Wild Forces: A Friends to Lovers Romance (O-Town Book 2) Page 3

  I sighed and turned the chicken. “Not anymore,” I muttered.

  Clint opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Bud. “I heard you wrong.”

  I shook my head. “No. Seems Brock and Vamp were right, but you tell them I said that I’ll deny it. You stickin’ around for grub?”

  “Sure, why not? But you didn’t knock someone up did you?”

  I shot him a dirty look. “Fuck, no.”

  While I loaded a measuring cup with peanut butter, he asked, “Then what’s got you giving up the ladies?”

  I sighed. Brock already knew, so I figured it was only a matter of time before he told Clint.

  “The last chick I banged was Cassie’s roommate. But since I hadn’t ever been at Cassie’s pad, I had no idea it was her roommate until the next morning.”

  The loud thunk of the beer bottle hitting the counter preceded his guffaw.

  “Ramsey, this shit ain’t funny.”

  “When it’s happenin’ to you, it never is. So why do you care that you banged Cassie’s roommate?”

  I stirred the peanut butter, salsa, and some soy sauce into the skillet with the chicken.

  Before I could answer, Clint asked, “Hold the fuck up. Did you just put peanut butter and salsa in there with the chicken? Maybe I’m not eatin’ with your ass.

  “Believe me, it sounds weird but hell if it doesn’t taste just like Thai food without havin’ to go out for it.”

  While I stirred, I answered his earlier question. “I care because she saw me leaving and she was visibly uncomfortable about it.”

  He swallowed his beer. “Yeah. That’d be true no matter who the hell was leaving her roommate in the wee hours of the morning.”

  “Seven isn’t exactly ‘the wee hours,’ man.”

  His eyes widened. “Since when do you spend the night?”

  “I worked until three. The roommate hung until last call, specifically to corner me. We hit her place just before five, and I hit the door at six-fifty-eight.”

  “Sucks to be you, then.”

  “She says we’re cool and she isn’t upset. Still. It made me think.”

  He chuckled. “Good to know somethin’ can wake your ass up. Now, how long until that food’s ready?”

  3

  Rapper’s Delight

  Cassie

  SOMEONE KNOCKED ON the door, and I leapt off the couch. The cable-internet was down and had been since early the day before. The cable company had some scheduling mishap and our address hadn’t shown up on the technician’s worksheet. I had complained, and was supposed to be the first customer this morning.

  “It’s about time,” I muttered halfway to the door.

  I opened the door without checking the peephole, and Gabe stood there. His face had a neutral expression which quickly morphed to banked fury.

  “Did you even check the peephole, Daughtry?”

  A chill ran down my spine. I loved it when he called me by my last name for some inane reason. The fact that I should have checked the peephole might have had something to do with the chill, also.

  “I thought you were the cable guy,” I blurted.

  His eyes widened. “Even more reason to pause before flinging your door open, woman.”

  “God! I’m sorry. What are you doing here?”

  He eyed me up and down and his lips thinned. Which brought his angular jaw to my attention. A jaw he hadn’t shaved today, or the last couple of days, if the dark stubble was any indicator. His eyes seemed to pop with the new beard growing on his face.

  Just when I thought Gabe Sullivan couldn’t get any more handsome, he had to go and prove me wrong.

  “You were gonna greet the cable guy in your pajamas?”

  I looked down at myself and back to him. “No! I’m wearing yoga pants and my workout tank top. I just got back from a seven-thirty yoga class.”

  He stared at me long and hard, with a puzzled-yet-pained expression before he shook his head.

  “Had breakfast?”

  “Um, no. Why?”

  “I’m meeting Vamp and his woman for breakfast. Come with me. You said you love to go to the Waffle House and that’s what Rainey’s jonesin’ for, so I thought of you.”

  I smiled tentatively. “I do love that place, but the cable guy missed us yesterday. I made quite the fuss, so I—”

  “Your roommate home?”

  My face fell even though I tried to hide it.

  He sighed. “No, Cassie. If she’s home, she can wait for the cable tech. Right?”

  I pursed my lips and twisted them to the side. “I guess, but—”

  “C’mon. You’ve always said you wanted to meet my oldest brother, Vamp. And I know you’ll dig Rainey. She works for a credit union as a mortgage officer.”

  Shit. He really did know me. I was getting my MBA, but I admitted that I was a total geek who loved everything to do with banks and credit unions and stuff.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Let me change and tell Kaylee she has to wake up.”

  I SWUNG UP INTO GABE’S Chevrolet S-10 as he climbed in on the driver’s side.

  He motored out of the parking lot, and I asked, “Why did you want me to tag along? Just to round out the numbers, so you’re not a third wheel?”

  He chuckled. “No. Rainey’s part of the family, even if she and Vamp haven’t set a wedding date yet. I knew it was your favorite breakfast place even if you don’t let yourself go there often.”

  I smiled at him. He could be so damn thoughtful. It always made me wonder what he’d be like if his mother had stuck around during his childhood.

  “So, your brother and his woman just decided to drop by today? Or do they have plans for a theme park?”

  After a quick glance at me, he said, “No. We’re having a fancy dinner with my mom tonight. They decided to show up early and Vamp invited me to breakfast.”

  “And not Brock?”

  “He’s sleeping. Or with Cecilia. Whatever. You talk to the leasing office? Surely you’re not staying across the hall from that dipshit who hit you.”

  “It’s been a week, Gabe. He’s still in jail. I’ve got the restraining order, and it’s been served to him. I spoke to management. Unfortunately, they don’t have another unit available for me to move into right now.”

  “Cassie, you need to be lookin’ at other complexes then. And if they give you grief about the lease, tell me.”

  “Gabe. I will not make the same mistake twice. He’s at my door, the cops will be called. What won’t happen is me opening that door. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not moving unless it’s absolutely necessary. Right now, he hasn’t been able to post bail, so it’s not an issue.”

  “Yet,” he muttered.

  “Right. But, I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

  “That restraining order’s just a piece of paper, you know.”

  “No way I wouldn’t know, seeing as Kaylee said the very same thing, and her father dropped by to reiterate it.”

  Our conversation halted when Gabe pulled into the Waffle House parking lot.

  While Gabe parked, I noticed a stocky man with bright blue eyes stood at the door with a short, dark-haired woman at his side. His leather vest had several patches on the front, but the one which read ‘Vamp’ grabbed my attention. They were a striking couple.

  I hopped out of the truck, and Gabe waited for me at the bumper. “You need to stay safe, Cass.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  He slugged me on the bicep. “Shut up, smartass.”

  Ten minutes later we had placed our orders with our waitress, and Rainey gave me an assessing look.

  “How are you two friends, anyway?” she asked.

  Gabe spoke before I could. “She was the Teaching Assistant in a music appreciation course I took. I asked her to tutor me, she called me on my b.s. and I told her it was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  I shook my head and put my orange juice down. “Inaccurate, mister,” I widened my eyes at Rainey an
d tilted my head toward Gabe, “First words he said to me were, ‘I’m an asshole.’ Verbatim. I remember because I wanted to ask if he was related to Dennis Leary, but that would’ve been rude.”

  Rainey laughed. “How would that have been rude? I mean a guy walks up and immediately says he’s an asshole... that’s rude. And Gabe, why would you do that?”

  Gabe shot a disappointed look at me. “Why do you always have to tell the truth, Daughtry?”

  I smiled and shrugged.

  He sipped some coffee before he said, “Well, I did that because I was being one. Some buddies made a lame bet with me that I couldn’t get her to tutor me and get in her pants.”

  Rainey gasped. “Oh my God! Why would you do that? I’ve met your father, he raised you better than that!”

  Gabe looked ashamed, so I let him off the hook. “Well, the truth is he never would’ve convinced me he needed tutoring. Pretty sure I told him his paper about ‘Blue Rondo ala Turk’ made him worthy of giving the lecture about rondos instead of Professor Wood.”

  His brother Vamp laughed. “No doubt about that. Pop freaking loves Brubeck. So, is that what sparked your friendship? Gabe’s appreciation of West Coast jazz?”

  I shrugged. “Not exactly. I had admired his musical knowledge before that, but his honesty about the bet put him in a new light.”

  Rainey pointed a finger at Gabe. “You need to thank your lucky stars this girl doesn’t hold that against you, Gabe. Because seriously, that is whacked.”

  The server showed up with our plates of food, so Gabe didn’t respond.

  Everyone had ordered breakfast food except me. For some reason, when we stepped inside, I had a hankering for lunch food instead of waffles or eggs.

  As I doctored my Texas Chicken Melt, Gabe said, “You’ll have to excuse Cassandra. She’s already been to yoga at seven-damn-thirty this morning, and is clearly ahead of the rest of us schedule-wise.”

  I shot a mock dirty look his way. “Shut up, Sullivan. I just didn’t feel like a waffle at this point. Sue me.”

  Vamp paused the cutting of his peanut butter waffle to ask, “You carrying a weapon with you to early morning yoga?”

  I looked to Gabe, who was cutting his omelet as though he might be graded on it.

  “Did you tell them about my troubles?”

  Gabe finally looked at me. “Yeah, I did. Told him and my brother’s buddy, Clint. You know Cecilia was attacked a few weeks back. Can’t be too careful, Cassie.”

  I turned back to Vamp. “No, I’m not carrying a weapon with me, but he’s still in jail, and I have a—”

  “Restraining order, Gabe mentioned it. And just to say, you probably won’t be notified the moment that jackass gets bailed out and leaves jail. A piece of paper isn’t going to do anything for you if he gets aggressive.”

  I smiled. “I’m not opening the door to him again.”

  “He breaks in, you got problems,” Vamp said.

  “I know you’re an outlaw biker and stuff, but Asher isn’t going to break into my apartment.”

  “Tell that to Andrea,” Vamp muttered.

  Rainey shook her head. “Not to contradict you, babe, but Andrea’s problems stemmed from someone far worse than a stalker.”

  “I don’t know who Andrea is, but I don’t have a stalker. He simply needs to move on, and maybe get some anger management counseling or something.”

  Vamp’s eyes were a bright shade of blue, but not nearly as vibrant as Gabe’s. Still, the way he was staring at me made me feel queasy. He looked to Gabe and then to me.

  “Did you know he was living in that apartment?”

  “No, but apparently Kaylee saw him all the time. I guess our schedules were just different.”

  He looked at Gabe. “You check if there’s a Ring camera?”

  Gabe’s chin lifted a touch. “No, but I’ll check that when I drop her off.”

  “Do that. This shit doesn’t make sense.”

  I looked at Rainey. “Are they always like this?”

  She shrugged. “They’re protective. It’s annoying, but I’ve found it’s best to roll with it.”

  The hardness in Vamp’s voice forced me to look at him. “It’s one thing not to know an ex has turned psycho. It’s another thing to ignore the threat that’s right across from where you live. That would just be stupid, and Gabe’s told me you’re the smartest woman he knows, so don’t get stupid now.”

  “All right, all right. Message received.”

  Gabe

  CASSIE’S DISDAIN FOR Vamp lecturing her during breakfast couldn’t be missed, but on the way home something else seemed to be bothering her.

  “You’re awful quiet over there, Cassie.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “Something... I don’t know. I think that chicken might not have been right, or something.”

  “Told you to go with a waffle, Daughtry. It is what they’re known for there,” I muttered.

  “Says the guy who got an omelet,” she said, but then exhaled sharply.

  “Hey, you gonna make it?” I asked, putting a hand on her forearm.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there soon.”

  At our complex, she discouraged me from walking her up to her unit, but I wouldn’t hear of it. The entire way up the stairs, she held her abdomen even as she kept telling me she was fine.

  While she unlocked her door, I glanced at Asher’s apartment and noticed there was a Ring camera. The problem was I couldn’t tell if it was positioned to catch Cassie’s doorway or not.

  I knew a thing or two about Ring cameras since I had one mounted on the doorbell and one above the door jamb. Another consequence of scorning women.

  Turning back to Cassie, I noticed she had gone inside, leaving the door wide open.

  “Cassie,” I called, while I closed and locked the door.

  Her muffled voice came from what I suspected was a bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I wandered over to the couch and I noticed her apartment had the same lay-out as mine. From the other night, I knew Kaylee had the master, and I glanced toward that doorway. It was open, but the room was dark.

  I looked to the entertainment center, and noticed the cable modem sitting next to their flat screen. All the lights were lit so I figured the cable guy had come and gone.

  A sound came from the bathroom telling me Cassie was very ill.

  I moved to the bathroom door. “Cassandra. You okay? Can I get you some ginger ale or something for your stomach?”

  “Oh God,” she groaned. “No, Gabe. You can just go. I’ll be fine.”

  “I will not ‘just go’, Cassandra. Someone has to make sure you don’t pass out from dehydration.”

  “Somebody kill me now,” she muttered, and I fought laughing.

  In her kitchen, I found a twenty-ounce bottle of Sprite in the fridge. I pulled it out and checked the pantry. There were some saltines, so I nabbed those, too. I couldn’t find any peanut butter, but that might have been too heavy for her at this point anyway.

  Using a paper towel as a plate, I set out six saltines, and opened the cap on the soda.

  It didn’t feel right to invade Cassie’s bedroom, but I wasn’t about to ask her to lay on her couch. Her bedroom was closer to the bathroom, anyway. Only by three feet probably, but every foot counted if she had food poisoning.

  Her bed was unmade, which surprised me. I had her pegged as a stringent ‘bed-maker first thing in the morning’ type. Her nightstand only had a lamp on top of it, so I put the crackers and soda on it.

  Since I was already in her space, I toed off my shoes and kicked back on her bed. I had my hands behind my head, my eyes closed, and my ankles crossed when I heard her come out of the bathroom.

  “What? Gabe... what are you doing? And why are you on my bed?”

  I opened one eye. “Told you I wasn’t leaving. Food poisoning is the worst. Lay down. I got you a Sprite and some crackers. Eat ’em, or not, but you need to drink a little something.”

  She p
ursed her lips. “Fine. But as you can see, I’m okay. You can get on with your day.”

  “Lay down, Daughtry, and let me worry about what I have on for my day.”

  She sipped the Sprite and sat with her back against her diamond-tufted button-backed headboard.

  I shifted to my side, propping my head in my hand. “Okay, you’re ‘in’ bed, but seriously, Cassie. You need to lay down. I won’t bite you.”

  Her eyes slid to me for a moment before she finally slouched down to a horizontal position. She laid there for some time, and I decided to play a game with her.

  “‘Rapper’s Delight.’”

  Her head turned. “What?”

  “You know ‘What?’ I’d have started a food fight, but deep-dish pizza—”

  “Stop talking about food,” she groaned.

  “Exactly. So, ‘Rapper’s Delight.’”

  “Same genre?”

  My head wobbled for a beat. “I’ll go easy on you and say no.”

  “Grandmaster Flash, ‘The Message.’”

  I wanted to nudge her shoulder, but I didn’t. “You’re such a nerd. And you read too much Rolling Stone magazine. Just because they say that’s number one should not be the reason—”

  “Are you admitting defeat?”

  “‘Blue Rondo ala Turk.’”

  She stared at me a long time. Something close to pain appeared in her eyes. Finally, she said, “Thelonious’s ‘Blue Monk.’”

  That gave me pause. “Gonna have to run that by Dad,” I muttered.

  “So, you’re saying I’m right?” she asked, her eyes alight.

  I grinned. “Nope. ‘Night Train.’”

  She shook her head. “You are veritably evil, G-Rock. Throwing Oscar Peterson up against Monk.”

  She exhaled and I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh or an exhale to control her pain.

  Before I could ask, she asked, “Why’d you quit playing?”

  “Playing what?”

  She gave me a look. “You know. Why’d you quit playing trumpet? Or guitar? Or any instrument?”

  “Could ask the same of you, Daughtry.”

  “Who says I quit?”

  When we first became friends, I had admitted to playing the guitar. But I never told her about the trumpet. “Who told you about me playing the trumpet?”