Everything for Us (A Bad Boys Novel) (14 page)

I hurry to move away from the doorway, unwilling to get caught in such a humiliating situation. My feet feel leaden as I follow the girl farther into the back of the store. I’m having trouble focusing on why I even came to the jewelry store in the first place. My enthusiasm for picking out a wonderful present for Olivia is even more dampened now.

It only takes me a few minutes to find the perfect gift for her, but I browse a lot longer. I don’t want to risk running into Nash.

Nearly forty-five minutes later, I make the purchase so I can leave. On my way out, I look cautiously into each room as I head down the hall toward the exit. I’m relieved that there seems to be no sign of Nash.

As I’m getting into the car, my phone sounds again. It’s a text. And it makes my heart hurt. Again.

U ok?

Again, I ignore it. Nash is playing games that are far beyond my ability to withstand. I thought I could take the heat, but I think I gave myself way too much credit.

I refuse to shed any of the tears that threaten the backs of my eyes. I give myself a quiet talking-to, something to help me keep my focus where it needs to be.

I’m going home to pack a small bag and then I’m heading to Salt Springs. I’ll see if Ginger needs any help getting things ready for Olivia’s party. I gave Ginger Cash’s number. If she didn’t tell him to invite Nash or if Cash didn’t think to, it’s not my fault. He can just stay in Atlanta and wonder where everyone went.

That thought gives me some small amount of satisfaction. I like the idea that he will realize he doesn’t have me under his thumb. Everything that has happened so far, I’ve
let
happen. I’ve been a willing participant. But the instant I decide it has to stop, it will. The end.

A tiny, irritating voice speaks up from the back of my mind. It’s laughing at me, asking if I really think it will be that easy to just walk away from Nash.

Much as I did Nash’s text, I ignore it.

My jaw aches from clenching my teeth in determination, but I feel somewhat accomplished an hour later when I zip my small overnight bag closed. The prospect of getting out of this condo, out of Atlanta is incredibly appealing at the moment.

I hear the front door slam and my heart stutters in my chest. I wonder if I’ll always have that reaction now, whether rational or not. Once my brain kicks in, it reminds me that it’s got to be either Olivia or Nash. Or Cash, although unlikely. They’re the only ones who could even possibly have keys and I locked the door.

I wait a little breathlessly for the footsteps to make their way to my bedroom. When Nash’s big body fills the doorway, my heart skips another beat. He’s so incredibly handsome. And so incredibly angry.

“Why the fu—hell haven’t you answered my texts?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was required to.”

His teeth are gritted. I can practically hear them grinding. He hisses through them. “You’re not
required
to. It’s just common courtesy. I thought you rich, snobby bitches were all about pretending you have manners and putting on a good show.”

Although I know he’s probably using it as a generality, it still stings to hear him lump me in with bitches. “Maybe we rich, snobby
bitches
don’t always follow the rules.”

I see the anger in his eyes dim. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I suspect that he didn’t, but I refuse to ease his conscience by saying so.

“Maybe you should learn to watch your tongue.”

“Believe me, I don’t say half of what I’m thinking when I’m around you.”

“Well, then maybe you should say what you mean.”

Nash stomps across the room and stops with less than an inch between us. At nearly five nine, I’m tall for a girl, but he still towers over me. I resist the urge to back up. Rather, I raise my chin and meet his eyes in defiance.

“Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Maybe not, but maybe I
need
to hear it.”

His fingers wind around my upper arms like bands of carbon steel and he pulls me tight against his chest. I get the feeling he’d like to shake me. “I haven’t given you enough reason to hate me? To stay the hell away from me?”

“Maybe now you
finally
have,” I spit through the tight line of my lips. He’s not the only one who can get angry.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing for
you
to concern yourself with.”

We stare at each other, both unwilling to give an inch, but both unwilling to walk away. For the first time, I can see past his carefully crafted façade. He doesn’t want to want me, he doesn’t want to feel anything for me, but I think he’s beginning to, despite all the warnings and reasons that he shouldn’t.

After what feels like an eternity, Nash releases my arms and takes a step back. He reaches up to smooth hair that isn’t mussed back into his ponytail. His eyes flicker to the bed and stop.

“Going somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact I am. Not that it’s any of your business.”

His eyes slide back to mine and narrow. “Were you even going to bother telling me?”

I narrow my eyes right back at him. “I figured I’d text you later.”

Since you’re so fond of that method of delivering your lies.

“Later, huh?”

I can see the sparks in his eyes again.

“You don’t check in to tell me every detail of
your
life and
your
day.”

It feels good to get a little dig in, especially considering his recent trip to the jewelry store, a trip that he lied about. But when I see his lips twitch, I realize my barbs aren’t even making a dent. He finds it amusing.

Of all the times to get a sense of humor . . .

It’s infuriating.
He’s
infuriating!

“Somebody’s got a temper,” he says playfully.

I feel like stomping my foot. But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When Nash takes the step to bring him back closer to me, it’s not in anger this time. There’s something else in his eyes. And it makes my knees weak.

He reaches out and twirls a lock of my hair around his finger, tugging until my nose is nearly touching his. His voice is little more than a whisper when he speaks. “I can be very . . . therapeutic if you need to get some of that anger out. Want me to show you?”

Looking into his eyes, listening to the velvet of his voice, I feel dazed. Mesmerized. Hypnotized. If not for his secret trip to the jewelry store, I’d press my lips to his and sink into the distraction of him like a stone in water.

But I can’t get past the lie so easily. Of all the things I can tolerate from him, that I can overlook and deal with, dishonesty isn’t one. When most of my life is built on lies, I need something that’s real and honest. And I thought that was Nash.

But I was wrong.

Holding his gaze, I take a purposeful step backward. I let a chill drip into my voice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

One dark brow rises. I don’t know if it’s in surprise or in challenge, but it causes a little shiver to skitter down my spine.

“Fair enough.” Slowly, he turns and walks back to the door. He looks back at the last minute, his lips still curved. “I’ll leave you to your packing, then.”

I don’t move until I hear the front door open and close. As I carry my bag into the living room, I can’t help but feel like I just lost some sort of battle.

TWENTY-ONE

Nash

Cash mentioned Olivia’s birthday in passing. Her present was one of the things I went with him to pick out today. What he really wanted me along for, though, was to ask me if I’d be his best man. He’s planning to propose to Olivia.

“I know it seems like it’s too soon, which is why I’m not doing it now. And definitely not around her birthday. But I want to go ahead and get the ring, so that when the time is right, I’ll have it,” Cash said this morning on the way to the jewelry store.

“What the hell do you need me for, then? I’m no diamond expert.”

Cash shrugged. “Mainly because I wanted to ask if you’d be my best man.”

I’m sure my shock resonated in the car like the thud of a bass drum.

“No offense, man, but why?”

“There’s no doubt I know Gavin better. He’d be the logical choice. And I happen to like him a lot better, too.” He glanced over at me and grinned. I know he was probably telling the truth—no doubt he
does
like Gavin better—but what he was saying is that I’m his brother. I’m his blood. And it’s the one thing that can’t be erased, the one bond that can’t be broken, no matter how estranged we are.

And I understand what he feels. I feel the same way.

“But I’m your brother. I get it.”

He looked away from the road long enough to glance at me again, then nodded. That’s how I knew we were on the same page.

“So, you in?”

I took a minute or two to consider what he was asking, as well as my willingness to make such a commitment. I wouldn’t tell him yes if I wasn’t sure I could hold up my end of the bargain.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

Cash nodded again. He knew what I meant was that, come hell or high water, if I’m alive when his wedding rolls around, I’ll be there. I’ll be his best man.

After that, we fell into a fairly comfortable silence. I went with him into the most unconventional jewelry store I’ve ever seen. It was more like an old house converted into a posh store. It had different rooms for different types of jewelry. I’d never seen anything like it. Cash said it was one his law firm favored. He’d probably bought something for Marissa from there, although I didn’t bring that up. Not really out of deference to him; more because I didn’t really want to know.

He picked out a nice bracelet for Olivia for her birthday, then went off by himself with some woman into a room where they keep loose diamonds. Evidently he’s going all-out and having something unique crafted for her.

Poor pussy-whipped bastard.

Looking at all the jewelry and thinking of the girlfriend I might have had, the one I might’ve been able to buy things like that for, just put me in a bad mood. And then when Marissa didn’t respond to my texts . . . Well, I was pretty pissed off by the time I got to her condo.

But to find her there in a fit of her own . . . Damn! That was kinda hot. I wish she’d been a little more agreeable to working off some of that steam.

I can’t help but frown as I think about the way she was acting, like I’d done something wrong. I
have
done something wrong, something terribly wrong, but I don’t think she knows what it is. If she did, she’d have probably thrown me out on my ass and sworn never to talk to me again. But she didn’t. So I doubt she knows about
that
. But what else is there? I all but told her I’m a lowlife. She knows I’m not the kind of guy she needs to be involved with. For God’s sake, I told her I’m a killer and she gave me a blowjob.

Maybe she’s had a crisis of conscience since then. Maybe. But it doesn’t seem likely.

Women!

This is exactly why I avoid getting too close to them. Most of them are batshit crazy and more trouble than they’re worth.

I should just walk away from this one. Only . . .

I thump my fist on the steering wheel in frustration. I don’t know what comes after the
only
.

I take the turns as Cash directed. I don’t know if he intended to invite me to Olivia’s birthday party, but after talking to Marissa, I invited myself. I figure that’s where she’ll be. Cash was just nice enough to give me directions.

I see the bar up ahead and make the left into the parking lot. In a shitty podunk town like Salt Springs seems to be, my guess is that this is the only spot for miles to get a drink. That or Olivia has an ass-ton of friends. Either way, the lot is packed with cars and pickup trucks.

I’m no stranger to walking into a bar like this one. I know just what to expect, and I’m never disappointed. People give me a wide berth. The men eye me like I’m competition; the women eye me like I’m dessert. I don’t really give a shit what they think. I usually have one thing in mind. Either getting laid or getting drunk.

That’s the only way this night and this bar differ from all the others. Tonight, I’m not here to get laid or get drunk, although if both happen I won’t complain. Actually, I’m not really sure why I
am
here, but I know it has something to do with Marissa. I’ve given her the impression that I’ll look out for her, that I’ll protect her. I can’t very well manage that when I’m hours away. It also has a little something to do with whatever bug found its way up her ass. I’m curious about that. And I wouldn’t mind exploring that little temper of hers. Other than that, I have no interest in what her deal is. I’ve got nothing to apologize for. At least not that she knows of.

My gaze is drawn to her right away. It’s not that she’s necessarily easy to spot in the crowd. This place is so full of blondes I might get high from the fumes. But Marissa’s hair is a natural blond, pretty easy to pick out of the yellowed bottle-blondes all around her. Plus, there’s just something about her that draws my eye, no matter how crowded the room.

Besides that, she’s sitting by herself. She’s probably never been to a bar like this one. Dual is probably the closest thing, which isn’t really very similar at all, since it’s more of a club.

She looks like an elegant fish out of water, even though she tried to dress the part. Her denim short-shorts are a little too new-looking and her T-shirt is probably designer. My guess is that it cost more than some of these people make in a month. And her smile is stiff, like she’s uncomfortable. I gotta give her some credit for trying, though. She came because she’s trying to do right by her cousin, because she’s trying to prove herself. Even if it means doing so in the enemy camp.

The girl’s got some balls.

When her eyes light on me, I see them freeze into icy blue points in the perfect oval of her face. She looks away, out toward the dance floor and the crowd moving clumsily there.

I don’t approach her. Instead, I go to the bar and order a beer. When the bartender slides me the green-tinted glass bottle, I immediately regret my choice. My dick twitches in response.

You meant to torture her and Cash, but the only person eating a shit sandwich is you!
I think to myself as I try to put that night out of my mind.

I force my thoughts to something else before my body gets out of hand. New Orleans is one of those things that’s better off dead. If only I were as fortunate as Marissa and didn’t remember it at all . . .

A nice, soft breast rubs up against my arm. I look to my left to see a busty blonde lean in next to me. The chair on the other side is empty, so she’s got plenty of room. She just doesn’t want to take it. She’d rather have my attention instead.

She orders a margarita, then turns her heavily made-up eyes to me. “Don’t think I’ve seen you ’round here before.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” I respond.

“Didn’t think so. I’d remember a man like you.”

I smile at her overt tactics. “Yes, you certainly would.” I bring the cool beer bottle to my lips and take a sip. Instantly, I think of Marissa. The beer and the thought leave me thirsty, but not for anything in front of me.

I frown as I swallow my mouthful of brew. Normally, ass is ass. As long as it looks clean and willing and smells nice, I’ll tap it. That’s what condoms are for.

But not tonight. For the first time in . . . well,
years
, my appetite is very specific. There’s one thing I want, one person. And it’s not the blonde at my side. It’s the one sitting coolly by herself on the other side of the room.

Following my thoughts, my eyes flicker to where Marissa is seated and collide with hers. Before she glances guiltily away, I see fury. Jealous fury.

Normally, I don’t put up with that kind of thing, but in this case, I find it intriguing. It seems out of character for her, like a hidden flaw that’s coming to light. Makes me want to explore it. Just like her anger from earlier.

Whatever the cause, anger is something I can relate to, identify with. But it makes me feel drawn to her, connected to her in a way that I don’t want to feel. I’m a loner. I don’t need roots or ties or involvements. Marissa’s the exact opposite. She’s the type that needs all that.

I’m the leaving kind. And she needs the staying kind.

Maybe we both need reminding of that.

With that in mind, I grab the hand of the blonde who’s busting out of her top and take her with me to the dance floor.