The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2) (3 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

~Matt~

Present Day

You know that surreal place your mind goes to just before waking?  That alternate universe where dreams and reality collide?  I can say with one hundred percent certainty that there’s nothing better than waking from that place to find that the fan-fucking-tastic dream you were just having—you know, the one where a beautiful woman is licking your cock like it’s a damn delicious ice cream cone—is all reality. 

Welcome to my current situation. 

In my sleep-dazed haze, I momentarily mistook the girl who was currently under my sheets for the one in my dreams, until my own pleasure-induced moan woke me up completely, and images from the previous night flashed through my mind. 

Not that I was complaining about the girl in my bed…trust me, she was dream-worthy too.  Last night was a damn good night with…Hailey.  Or…Kailey?  Shit, what was her name?  I knew it rhymed with “ailey,” but I couldn’t quite recall it with her tongue currently distracting me the way it was. 

“Mmm,” she moaned as the tip of my dick touched the back of her throat.  The vibration of her voice felt incredible.  Just as I was about to tell her to do that again, she withdrew her mouth and poked her head out of the covers with a sexy smirk, “’Morning, sleepy-head.” 

“Heyyyy—“
Bailey? 
“—Sunshine.”

Maybe she never told me her name. I can’t say that’s never happened before.  Shaun, one of the guys on my security team at Rain, had a name for girls like her. 
Bouncer-pouncers
.  Every night-club had them—women who only had eyes for the bouncers.  Why?  All I can say to that is that some women only want musicians or actors.  Some want athletes.  Some women only want mass murderers on death row.  Others dig the man in the tight black security t-shirt at their local nightclub. 

What’s the draw to these women?  For me, it’s having a little bit of fun when all I’m doing
all night long
is watching drunk people make asses of themselves.  Hell, I’m not in a relationship, and I don’t plan to be.  Been there.  Don’t recommend it.  But…I’m still a man.  And flirting with beautiful women makes the night more interesting.  If I find someone I like enough to take home, and they’re up for it too, then yeah, it’s a bonus for both of us.  We’re all adults here.  Everyone wins. 

The draw for any given woman could be a number of things.  Could be purely physical.  Most nightclub security staff keep in damn good shape.  Could be they like the alpha take-no-shit-from-anyone-even-the-girl mentality that most bouncers live by. 

I mean, if I had a dollar for every good-looking guy in the club with a collared shirt and gelled up hair who stood around with his buddies, trying to work up the nerve to talk to an attractive girl, just to be let down by the fact that he waited too long because some five-foot dude with a lazy eye and no wing-man just went up to her, said shit to her that made her laugh, and now they’re making out, I’d be a millionaire. 

Women want a guy with confidence, and most bouncers, at least the ones I know, have it.  And if they don’t, they pretend they do.  

To the contrary of what some may think, I’m not some man-whore.  I don’t bring home girls every night…just
some
nights.  Nights when I don’t feel like coming home to an empty house.  Besides, half the time these women just tried to play me to get special treatment at the club in front of their friends.  It’s easy to tell which ones just wanted comp’d drinks, or to skip in line, and I’d shut that shit down pretty quick.  I only brought home the ones with at least a little bit of self-respect.

Rain had a strict
‘not-on-the-clock’
rule about hooking up with any customers on the premises, but after bar close, anyone interested enough to wait was fair game.  If I felt a connection, I figured it didn’t hurt to take it to the next level.  Last night that “anyone” happened to be the cute brunette who was currently eyeing me suspiciously. 

“Sunshine?” she whispered with a sexy smile and a hint of reluctance.

Oh hell no, she wasn’t going to call me out on that.  Was she? 

“Yeah,” I gave her a reassuring grin, “Sunshine.” 

What else was I going to say?  Might as well try to play it off. 

“You know,” she said just before she rose up on her knees, straddling me, letting the sheet fall off her shoulders to expose her naked body in all its erotic perfection, “I love it when guys say my name.”

She took my dick in her hand and softly stroked, my body enjoying every moment of it while my mind went on red alert.  This was a trap.  Or some kind of trickery.  Or at the very least, a test. 

One that I would fail.

Shit.  I’m not one to stand for douchebaggery.  Especially not from myself.  As much as I wanted her to keep doing what she was doing, I felt like an ass for not knowing her name, especially since it seemed to matter to her.  The fact that it seemed to matter to her was a red flag all on its own, considering we had the talk last night before we ever left the club about not turning our time together into anything more than one night. 

That being said, I still should’ve at least caught her damn name. 

I took her wrist and pulled her to me, “Baby, I had a great time with you last night, but I’m not gonna lie.  To me, your name is Sunshine.  If that’s an issue, I get it.  I’d really love to finish what you started here this morning, but I won’t try to stop you if you want to leave.”  

To my surprise, she didn’t look the least bit disappointed.  Instead, she bit her smile and shook her head, “I’m not leaving until you make me come at least one more time.”

Thank fuck.

“Alright then, c’mere,” I flipped her around on the bed, her delighted squeal piercing my ears. 

She ended up staying another hour, finishing what she’d started. 

~~~

After Sunshine called herself an Uber cab and left, and after I ate some eggs and drank some coffee to help me wake up, I headed to Tanner Automotive, my day job, to do a tune-up on one of the classic cars that had come into the shop. 

I honestly couldn’t wait.  Having a passion for muscle cars and being able to work on them alongside good friends was more than I could ask for.  One of those friends was Logan Tanner, who had inherited part-ownership of the shop when his father passed away from cancer a few years ago.  Logan owned the shop with his uncle.  Good move on Logan’s dad’s part to split the shop between the two of them because Logan was an asset to the mechanical side of the shop, and his uncle made a fantastic business owner and manager. 

As I pulled into the shop’s parking lot, I saw what looked a hell of a lot like Chloe’s car.  A second later, she walked out the side door of the building. 

She was the last person I expected to see here.  Especially on a Sunday.  I knew she and Logan had hooked up in the past, but with him being love struck over Liv, I thought Chloe was out of the picture.  Guess I was wrong. 

Platinum hair with pink ends whooshed across her face in the brisk winter breeze as she ran to her car in nothing but socks and an oversized t-shirt.  I pulled my truck up next to her car as she opened her driver’s side door.  She threw her clothes and boots into her car and quickly jumped in.

I left my truck running and stepped out of it, then jogged over to hers, and knocked on her window.  Startled, she looked at me, and my stomach dropped.  Tears. 
Shit.
  Tears on a woman always got to me.  Always kicked me into protector mode.  She rolled her window down, teeth chattering and white breath fogging out from her nose and lips. 

With my palm on the roof of her car, I leaned in slightly. “You okay?”

She faked a smile.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.  It’s nothing.” 

Nothing my ass.  Her hands shook on the steering wheel.  Goosebumps covered her bare legs.  Eyes bloodshot and misty.  This girl was definitely not okay.  

“My truck’s warm.”  I opened her door.  “You can change in it.” 

“Jesus, Matt, I don’t need your help.  Close the damn door.  My car will warm up in a minute.”

“Uh-uh.  Nope.  Your lips are turning purple, and your fingers are bright red.  You can’t even feel them, can you?”  She stared at me like I made no sense at all.  I smiled.  “Go on, get in before you freeze.  Don’t worry, I won’t look.”   

“Ugh.  Fine.”  She grabbed her clothes and hopped into my black F-150.  I closed the door behind her and waited outside.  Even if I wanted to watch her (which, hell yeah, I did—I’m a guy and she’s easy on the eyes—but fuck no, I wouldn’t.  I’ve got principles, and I’m not a douche), the windows were tinted dark enough that all I could see on them was the reflection of the sun in the sky.   

It took her a while.  Longer than any normal person would need to change their clothes.  Finally, she came out fully dressed with the t-shirt in her hand.  Tears gone, although the sadness lingered in her eyes.  Maybe she needed those extra minutes to attempt to get her shit together. 

“You still look cold.”  I took my black knit hat off and held it out to her.  “You want my hat?”

“Ew!  It probably has sweat and oils in it!  I’m not wearing that.” 

“Oils?  Like man-gel or something?  My head is buzzed, woman, I don’t use oils.”

“Woman?”  She smiled but tried not to.  Even a tiny smile meant she felt better.   At least a little bit. 
Mission accomplished.
  “Oh God, don’t ever call me that.” 

“Why not?  Embrace it!  ‘Cause you
are
all woman…baby.”  I purposely looked her up and down—in a totally funny, not-creepy way. 

She laughed out loud.  This was going better than I expected.  She rolled her eyes and took a seat in her car.  “Just so you know…I’m not your baby either.” 

“Alright,” I grinned.  “I can take a hint.  But hey, you’ve got my number, right?  In case you ever want to…” 

“God, Matt!  I’m not hooking up with you!”

I chuckled.  “I love that your mind went there, Pink, but I didn’t mean it like that.  All I meant was—if you ever need anything—you can call me.  Okay?”

Her smile faded.  Shit, I made her think of the thing that was making her sad.  She probably thought I pitied her.  In a way, I guess I did.  Nobody enjoyed the walk of shame, and this one in particular seemed to be especially hard on her.  Why did she keep going back to someone who didn’t want her?  Anyone within ten miles of Logan and Liv could see how they felt about each other.  It was like Chloe relished in the pain the rejection inflicted upon her. 

I reminded myself that this was the last girl who needed any pity, and it wasn’t my job to rescue her.  Most people saw her as selfish.  Ruthless.  But the girl I saw the night of Gavin’s party was different.  Real.  No ulterior motives.  No fake personality.  Just Chloe.  And
that
Chloe—the real one—was intriguing.  Fun.  I had caught a small glimpse of the girl under the mask that night, and I wanted to bring it out of her again. But I had no clue how to do it. 

Then again, who knows, maybe that night was a fluke.  Maybe the person I saw that night was nothing more than wishful thinking on my part.  A manifestation of what I
wanted
to see.  Maybe that girl is too deeply buried to ever see the light of day again.  Maybe I just needed to stay away from her. 

“Or don’t.”  I backed away from her car.  “Whatever.” 

CHAPTER SIX

~Matt~

Two Months Ago

The Night of Gavin’s Party

A whip cracked.  Wait.  Nope.  That was Chloe’s hand making contact with Liv’s cheek.  Damn, that would leave a mark.  Whatever happened between Chloe and Logan in Gavin’s laundry room, clearly did not end well.

“Oww!” Liv yelled.  “W-w-what in the ever-loving hell?”

The slap wasn’t all Chloe had in mind.  As she charged toward Liv, her face scrunched up tight like she just sucked on a lemon.  Luckily, my instincts kicked in pretty quickly, and I forced my way between them before Chloe could do any further damage. 

For being so damn tiny, this girl had balls.  She wiggled and pulled, unsuccessfully trying to escape my solid grip.  I couldn’t stop her loud mouth, though.

“You need to wake the fuck up and realize what you’ve got, you stupid bitch!” Chloe shouted just before she broke down, sobbing kryptonite tears that forced me to loosen my hold.  What the hell is it about a woman’s tears that gets me every single time?  As soon as she felt me release her, she yanked her arms away and ran off.

Liv turned to me with her hand on her cheek.  “She’s not driving, is she?”

“I’m on it.”  I flew up the stairs after her, two steps at a time. 

My hands found a place on the hood of Chloe’s car just as it started inching forward.  She slammed on the brakes harder than she needed to, then gave the horn an unnecessarily long honk. 

That’ll wake the neighborhood.  Shit, the last thing anyone needs tonight is the cops being called.

Crazy.  This girl was fucking crazy.  Still, being crazy didn’t give her permission to drive drunk.  I kept my hands on the hood and peered at her.  “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Then you’ll get run over!” she yelled through the open driver’s window. 

We stared each other down through the windshield for a good ten seconds, neither of us moving or giving in.  Her mascara had made its way down her pale cheeks, but her tears had ceased.  At the moment, she was just pissed.  And since I currently occupied her view, all that anger was directed at me. 

It didn’t bother me.  I had seen the same look countless times in the eyes of the drunken assholes I had to break out of fist-fights or throw out of whatever bar or club I happened to be providing security for.  They’d always pretend to be livid with me for stopping the trouble they started.  But at some point during each exchange, there always came a moment when they’d have a twinge of gratefulness in their eyes.  An appreciation toward me for not letting it get too far.  Hell, nobody enjoyed getting an ass-kicking.

So far, I hadn’t seen that moment of gratitude in Chloe.  It would come.  It always does.  Finally, I broke the silence.  “Put the car in park.  Move into the passenger seat.  I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” 

She stayed put, eyeing me like she had all the control in this situation.  Most people didn’t give me this much resistance.  Most people took one look at me and caved. 

Damn, she’s a stubborn one. 

I’d have to turn it up a notch and try a different approach.  “Hey, Sweetheart!  How ‘bout you stop undressing me with your eyes and move your pretty little ass over!”

Her jaw dropped but only slightly, just before her eyes altered from anger to determination.  With a smirk, she took her foot off the brake and let her car inch slowly forward, causing me to stumble backward. 

Teasing clearly didn’t work on her; maybe I’d try reasoning.  “How are you gonna feel when you wake up tomorrow and realize you killed some kid, or some family, or yourself, because you wanted to drive, wasted off your ass!”

That stopped her.  She squinted, eyes still on me.  “If I kill
myself,
Einstein, chances are I won’t wake up from it.”

I cocked my head.  “Is that what you want, Pink?  To kill yourself?  Because if you drive right now, you might just do exactly that.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly and after a moment of deliberation, she shook her head, put the car in park, and moved over.  Huh.  I expected her to throw another jab in my direction. If we’re being completely honest, I kind of wanted her to.  I liked this girl’s spunk. Don’t get me wrong, her compliance was a relief but it caught me off guard at the same time. 

As I took my place in the driver’s seat, she crossed her arms and stared out her window.  I buckled my belt and rested my hand on the shifter between the seats. “Where to, Miss Daisy?”

She whipped her face toward me and gave me a look that said she thought I lost my mind.  I guess she never saw that movie. 

“My name’s Chloe, asshole.” 

“Hey now, no need for name-calling.  Leave that to me,” I pointed to her seatbelt and gave her a wink.  “Buckle up, Buttercup.  Time to go.” 

“Oh God, you’re one of those…”

“One of those what?”

“Do you ever call a girl by her actual name?” 

I grinned. “Now what fun would that be?”

“Not much, I guess.”  She pulled the strap and latched her seatbelt.  “Fine.  You call me what you want, and I’ll call you what I want.  Let’s see…Jerk?  Asshole?  Bastard?” 

Wow, this girl was a piece of work.  “Hey, I’m not your problem here, remember?  I’m just trying to help you not kill or die tonight.”

The comment put her back into silent mode.  She rested her elbow on the window and leaned her head in her hand, eyes welling up.  Shit, more tears.  This time as a result of my big mouth. 

I sighed.  “Just tell me where you want to go, Pink.” 

“Home.  Just take me home.”

~~~

I expected her to direct me to a more affluent neighborhood.  She struck me as someone who has no idea what it’s like to work for the things you have.  Girls that behave like her—you know, the ones who get off on taking whatever they want, whenever they want, regardless of who it affects—are usually spoiled brats who have had everything in their lives handed to them on a silver platter.

Instead, we pulled into the parking lot of a multi-unit apartment building located in the heart of town just behind Ricci’s, a casual Italian restaurant.   The mouth-watering aroma of bread and garlic in the air reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in a while, and I made a mental note to stop there to get some take-out after dropping Chloe off. 

“The garage is over there,” she pointed to an overhead door at the side of the building as she reached for the sun visor above my head and clicked the button to open it. 

The underground parking garage extended the length of the entire building.  I parked the car where Chloe told me to, shut the engine off, and gave her the keys.  Then, I made the mistake of glancing at her.  I say mistake because when she looked at me with her sad eyes in the dim orange light, I swear my heart stopped for a second.  Not just because she’s pretty as fuck, but because for the first time ever, her resting bitch face was gone.  And replaced with a vulnerability that I had never seen in her before. 

Shit, this thing with Logan must’ve really bothered her if she’s cracking like this.  Who would’ve thought she actually had any real feelings?  Hell, who would’ve thought that the last thing I wanted to do right now was say goodbye and leave her alone?

I looked behind me, toward the apartment entrance door.  “Do you have a roommate?” 

She shook her head. “Nope.  Just me.  It’s better that way.  No one else’s shit to deal with.”

No roommate means that if I left her now, she’d be all alone to wallow in her shit.  And for some strange reason, I felt a responsibility to
not
let her wallow in shit.  So, I made it my mission for the night to get a smile out of her before letting her go home to an empty apartment.  Maybe I could even make her laugh.  I snatched the keys out of her hand and grinned like a damn fool.  “I smell garlic bread.  Let’s go eat.”

In an instant, she pounced on me, trying to get the keys back.  “I’m not going anywhere with you…you freak.  Give me my keys.” 

Not gonna lie, the surprise of her on top of me, clawing at me, felt pretty damn good.  Until she elbowed me that is. 

“Stop smiling, you perv, and give me my keys!”

“Stop attacking me and maybe I will!”  I laughed and winced all at once.

She plopped back down in her seat with a huff.  “You don’t have to steal my keys to force me on a date with you, Matt.  You could’ve just asked.”

A date?  With her?  That was an interesting concept.  “Who’s asking anyone on a date?  I’m hungry.  You’re not in the right state of mind to be left alone.  So I’m taking you with me.” 

I didn’t need to see the defeated look in her eyes to know that my idiotic statement affected her.  “Shit.”  I held the keys out to her in a lame attempt at a truce.  “I’m an asshole.  Sorry, Pink, that came out wrong.  I didn’t mean it.  Your state of mind is just fine.” 

She took the keys.  Instead of jetting out of the car like I thought she would, she remained seated, staring blankly at the keys in her hand.  A short silence ensued, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable.  Just as I was about to say something, she beat me to the punch.  “I don’t need to be rescued, you know.” 

“Clearly.” 

“I’m not some project to be fixed.”

“Understood.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Okay!  I get it!”

“So, do you want me to go to dinner with you or not?”

Huh?
  “Oh.  No—I mean, yeah—but—” What the hell was wrong with my speech?  I guess she caught me off guard with the one-eighty.  I took a second to pull myself together.  “I don’t want to date you, Pink. I just want to…break bread with you.”

She smiled.  She finally fucking smiled.  “Garlic bread?”

I chuckled as the entire world became brighter.  “Yeah, garlic bread.  That’s the best kind.” 

~~~

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?”  Chloe asked, as I took a bite of the most delicious bread I have ever tasted. 

This bread was so good that the garlicy, buttery, orgasmic masterpiece of flavor in my mouth forced a long moan out of my throat.  “Oh, yeah.”  I mumbled with the bread still in my cheek.  “This is fucking incredible.” 

The dark wooden table of our window booth was dimly lit by an overhanging lamp with a red shade.  For a small restaurant, Ricci’s had an inviting, casual atmosphere complete with old-time Italian music.  At this time of night, there were only a few other diners scattered about.  I would imagine the place would be closing up soon for the evening. 

She leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I know how to make it?”

That caught my attention…enough to stop chewing.  “Don’t tease me, woman.” 

She leaned back and huffed in exasperation. “God, why are you so macho?  The name’s Chloe.  CH-L-O-EEE.”

I chuckled.  “If you say so.  I’ve gotta hear this.  How do you know how to make the bread?”

“I dated one of the cooks when I worked here.” She shrugged and took a bite of bread. 

Should’ve known that.  But really?  Was that all she was going to give me?  “And…did the recipe just osmose from his brain to yours on a date?”

She gave me the stink eye.  “I told him I’d only go out with him if he gave me the recipe.  So he did.  And we went on a date.  And that was it.”

“Lemme guess.  He wasn’t your type.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t really have a type.  I like variety.”

I nodded with raised brows, keeping my mouth shut about the fact that she just fed into her promiscuous reputation.  Was she doing it on purpose?  Did she actually want people to think she was easy?  She seemed okay tonight.  Why did part of me want to believe her rep was BS?

“What about you?” she asked.  “How come I never see you with any girls?”

“I could ask you the same thing.  Why no steady boyfriend?  You’re sexy as hell.  If you dropped the bitch act, you could easily land some dude if you wanted to.” 

There went my word vomit.  So much for keeping my mouth shut.  Luckily, she didn’t seem offended this time.

Instead, she forced out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, just not the one I want.” 

I cocked a brow. 

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade. 

“Maybe it’s not an act,” she continued.

I nodded in thought.  “Or, maybe it is.  You seem pretty cool now.  Not clingy or—”
What’s a nice way to say 'easy'?
“—overly accessible.  It’s a nice change.  You should do it more often.”

Her face scrunched up.  “Maybe I just don’t like you.” 

“Or.  Maybe you like me more than you think.”  I winked.  

The waiter came with our plates, a Sirloin Marsala for me and a spaghetti with meatballs for her.  After grating Parmesan cheese over her plate, he asked the typical waiter question, “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

I answered instantly, “More bread.” 

The kid, who must’ve been fifteen or sixteen, eyed our full basket of bread, then looked back at me with a quizzical look on his face which kind of pissed me off.  I mean, I would’ve eaten it all up already if he wouldn’t have been so quick with our meals.  And I wanted leftovers.