Bouncer’s Folly (4 page)

24

Gracie C. McKeever

You’re not a girl. You’re a boy! Boys don’t wear make-up. Boys,
especially skater bois like Trevor, are not made of sugar and spice and
everything nice. Boys are grungy, the grungier the better if Ramsey’s
responses are any indication.

“So, what made you come by?” Zara asked.

“I thought we covered this already. You asked me to.”

Actually, she’d begged, but she wouldn’t remind him and embarrass herself all over again. “I know, but I really didn’t expect you to do it.”

“I’m not like the other guys you’re used to dealing with.”

She knew that without knowing what guys Trevor was used to dealing with. From just their few brief encounters Zara could tell that Ramsey was different from most men she associated with. It was at once a subtle and obvious difference, something bone-deep that made you know you could count on him in a pinch and that he’d never judge you unjustly. She hadn’t come across too many people like this, much less men.

“I see the wheels spinning. Planning your next bash?”

“Is that all you think I’m about?” Her words came from a deep well of frustration for all the things she hadn’t done in her life, especially not being able to shake her irresponsible, party-girl image. That non-achievement she regretted most of all. “There’s more to me than just getting high and having a good time.’

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen anything else to judge you by,”

Ramsey murmured.

“You will.”

“What is that? A threat?”

“No, it’s a promise. You’re not the only one who can keep one.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and rubbed her toes across Ramsey’s crotch before he realized what she was about.

He almost leaped out of his seat at the contact and whipped out a hand to catch her around the ankle.

“Hey!”

“You started this.” He held her foot against his erection, massaging the top with his thumbs, his calloused pads rasping against the tender network of skin and ligament sending an electric current straight up her leg to spread through her center, warming it, making her hunger for more intimate contact.

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She was wet, moisture pooling in the slit of her cock, hard and pulsating beneath her gown. If she spread her legs just a little would he be able to see how hard she was for him?

God, this could get confusing! Talk about being born in the wrong body.

She was living her life in the wrong body. Or maybe she was finally in the right body. She had always been attracted to gay men—either knowingly or unknowingly—her biggest love interest a gay man with whom her twin brother was now partnered.

Maybe her angels knew what they were doing after all.

But this didn’t explain why she still had the consciousness of a woman, still felt like a woman, minus the prerequisite anatomy.

The simple fact of the matter, whether she was in a man’s body or a woman’s body, the body plainly found Ramsey Logan attractive—reacting to him the way a turned-on woman or a turned-on gay man would react. She wanted him to touch her in places and ways she had never been touched, not even by herself, at least not yet.

How insanely ironic was that?

Ramsey slid his hands up her legs, between her thighs, fondling her testicles before lightly squeezing. “You’re hard.”

“Very,” she agreed, arching her neck and closing her eyes as he brushed the underside of her shaft before thumbing the pearl of pre-ejaculate from the slit and spreading it around the head of her cock. “God, I want you,” she whispered.

“As crazy as it is, I want you too.” He slid his hands from between her legs, shattering the fantasy and unceremoniously slamming Zara back to earth.

Her eyes flew open and she fixed him with a glare. “Why crazy? It’s plain you’re attracted to me.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to act on it.”

“Why not?”

“We’re in a hospital. And there is such a thing called restraint.”

And she could tell he was adept at exercising it from the way he’d coolly removed his hands from her legs as if she were no more than in inanimate object, not made of warm, eager flesh and bone. “I know that. I didn’t mean we had to do anything here and now.” Though if he hadn’t 26

Gracie C. McKeever

stopped or said something, she was sure she’d be straddling him in that chair and impaling herself on his hard shaft that moment.

Restraint. I know it’s a new concept to you, party-girl, but exercise a
little of it!

“So what did you mean?” Ramsey leaned in, catching one of her hands, twining his fingers through hers and making her tremble.

“We could, uh, go out. Like on a date.”

“Do people still do that?”

She slapped his shoulder, liking his sense of humor.

“So, what would this date entail, exactly?”

“Um, you know…” What was this? She had never been tongue-tied with a man, which had been part of the problem with her relationships. She’d been known for her rapier wit and frank tongue. Some men’s egos couldn’t handle a dressing down, couldn’t handle knowing that they weren’t all that and a bag of chips.

The same impetuous trait that had her running headlong into relationships with men, had her dumping them the very next week, the old adage—she could do bad by herself—a roadmap by which she lived and breathed. And beyond Quincy, she hadn’t considered many guys worth her time beyond a monogamous, whirlwind week. They were either too immature, too shallow, or too vain. Simply put, they were too much like her.

She wanted someone different from herself, better, not someone who didn’t have his shit together. She wanted Ramsey Logan.

“Dinner,” Ramsey prompted. “Dancing or a movie? A nightcap back at your place?”

“Sounds interesting.” She offered her hand and Ramsey took it, pulling her forward to seal their pact with a scorching kiss just as Travis strolled into the room.

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27

“Did I interrupt something?”

Ramsey nonchalantly leaned back in his chair, lips tingling with the memory of Trevor’s hot, responsive mouth as an idea popped into his head unbidden. “We were just making a deal. I challenged your brother to stay clean for two weeks.”

Travis turned to Trevor with a low whistle. “Wow, and you agreed?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I don’t think I’ve seen you clean and sober for more than a few days since you turned eighteen and that was with a stint in N.A.”

“This time he has me.”

Travis turned to Ramsey and arched a brow. “You’re going to be his sponsor?”

“Not officially, no. But I’ve got his back.” Damn, what was he getting himself into?

From the shocked expression on Trevor’s face, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

But what the hell was Ramsey supposed to do? If he saw something that needed fixing, he rolled up his sleeves and jumped in. If he saw someone in need, he gave a hand; it had always been this way. The protective gene was etched in his DNA, taking care of people something he’d been doing and doing well since raising his younger brother and picking up the pieces left behind from his mother’s endless broken relationships.

Ramsey couldn’t count the number of uncles he’d had since his fifth birthday, how many potential father figures he’d entertained before his brother Kyle finally came along when he’d been seven and he’d
become
the father figure he’d always wanted.

Now that he’d stated his intentions, there was no way he’d ever go back on his word. He was a goal-oriented person and once he focused his mind on 28

Gracie C. McKeever

an objective he didn’t waver until he achieved it. He had a purpose and a reason to stay in Trevor’s life and it wasn’t just to get into his shorts, though they would be a nice place to stay, but to help him get over his addiction.

And who died and made you Trevor Carmichael’s personal savior?

Trevor Carmichael had, that’s who.

“Anyway, I just wanted to pop in and let you know I was here.” Travis squeezed his brother’s arm. “I’m going to go see your doctor and handle the paperwork to get you discharged now. Be right back.”

“Okay,” Trevor said then turned on Ramsey as soon as his brother left the room. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tell my brother all that stuff about a challenge?’

“Was that a bad thing?”

“No, of course not.”

“You want to get on the wagon, don’t you?”

“Yes, but who says you’re the one to keep me on it?”

Ramsey slid to the edge of his chair, grabbing each of Trevor’s hands in his. “I didn’t say all that stuff to shine your brother on.”

“You…you meant it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Trevor shrugged, suddenly looking like a very shy and vulnerable child.

“No one except my brother’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

Not his parents? No friends? How freaking sad. “Well, someone’s doing it now.”

“But why?”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you never to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“It seems my mother neglected to teach me a lot of common courtesies.”

“Well, I guess you need me in your life for more than just intervention, don’t you?” He leaned in again, brushing his mouth against Trevor’s, tentative and curious, acquainting himself with the moist texture, the sensual curve, especially of his full bottom lip. He thrust his tongue into Trevor’s mouth, found his tongue, eager and waiting until they engaged in a lingual duel.

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29

Ramsey parried and lunged before finally taking control of the kiss altogether, sliding a hand to the back of Trevor’s head and holding him in place while he delved in his mouth.

He closed his eyes to better assimilate all the subtle flavors and qualities, a starving man stumbling upon an unexpected banquet in his own kitchen.

Panting, Ramsey retreated after several lingering moments, resting his forehead against Trevor’s and cupping his face. “Damn, you’re addictive.”

He gritted his teeth against the last word, hated using it and hated having a weakness for anything, even if that something was a hot little club boi who was too tempting and self-destructive for his own good.

“And you don’t want to be addicted to me,” Trevor murmured.

“It seems I don’t have a choice.” Or at least his dick didn’t have a choice.

Ramsey mentally chastised himself at the salacious thought. He knew it was more than just physical between him and Trevor. It was just easier to admit to a physical weakness than one of the heart and soul. He could slake the physical, but his soul? It was a bottomless pit of desire and need that, wrong or right, his heart was telling him could only be filled by Trevor.

“You always have a choice,” Trevor said.

He wondered about all the choices a younger Trevor had made that led him to almost die in a club bathroom, wondered when Trevor had turned to a life of carousing and drugs. What had happened when he was eighteen?

He looked at Trevor, wanting to get involved—feeling the pull of that intense blue gaze—but afraid to commit himself, not yet ready to carry someone else’s baggage besides his own. Despite all this, he asked, “Where are you going when you get out of here?”

Trevor frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“When you figure it out, give me a call.” Ramsey pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, retrieved a business card and handed it to Trevor. “Those are my home and cell numbers. Don’t hesitate to use either of them, day or night.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I saved your life. You’re my responsibility now.”

* * * *

30

Gracie C. McKeever

Wow, could the man kiss! That and his last words to her before he left knocked Zara’s world off-kilter.

She didn’t know if Ramsey considered her a welcomed burden or not, didn’t care, just wanted to be near him, in his life, any way she could.

Careful. That’s what got you into trouble with Quincy and Zack, not
caring how you got what you wanted and remember how that turned out.

She’d very nearly killed her own brother, or at least snuffed out his consciousness, when she took over his body to be with Quincy.

Zara didn’t know what had made her change her mind in the end to let Zack go and be with Quincy, was just glad that she had finally come to her senses and she hadn’t done irreparable damage to two of the most important people in the world to her.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she needed to go see them. She wanted to go see them. Of all the people from her former life she thought that they would be able to accept what and who she was now, maybe even help her find her way with Ramsey and Travis.

God, how was she supposed to tell the man who had assumed responsibility for her well-being and the man who was her new twin brother what really happened to Trevor, that he really
had
died in that bathroom?

Did she need to tell them anything or could she just fake it until Ramsey and Travis figured things out for themselves,
if
they figured things out?

If she played her cards right and used the natural acting abilities she’d honed at NYU, maybe she wouldn’t have to fess up to anything. But that wouldn’t exactly be the best way to start her new life, to start her relationship with Ramsey, now would it?

Jamaereh, I need you!

Hell, who was she kidding? She’d take Micah right about now. He may have been a holier-than-thou curmudgeon, but at least he was a wise holier-than-thou curmudgeon.

Zara winced, glancing up at the ceiling, fully expecting Micah to respond with his usual disdain and impatience at her insults, but there was nothing, not a peep. She was truly on her own this time.

“So you’re really going to go through with this challenge?” Travis asked, drying his hands on a paper towel as he paused on the threshold between the living room and dining area.

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