Wild Forces: A Friends to Lovers Romance (O-Town Book 2) Read online

  By the time the officers had escorted Asher out of the apartment and Kaylee and I had both given our statements to the officers, the microwave clock showed the time as quarter to eight.

  I looked at my roommate. “How is it not even eight o’clock yet? It feels like five hours have gone by.”

  Kaylee shot a sympathetic smile my way. “My uncle says, if time flies when you’re having fun, it drips like molasses when bad shit hits the fan. You need to ice your cheek before the bruising gets worse.”

  I moved to the kitchen for an ice pack. “When did you start carrying a weapon? And why didn’t you tell me you had a concealed carry permit?”

  She chuckled. “This very conversation has something to do with it. Besides, it isn’t something a girl advertises. Even to her roommate.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. Sorry if I’m keeping you from your plans, but I’m really freaking happy you showed up when you did. I didn’t know what he was going to do next.”

  She sighed. “Yeah. Glad I walked in when I did. Listen, not to tell you how to live or anything, but when is your lease up? Because, I would not want to live across from that douchebag.”

  I groaned. “I just renewed the lease last week.”

  “Yeah. I graduate in a month, Cass. I hate to say it, but when my family finds out about this, and my uncle and my dad being cops, they’re gonna find out about this, they’ll be gung-ho for me to move now. I’m sorry if that puts you in a financial bind.”

  It didn’t put me in a bind, but I had never told Kaylee about my finances.

  My parents were loaded. Just before my sister was born, Dad developed and patented a type of digital x-ray machine for dentists to use. Selling the patent was the key to his success, though. On top of that, he had read Peter Lynch’s investment books in the early nineties and knew about Warren Buffet before most other Americans knew about the modest-living billionaire. Now, my parents weren’t billionaires, but they were millionaires.

  Despite that, they still lived in the house they bought in 1981 –primarily because it was fully paid-for– and hadn’t bought a new car in over a decade. When Dad and I watched sports, he spent half his time shaking his head, and not because of faulty calls by referees, but because of the side-stories showing the flashy homes and cars the players had bought. He thought college athletes should be required to take a basic accounting course so they’d understand how money really works, but there was a reason he didn’t run a university or a sports agency.

  From an early age, Dad taught me about money. When I hit high school, he showed me a few of his investments. I had a trust-fund, and they allowed me to use that money for my living expenses.

  Living alone wasn’t my deal, so the rent Kaylee paid me went into a separate brokerage account, and for the past twenty months I’d been investing in earnings options. Trading or selling various puts and calls based on earnings reports, since that was when stocks could be most volatile.

  “It’ll be fine, Kaylee. And, you’re right. I’ll talk to management because one way or the other, Asher isn’t going to be across the fucking breezeway from me if I have anything to say about it.”

  She gasped. “Geez! It’s rare you drop an f-bomb, Cass!”

  “Kaylee! It’s not everyday I get backhanded by an ex-boyfriend because he saw my friend leave early in the morning and he wrongly assumed I’d slept with that friend. So, if ever there was call to use the f-word, by God, this is it!”

  Her face fell. “Oh no! Now I feel like a humongous douche. If I hadn’t brought—”

  “Stop! No. You can’t blame yourself. All of it is on Asher. He has a screw loose. I’m surprised I never realized that, and more, I can’t believe I never saw him coming or going.”

  Her head tilted. “You know, I saw him almost every time I left here. Thing was, he looked familiar and I couldn’t figure out why.”

  “Well, I had just broken up with him when you moved in.”

  She nodded and snapped her fingers. “That’s right. And not long after, you took that framed photo of the two of you off the mantle –and that’s where I had seen him. It just didn’t connect.”

  I shrugged. “Well, Monday, I’m filing a restraining order.”

  She smiled. “I know some people if you need help with that. You sure you don’t want to come with me to Stacey’s? We’re hitting a club. After a night like tonight, you need to let your hair down.”

  I shook my head. “No. You have fun, though. Besides, as bad as I look right now, I wouldn’t want to keep you all from getting in the door.”

  “Puh-leez! You drop Gabe’s name or text his ass, he’d get you in no problem.”

  “Go! I’m gonna take some Advil, and call it a night.”

  2

  Shoved His Way In Here

  Cassie

  KAYLEE LOVED FRUITY drinks, which meant we had a wide variety of flavored vodkas, rums, and whiskeys, along with various mixers. I had just poured myself a blue coconut-pineapple slush cocktail when there was a knock at the door. It startled me so badly, I fumbled with getting the blender container back on the base.

  “It could be the police following up, Cassie,” I whispered to myself as I tip-toed to the door.

  To my surprise, Gabe stood at the door, but he looked mighty unhappy.

  I opened the door to see him dressed for his gig. Dark trousers, black dress shirt with glossy burgundy vertical stripes, and his hair perfectly styled. His eyes hit my face and his lips pressed into a tight line.

  His voice was rough when he spoke. “Can I come in?”

  I nodded and stepped out of the way.

  When I closed and locked the door, he stood in my way.

  His blue eyes glittered. “Christ. What the fuck happened? Brock said there was police activity over here when he drove in, but I didn’t think it involved you. Still, I had to be sure. Why didn’t you fuckin’ call me, Cassie?”

  I closed my eyes because those words... Those words were as poisonous as they were sweet. And that was why I didn’t call him. He wasn’t mine to call when ‘shit hit the fan’ as Kaylee put it. I had wanted to call him because he cared. I knew he would be here, being sweet and protective, but that was where the poison hid. It was poisonous to depend on his sweet, protective side because we were just friends. My wanting more than that had to stay hidden.

  His eyes widened since my silence lasted too long.

  “Been a little busy since it all went down, G-Rock. Besides, I knew you had to work and—”

  “That’s your excuse?”

  “I didn’t want—”

  He stepped closer, and his scent hit me. It was the men’s Ocean scent from Bath and Body Works. I knew because he’d asked me to grab it for him a few months back when he had heard I was hitting the mall. “Avoid that place like the plague, Cassie, so I’d owe you big time if you’d do that for me,” he had said.

  Now he cut me off to say, “I don’t fuckin’ care about what you ‘didn’t want,’ Cassandra. Brock said there was gunfire. A fuckin’ gun goes off in your apartment, you call me.”

  I should’ve paid more attention in biology, but then again it wasn’t like adrenaline spikes were critical knowledge for general bio; so whether it was my adrenaline drop-off or just the fact that Gabe rehashed it in a blunt way, tears sprang to my eyes and a sob forced its way out of my throat.

  “Shit,” he muttered, and he pulled me to him in what had to be the best hug... ever.

  Dammit! This was not where I needed to be.

  I took a deep breath and got myself together. “Kaylee came in before anything really bad happened. She has a concealed carry permit, and she’s the one who fired the gun. Guess she’s a great shot because he moved to disarm her and she shot just in front of his toe. Which stopped him dead. She also did this while on the phone with 911.”

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  He took a hard look at my cheek, then his finger came up and traced the outside of where I suspected a bruise had formed. “Who
would do this to you?” His gentle tone left me aching.

  I pressed my lips together, but Gabe’s eyes widened again demanding an answer.

  I sighed and pulled at his hold, but he shook his head. “Tell me, Cassandra.”

  “Seems my ex-boyfriend lives across the breezeway.”

  “The fuck?”

  I didn’t want to tell him anything else, and hoped that would suffice.

  His gruff voice went stern. “Cassie. I asked, the fuck? Why would he hit you?”

  I looked to the side as I said, “He saw you leave this morning.”

  “Say that again,” he whispered.

  I shook my head, before I looked into his aquamarine eyes. “He assumed you and I had finally slept together. And, that’s why he showed up.”

  “And you let him in?”

  “I didn’t intend for him to come in.”

  His patience slipped. “What the hell does that mean? How would he get in if you didn’t want him to?”

  “I was a little off my game because not every day does an ex-boyfriend push his way in here by shoving me in the stomach so hard I back into the island.”

  Gabe’s arms fell away from me. One hand plunged into his hair, and not for the first time I wondered what product he used because his hair sprung right back into place. His other hand went to his hip. Then I felt his vibe in the room, and it was bad. At the look in his eyes, I was glad there wasn’t anything around he could throw.

  “He shoved his way in here? He shoved you to get in here?”

  “Gabe,” I said in a soothing voice.

  “Explain to me how there’s a fuckin’ bruise the size of a fuckin’ softball on your cheek.”

  I shook my head. “Isn’t that obvious? He got physical.”

  “Tell me,” he clipped out.

  I wanted to ask what was going on here. This made no sense. He behaved as if we were an item, but we weren’t. And since Kaylee wanted to blame herself for this, I could only imagine what Gabe wanted to do.

  “Cassandra,” he said behind clenched teeth.

  “He backhanded me when I told him the only person who lived across the hall was Stan. Then he did it again when I screamed as he hauled me toward the couch. Kaylee walked in after that.”

  “Jesus!” he yelled.

  “It’s okay, Gabe.”

  His face turned to me so fast I thought I was seeing things. “It’s not fuckin’ okay, Cass. No man treats a woman that way. And for damn sure, no man does it because of some fuckin’ problem he has with me.”

  “Gabe,” I started, but he leaned toward me and I shut up.

  “You pressin’ charges?”

  “Yes, and so is Kaylee. Her uncle, and I believe her father, are both in law enforcement, so I suspect Asher is fucked.”

  His head jolted back and he blinked as a strange expression crossed his face.

  “I don’t know what’s worse. That you’re droppin’ f-bombs or that you actually dated an asshole named ‘Asher.’”

  I shoved lightly at his shoulder. “Don’t be like that. Plenty of other guys named Asher out there, and they don’t manhandle women.”

  He looked around, spotted the blender and shook his head.

  “Where’s your stuff, Cass? No way in hell you’re stayin’ here tonight.”

  “Why not? He’s been arrested.”

  “You’re not staying here.”

  I crossed my arms on my chest. “I’m not leaving, Gabe. Hell if he’s getting in here again.”

  “Yeah. Because you’re staying at my place.”

  I looked to the door and back to him. “No. I’m not. He’s not going to hit me, and then make me leave my home. It’ll be fine.”

  He leaned toward me again. “You’re comin’ to my place. You sleep in my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. I won’t be in until after three. You wake up at eight or whatever, I’ll hit my bed then.”

  This man had no idea the torture it would be to sleep in his bed. The pain was bad enough seeing him first thing in the morning here. To see him first thing in the morning at his place would be excruciating.

  “Cecilia will be home soon. You can hang with her. Brock’s got a night shift. Now, pack a bag. You’re comin’ with me, and you can even bring your slushy with you if you want.”

  “She’s an alcoholic, I don’t think—”

  “She is, but she won’t care that you’re drinking. Now, let’s go.”

  I moved to my room but stopped at the doorway. “Only for tonight, Gabe. I mean it.”

  Gabe

  THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT woke me. My neck ached. I shifted on the couch and saw Cecilia reading a piece of paper.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “I’m reading the note Cassandra left.”

  “Note?”

  She nodded. “Says, ‘Thank you for letting me stay here last night. It was very nice of you, but I’ll stay somewhere else tonight. Don’t fight me on it.’”

  Dammit. I hadn’t expected her to sneak out. I flung the blanket off my body and stalked to Cecilia.

  “What the hell? Why would she do that?”

  My brother came out of his room. “Don’t be a dumbass. She’s into you.”

  “Nah. We’re friends.”

  Cecilia’s chin dipped as though she agreed with me, but her tone said otherwise. “Just because you’re friends doesn’t mean she isn’t attracted to you. I mean, if Brock and I weren’t serious and I had to sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch... That would be cruel punishment.”

  My gut began to burn because it made sense. She opened up to me about everything when I asked about her attack, but when I insisted she stay here she argued. Vehemently.

  “Especially since he slept with her roommate night before last,” Brock said.

  She gasped staring at Brock. “What?” Then she looked to me. “No wonder she looked like she’d rather walk into I-4 traffic than go to your bedroom. And do not bring her to the dinner with your mother! It’s a damn good thing you didn’t go into the military like your brothers. You’d have been recruited by the NSA as a leader in torture or something.”

  “Brock hasn’t even decided if the dinner with our mother is happening. And seriously, the NSA? Quit being so dramatic.”

  I grabbed my pillow and went to my bedroom.

  Throwing the sheet over my shoulder, I caught a whiff of Cassandra’s perfume. My eyes opened as I thought about her, but then I shoved those thoughts aside.

  I had no problem falling asleep. But when I woke up, my morning wood was the hardest I’d ever had. My dreams of Cassandra had nothing to do with that, not at all. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

  “YOU NEED TO GET YOUR shit together. Pronto,” Dad said in my ear.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that, and it likely wouldn’t be the last because I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.

  “I know, Dad. Believe it or not, I’m gettin’ sick of this school shit.”

  “I’d say that’s good, but only if it means you get the lead out and finish.”

  “I hear you,” I muttered.

  “Well, since you’re hearing me, maybe you’ll also give your mother a fair shake. You haven’t been referring to her as your egg-donor of late, so I’m hoping that’s progress.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was right, I had stopped calling her that in front of him or Brock, but I still thought of her that way.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Pop.”

  “Good. And not to rub it in, but if you’d been more decisive about your major, you’d be graduating alongside your brother.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t wanna make a bad decision now and have to come back in my thirties. Besides, then you’d be on the hook for double the graduation expenses.”

  He chuckled. “Nice try, but I’m on the hook for caps and gowns regardless of when you two get those degrees.”

  “Fair enough. Speaking of that, I better hit the books, Dad.”

  “Figure it out, my
boy. I love you.”

  “Love you, Dad.”

  TWO HOURS LATER, I had notes for an upcoming paper put together when my phone chimed with a text. The screen showed Cassandra’s name.

  Hope you got my note. Staying with a friend tonight. Filing a restraining order, tomorrow. Have a good night.

  My teeth clenched and I cracked my neck. I knew not to read into the brevity of the text, but I couldn’t help it. It felt like a pit in my belly because I could swear she was distancing herself from me. After my conversation with Dad, I wanted to call her. It might have been wishful thinking on my part, but I just knew she could get my head straight about what I really wanted to do in life.

  Shit.

  I caught sight of the time, and decided to break for dinner. Cooking gave me a release I couldn’t find anywhere else. Brock claimed it was because one of Dad’s serious girlfriends who loved to cook had taken me under her wing, but I barely remembered her. Seeing as she, too, ran off without saying goodbye, it wasn’t surprising I forgot about her. I didn’t forget about the pain though.

  In the fridge, we had some chicken filet cutlets, and I decided to make mock-Thai peanut chicken. It was an off-the-wall recipe I came across on the Internet, but hell if it didn’t taste just like Thai peanut chicken. I pulled out an unopened jar of salsa and the jumbo-sized jar of peanut butter from the pantry. With oil in the pan, I set the chicken in to sauté, and got a pot of water boiling for the noodles.

  Someone knocked at the door and my brows furrowed. Then I tamped down my hope it would be Cassie. That was not a good sign.

  Through the peephole, I saw my brother’s buddy Clint Ramsey, and I opened the door.

  “Yo. Come on in. I’m putting dinner together.”

  “Where’s your brother? And is his woman here? I didn’t see her vehicle in the lot, but that doesn’t mean much in a complex this large.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m alone.”

  “Shocking,” he deadpanned, closing the door.

  “Fuck off, Ramsey.”

  “Way your brother tells it, that’s your forte.”