Quirks & Kinks (13 page)

I waved it off like it was no big deal.
Because it wasn’t.

No, really. “That’s cool if you don’t want to. I get it,” I offered with a smile, internally cringing when I realized it probably looked faker than Pamela Anderson’s boobs.

“No,” he disagreed vehemently. “You don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I
want
to come,” he said with a chuckle before explaining further. “I
can’t.
I have to go train, and then I’m covering Tammy’s shift at El Loco.”

Instead of focusing on the part of his statement that made me imagine stabbing people, I honed in on the other part.

“Train?”

“Yeah. I’m running the 100 mile Rio Del Lago Endurance Run later this year.”

“100 miles?” I coughed. “People miles?”

“What other kinds of miles are there?” he asked with a smirk that just barely rumpled up his nose.

“I don’t know. Hamster ones?” I asked hopefully.

“Nope,” he replied, the shape and intensity of his grin growing into a smile. “Definitely the people ones then.”

“And by running you mean?”

“Running.”

“Like, with your legs?”

One raspy laugh coughed sharply from his throat. “That’s the plan.”

“All at once?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shitballs. That makes me weep inside.”

Finally, he let go, laughing the kind of rolling hilarity that started deep in his gut and ended at my ears.

Yeah, at my ears. Definitely not by forming a floral wreath around my swelling heart. Definitely.

“I’ll pretend to be impressed by you doing it though.”

“I’d appreciate it. It seems like it’d be a waste if you weren’t impressed,” he teased.

“Okay, well . . .” I mumbled, “I guess I’ll see you—”

“If you aren’t intent on watching the show,” he cut in, “You could come hang out in my section at El Loco.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, offering, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, thanks. I don’t really drink, but thanks.”

“Addictive history?” he asked compassionately, being so understanding that it made my real answer seem even funnier.

I shook my head and shrugged. “Poor.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he burst out laughing. “You’re one interesting woman, Easie Reynolds.”

With a knock to the table, he walked toward me and the door, pausing in its opening just inches from me. The dark metal of his chunky ring glinted as his hand came up and tucked my hair behind my ear. His nose twitched and his face turned cautiously hopeful. “Text me if you’re coming tomorrow night?”

I nodded my acquiescence.

His half smile turned full. “Later, Litterbug.”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU
?” Ashley asked as I paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again for the sixty-second time.

What was wrong with me? That was a good question. I’d venture it had something to with the all out war going on inside of my chest as I tried to decide whether I should give in to the urge to go the restaurant or not.

Explosions. Bullet spray from an army of AK-47s. A grenade launcher in the distance. It was fucking bedlam in there.

I’d managed to put it out of my mind until now, but with the time until the show aired dwindling down, my entire body had become overwhelmed with the possibility of going.

“Are you anxious about watching the show?” she asked, tuning into my angst but misjudging the cause. “You know, with Ryder and everything?”

Truthfully, I hadn’t given even one thought to Ryder. But, apparently, I
was
just shamelessly desperate enough to see Anderson to use it as an excuse.

“Yeah,” I lied. “I guess that’s it. Maybe we should go out.”

Oh, you dirty, dirty liar.

“Okay, we can do that,” she agreed easily. “You wanna just run down to the pub?”

Shit. The pub was just up the street, so it was no surprise that she’d suggested it. It just made it a lot harder to explain why I had a different idea.

Now, I know I should have just told her I wanted to go see Anderson.

But it’s called denial for a fucking reason.

If you’re not admitting the truth to yourself, you certainly don’t admit it to other people.

“I’m not sure I’m in the mood for the pub,” I evaded.

“Chinese food?” she suggested.

Fuck.

“Ehh,” I murmured with a shake of my head. Hoping to slide it in innocently, I mentioned, “I’m not sure. Maybe tacos or something?”

Wow. Major failure on the innocent thing. Red flags were fucking waving all over the damn place.

Her blond hair swung dramatically over her slender shoulder as her head came up, and her midnight blue eyes narrowed on me.

“Tacos?” Her tone edged toward suspicious.

“Or something,” I avoided. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m craving, but those don’t sound bad.”

“I don’t suppose you want to go to the Mexican place two blocks over, do you?”

“Eh,” I breathed, officially giving in to the desperation and digging my grave. “I’m not sure those are exactly—”

“Easie.”

“Shit,” I muttered before admitting, “I was thinking El Loco.”

“Any specific reason?” That fucking voice. She knew there was a reason.

I glared at her.

“Okay,” she caved. “We’ll go to El Loco. Sans explanation.”

Well, damn. She gave in so easily that now
I
was suspicious of
her.

“That was too easy.”

“Do you want me to argue? Press you for answers? I totally can if that’d make you feel better.”

Ugh.

“Let’s just go.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding like the winner she was. “Let’s just go.”

Bawk Bawk Bawkkkk.

Something tasted like chicken, and I was guessing it was me.

I must have taken my phone out no less than thirty times on the drive to El Loco, and yet, not during a single one of those times had I actually texted Anderson.

For some completely bogus reason, texting him to let him know I was on my way felt intimate on a level I wasn’t ready for. Like,
I’ll see you soon, honey.

He’d know I was there soon enough.

There was at least some comfort in the fact that I knew I wouldn’t have to run into Tammy since he was covering her shift. And in the lingering tobacco of the two cigarettes I’d smoked on the way there.

“Table for two?” the hostess asked when we stepped inside and approached the podium.

Succumbing to the pressure now that we’d come all this way, I spoke up before Ashley could. “Yeah, but, um, could we sit in Anderson’s section please?”

Ashley was annoyingly unsurprised, nodding and murmuring, “Uh huh,” under her breath.

“He’s pretty busy, but I’ll see what he’s got.”

“Uh, um,” I called as she turned away, catching her attention and making one of the bravest decisions I’d ever made. The truth was, I was terrified. Terrified that I’d commit to someone who couldn’t see beyond the bitch.

Terrified
that he wouldn’t like what he found when he did.

“You can tell him it’s Easie asking.”

“Mmhmm,” Ashley hummed.

“Shut up.”

The hostess came back fairly quickly, waving us forward with a smirk curving her lips and a twinkle lighting her eye.

“Right this way.”

Following her silently, I ignored the holes I felt Ashley’s eyes drilling in my back and focused instead on preparing myself for my hello with Anderson.

I wasn’t sure if we would wave, or shake, or maybe even hug. I wasn’t thinking he’d stick his tongue in my mouth again, but that didn’t mean my body got that very important memo.

Anticipation churned like a stormy ocean in my gut, sloshing at the edges and making me dance on uncomfortable feet.

But as soon as Anderson turned the corner and came into view, a huge smile highlighting the light of his eyes and a piece of dark, wild hair curling down onto the line of his forehead, it all settled. The waves abated, the skies cleared, and the sight of him happy and at ease seeped into me and made me feel much the same.

“Here you go,” the hostess said, settling us into our table and handing us each a menu.

“Thanks,” I murmured as my eyes followed Anderson across the room—watched him laugh at something another table said.

He walked away and his eyes scanned the tables, and I had absolutely no doubts whatsoever that he was looking for us.

When he finally found us—found me—his smile deepened, his long legs eating up the space twice as fast as I ever could.

“Easie,” he murmured, pulling me out of the booth, into his arms, and inhaling the skin at the side of my throat.

I got lost in it for a minute, reveling in the feel and soaking every last bit of his warmth inside me.

And then Ashley called my name.

“Easie!” She waved a hand dramatically in front of my face. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the same spot across the room for a long-ass time. Like, without blinking.”

Um . . . what?

Scanning my surroundings, I found no Anderson, no body of any kind. The only thing in my arms was a cold dose of reality.

Great. So I’d completely made up the hugging and throat sniffing. This did not bode well.

“Oh. Yeah. Swell.”

“You’re weird tonight.”

I’d say that was a completely fair assessment on her part. In fact, just saying
tonight
rather than
lately
was unflaggingly generous.

“Yeah,” I admitted, “It’s probably going to stay that way.”

Her face scrunched, but after a few seconds, she decided finding out what I meant wouldn’t be worth her time or energy.

Instead, she shrugged.

I didn’t blame her.

Anderson was nowhere in sight, and the daydream left me feeling like I didn’t know my left from my right. I didn’t know when he’d disappeared, or where he’d gone, or if I’d ever even seen him in the first place.

Sinking my face into my hands, I did my best to regroup through a series of deep breaths and rough facial scrubs. Unfortunately, all it probably got me was wrinkles.

“What’s she doing?” I heard whispered in an achingly familiar voice. I peeked just one eye open.

Anderson sat crouched at the end of our table with his chin resting on his folded arms. Afraid it was an illusion, I didn’t trust it, waiting instead to see if Ashley would answer him. If she didn’t, I was driving straight to the nearest hospital.

“I’m pretty sure she’s on the verge of a mental breakdown, but I’m hoping the real hysteria holds off until I’ve had my tacos.”

Slowly, I opened the other eye, dragging my fingers roughly down my face as I pulled my hands away. The skin drooped and pulled appropriately, leaving Ashley’s face a mask of disbelief and Anderson’s smile beaming.

“Long day, Easie?” he asked, a lighthearted lilt making my heart sprout wings for the sole purpose of fluttering.

“Something like that,” I responded, feeling the pieces of my scattered self put themselves back together courtesy of a little Anderson flavored glue. “How were the fifty million miles?”

He chuckled, shifting from his squat back to standing and forcing my eyes to follow the line of his lean body all the way up. “It was just slightly less than that actually. But the old legs are feeling it. If I didn’t get up just now, I never would have.”

“Yeah, you’re a real Grandpa,” I remarked sarcastically. “How old are you these days, eighteen?”

Luckily, I already had my tackle box and pole all packed as I headed off on my fishing expedition.

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“Right, right. So basically a hundred.”

“If we’re using the same scale you use for miles, then yeah.”

“Boom!” Ashley offered, entering the conversation uninvited.

Both of our heads swung to her, surprised, having pretty much forgotten that she was there. At least, I had.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized sarcastically. “Don’t mind me. By all means, continue volleying your ball of explosive sexual tension. I’ll just wait here.”

“Don’t you have someone named Larry you could be texting?” I fired back, satisfied when a sharp blush stole across her cheeks.

“Reallllly?” Anderson cooed, turning his attention fully to her. “Larry, huh?”

Looking her up and down, he slid right into the role of a protective big brother. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”