It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) (15 page)

How is this possibly my life?

I pinch myself as a reminder that my life has been filled with either working at my parents bakery, or filling any temp job I can find that keeps money in my pocket and me out of my parents shop. An adventure like this seems far too momentous to be real.

I hear the now familiar Incubus ring tone. Trying not to look directly at him, I glance from the corner of my eye at Aiden. He swipes his finger across the screen of his phone and lifts it to his ear. “Hello? Richard, yes. What did you find out?”

His voice trails off. There’s a bit of back and forth I can’t quite hear when he turns in my direction. Stiffening, I face forward, hoping he can’t tell I was trying to listen in.

“I don’t care what it takes, I’ll spend every dime I have if I—” he starts then pauses. “I know he has more. Just do everything you can for them, do you understand?”

I was so engrossed with the thoughts running through my head about the mysterious conversation I didn’t notice Aiden standing directly over my shoulder. “You won’t have cell reception where we’re going,” he informs me.

I nearly jump out of my skin, a shrill shriek escaping my lips.

He shakes his head and reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you’re fine, I guess I was lost in thought.”

“It’s that jet lag, I told you it’s killer,” he adds, his head snapping back toward the end of the street.

I start to reply when Aiden turns and steps forward, waving his hand in the direction of an oversized, block-shaped vehicle. He’s wearing dark denim and a heather gray t-shirt, that I can’t seem to help finding my eyes lingering on the way it hugs him in all the right places. My face flushes red when he glances over his shoulder and catches my shameless ogling. I blame the lack of agility and awareness caused by sleep loss as well.

His head snaps back as the vehicle comes to an abrupt stop in front of him. He sticks his head and arm inside the vehicle, clasping hands with the man behind the wheel. It’s clear they know each other.

Aiden moves back when the door opens, and the man inside steps out. I’m surprised when I see that he’s below five feet in height. Though his stature is slight, his wide eyes and large grin demand to be noticed.

Quickly stepping to one side, Aiden offers introductions, “Kenzie this is Jumanda. Jumanda, this is my new assistant, Kenzie.”

He outstretches his hand to me, and I notice the dark skin is dry and cracked with deep crevices running to his wrist. I think how his face looks too young to have hands that look like his. When I place my fingers in his waiting hand and prepare to shake, he surprises me when he presses his lips against my open palm. He then bows his head and smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Kenzie,” he offers, his voice heavy with an unfamiliar accent.

Aiden laughs. “Jumanda is a bit of a flirt.”

“I learn from best,” the man teases in his broken English, nodding his head in Aiden’s direction.

I laugh.

“Come on Romeo, help me load up the truck,” Aiden instructs, lifting the case closest to him and pulling it to the rear of the vehicle. I quickly join in, grabbing as many packs as I can carry, determined to be helpful.

Taking the bags from my hands, Aiden towers above me, causing my head to tilt back. I can feel the heat from his body, and the closeness causes warmth to rise from my chest to my face.

“Thanks,” he says in a low and soft voice. There’s no trace of the frustration I saw earlier at breakfast. Curiosity still eats at me, begging to know what could have made such a seemingly laid back individual so tense, but I can’t ask. He’s my boss.

Instead, I bite my lip and reply, “You’re welcome.”

When I turn, Jumanda is grinning a large and toothy smile, splitting his face from ear to ear. He gives me a wink, knowingly nodding at me. I can only assume he’s insinuating something about Aiden and my relationship. I frown at him and under my breath grumble, “I’m his assistant, that’s it.”

“What?” Aiden asks from behind me.

“I was wondering where we’re heading?” I quickly interject.

“Jumanda here is taking us out to meet up with the rest of the Bushmen,” Aiden explains, slamming the gate closed on the back of the vehicle.

“What?” The confused gasp escapes my lips.

“He works as an interpreter for them,” Aiden opens the rear passenger door, lifting a single eyebrow as he waits for me to climb in. His eyes travel over my face, and I must grit my teeth to stop myself from blushing.

A hint of smile tickles the corner of his mouth. It reminds me of the look on his face from that day in his studio when he came out of the shower in just a towel. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I grab the leather assistance handle just above the door, and stepping up on the running board, propel myself into the back seat. Aiden closes the door behind me and walks around the vehicle, taking his place in the front passenger seat.

Jumanda climbs in behind the large oversized wheel, and I can’t help wondering how he possibly can reach the pedals while seeing over the dash at the same time.

“How is everyone?” Aiden asks as we lurch forward with a jolting jump.

“Good. Good. Nisa is eager you’re coming back for another visit.” There’s that insinuating glance from Jumanda again. With the spotlight off of me, I am happy to join into this particular taunting.

Without thinking, I ask, “Oh, who’s Nisa?” I try not to smile, but only half succeed.

Aiden doesn’t look back at me, and instantly I worry that my teasing is inappropriate. Maybe this Nisa was a real lost love. Maybe she broke his heart, and he’s not quite over it yet. I let out a breath of relief when I hear laughter erupt. He looks over at Jumanda, then back at me.

“Nisa is a lovely twelve-year-old girl who has declared her intentions to marry me one day,” Aiden explains.

I giggle, “Is that right?”

“Her father says she must be fourteen first,” Jumanda interjects, completely serious.

“What?” I blurt, motionless as my eyes widen in disbelief. “You can’t be serious?”

Aiden narrows his gaze, our eyes locking in the rearview mirror. “Bushman women often marry around that age.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” I shake my head.

“You know what your problem is?” Aiden starts, turning in his seat, to look me directly in the eyes.

“You’re talking about marrying a fourteen-year-old girl, and you’re going to tell me what my problem is.” I don’t attempt to hide my contempt for him in the least.

Jumanda erupts in childlike laughter.

Aiden nods and continues, “Your problem is that you don’t listen.”

“Oh, I listen just fine,” I correct him, shifting uncomfortably.

“Jumanda said her father won’t let her marry until she’s fourteen,” Aiden says sternly. “Nowhere in there did either of us say I intended to have a relationship with her.”

I swallow hard, quickly defending myself. “I’m more appalled that you would be all right that a father would marry off a child so young.”

“The way Westerners live their lives is always the right way Kenzie,” Aiden says, his tone condescending.

“She firecracker,” Jumanda continues to laugh.

“These people are exploited, their customs and traditions are spat upon, I don’t intend to be just another number in the legions of supposed civilized men trying to get them to conform to a modernized social standard of normal,” he unleashes, and it’s clear it’s a topic he’s passionate about.

“I’m sorry,” I squeak out, lowering my head, pursing my lips together. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point.

His hawk-like glare lifts, his soft blue eyes revealing themselves fully to me. “I’m just messing with you. I think it’s great you’d stand up for something you think is wrong. Just be sure you understand the entire picture before you choose that kill you’re willing to die for.”

“What?” my eyes fix themselves on his face.

He sighs. “I find most people lack convictions.”

“Maybe you haven’t met enough people,” I suggest.

“I’ve met plenty, just not many of them impress me,” he interjects.

“Are you saying I impress you?” I ask.

He tilts his head before turning around and facing forward. “We’ll see. So Jumanda, how’s the water hunt been going?”

I sit in silence, listening to the two discussing a world that’s completely foreign to me. About people who fight against their government to survive and even more than that, fight to survive on their terms. It’s obvious Aiden is no stranger to their suffering. In fact, I can tell he’s been involved with them for some time. The hour-long ride seems to be over in a matter of minutes.

S
UNLIGHT CUTS THROUGH THE BEDROOM
window, sharp shards of piercing light stinging my eyes. The world around me fades from black nothingness into a soft haziness of consciousness. My right arm and hand tingles as though a thousand tiny needles prick me repeatedly.

I look down and see the girl on my arm. The girl with the red hair and most beautiful curves I’ve ever spied on any creature.

“Good morning,” she breathes softly, shifting and burying her head deeper into my side. “What are you looking at?” she asks me.

“An angel.” I offer, my lips pressing against the top of her head.

“Oh God, you’re cheesy,” she moans rolling her eyes.

I laugh, looking down at her face.

“I missed you Kenzie,” I say, scared to take my eyes off of her. Afraid if I blink for too long she might disappear.

“Where did I go?” she inquires innocently.

“I thought I lost you,” I explain.

“You did,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“What? No, I can feel you. You’re here with me,” I insist.

She starts to laugh and rolls away from me. “I’m not here. I’ll never be with you again.”

“Stop saying that,” I plead. “You belong to me.”

“I never belonged with you, Ben.” The words pierce through me, jolting me into consciousness. My hand desperately pats the pillow next to me, and my heart sinks when I don’t find Kenzie there. Instead, I find nothing but empty, cold sheets.

Sitting up I run my fingers through my hair and grab my phone. No new messages. I open the text window and stare at the text I typed last night, but managed to refrain from sending to Kenzie.

You belong with me.

Those words once would have been the most romantic words she could have ever imagined. She would have swooned and told me how lucky she was to have such an incredible guy. But that’s not how things were going with Kenzie these days. No matter what I say, it always seems to be wrong.

My stomach flutters and I can’t help but be pissed at how choked up Kenzie gets me. I should be heading out with my boys, looking for a piece of ass to take my mind off her. After all, she ended things. There’s no guilt for me. Not after the way she treated me. So, why can’t I quit thinking about her? She’s probably screwing some other guy right now.

No. I remind myself that Kenzie isn’t like that. That’s exactly why I can’t quit thinking about her. Somehow I feel guilty, but I don’t even know what for. Had I told my dad I couldn’t do the fleet job the night she came back from England, if I were at the airport to pick her up, would any of this have happened?

This can’t just be about not picking her up at the airport. Kenzie can be crazy sometimes, but not that crazy. What it is about then? What probably frustrates me the most is I’m not sure I’ll ever know. She’s different. That much is for sure. Something in her has changed. Maybe it was the trip to England, but I think somewhere inside of me I know it started long before that.

Was Kenzie right? Did we never belong together? If I’m honest, I’ve always known she was too good for me. I’m a grown man and still sleeping on my parents’ pull out sofa in the basement. I stiffen, feeling the bottom drop out of my stomach. I can’t accept that she’s not the one for me. My life doesn’t make sense if she’s not in it.
Damn her. Damn the way she makes me feel.

“Where the hell are you Kenzie?” I whisper, flopping back onto the uncomfortable coiled mattress in frustration. A job in Africa. The vague notion isn’t enough information to set my mind at ease.