Running in Place (Mending Hearts) (12 page)

Pulling up to “The Office”, I park in my usual spot and smile to myself when I see Tatum’s beat up Civic in the parking lot. I know she’s not working tonight because I gave her Friday off, so I assume she’s here for the same reason I am — payday.

As I throw the Jeep into park, Ryder flips down the passenger side visor to apply even more make-up. I still don’t understand why chicks think that piling on the eye shadow to create the perfect “smokey eye” as Ryder calls it, makes them look sexy. She kind of resembles a raccoon right now. But, whatever.

Opening my door, I step out onto the gravel and start to close it when Ryder speaks from inside the Jeep. “Can you get mine too, Noah? I don’t want to mess up my shoes,” she asks before smacking her lips together after yet another application of horrid hot pink gloss. Without saying a word, I shut the door and head towards the back entrance of the bar. It feels odd not to be wearing my boots. Or my regular work jeans and white t-shirt. Tonight, I’m sporting a fitted black polo and my dark Diesels, substituting my regular brown work boots for black ones. I figured I should probably dress up to take Ryder to this damn club opening she’s been going on and on about for weeks. I couldn’t care less, but, at least it’s a night off bar duty.

Once inside, I make my way through the kitchen, saying hello to Laura and Holly as I pass them heading to Trace’s office. I hear their giggles and try to grin internally, dipping my head to hide my amusement. But my traitor dimple begins to sink in as my lips twitch and curve into an obvious smile, which makes them laugh even more. Shaking my head at them, I let my grin show because it’s useless, there’s no hiding it. Those two are T-R-O-U-B-L-E when they’re together. The giggly, flirtatious, look-at-how-hot-we-are-now-buy-us-a-drink kind of trouble. But, they’re also really cool chicks to work with. They bring in good tips, so I try to stay on their good side.

Still laughing and not paying attention, I round the corner, only to run straight in to a completely
different
kind of trouble. A black-headed, blue-eyed, whirlwind kind of trouble. A trouble that looks unbelievably hot in a tight-ass, short black dress. A trouble wearing the highest black heels I’ve ever seen, heels that make her legs look unbelievable and should be outlawed judging by the bulge forming inside my dark Diesels. Damn. She’s also a trouble that I’ve formed a decent friendship with over the last few weeks, so any mental images I have of her doing certain things to me wearing those heels have got to go.

“Hey!” she says laughing as she flips her hair off her shoulders. My eyes immediately land on her pouty lips, the clear shine reflecting off of them as she smiles. “What are you doing here?”

I clear my throat and tear my gaze from her mouth. “Getting my check, you?”

She looks me up and down as she nods her head. “Me too,” she says clearing her own throat. “Where are you going, looking all spiffy?”

I chuckle because only she would say
spiffy
. “I’m taking Ryder to that new club, Parallel. Where are
you
going looking all spiffy?”

She claps her hands together excitedly before taking my hand. “We’re going there too! Yay!”

I’m still surprised every time she touches me. It’s such a drastic change from the first day at the duplexes. As I think about the last month or so — all the times that we laughed together at something ridiculous that she said, or the fact that she insists on bumping hips with me every single time a song comes on the radio that she likes while singing at the top of her lungs, even the times she lightly brushes her hand across my arm while she’s speaking — there’s a level of comfort and ease about our friendship. Reason five hundred why I need to curb my inappropriate thoughts about this one.

I smile to myself as she tugs me harder. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the employee bathroom!”

Well, that did absolutely nothing to fend off dirty thoughts.

“Why?”

She giggles. Obviously, she’s already started drinking. Great. Well, at least we’ll be at the same place so I can make sure Dickhead the Douchebag takes care of her.

“Because, I’m gonna fix your hair. It looks too…perfect. It needs to be messy — sexy, like you.” She stops dead in her tracks. “Um…I mean, as sexy as you look now.” She exhales, frustrated. “Sexily
dressed
, that’s what I mean.” She bites her bottom lip nervously as she mentally tries to hook her words and reel them back in. I just laugh because she looks so damn cute.

“So, you think I’m sexy?”

Saying nothing else, she rolls her eyes and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom. Once we arrive, she flips on the light and points at the commode for me to take a seat. Turning on the faucet, she sets her purse on the counter and pulls out a travel size hairspray. After digging around for a little while longer, she turns towards me.

“Well, I guess this will have to do.” Tilting her head to the left, she scrunches her mouth to the same side, deep in thought. Nodding to herself, she leans over and wets her fingers in the sink before stepping between my legs.

After breathing in deeply, she places her fingers in my hair. Slowly, she distributes the water throughout, often leaning back to the faucet to get more. Her cool hands work from the sides of my head toward the top, where her fingers interlace to form a spiky section down the center. Then she bends at the waist, placing her face so close to mine, her breaths hit my mouth. I know I can’t have her, but damn if I don’t want to take some piece of her with me. So greedily, I take in her air with every breath she releases. Her eyes still focused on my hair, I watch her mouth. Still breathing with her, I lick my lips, the movement distracting her so that she brings her pale blue eyes to mine. In silence, we stare, only the shared breaths between us are heard.

Taking her hand out of my hair, she places it on the side of my face and gently strokes my cheek with her thumb as we hold each other’s eyes. Before long, I watch a soft, sad half-smile appear on her lips. “Much better,” she says with one last soothing run of her thumb before she backs away. Reaching for the hair spray, she tweaks the top of my hair, pulling random pieces in different directions before spraying them. I fight the urge to put my hands around her waist and pull her into me. To hold her. To have her.

Instead, I sit with my hands on my knees, wanting what I can’t have.

After a couple of more sprays, she steps back. “All done. You’re good to go. To the bar. With Ryder,” she says, the pitch of her voice getting higher with each incomplete sentence spoken. There’s no mistaking the heartache filtering between the both of us. I could slice it with a knife it’s so thick.

Standing up, I look in the mirror evaluating her work and after touching the hardened pieces with the palm of my hand, I smile back at her reflection.

 “Thanks, Tate. It looks good.”

Surprise fills her eyes. “Tate? We’re on a nickname basis now?”

I laugh, relieved the awkwardness has passed. “Well, you did just fix my hair, so I think that upgrades us to nickname level.”

She nods in agreement. “I think so, yes. Although the only other person who has achieved that status is Sadie, so it’s a pretty big accomplishment.”

I chuckle again. “Good to know.”

Turing away from the mirror, I reach for the door knob. “Well,” I let out a breath, “See you there?”

“Yep. I’ll be there.” She reaches for the hairspray and puts it back in her purse before slinging over her shoulder. Giving me the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, she passes by me as soon as I open the door.

And my eyes find the scowl of a raccoon wearing hot pink lip gloss.

Arms crossed, Ryder glares in my direction before turning on her heel to exit the front of the bar.

“Ryder!” I yell. Taking off after her, I make my way through a small crowd before making eye contact with Tatum.
Sorry
, she mouths. I shake my head, letting her know it’s okay. And it is because the moment I just shared with her, that brief amount of time that I allowed myself to have even the smallest bit of her, was completely worth the shit that I’m about to have to deal with.

It also solidified the fact that I will have to end things with Ryder. None of this is fair to her. My summer fling with no attachments is not faring so well, for either of us. Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of wedding magazines at her apartment when I picked her up tonight, which made my chest almost implode. I have to do something for the sake of my own health.

Swiftly heading toward the front door, I turn to glance at Tatum one more time. She throws her head back taking Lord only knows what shot, and then slams the glass down on the bar while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

I walk faster.

Okay, first talk to Ryder, then assuming she will
not
be accompanying me this evening, I’ll head over to Parallel to keep an eye on Tate. I’ll stay in the distance, but for some reason, I can’t seem to shake off the feeling that something bad is going down tonight.

And I’ll be damned if something happens to her on my watch.