“I’m seeing a pattern here. I can also understand how you’d be a bit skittish.”
He wipes down the counter top, and I’m amazed at his domestic skills, then sad that I’ll never get to meet the mother who probably instilled these skills.
“Now that you know my whole sorry story, tell me how you ended up in TJ?”
I’d been so engrossed in his past history, I failed to come up with a plausible reason for myself. “Well, I?—”
Three sharp knocks on the door save me, followed by, “C’mon, fucker, get your lazy ass outta bed.”
Diesel holds up his index finger and heads for the door. He swings it open, and Blood, the brooding VP, strolls in. “I’ve been texting and calling you. Why the fuck aren’t you in the gym? It’s ten-thirty. I’m goin’ crazy; the place is busy as shit, and—” He stops short when he sees me sitting at the kitchen table.
“Ahhhh, I get it.”
“No,” I hold up my palms, “I don’t think you do.”
“At least you celebrated your birthday in style.” Blood shamelessly lets his gaze drag over me. “Big step up from the usual club whores you stick it to.”
Diesel spins Blood toward the door. “Hey, fucker, watch your mouth, huh?”
“What?” Blood defends. “I meant that as a compliment.”
Diesel pulls open the door. “I’ll be at the gym in half an hour.”
Blood checks me out again. “Hey, brother, for her I might make an exception.”
“Shut it.”
Blood laughs at Diesel’s warning, then claps him on the back. “Seriously, brother, consider the day off as a birthday present from me to you.”
Diesel pushes Blood out the door and then returns to the kitchen. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries, I kind of enjoyed it.” I stand to avoid any more questions about how I got to Tijuana. “I guess I should see about getting my clothes out of the dressing room downstairs.”
“No problem. I’ll text Ricky, and have him bring them up.”
I close the distance between us. “I know things didn’t end up the way you wanted last night, but I really do want to thank you for being so kind and making me feel so comfortable.” I rest my hand on his arm. “A lot of guys wouldn’t have been so nice.”
His gaze travels to my hand, and for a split second, there’s electricity between us. I jerk my hand away, and he swipes up his phone, frantically typing a message. A few seconds later, his phone beeps with a response.
“Ricky said he’s on his way up with your clothes.” He motions toward the bathroom. “You can take a shower if you want.”
“Thanks. I’ll just wait for my clothes.”
“Right.”
Yup, and just like that, we’re back to awkward again. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but it’s not like anything I’d ever experienced.
CHAPTER 8
DIESEL
What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me? Spilling all that shit about my past. Telling her about my mother. I never even introduced Adele, my bitchy second wife, to my mother, and here I am spilling my guts to a woman I barely know.
After Ricky dropped off Martina’s clothes, she made a beeline for the bathroom like the hounds of hell were on her ass. Then I heard the lock click on the door.
I drag my hand through my hair, and grab my smokes off the coffee table. I plug one between my lips, light up, and drag deep, but it doesn’t help. I can still hear the shower running, and my imagination travels to fantasyland, picturing the water sluicing off her tanned, trim body.
And that was another fuckin’ thing—she wasn’t even my type—not one little bit. My usual was big tits and wide hips, yet she had me cranked up in the worst way. Being a big guy, I always felt like I might break a smaller woman. Maybe Martina was right and I should switch it up ‘cause whatever the fuck I’d done in the past wasn’t working. I sure had no problem with Martina grinding her ass over me last night.
