The Beauty Within (18 page)

“Reminisce?!”

Gunnar opened the car door and stumbled out. “I think I should go before

you hurt me.”

“Why you think I’m gonna hurt you, man? I need a job! I got bills and a

woman who can be a lil’ uppity at times…”

“I’mma tell…”

Damon snorted and chuckled. “You a silly white boy when you drunk!”

“Tyler’s not uppity…”

“No, she’s not,” Damon agreed, sobering again.

“She’s not ugly.”

“No.”

Gunnar leaned against the car doorframe, his forehead pressed against the

top and his arms flopped on the roof of the car. “I wanna be with her, Damon.”

“So I see,” Damon said with another chuckle. “And I think you’d be good

for her.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

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“You appreciate her. You don’t take her for granted, and despite the fact

she frustrates you like no other, you don’t
want
another.”

“No…damn. She got me good.”

Damon nodded and tipped his chin towards Gunnar’s house. “Go to bed,

Son. Sleep off that beer. You’ll be able to plot better with a clearer head.”

“Plot.” Damon made it sound like it was a strategic military strike!

“You need me to
carry
yo’ ass?”

“Don’t touch my ass,” Gunnar mumbled, backing up and slamming the

door. He knew Damon was laughing at him even if he couldn’t hear it. Damon

was so going to rub this night in his face on Monday.

Gunnar managed to make it into his house and his bedroom without any

major problems, though he knew his big toe was going to hurt something fierce

in the morning. Damn wall…who’d put it
right there
, anyway?

Gunnar plopped down face-first in his bed, the mattress giving underneath

his weight in a way he could welcome better when sober. Everything felt

heavy, and he could barely get off his jacket and toe off his shoes. He was too

lazy to mess with his jeans and shirt just then; he would rest his eyes a bit

before he finished undressing.

Ten

The sun’s rays streaming through the window stirred him, and upon open-

ing his eyes, Gunnar cursed fluently in Norwegian and burrowed his head

under his pillows. He felt as if someone were taking a jackhammer to his head

and his whole body felt stiff.

“Ugh,” he groaned, the lack of moisture in his mouth making him feel he’d

swallowed a bag full of cotton balls. He bent his legs, looking down at them

when the movement wasn’t as fluid as it usually was, and he swore again. He

never did get up to change clothes.

Oh, well.

He gingerly got out of bed, squeezing his eyes shut against the blinding

light and the shooting pain that came from his toe, and walked mummy-style

to his bathroom. He didn’t turn on the light, not needing a two-by-four to add

to the jackhammer already hard at work, and he cracked an eye open and tried

to find a bottle of aspirin from the light coming from his bedroom.

He was successful, popping almost twice the recommended dosage down

his throat before bending his mouth toward the faucet and drinking water by

cupping his hand underneath the spout. It wasn’t his normal method of

securing water, but it would take too much effort to go all the way downstairs

for a glass.

He shucked off his jeans and took off his shirt as he made his way back to

bed. Unfortunately for him, he was the type of person who could never go back

to sleep once he became awake, especially with the sun shining as brightly as it

was, so he was more lying there very still than actually getting any rest. He

moaned and glanced at the clock, noticing it read ten to twelve.

Did he have something to do today?

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The phone’s ringing interrupted him flipping through his mental day plan-

ner, and he flopped his hand in the direction of the phone. He found the base,

but there was no receiver, and he cursed again.

It was downstairs.

Groaning once more, he got up, uncaring he was parading around his

house only in his boxers, and trudged down the stairs. The machine had picked

up and it took him a minute to figure out who was leaving a message.

“And um…yeah…I just—I can’t—” There was a sharp inhalation of breath.

“I can’t. Sorry.”

The sound of the machine clicking off made realization explode inside him.

Tyler!

Gunnar frantically pressed buttons so he could play her message. She was

calling to cancel their session—the thing on his agenda he’d been struggling to

remember—but she was definitely sad. Even if he hadn’t heard her sniffle, he

would’ve been able to tell that. His heart clenched at the thought of her tears.

What had happened? What was wrong?

His headache had only barely begun to subside, but it didn’t matter. He

hurriedly showered and dressed, then got in his Jeep and made the drive to

Tyler’s house. Gunnar hadn’t given himself time to question what he was

doing, or even if he had the right to do it, especially given how they had last

parted. All he knew was that she needed someone, and damn it if he wouldn’t

be that someone for her.

She didn’t answer the door on the first ring of her doorbell, and Gunnar

blew out a small breath to quell the nervousness he felt before ringing the

doorbell again. What would he say to her? Would she talk to him? He hadn’t

been so drunk as to not remember the conversation he’d held with Damon, or

the fact Damon had highlighted many things about his feelings and relation-

ship with Tyler. Though Gunnar wasn’t ready to put a label on anything yet,

the fact he’d dropped everything and ignored his massive hangover
clearly

meant there was more to this than he wanted to admit.

“Who is it?”

Her voice sounded raspy, as if she’d been crying hard, and he touched the

door lightly as if his comfort could filter through it to her. “Gunnar.”

“Gunnar?”

He smiled at the incredulity in her voice. “Yeah.”

The door opened, and he stepped back so she could push away the screen

door as well. Her eyes were red and her hair was tied back with a bandana.

“Did you get my message?”

“Yes.”

She frowned, then she sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “I
know
you

ain’t here to drag me off anyway!”

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99

He chuckled and stepped forward. Tyler pulled back, letting go of the hold

she had on the screen door so it bounced against his back as it tried to close

again.

“Sorry…”

“It’s all right,” he said gently, reaching out to touch her chin. “But you

aren’t.”

She inhaled and closed her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Why are you lying to me, Tyler?”

“Why do you care, Gunnar?”

The fingers on her chin moved to her cheek, and he fully palmed it. “We’re

friends, right? Surely one little disagreement doesn’t null a friendship?”

Tyler let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes again, a tear falling down

her cheek. Gunnar cooed under his breath and brushed the tear away. She

closed her eyes and more tears fell, until she was crying full out. Without

thinking, Gunnar pulled her into a hug. She really let go then, her arms coming

tight around his waist. Gunnar closed his own eyes and kissed the top of her

head. He’d never liked it when a woman cried, and he liked it even less when it

was Tyler.

“What’s wrong,
elskling
? Why do you cry?”

She shook her head, and Gunnar cupped the back of it as he bent his lips to

her forehead. He walked forward slightly, then reached behind him with one

arm to close the door. Tyler took that opportunity to break the embrace, and

she walked backwards, wiping away her tears.

“Why did you come here?” Tyler asked, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt.

Never before had she looked so vulnerable, and Gunnar’s protective nature

came to the fore.

“You needed me.”

“You?”

“You called me.”

“To cancel—”

“Tyler…”

She ducked her head. “I didn’t mean to break down like that on the phone.

I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, especially when you didn’t do anything

wrong,” Gunnar said, stepping forward slightly. He looked to his right and saw

a wilting yellow rose in a slender vase. He felt his jaw clench. He could only

guess from whom it was…who was causing her to cry.

“He hurt you,” he said monotonously.

Tyler gave him a confused look. “Who?”

“Quincy Lucas.”

Tyler’s eyes went dark and she shook her head. “No…”

“You’re lying again,” Gunnar said, going after her once she spun on her heel

to flee the living room. She didn’t very far as he grasped her forearm gently and

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turned her to face him. She tried to hide her face, but he cupped her cheeks,

brushing away more tears that fell from her eyes.

“Talk to me, Tyler.”

“I can’t,” she said breathlessly, and Gunnar’s heart clenched for her.

He led her a few steps to the couch and he sat first before bringing him in-

to his lap. She was tense and rigid, but he didn’t let that dissuade him from

rubbing her back soothingly or kissing away each tear that streaked her cheek.

Eventually, Tyler gave up all pretenses of being strong and unaffected, and

rested her cheek on his shoulder. Gunnar cradled her, trying to inject as much

comfort as he could all the while thinking of how perfect she felt in his arms.

Her weight wasn’t slight, but rather it felt substantial and precious at the same

time. He was actually holding someone he could squeeze without having to

worry about bruising or breaking something. He could hold her as tight as he

wanted and knew she would take it and appreciate it. A woman…not a little

girl.

“It’s been so long,” she murmured, her moist lips tickling the skin of his

neck.

He shifted to hold her even closer. “So long?”

“Since I’ve been held like this. I forgot how much I’ve missed it.”

It was a crime for her to have gone without affection for so long, and he

cursed under his breath. “Any time you need me,
elskling
, I’ll be here to hold

you.”

Her hand came up to rest above his heart. “Quincy said the same thing.”

His eyes narrowed. The idiot. He hurt her so badly…did he even know?

Gunnar guessed not, given the way he’d sauntered into the barbershop. Quincy

had had one of the most extraordinary women Gunnar had ever known, and

he’d given it up because she didn’t look like a cover model for
Vogue
? As

someone who had known and dated plenty of cover models, Gunnar knew

firsthand that more often than not, they were severely overrated.

“
Rasshøl
,” he muttered to her forehead.

“What?”

He chuckled slightly and kissed her temple. “Asshole.”

“Who?”

“Quincy Lucas.”

She snorted, nuzzling her nose against the column of his neck. “You don’t

know Quincy Lucas.”

“I know he hurt you. Quite frankly, that’s all I need to know.”

“Gunnar…”

He heard the disapproval in her voice, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He

tilted his head back and grasped her chin gently. “He did. Damon told me. And

if I needed further proof, here you are crying out your pretty brown eyes. He’s

not worth your tears,
kjære
.”

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101

“I’m not even crying for him,” Tyler chortled, the sound abrasive to his ears

for the lack of humor. “He…man…he wasn’t the first, and he certainly wasn’t the

last.”

“Tyler—”

“My first kiss was the result of a dare,” Tyler interrupted. “No one even

knows about that—not even Wendy—because I was so ashamed of my

stupidity. And I’d had a crush on him too. Imagine that…someone actually

liking Tonka Tyler—”

“Tonka Tyler?”

“Kids are a witty subgroup of the population,” Tyler said dryly. “Tonka,

because I was short and big like a Tonka truck. It didn’t matter when I grew

taller. You know how it is—you go to the same school with the same kids from

kindergarten to graduation. You get used to things like that.”

Gunnar’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Baby—”

“He was supposed to kiss the ugliest girl in the grade, which would be me,

of course, and he’d get…something, I don’t even remember. Eighth grade was

full of wonderful memories, especially since that one happened during the

Homecoming dance…underneath the bleachers…at an appointed time so that

everyone would be there to witness Tonka Tyler’s humiliation.”

“Tyler—”

“And then the next one was the biggest one with Quincy, but that didn’t

happen until, what, eight years later? But then afterwards, there was a time I

designate as ‘The Fetish Period’.”

“‘The Fetish Period’?”

“The time where I found an online dating service and signed up for it and

proceeded to date and…more…with men who were, as I found out, ‘chubby

chasers’.”

“Tyler—”

“Of course, the way they promoted the site was for men who appreciate a

full woman, I think that was the actual slogan if I remember correctly, but it