The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) (13 page)

Jed stifled a laugh behind him. He’d kick his ass later.

“Yeah?”

“You forgot your tip.”

His brows drew together. “Tip? That’s not necessary.”

She tilted her head. “Since when do people have to ask permission to tip if they feel it’s deserved?” She peeked around his body to Jed. “It’s a free country. Don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely.” There was definite laughter in Jed’s voice.

She kept her eyes on Jed, but her body had inched closer to Noble. “Now, as his boss and the owner of this fine establishment, do you mind terribly if I
tip
your employee here? Or would you rather I take it outside when he’s off the clock?”

Noble’s breath caught. His entire body tensed. Her body heat whipped up the front of him as her hands found his and she interlaced their fingers intimately.

Jed’s voice sounded a hundred miles away. “By all means. If he deserves a tip, don’t keep the man waiting.”

She snapped back to Noble and looked him in the eye. She released his hands to run her fingers up his chest and caress his face. She cradled his cheeks in both palms, her thumbs tracing the hollows of his cheekbones, his mouth.

His hands moved to grip her hips as she gently tugged his head down and rose up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. He sucked in a breath and tasted her; sweet, sexy, perfect.

Her fingers moved to thread through his hair and pull him closer as she whispered kisses along his lower lip. When she suckled it into her mouth, he broke. On a groan, he tilted his head to take her in. She allowed him to lead the kiss as she opened to him fully. Deeper, wetter, darker.

A phone rang. The door sounded. Someone mumbled something. Someone moaned.

Wait, that was him.

Noble pulled back and stared into her dazed face as her eyes slowly slid open. Her lips were slightly swollen from his kiss and he could see the surrender in her eyes.

But he was a broken man and she deserved so much better.

Tristan paused the PlayStation while Michael answered his cell phone. They weren’t through slaughtering zombies so the interruption had better be quick. They were about to level up and earn golden sniper rifles and he wanted to do it before his mom got home and squawked about him being up too late. He tossed down his controller, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and rose to go find them some fresh sodas. Might as well use the time-out for a little caffeine boost. Zombie killin’ took a lot out of you. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen as he grabbed them a couple of Dr. Peppers. It was nearly 11:30. He wondered where his mom could be this late. She hadn’t really said where she was going when she ducked out dressed all . . .
womanly.

He stopped cold. She wasn’t out on another date again, was she? Wasn’t she a little old for that kind of thing?

He shifted the icy sodas in his hand and strode back into the living room, ready to tackle the undead again. “Hey.” He paused when he realized Michael was still on the phone with a goofy grin on his face.

“So, she’s there with him? Now?” Michael asked whoever he was talking to. His eyes bugged wide and he glanced up at Tristan. “She
what
? You’re kidding!” He stood and made his way to the front window so he was further out of ear shot.

Tristan plopped down on the couch trying not to eavesdrop.
Yeah, right
.

“On the lips? In front of everyone? Ariel, this is wonderful!” Michael’s voice was low, but edged with excitement. He was silent a moment as he listened. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

Tristan glanced over as Michael’s energy seemed to drop a notch. “And what did Noble do after she left?”

Noble? Tristan’s gut clenched. His mom was out with Noble again? He ran his thumb along the edge of the can as the implications of that sank in. Sure, he knew his mom and Noble
might’ve
gone out once or whatever, but Noble was
his
friend. Well, he wanted him to be. What if she got all freaky and dumped him and they moved away again? Then what?

Michael snapped his phone shut and returned to the couch with a guarded expression on his face. His weight dipped the cushion as he sat next to Tristan.

He pointed to the controllers on the coffee table. “So, you ready to keep playing?”

Tristan looked up, mixed feelings that he had no name for warring within him. “My mom’s with Noble, huh?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Michael’s face. “Well, uh . . .”

“It’s all right. I get it.” Adults never wanted to tell kids anything. He stood to get some space.

“I’m not sure you do.” Michael’s soft words stopped him. “I would never patronize you, Tristan. Nor lie to you. I just don’t want to betray your mother’s privacy. I think it’s up to her to tell you where she’s been tonight if she sees fit. Not me.”

Oh. “That’s cool.” He turned and started collecting the controllers and putting the game away.

“We done playing then?”

He shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t feel much like zapping the shit out of zombies anymore.

Michael shifted and the springs on the sofa squeaked. “So, hypothetically speaking, if your mom were out with Noble tonight, how would you feel about that?”

Tristan slowly pivoted around and eyed his big friend. This felt like a trick question. He shrugged again. “I dunno.” He really didn’t. Noble was super cool. He had wicked cool bikes and about the sweetest job on the planet. And he didn’t want his mom screwing things up with about the coolest person he’d met since they’d moved to Texas so they’d have to move away again or Noble would end up hating their guts. Not to mention the fact that he loved his mom and he didn’t want her heart to get broken either.

It was all so freakin’ confusing.

Why did she have to go and like Noble, anyway?

Michael tilted his head, his brows squished together. “But I thought you told me you liked him and were okay with them going to dinner? What changed?”

He shuffled his feet heavily through the carpet as he made his way back to the couch. He sat down and stared straight ahead. “Nothing’s changed.”

“But?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t find the words. This was about more than Noble, but he didn’t know how to say that. Emotions too heavy to be expressed clogged his throat as he suddenly realized Noble’d been more of a father to him in the short time he’d known him than his own lousy dad, and his mom could totally screw it up by dating him. How messed up was that?

But what if it works out?
The voice in the back of his mind taunted him.

He shoved the thought away and ran a hand down his face.

Michael assumed that weird, trance-like state he got sometimes. Tristan glanced over. Strangely, he’d gotten used to Michael’s funky little habits and they didn’t freak him out anymore. He just waited, thankful for the silence while he cursed himself a freakin’ wuss for getting so emotional.

Michael’s eyes finally drifted open and he seemed . . . sad.

He reached over and clamped a large hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Son, forgive me if I’m talking out of turn here, but I do believe you’re hurting deeper than you’re willing to admit and I’m here if you need a friend.”

Tristan blinked once. Twice. He didn’t realize the tears were falling until one caught and hovered on his upper lip. He brushed at it impatiently. Damn it. He hung his head in embarrassment.

“Tristan? Is this about your dad? Do you think Noble will somehow try to replace him?”

Tristan’s head snapped up. “Replace him? What’s there to replace? The son-of-a-bitch wrote me off months ago for some flavor-of-the-month bimbo and their love child!” The venom spewed from a depth he had no idea was within him.

Heat rose in his face as anger surged through his veins. He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. He shoved a finger into Michael’s face. “That piece of shit treated my mother like nothing better than his high school whore. When really, he was the whore! Who does he think he is?! Walking away from us like that? Walking away from
me
?”

Tears streamed down his face as he choked on his sobs, but he didn’t care now. He stood as something he’d never felt before burst free in his young body. “How could he . . .? Why?” He had a hard time getting his words out as they tripped over themselves and his guttural cries. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t he just
love
me?”

Chapter 16

Michael bent over and examined the angel’s wings. Yup, they were centered. He dipped his needle and continued his work. He allowed his mind to wander as his body became sort of taken over by the Heavenly powers that allowed him to inhabit this humanly vessel and its many talents. One of the perks of being an angel, though he still didn’t fully comprehend the mechanics. It was a God thing; not for him to understand. So he just kept working. And thinking.

Things were going remarkably well on his assignment. The only hitch in his giddy up, so to speak, was Tristan. The poor boy was suffering.

Ariel bounced in the front door, the golden jangly things on her sandals rattling like she was a gypsy queen. She dropped something off in the back of the studio, stopped to chat with Kyle for a few minutes, then made her way back to his station.

“Hey, Michael!”

He could just about read her brainwaves. She had been terminally excited about Noble and Braelyn’s kiss since she’d witnessed it and could talk of little else since then. He was excited too, confident even, but he was fully aware that they still had work to do.

He wiped his client’s back of excess ink and switched over to begin filling in the design with color. “Ariel.” He inclined his head to acknowledge her. “How was the nursing home today?” He was anxious to hear how things went with the two women since he was feeling something—though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it—brewing in the middle of his assignment. He was contemplating what a possible Plan B might be if it came down to it. Maybe Ariel could shed some light on the situation from Braelyn’s angle, because Noble was nothing short of a snarling bear this evening. Good thing he was holed up in Jed’s office with no appointments. He wasn’t fit for public consumption.

She grinned and leaned in, pretending to examine his work so her words would be heard by him alone. “Fabulous! Braelyn is positively
floating!
I think we’ve just about got this one wrapped up, don’t we?”

Michael bit his lip and feigned concentration as he continued tattooing his client. Ariel snapped up straight as Jed ambled by.

Michael glanced over. At least Jed had stormed and stomped and thrown stuff when he was mad and lovelorn. He was obvious. With Noble, it was so hard to tell. He was a quiet brooder. Silent and standoffish. Very difficult to read.

Michael slowed the pulse of his needle as he dipped it in the ink. He glanced at Ariel’s hopeful, gleaming eyes. He shook his head subtly to try and make her understand before turning back to his work. “I’m glad she’s happy. I am.” He sensed Ariel leaning closer to him. He pitched his voice low. “But we still have two other hearts here that I’m afraid are not quite on board yet.” Not by a long shot.

Noble wanted a damn shot of whiskey. Or eight. He wasn’t even sure why he was at work other than it was where he went every night. He’d secluded himself in Jed’s office with a sketchpad, his grandfather’s latest letter, and his foul mood.

He’d eventually given up on trying to decipher the words on the page. It was hopeless anyway. But he was pretty sure he’d gotten the one word his grandfather had wanted him to.

Parole.

The son-of-a-bitch deserved to rot in that cell for what he’d done and they were considering paroling him? You cannot possibly drink yourself into oblivion, get behind the wheel of a car, murder an innocent person by your own selfish choices, then expect to be set free. It just shouldn’t work like that. Especially not when on that afternoon, on that road, at that moment in time, the person in the other car had been the only person in the world who’d ever cared about him.

He took out his frustration on the paper before him. The tattoo design fit his mood. Dark images of a moonlit scene and haunted faces with only the subtlest edges of pain allowed to lurk in the background. He’d never understood Jed’s predilection for fiery things and bold declarations of emotion. Understated had always been the way of things for him. On most things anyway.

Braelyn’s kiss bulldozed through his memory. Yeah, real understated. He’d never kissed a woman in public, much less practically swallowed one whole like that. Jed was still razzing him about it.

He stood and tucked his sketch into a file of random drawings of art he and Jed kept for clients to peruse through and turned for the door. The darkness was consuming him and he needed to get outta there.

He found Jed at the front counter surrounded by a gaggle of college girls obviously there for some kind of sorority sister bonding ritual. They were batting their eyes and flipping their hair and looking generally flirty and cute. Jed was playing along but keeping a professional distance. The man sure knew how to walk the line now that he was married.

Jed glanced up with a grin hovering on his lips. Man, good thing Kyle wasn’t the jealous type. “Noble.” His smile faded a fraction. “You up for some work, man?”

Noble dipped his head. “Not really. I’m not feeling too well. Thought I’d head home for the night.” He glanced toward the back of the studio where Ariel was deep in conversation with Michael as he finished taping up his last customer’s tat. “Can you and Mike handle it?”

Jed stepped away from the scantily-clad bunch. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just can’t be here right now.” He hadn’t told Jed about the latest letter, but he sensed from his friend’s expression that he guessed.

“Sure, dude. No problem. See ya tomorrow?”

He nodded once and strode out the door into the black of midnight and a late September storm. It fit his mood perfectly.

Noble couldn’t move from his truck for several minutes. He sat in his driveway listening to the rain pelt his windshield with a steady, furious drone as the wind howled through the trees, his grandfather’s letter clenched in his fist. His own ragged breathing was lost to the sound of the storm, and the cab of the truck was heating fast.

He glanced up to the darkened windows of his house. Nothing there beckoned him. Automatically, his eyes roamed next door. A soft light glowed from Braelyn’s bedroom. The storm had probably woken her. Was she frightened? As he remembered her boldness and the taste of her lips, the way his heart quivered whenever she was near, he knew he was the one who should be frightened.

He sucked in one last breath of humid air, pocketed his keys and the letter, and jumped out of the truck. As he loped up the walkway, a movement drew him up short. Every cell in his body went on alert as he prepared to be attacked. His eyes darted from side-to-side and his heart began to beat ferociously—all while the thunder continued to growl overhead.

He slowed his steps as he approached.

Then she stepped off the porch. Her eyes were wary, her wet hair plastered to her head, her clothes soaked to her skin. She looked tiny and fragile and perfectly vulnerable.

He stopped. Two more steps and he could have her in his arms. “Braelyn?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around her waist.

He eyed her up and down, unsure if she was real or a trick of his overly emotional brain and the bruising storm. The taste of her had been on his lips, the feel of her on his fingertips, since the night he’d tattooed her. Hell, she was practically tattooed on his soul. And it was heavenly torture. “Are you all right?”

She tipped her chin up slightly, allowing the rain to kiss her face. She nodded again as she took a step in his direction. And though the darkness hid her eyes, he could feel the dare in them taunting him.

He didn’t know how to process a woman like her. She studied his face as the rain continued to shower down on them and a peal of lightning lit up the sky with an almost instantaneous crack of thunder. But she didn’t flinch. No words, no touches, nothing. She waited.

Her tongue darted out to taste the droplet on her upper lip just as a rustle of wind carried the scent of the storm and her perfume to him in a heady rush. And that was all it took to consume him.

He threaded his fingers through her rain-drenched hair and pulled her to him. There was no time to waste on lingering niceties as he parted the seam of her lips with his tongue and tasted her honey sweet warmth. Her tongue danced erotically with his and he delved deeper with a fierce groan as her hands raked up the skin of his back beneath his T-shirt. Perfect.

He couldn’t breathe for wanting her. He ran his fingertips down her spine to the swell of her hips and squeezed possessively. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, seeming in no hurry, even as the storm picked up speed above their heads, pelting angry drops on their backs. The fierceness of the storm seemed to only add to her passion as she clung to him, her hands everywhere on his skin as her hot fingers branded him.

The wind swirled in the treetops as he suckled her lower lip. She heaved a ragged breath when he let go to find her neck for a love bite as the thunder and lightning crescendoed.

He eased back and peered into her face. Her eyes were bright and clear, tiny droplets of water clinging to her lashes. A gentle smile skirted her kiss-swollen lips. She giggled and stretched up to brush a quick kiss to his chin.

He released her hips and grabbed her hand to lead her to the porch and out of the deluge as the rain began to beat down even more mercilessly. He led her inside and left her in the entryway while he gathered himself and found some towels.

He returned to find her shivering, her arms crossed across her breasts. “Here.” He draped the towel around her shoulders and started rubbing her arms up and down.

She gazed up at him, her tawny eyes sincere and nearly irresistible. “Thank you.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He stepped back, grabbed up his own towel and rubbed his hair to kill the dripping. He kept his eyes on her, not clear why she was in his house at midnight. He knew what it would mean if any
other
woman was at his house at midnight. But she was different. Or was she? He decided to wait her out, using all of his willpower to keep his eyes off of her wet T-shirt.

Her shivering eventually stopped and she tucked the towel tighter around herself. She flicked a glance toward the entry table where he’d tossed his keys and his grandfather’s letter.
Shit.

He cleared his throat to gain her attention. “So, what brings you by? It’s kinda late on a school night, isn’t it?”

Her eyes flew back to his. “You want me to go?”

“No.” He couldn’t lie to her. He should. But he couldn’t. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come over here tonight.” He tossed the towel he’d been using over a chair. “I guess I don’t know what to expect from you, Braelyn.”

She followed him into the living room. “You always know what to expect from women, Noble?”

He thought of all the women he’d met lately who wanted something from him he wasn’t prepared to give. Braelyn could be the most dangerous because he found himself tempted to try to give her more of himself than she asked for. More than he could safely spare. “Pretty much.” He inclined his head toward the kitchen. “You want a drink?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He moved straight for the fridge and pulled out two cold Cokes. He glanced up at her as he got out two glasses and his bottle of spiced rum. If he’d been alone he might’ve gone for the harder stuff, but with a lady in the house, he figured he’d better go light. He raised a brow to ask her if she was cool with it before he poured.

She eyed him reluctantly from where she leaned against the bar countertop. “I guess. If that’s really what you’re drinking. But I’d rather have a shot of that Patrón I saw in your liquor cabinet and a beer if you’ve got one. But not anything fancy.” She wrinkled her nose. “A good ol’ American beer, please.”

He laughed. And sadly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. If he thought he was capable, he’d think he was falling for her. She was friggin’ perfect. But, no, more than he could spare. “Coming right up.” He pulled out the Patrón and poured a healthy shot. He slid it across the bar and watched as she picked it up and swallowed it in one long, sexy gulp—never taking her eyes off him.

He grabbed them both a beer and led her to the kitchen table. He straddled his chair backwards and studied her. Her auburn hair was drying into subtle waves around her chin. Without makeup, her golden eyes were still haunting, her pale skin looking so delicate it made his fingers ache to touch it.

She set her beer down and traced a ring of moisture on the tabletop. “Tell me, Noble. What are we?”

“What do you mean ‘
What are we
?’” he laced his fingers around his beer and kept his face impassive, though he knew what was coming. He just didn’t know how he was going to answer.

She glanced up. “I mean are we just neighbors? Friends? What? You have to admit it’s a little confusing.” She smiled. “Not that I’m blaming you. I think that it’s pretty much my fault, huh?”

Hell, yes, it was confusing. “Of course we’re friends.”

She nodded. “Friends who make-out in the rain?”

Touché. He swigged his beer. “What do you want me to say?”

Confusion shone in her eyes. “I have no idea, Noble. Listen, I don’t have any more of a clue here than you do. I want to be your friend. Hell, I wanna be more than your friend.” She heaved out a weary sigh. “But you know enough about my past and why Tristan and I are here in Texas to understand why I’m not looking for a serious relationship.”

She studied his face as he remained silent. “I guess you’re not either, huh? But I’m not going to lie to you. I
really
like you. And I’m
really
attracted to you. I’m happy to be your friend, but I’d be even happier to be your friend with benefits. No strings. I think it’s the perfect solution. My heart can’t get broken again and neither can Tristan’s.” She stood, took a big pull of her beer then set it down, all while keeping her eyes trained on him. “Why don’t you think about it?”

Holy Hell.

Sexy Woman. Likes his truck. Apparently doesn’t mind his bikes. Hello—
American
beer drinker. Not afraid of a little ink. And now, friends with benefits? He could definitely spare that.

He may have just found the Holy Grail.