Heartless (4 page)

“So you build things, that’s cool.” That explained the tan and the muscles.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?”

“If you want me to. So… Josh Hansen,
why
do you work in construction?” I giggled, expecting him to say he liked the feel of wood, or watching a building grow from the ground up, or he enjoyed whistling at cute girls who walked by.

“So I can pay for college in the fall.”

“Oh.” We had something in common after all.

“Why do you work at Color My Life?”

“Same reason, actually. I’m going to UCSC in September.”

“Cool. What do you want to study?”

“I don’t know. I applied for Psychology but I might change. You?”

“Criminology.”

“Really?”

“After that, law school.”

I stopped walking for a second. This impulsive, persistent, slightly romantic biker dude was more serious than I thought.

He stopped and turned back to face me. “What?”

“Nothing.” I glanced down at the helmet resting against his thigh. I tried to keep my eye on the helmet, rather than the muscle beneath the denim.

“Are you wondering now why I ride a motorcycle?”

I nodded.

“Because it’s cheaper than driving a car.”

He winked at me and grabbed my hand to get me walking again. His touch felt electric and my palm immediately got sweaty. I tried to pull away.

“Come on, slowpoke. The place is just around the corner.”

He didn’t let go of my hand. He didn’t seem to mind a bit of sweat.

I got raspberry soft serve with chocolate bits. Josh got banana with peanut butter and marshmallows.

“That’s the weirdest combination I’ve ever heard of,” I said.

“Try it.” He shoved his cone in my face and watched my tongue carefully as I licked. It was surprisingly good but the marshmallows made it too sweet for me.

Once I had swallowed, I said, “Want some of mine?”

He eyed me like he wanted to say something inappropriate. Then he leaned forward and opened his mouth so I could put a spoon from my cup in his mouth. His lips wrapped softly and firmly around my spoon.

“Yum,” he said. He’d left some yogurt on the spoon. I looked at it, wanting to put my lips where his had been. He watched me, his eyes narrowed mischievously. He swirled his tongue around the base of his cone and then he sucked lightly at the pointed tip. I felt my nipples go hard. I closed my eyes and put the spoon in my mouth. I sucked it clean and slowly pulled it out between my lips. When I opened my eyes he was watching me, his lips partially open. I smiled and dug my spoon into my cup for another bite. He took a big bite from his cone and pulled his gaze from mine to stare across the street.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “You drive your Aunt’s car and you sometimes walk to work. Does that mean your Aunt lives somewhere nearby? Do you live with her?”

“I live with my Aunt and Uncle, yes.”

“Where are your parents?”

I followed his gaze across the street. I had to practice this sometime. What to say to strangers. What to say to friends, once I found some. “Gone. They died.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Heather.”

“It’s fine. It’s been a few years. I’m better now. I just don’t like talking about it.” Now I was serious-girl with a tragedy in her past. A guy like Josh could waste a fro-yo date on me, but I was pretty sure we wouldn’t get much farther than this. Oh well.

He leaned back on his metal chair. The sun cast a warm glow along his chiseled jaw. “Turns out we have something in common. My dad died a while back.”

I swallowed hard. So we’d both lost people close to us.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“It’s not that big of a deal, actually. I hardly knew him. My mom left him when I was four.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t feel anything when I heard he’d died. Isn’t that awful?” He looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. They looked sad and confused, as if he needed reassurance.

“Grief is complicated,” I said. I’d learned that in my sessions with Miranda. Grief could shelter unbelievable rage and self-hatred, and so much more than sadness. But I wasn’t going to get into that now. This conversation was getting too heavy. Beach-girl wouldn’t have let that happen. She would have kept everything light and happy.

“Thanks for the frozen yogurt,” I said to change the subject. He smiled, going along with the detour.

“What else do you like, Heather?”

We savored the rest of our treats talking about safe things like movies and TV shows, favorite foods and things we liked about LA. Josh asked if he could see me again and I gave him my number this time. He offered to walk me home but I think he sensed that I would say no, so we said goodbye beside his motorcycle, a shiny black Triumph, of which he seemed humbly proud. He didn’t try to kiss me, even though a part of me kind of wanted him to. He seemed to know to go slow with me. He brushed my hair off my shoulder and gave me a light hug, tight enough and close enough for me to smell the sweat from his earlier jog to meet me. I swear I had never smelled anything so heavenly in my life. Manly, I corrected myself. Heaven and hell no longer belonged in my vocabulary.

I walked home, but I was still so full of energy after being with Josh I kept walking for a while. I tried to make sense of what I was feeling. How was it that an almost complete stranger could make me feel so scared yet so relaxed at the same time? Walking and talking with Josh, I felt so comfortable. But he freaked me out, too, jumping into my car, showing up at my work. Somehow he was dangerous
and
safe. Was I ready for this?

I hadn’t had a boyfriend in over three years, not since Ethan. He had been my first. And that had been before the Tragedy.

Back in 10th grade, when I first had a crush on Ethan, we French-kissed in the park and I let him feel my breasts. I wanted to do more but back then I believed a scary capital-G god was watching so I didn’t. At least not right away. Those were difficult years for both of us, and we were each other’s best friends. But I cut off all my friendships, all my contacts with home, after the death of my parents, after moving out to LA.

Los Angeles was my home now, and Wayne and Marsha were my family. It was probably time to make some new friends, beyond my work colleagues, who were kind of extended family since Wayne set up the job with Brian. But Josh I’d managed to find all on my own, or rather he’d managed to find me.

I’d walked my favorite six-block loop. As I unlocked the front door, I heard the phone ringing inside. How many rings had I missed? I dashed for the receiver on the bookshelf. Could it be Josh calling already?

“Hello?”

“Heather?” It
was
Josh. His phone voice sounded different, huskier, more sensual, and my heart starting beating faster and I felt tiny pricks of sweat under my arms.

“Hi.”

“I tried a few times. I thought you’d be home before now.” A few times? I hadn’t been gone that long.

“I was out walking.” Maybe I should have been worried about his unnecessary concern, but something else had overtaken my senses. I caught myself swaying as I stood by the bookshelf. My hips rocked side to side and I was grinning again. Something about him made me feel so good. And I hadn’t felt good in a mighty long time.

“So can I see you again?” he said. “I’d really like to. Can I take you to dinner one night?”

“Um. Okay.” I didn’t think I’d have much luck saying no to his smooth, deep voice.

“I wish I could see you tomorrow,” he said softly. “Honestly, I wish I was with you right now.” His longing carried in his voice. I stopped swaying, a trickle of fear making its way up my spine.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what this is but I really need to take things slow. Is that okay?”

“Slow? Sure. Yes. No pressure, Heather. I wouldn’t want that.” But I could hear a power in his voice, something I seemed to respond to viscerally. Like no matter what he asked me I would do it. That scared me.

“Can we start out friends?” I said.

“Um. Okay. But you should know I already feel more than that.”

I smiled to myself. “Yeah, I know. I do, too. That’s why I need to take it slow.”

He paused, and I was pretty sure he was smiling, too. Maybe I’d revealed too much, but I wasn’t a good liar and I had a sense that Josh wasn’t someone I wanted to lie to anyway. He felt strong and safe to me as much as I sensed he was also dangerous and delicious. As long as I took things one step at a time, I was pretty sure I’d be all right.

Josh had to work the rest of the week so we decided to meet Friday night for dinner and a movie. I offered to drive since I still wasn’t ready to put my life in his hands by getting on the back of his motorcycle.

Leonardo’s booming, “Bonjourno, Bellisima!” woke me up at 8 AM sharp. I had overslept. I’d been having a wonderful dream about flying and I didn’t want it to end, but now Leo was banging on the front door and bringing my flying self back to earth.

I jumped out of bed, pulled my hair back into a messy, high pony tail, and dragged on a pair of sweatpants that totally clashed with the tank top I’d slept in. I splashed water over my face and passed a brush over my teeth before going downstairs and saying hi to Leo. A brief look in the mirror told me I should put on a bra, or at least a bandeau, before facing another human being, especially a male one. Ew, not that I thought of Leo that way, but I sure didn’t want him to be thinking about me like that over the next few weeks. Just to be safe, I wrapped a light cardigan over my tank after donning the bandeau.

I skipped down the stairs and opened the door.

“Bonjourno, Leonardo. Sorry to keep you waiting. I really should give you a key.”

“Graci, Bellisima! You are a morning star. A key would be simpatico, si.” Before pushing past me to get started he looked over his shoulder and called out to someone, his assistant, I guessed. “Bring the sledgehammers.”

Yikes. I planned to get out of the way as soon as possible.

Leonardo stomped past me heading toward the kitchen. I stood in the doorway frowning at the white panel van once again blocking the driveway. On the far side of the van, someone younger, thinner, and taller was unloading supplies. His back was to me, but he turned after retrieving a long-handled tool, which he slung over his shoulder. As he rounded the van, I saw that he wore a denim shirt over a white T-shirt, camel-colored Carhartt work pants, and steel-toed boots. As his gaze traveled up the driveway, to the convertible, he paused in mid-step and pushed his aviator glasses up into the dark hair cresting over forehead.

His brow furrowed and then his eyes flashed to the front door where I stood.

Oh shit
. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

He walked slowly toward me, a smile spreading across his perfect lips.

“Nice car,” he said coolly, nodding at the Porsche blocked in the driveway. He flashed me a sweet, toothy grin as he sauntered up the stairs. Holding out his hand to me, he locked his intense blue gaze on my wide-eyed stare.

“It must be Fate,” he said.

I was speechless.

He opened his beautiful eyes a little wider, questioning. “Heather, are you all right?”

I shook my head. And then nodded. Then shook my head vigorously. And then closed my eyes tight to compose myself.

“Hot,” I said. Did I say that out loud? I cleared my throat. “It’s hot today. Gonna get hotter.” What the heck? It’s like I was learning to speak all over again. I’d already gone through that two and a half years ago in therapy. Was I having an episode? I reminded myself that I was no longer that trauma-mute social worker case. I was Heather Redmond. Daughter of the now deceased Eva and Ray Redmond. I swallowed and made an effort to look Josh in the eye. “I’m fine. Just, you know…”

“Shocked? Surprised? Me too. I had no idea, honestly.” He looked up at the portico we were standing under. “So this is your Aunt’s house, hey?”

I was still tongue-tied, staring up at him. His denim shirt made his eyes seem bluer than yesterday. I felt as if I were out of my body. He looked down at me. “Are you okay with this? I mean, now I have your phone number
and
I know where you live. Perfect storm for a stalker.” He lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “Seriously, that was a joke.”