Carina laughs. “Aspiring musicians will play for beer, trust me. All you need is to borrow the sound gear from somewhere, and let me take care of publicity. Let’s say Friday of next week?”
“Uh, sure.” I blink, head spinning from her efficiency. She makes a note in her phone, flashing me an enthusiastic smile.
“I can get some flyers put up in the city today, and we’ll start advertising for performers. Ask around,” she adds. “You too.” She nods to Brit. “You know anyone in a band?”
“I don’t know.” Brit eyes her warily. “Maybe.”
“If it works out, you could make it a monthly event,” Carina adds. “That way, it builds over time. After the first night, word of mouth does all the advertising for you.”
She hands my notebook back with a grin. “Let me know when you find performers,” she adds. “I’ll be back tonight.”
She walks away, her skirt swinging. I’m distracted for a moment by the perfect sway of her hips, but then my brain finally catches up.
“Wait, you’re going back to the city?” I demand. I step out from behind the bar, catching her on the way to the door.
Carina blinks at me. “I have a thing, a baby shower,” she replies. “And I need to pick up my things.”
Her things?
“No way,” I growl. Before I can stop myself, I move to block her path to the door. “You’re not going back there.”
Carina looks surprised. “Garrett—”
“I said no,” I interrupt, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “You’re not stepping foot in that house. Not without me.”
Realization dawns in her eyes. “It’s OK, Alex will be at work,” she reassures me, placing a gentle hand on my arm.
The touch ricochets like fire through me. But I won’t be distracted. It only adds to my determination. “I don’t care,” I insist. “You can’t go back alone. I’ll go with you,” I decide on the spot. “I can close up here and take you myself.”
“Garrett, no!” Carina exclaims. She steps forward. “Look, you’re sweet to offer, but I don’t need a bodyguard. I’ll be fine!”
“You don’t know that,” I reply through gritted teeth.
Her eyes flash dark, and right away I hate myself for reminding her. But I can’t help it, she has to see she’s not safe anywhere near that animal.
“He won’t be there,” Carina insists again. “And you’re not coming.”
“Maybe I won’t give you a choice.” I glare back. Her jaw is set, stubborn, but I don’t care. I’ll throw her over my shoulder and lock her in that damn apartment if it means keeping her safe from harm again.
We face off, deadlock. Carina gives a sigh.“Garrett…” Her voice drops, soft. Her eyes become pleading. “This isn’t your fight. I have to do this on my own. I’ll be fine, I promise. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll take a friend with me,” she adds.
I stand there, torn. I can’t bear the thought of her going back to that place, but at the same time, I see the steel in her eyes. “You promise?” I demand, still tense.
“I promise,” Carina gives me a tremulous smile. “And I’ll call you if anything happens. OK?”
It isn’t, not by a long shot, but I can see Carina won’t be moved. “OK,” I manage to reply. “But if you need me—”
“You’ll come. I know. Thank you.” Carina smiles at me again, then comes up on her tip-toes to kiss me on the cheek.
“You’re a good friend,” she whispers, and then she goes, out into the sunlight with a swirl of pink silk.
I catch my breath, dizzy from the press of her lips against my skin.
When I turn back to the bar, Brit is watching me with narrowed eyes. “Have you completely lost your mind?” she demands.
“What do you mean?” I shrug, sidestepping her.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Brit nods towards the door. “You can’t be serious. You’re asking for trouble.”
“I’m not asking for anything,” I reply, even though I know in my bones she’s right. I shake it off, pretending like it didn’t just drive me crazy to let Carina leave. “Now, are you going to sit there talking bullshit, or are you going to help me find a band for this music night?”
Brit smirks, not buying it for a second.
“So. Much. Trouble.”
12
Remember, call if you need me.
I read the text then toss my phone onto the passenger seat with a groan of frustration. I crank the radio loud and speed out of town, wind whipping in my hair, but nothing can drown out the confusion that still whirls in my mind whenever I think of him.
Garrett.
I should be happy that after all the drama, we’ve finally reached a strange kind of equilibrium. I wave at him on the front porch every morning during my runs, and he stops by the apartment in the evenings sometimes to help paint, bringing food and teasing me over color choices and all my “girly” decorating skills. I’ve gone downstairs a couple of nights too, eating dinner with him at the long bar while he kills time between customers.
It’s platonic, stable. Like he’s my honorary big brother, just looking out for me in town.
Except there had been nothing brotherly about that kiss.
I sigh, drifting into the hot, dark memories. Even now, I wake in the middle of the night in a tangle of sweat and desire, remembering the feel of his hands gripping my waist, and the taste of his mouth on mine. With no rules or reality holding it back, my subconscious runs wild after midnight, pulling me into dreams so shockingly explicit that I blush just to look at him the next day.