyond me.”

Dean didn’t respond, instead busting out singing Aerosmith’s “Livin’ on the Edge,” and damn, I had to admit…he was pretty good.

“Hey!” I hollered over his Steven Tyler impression. “I’m hanging up now.”

“No, no, wait.”

“I can’t stay on. I still have shit to do before I go to work, and you’re making me go deaf.”

“I wanna visit. Crystal does, too.”

“I bet you do.”

“Are you gonna deny me the chance to see my girl in a bikini?”

“I’m sure you’ve already seen much more than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”

“The hell it doesn’t count. If you can come up with cash to get here, then of course you can come. My place is just a studio flat, though. You and Crystal will have to take the couch or something. I don’t think that meets your diva standards.”

“There are always exceptions,” he replied snootily, giving a little huff.

“If you say so, Madonna. We’ll talk more about it later. I gotta go.”

“Okay, I’m off to pack my Speedos. I have them in assorted colors, you know.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” I hung up, my eyes squeezed shut in horror. I didn’t care that athletes wore them. I didn’t care that they were commonly worn in Europe. The visual of Dean in one of those things made me cringe.

It was official. I so wasn’t having lunch today.

Relieved to finally finish my chores, I locked up and started down the stairs for the shop, realizing for the first time one of the major disadvantages to living above my workplace. There would be no calling in sick, and my boss officially knew pretty much all there was about to know about my personal life. Granted, he didn’t live in the building and he wasn’t around at night, but it occurred to me then that my privacy was pretty limited.

Thank God the welcome party Jackson threw for me was at night. I didn’t need him witnessing
that
evening of debauchery.

When I reached the bottom of the stairwell, the front hall door opened before I could slip into the shop entrance, and I paused a beat, wondering what Jackson’s friend Ruben was doing here. I hadn’t seen him since the showdown he’d had with Whitney at Emma’s. That little display was still grating on me.

“Hey,” I said, my brow furrowing in confusion. “You looking for Jackson? He doesn’t work here this afternoon.”

“Nope.” He made himself comfortable in the doorway, cockily folding his arms across his chest and propping one leg, crossing it over his other ankle. “I’m here to see you.”

“Me?”

“That’s what I said.” His voice grew icier, and I immediately recognized the same patronizing tone he’d used when he’d shown up at Emma’s looking for Whitney.

“Okay, so…what’s up?”

“You haven’t been living on this island long, Carter, so I’ll be forgiving and go a little easy on you.”

“Excuse me?” I laughed shortly, completely shocked by his arrogance. I’d gotten used to his and Jackson’s egos, but unlike Jackson, it was clear Ruben really did think highly of himself. So highly that I got the impression he really believed he was better than everyone else. Jackson was overly confident, yeah, but he was playful about it. This dude, on the other hand, was clearly suffering from a superiority complex.

“Let me tell you something, brother. I’ve been hanging around Pete’s a long time. I’ve been to just about every spot on this island to meet chicks, and for some reason, Pete’s seems to be prime hunting ground. Sure, you see a lot of the same old local chicks hanging around, and it can get boring, but you also get tourists who stagger in from time to time. You even get spring breakers every now and then. Let me tell you, man, I’ve tapped some fine ass, thanks to the selection at Pete’s Tavern.” He winked with a smug smile. The bastard actually winked at me.

“Ruben, do you have a point? Because I’m on my way into work.”

He dropped his arms and took a lazy stride forward, towering over me. “I’m getting to that.”

I glanced down at my watch, and then in through the shop door window, spying my boss giving me a friendly wave. I waved back with a tight smile. “Okay, well, can you get to it a bit faster? ‘Cause I have to go.”

“Out of all the girls I’ve met at Pete’s, you know who I’ve found to be the most delicious of them all?”

I sighed. I had zero patience for a guessing game right now. My conversation with Dean, although nice and brief, had unintentionally doused my mind with thoughts of Kate, and even though I’d spoken to her and it seemed there might be a chance at repairing our friendship, thinking about her still made me edgy.

“Whitney Sinclair,” he answered for me. “And you know what? I haven’t even nailed her yet.”

My distant irritation turned to full-blown defensiveness, and I could feel my hackles being raised with the mention of Whitney’s name. “What are you getting at, Ruben?”

“What makes her so damn fuckable, other than the fact that she’s obviously hot, is the fact that she makes you work for it. She doesn’t spread ’em for just anyone. It can piss me off, don’t get me wrong. She can be a real cock tease, but I like working for it for a change. Especially when every other girl on this island puts out for me, no question asked.”

“So she’s just a conquest to you.” This ape was only interested in her because she played hard to get? How original.

“Of course not. I like her brain just as much as I like her body. I’m just much more interested in getting to know her body because she uses her brain to keep me at arm’s length.”

The defensiveness that surfaced pricked at my skin, morphing into something else. Something that I vaguely recognized, like the protectiveness that swamped me when Ryan stepped into Kate’s life. “What’s this got to do with me?”

“I’ve noticed a common denominator with you and Whitney since you drove Emma home that night.”

“And that is?”

“You like her, she likes you.”

Wow. That was…deep. He deserved a star for that one. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve seen you two around town, running errands together. Jeff saw you guys on the beach last night. Add to the fact that you two have been eyeing each other up since you started showing up at Pete’s to play pool with us, and the way you’re helping her with Emma…it doesn’t take rocket science to figure it out.”

Before I could process what he was saying about me and Whitney, another thought took precedence, and I couldn’t help but ask. “Why does this even matter to you? If all you’re after is getting her into bed, then what’s the point of this conversation?”

Ruben’s smug smile dropped and he stood straighter, his eyes turning cold. “Because I want a chance to do more than take her to bed. I’ve been chasing after her for a long fucking while, man, and she just started showing serious interest before you came along. So I suggest you back off. Don’t get in the way of my business with Whitney.”

It all suddenly became clear to me, and the realization was oddly amusing.

“This is a threat? You’re here to warn me to stay away from Whitney or something?”

“Consider it a suggestion.”

“Or what?” A strained laugh choked from my throat. I was in disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief at the balls on this guy.

“Just know I’m prepared to fight for her, that’s all. I always get what I want, and I want Whitney Sinclair.”

“Well, sounds to me like if she’s so interested in you, then getting what you want won’t be much of a problem, now, will it?”

“She’s distracted right now.
You’re
distracting her. So fucking quit it.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, moving to walk past him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but nothing’s going on between Whitney and me.” Okay, maybe that was a little untrue. There was definitely something going on, at least on my end. But damn if I was going to talk about my feelings for her with this jackass. “We’re friends. But if something were going on, I think all of this would be up to her, not you or me. So if you’re done making dumbass threats, then I’ll be on my way.”

“I’ll tell her all about Kate Parker.” His words stunned me still.

My head swiveled slowly, turning to look back at him. “What do you know about Kate Parker?”

“I know you’re still in love with her.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Jackson was wasted the other night, whining about Emma, and he mentioned you and the girl back home you’re still pining away for. Told me all about the lovely Kate Parker—well, what he could manage to slur out, anyway. I heard enough to get the gist of your little heartsick love affair.”

“I was never
with
her,” I spat through gritted teeth. “There was no affair. She’s a friend.” Why was I telling him this, anyway? I didn’t owe any explanation to this dude. “Stay out of my business, Ruben. You don’t know me.”

“I know Whitney’s been burned. Badly. And if she finds out you’re still hung up on this other chick while you’re leading her on, she’ll drop you so fast you won’t know what hit you.” Was this guy serious? He was deluded. I barely knew him, and he was laying this lecture on me?

I shook the frustrating thoughts away, taking a deep breath. “I’d never lead her on and hurt her. So, run your mouth all you want. I have nothing to hide. See you around, Ruben.” I shoved past him and through the door.

His suspicions were right, of course. There was something going on between Whitney and me. I didn’t know what yet, or whether or not I’d ever act on it. But I did know one thing for sure.

I meant what I said to him. When it came to Kate Parker, I had nothing to hide.

***

My afternoon shift at the shop was busy. The phone rang off the hook, a flood of new buyers flocked to the sales desk to take advantage of our latest parts special, and customers needing maintenance help talked my ear off right up until the moment I clocked out for the evening.

By the time I dragged my sorry ass upstairs for a hot shower, I realized I hadn’t checked my phone all afternoon for any Emma updates from Whitney. I wandered out of the bathroom, freshly shaved with a towel slung around my waist, moving to answer the timid knock at my front door. Of course, someone had to knock just as I began checking my phone messages. Still on edge from my run-in with Ruben earlier—and now exhausted from my shift to boot—I released an irritated sigh. “Coming, hold on.” If it was Ruben again, so help me, God.

I swung the door open and blinked. “Whitney, hi.”

Her cheeks went crimson, her eyes falling to my abdomen. “Um…hey.” She was just too fuckin’ cute when she was shy like this. It fascinated me. To see such a boisterous, assertive chick slide into shy mode like this just seemed unnatural.

And incredibly endearing.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, not bothering to move to cover myself up. I kinda liked how she was looking at me right now.

“I was just on this side of town, and uh, I figured I’d stop by?” She’d framed her response like a question, but I was too busy drooling over that flirty maid uniform of hers to give her assurance that she was welcome day or night.

I blinked again, finding my words. “Well, you can come by any time you want, you know. Weren’t you supposed to work at the diner tonight?”

“Yeah, I was. They’ve been cutting my hours more and more lately. Kinda sucks.”

“Oh, bummer.”

She cleared a nervous rattle in her throat, her gaze moving to assess my place. Where was the bold little tease who’d left me a mumbling idiot at Emma’s this morning? “You busy?”

I followed her gaze, a small smirk creeping up when I spotted her sizing everything up again, much like she did the first time she’d come over. “No, not at all. Was just getting ready to fix something for dinner. You hungry?”

“Sure.” She smiled now, a bright beam that woke me right the hell up. Between that smile and that cardiac-arrest inducing skirt of hers, my exhaustion disappeared pretty fucking fast.

“Come on in.” I ran a hand through my damp hair and snatched my glasses up from my dresser, sliding them on. “Let me just change real quick and I’ll cook us something up.”

“Sounds good.” I glanced over my shoulder as I stepped into the bathroom, catching her sinking into the couch cushion. She folded her hands awkwardly in her lap, where she started fidgeting with her fingers. I restrained an amused grin, not wanting to embarrass her, and slipped in the bathroom to put some clothes on.

When I emerged, she was still in the same spot, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Is chicken okay?” I asked, working my way behind the tight worktop space.

Her head snapped in my direction. “Oh, sure. Anything you’ve got is fine.”

“You’re miles away. How was your day?”

“It was okay. I just drove Emma to class before I came here. She seems like she’s doing better.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Beer?”

“I’d love one.” Instead of waiting for me to bring it to her, she rose from the sofa and walked over to me, waiting patiently as I pulled it from the fridge. “Thanks.” She took a swig, growing quiet. Something had to be wrong.