Wound Up (12 page)

“For what it’s worth, I’m into the princesses. What do you want?”

“Get some coffee already.”

“Means getting out of bed. It’s too early for that kind of commitment to the day,” Levi said around a yawn.

“Eric and Cass are going to Pandora’s tonight. We’re getting a few people together. Want to go?”

“Yeah. Sounds like fun.” Bedclothes rustled and a feminine voice protested. Levi ignored her to ask, “What time?”

“About seven, seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be there. An opportunity to go out without the assless chaps is always welcome.”

Justin laughed. “Ain’t that the truth. No firemen, lumberjacks, sailors or construction workers allowed.”

“Then I’m definitely in. See ya.”

They hung up. Justin went back to his chart and forced himself to fill in some of the information before tilting his head toward Grace. “A few of my friends are getting together tonight. Want to come along? We’re meeting at some dive bar that allegedly serves the best nachos in Seattle.”

She hesitated long enough that Justin had to fight to not push, cajole or plead with her to say yes. Finally,
finally
, she looked over at him. “No construction workers, huh?”

“Nope. No cowboys, either.”

“Shame. I’m rather fond of cowboys.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “Why are you inviting me?”

“I want to hang out with you. It’s a group setting, public venue. Nothing nefarious. Just come out for a while. Enjoy yourself. You’ll like the people who are going.”

“It’s not another ‘lunch’ situation?”

“I gave you my word—I won’t push.”

She ran a hand around the nape of her neck and shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. I’ll come. When should I meet you there?”

“About seven-thirty. That’ll give everyone time to be late and you won’t end up waiting on us.”

She laughed. “Your friends are always late?”

“Eric and Cass are awesome, but they’re a new couple so...yeah, they tend to run late.” Heat crept across his cheeks, and he grinned at his own awkwardness over his friends’ sex lives. “Levi will be there, but he’s rarely the first to arrive. Has this thing about being alone.” And that might have been too much personal information on the guy, but it would explain him well enough she understood.

“And you?”

“If you’re there at seven-thirty?” He leaned toward her, one corner of his mouth lifting in an approximation of a smile, thrilling at the way her lips parted and her breath caught. “I’ll be there at seven to make sure you have a place at the table.”

“Seven-thirty it is.” She lowered her lids halfway and swayed toward him.

His heart stuttered and his palms grew slick.

“Now stop with the seductive crap and get back to work.”

His laughter echoed through the near-empty room. “You’re a total vixen.”

“Nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

“Then I haven’t been nice enough.”

She didn’t comment but returned to her notes, leaving him to wonder what would happen if they kissed again.

His mind jumped to the image of her naked beneath him, writhing and calling his name. His cock swelled and he sought to regain his control before he was forced to stand up and let his burgeoning erection announce that his mind had been in the gutter.

No, not gutter. Not where Grace was concerned.

Seduction was the key phrase he had to focus on tonight. He would find the best way to show her who he was outside the club, outside the office. He’d come this far through hard work, determination and, more than once, self-sacrifice. He wanted her to see that. If he could, he might have a chance. His life was finally falling into place. But for the story to be worth telling, he had to get the girl.

No pressure.

12

G
RACE
STEPPED
OFF
the 68 bus and, head down, started the short walk home. Her address’s only redeeming quality was that it put her close to the bus stop.

Fat raindrops began to fall. The clean scent dissipated the overwhelming smell of pot as she passed the first drug dealer’s house.

No one had to tell her not to slow down, not to look left or right, not to notice too much. She’d grown up here, knew the streets and the dangers that lay in plain sight, as well as those that didn’t.

There was no way she was going to stay in Seattle. Living anywhere near this hellhole she’d grown up in was out of the question. She wanted out, wanted to be thousands of miles away, to start a new life with none of the ugliness and poverty and fear that had been her life up until now. She wanted to cut ties with her mother and find a place to settle down, create roots and a sense of belonging, both to community and to someone special.

Justin’s face flashed through her mind.

He’d shared his family with her, showed her what it was like to have roots, people who cared about him. And he’d opened the door to her, offering to let her be one of them for the last couple of weeks she’d be here.

But she couldn’t get invested in these people and then just leave. What he offered would only fuel her desire for him, because she found the way he treated his friends and extended family incredibly attractive. Okay, a little sexy, even.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the large man walking down the sidewalk until she’d almost run into him. Quickly stepping aside, she murmured, “Sorry.”

“No problem, beautiful. Feel like making a man’s evening and having a little fun in the process?”

“That’s my daughter, Mitch.” Her mother’s venomous voice sliced through the air like a snake strike.

“Easy, Cindy. Just having a chat with the young lady. Didn’t realize she was yours.” He leaned close. “What a shame.” Then he walked off.

The exchange made her skin crawl. It also reaffirmed her belief that her only hope for the life she wanted to make for herself laid far east of the state line.

Cindy stepped inside, letting the screen door slam shut so hard the glass panel rattled dangerously. Grace knew then she’d have to get in and out of the house as fast as possible if she wanted to avoid a confrontation.

She paused on the stoop, the smell of fresh cigarettes and whiskey wafting from the house.
Damn it.
Her mom was on the hard stuff again. That meant she was probably dabbling with drugs, too. How the woman passed the random drug screening at the factory was beyond Grace’s comprehension.

Shoring up her emotional strength and pulling indifference around her like a protective cloak, she stepped inside the house.

Two weeks and counting.
She could do anything for two weeks knowing freedom lay on the other side of this, her personal perdition.

Cindy sat sprawled on the couch in a dirty T-shirt and a pair of men’s boxers. Her nails, thick and yellowed from smoking, were short and uneven. Dark roots showed where her long hair was parted, affirming blond wasn’t her natural color. As if the burned ends didn’t say it all.

“Stop staring.” She took a long draw on her cigarette, eyeing Grace carefully. “Where’d you get the money for those new clothes?”

“I had some money left over from my last work-study job.” Grace started through the living room, stepping around scattered pizza boxes, beer bottles and—ew—a condom wrapper. She couldn’t help it. She glanced over and arched a brow. “Safe sex, huh? Your idea or his?”

“Mitch is a total wuss. Said he had to have the condom or no sex, so condom it was.” Cindy’s eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned into a mean, harsh line. “Right here on the sofa, Grace. Does that offend you, your highness? Huh, Miss Prim-and-Proper?”

She didn’t slow down as she answered. “You can do whatever you want with your body wherever you want to do it.”

Cindy stubbed out her cigarette. “Don’t judge me, you little bitch. You ain’t worth nothing. Never been good for anything but ruining my life.”

Numb. Have to stay numb.
“I’m not saying a word.”

“You think you’re so much better than us common folk since you went and got an education. But that piece of paper don’t change the fact you
came
from common, you
are
common and you’ll always
be
common.”

Grace continued on to her bedroom without responding, opening her door and slipping inside.

Something glass hit the door behind her and shattered, the strong smell of liquor wafting up from the floor.

That’s when the shakes started.

Maybe she wasn’t as numb as she’d thought, or hoped, she was. It had been a long time since her mother had been conscious enough while Grace was home to be malicious, but Cindy was clearly aware enough to go there tonight.

Grace couldn’t stay here anymore. She had to get out of the house and find somewhere else to stay for the next few days, even if it took every precious penny she’d saved. Believing she could come back here, even for two weeks, had been an epic mistake.

She blindly grabbed clean clothes and her bathroom clutch, shoving them in her briefcase. Quiet as possible, she pulled a textbook out of the closet. Flipping to the middle, she found the little section she’d cut away to create a small cubbyhole to store her emergency cash. She always kept enough for a bus ticket out of here plus incidentals, all the while knowing that if Cindy found it, she’d take it. Having that emergency stash had been the only way she could stay at her mother’s house and not lose her mind. It had meant she wasn’t trapped there. Not really. Still, her instincts urged her toward self-preservation they clearly identified as “escape.”

Grace pocketed the small wad of cash and closed the lid, slipping the book back in place. Bracing herself, she opened her door, stepped over the broken glass and started for the front door.

“Where you goin’ all dressed to the nines?” Cindy slurred. “Finally found yourself a man to unfreeze your frigid little ass?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Don’t disrespect me, Grace. I asked you a question.”

Grace stopped and spun. “You’re drunk. You won’t remember tomorrow what you asked me tonight any more than you’ll remember my answer, but I’ll tell you, anyway. I’m going out. Away. As far from this hellhole as I can get. And yes, a man is involved.”

Cindy laughed, the sound one of bitterness and disillusionment. “Here I was giving you flak about the man, and what do you do but admit you found someone to put up with your princess-and-the-pumpkin ideas about what happens between a man and a woman. You’re a fool, Grace. An absolute fool. You think his interest in you is gonna last? You think he’s gonna believe you’re worth the trouble once he gets to know you?” When Grace didn’t answer, Cindy snorted. “Fool.”

Chest heaving, fury climbed Grace’s spine one vertebra at a time, its vicious fingers piercing her emotional skin and leaving her bleeding. “Good night, Cindy.”

Grace slammed the front door behind her. All she wanted was peace and quiet, a place she could retreat to after work and just relax. She didn’t want to deal with her alcoholic mother. She didn’t want to be hit on by her mother’s lovers as they left Cindy’s house. She didn’t want to be afraid for one more night, didn’t want to be rejected again.

She hated her mother for stealing her joy, for finding it funny when her revolving-door lovers flirted with Grace or, worse, had come into her room to tuck her in as a child.

A hard shiver shook her. She’d started sleeping with a steak knife at eight. She’d graduated to a butcher knife by eleven. Had pulled it on a man by thirteen. Had drawn blood by fourteen. And all the while, she’d held out a kernel of hope that love could defeat the darkness in her life. Her mother might have denied it to Grace over the course of her life, but Grace had always hoped someday she’d find someone who would love her freely. Someday she’d get out of Cindy’s house and find a way to be happy. The woman was right. Grace had been a fool.

Choking on a toxic blend of loathing and self-pity, she stepped onto the 18 bus at the same time a gunshot sounded. The driver slammed the doors and started pulling away from the curb, leaving her to lurch toward the first empty seat. He drove faster than was legal, but still not fast enough for Grace.

She wanted out.

Now.

* * *

J
USTIN
SWIVELED
IN
his chair and checked Pandora’s front door yet again. It was almost 7:45 p.m. and Grace hadn’t shown up. He turned back in time to see Eric and Levi exchange a knowing look. “What?” he demanded. “I’m worried she ran into trouble. This isn’t the best neighborhood.”

“It’s the South Central District, Justin. She’ll be fine. Probably just ran into someone she recognized outside a neighboring bar.” Levi smiled innocently. “Maybe a frat guy or a professor or someone.”

Justin grabbed a peanut and flicked it at the guy, beaning him in the forehead. “Shut up about Grace, Levi. I’m not telling you again.”

“Man, you’ve got it bad,” Eric said through a wide grin.

“Pot, kettle,” Justin responded blandly before glancing at Cass. “No offense, beautiful.”

“None taken. He could take being set down a peg or two.” The woman at Eric’s side then turned to her boyfriend and gently slapped the back of his head. “Now be nice. You have to chill out where Justin’s concerned. So what if he has a girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Justin had clarified this every time Grace entered the conversation, which had been often. “She’s a girl who is my friend.”

“Girlfriend,” Cass insisted. “I have girlfriends. Why can’t you?”

“Bring them over,” Eric said, waggling his eyebrows.

Cass rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a one-track mind.” She smiled brightly at Justin. “So. Why
isn’t
she your girlfriend?”

Justin took a long draw from his beer. “It’s complicated.”

Levi settled deeper in his chair and stared a hole through Justin. “Dark auburn hair, right? Swimsuit-model physique but with better curves?”

“Hair’s more red than auburn, but yeah, she’s got killer curves. A little more on her than a swimsuit model, which makes her absolutely freakin’ perfect. Why?”

“She just walked in.”

Justin whipped around so fast he almost fell out of his chair.

And there she was, scanning the crowd as she chewed her bottom lip. She looked amazing in faded jeans and a sleeveless green top. He raised a hand to grab her attention, smiling when she started their way.

The closer she came, though, the clearer it became that something was wrong. The tell was in her eyes. They were haunted. Or hunted. Or both. She’d worried the lipstick off one half of her lower lip, and he was sure his friends would notice, maybe ask if she was okay. To save her any discomfort, he stood and stepped forward, quickly dropping a kiss on her lips with enough pressure to transfer her lipstick.

Her eyes widened and she parked a hand on his chest, pushing at him gently until he pulled away. “I’ve heard that hello is a generally accepted greeting in most countries, including ours.”

“So trite, ‘hello.’ I thought I’d do something a bit more European.”

“They air kiss on one or both cheeks.”

“Middle Eastern?”

“Their women generally aren’t allowed to show any forms of public affection.”

“You’re tough, Cooper. Caribbean.”

“I haven’t had enough rum to believe you’re from the Caribbean, Maxwell.”

“Then let’s get the lady a drink.”

She laughed, and the haunted look in her eyes retreated a few paces.

“Before you get mad about the kiss,” he said into her ear, “you’d worried the lipstick off one side of your lower lip. I figured you wouldn’t want anyone to ask what was wrong. A kiss seemed the most expedient way of resolving the issue. Unfortunately, you’ll have to act like my date now or they’re going to want to know why I kissed you at all.”

Her smile slowly faded as she searched his face.

He bristled. “I don’t go around kissing women, Grace.”

Laying a hand gently on his cheek, she leaned forward and pulled him in for a very tender kiss.

Justin’s heart did a lazy roll in his chest that left him breathless when she broke away.

Turning, he placed one hand at the small of her back and encouraged Grace forward. It amused him that both Eric and Levi stood after Cass unapologetically kicked them under the table.

Eric slipped an arm around Cass’s shoulders. “This must be Grace Cooper.”

“The one and only,” Justin answered, nudging her forward another step and wondering at the fact the saucy wench he was crazy about had gone totally silent in the face of unknown men. Narrowing his eyes, he considered Eric and Levi objectively. They were both tall. Eric was leanly muscled, whereas Levi was bulkier, but not so huge his head seemed too small for his body. Both men sported dark hair, but Levi’s was nearly black and hung to his shoulders while Eric’s was executive chic all the way. Both were attractive, had great personalities. And suddenly he felt as if he was sizing his best friends up for dates versus assessing them for...what? Competition?

Levi shook his head, drawing Justin’s attention. “If you don’t stop looking at me like you’re trying to decide whether or not to take me home, I’m going to either knock you on your ass or demand you at least buy me a drink first.”

Everyone laughed, including Grace, so Justin went along with it. When he got Levi alone, though, they’d see who ended up on whose ass. For now, he dropped an arm around Grace’s shoulders and said, “You’re cute, but you’re not my type.”

“I’d rather be her type than yours, anyway.” Levi waggled his brows.

Justin stiffened, but Grace just laughed and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the bar-height table. “The only thing that means, hotshot, is that you’re going to go to bed wishing.”

Grace settled into Justin’s side as the group laughed again.

Levi lifted his beer in salute.

Cass pulled out a chair for Grace and said, “At first I was just glad you came because I’m tired of being the only woman in this group, but I think I’m going to really like you.”