After the Hurt (11 page)

In the doorway he turned and whispered, “I'll be on the couch.”

“Mm-hmm,” came from the jumble of pillows.

He left the room and closed the door, heaving a sigh of relief and frustration. He dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. He had to resist her. She'd broken his heart once and he wasn't about to let that happen again. No matter how seductive she was. How alluring. Or how much he wanted her. She left once; who was to say she wouldn't do it again? Yep, he'd call Meg in the morning and get those papers drawn up.

A voice, deep and familiar, reached down into her dream and pulled her from the cozy depths. Pepper struggled through the layers of sleep, stretching as she slowly woke up. She blinked and looked around. A moment of panic at her unfamiliar surroundings made her sit bolt upright with alarm. She still hadn't gotten used to waking up in strange places, even after the past six months of travel. Slowly she got her bearings and remembered where she was. Events from last night crashed into her and she gripped the sheets in a bunch next to her chest. The break-in. And Tank staying in the loft. With her. She didn't welcome the wave of sadness she felt knowing he'd slept in the other room.

She pushed the covers aside and shivered. The room was cool. “Where did I put that sweater?” She looked on the rumpled bed for Tank's old sweater. She found it on the floor and pulled it on, tucking her hands inside the sleeves. She hugged herself to keep the heat in. “Fuck, I hate winter,” she muttered.

Pepper wandered out to the living room and saw Tank in the kitchen.

“I won't.” He had to be on the phone. “Can you just get started on them, please?”

Pepper glanced out the window to see what the weather was like, not wanting to intrude or eavesdrop on Tank's conversation. She pulled the colorful throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself, desperate for some heat.

“Don't worry if I've forgiven her or not. It's too soon to know.” Tank was firm with whomever he was speaking to at the other end. “What? Hate her forever?” He gave a sarcastic laugh. “What I decide is up to me.” Pepper turned and watched him, wondering whom he was talking about. A chill clutched her spine. Hate forever? She had a suspicion he was talking about her. But to whom? It kind of freaked her out that he'd talk behind her back. Not that she didn't expect him to, she supposed; just hearing him was unnerving. And…hate?

“I'll stop by later—,” Tank said and came out of the kitchen and saw her. He stopped dead in his tracks. “I gotta go.” He put the phone in his pocket. No emotion registered on his face. Had she imagined the caring she thought she saw last night after the police left? This new cool—well, not really new, since he'd been emotionally closed off most of the time since she'd arrived—confused her more.

If he was talking about her, then didn't that mean he hated and wanted nothing to do with her? Despair consumed her. He hadn't shown it last night. The hug. His staying in the loft with her while she slept. What had that all meant? Was he feeling obligated? What were his true feelings and had she just heard them now?

She took a deep breath and tried to digest everything that had happened over the past couple of days. That Tank might harbor an insurmountable grudge was something she'd thought she'd been prepared for. Pepper hadn't come back looking for drama, yet somehow it found her without any trouble at all. Her plan to simply come home and try to mend fences and get back on her feet didn't seem to be going all that well. She'd give it a few more days here and if things didn't turn around then she'd make some hard decisions.

“Who was that?” she asked him, not really sure she wanted to know or if he'd even tell her.

“No one. Just business.”

She nodded, not believing him. But what was she going to do? Question or challenge him and demand that he tell her? It really wasn't her business, even if it was about her. She supposed she'd find out soon enough.

“Would you like me to call for a locksmith?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Already done. He'll be here sometime this afternoon.”

“I guess that means you want me to stay here and wait for him.” Suddenly she was feeling pissy, let down, rejected, insecure.

“If you don't mind. I have to go.” Tank turned and walked to the door.

“Wait a minute. There has to be something I can do.” She followed him. “I know you're having a grand opening and I'm happy to help.” Even though she tried to keep her voice neutral, she heard the edge of bitchiness. She forced herself to speak calmly. “What I mean is, I'd like to help out. I obviously have free time, so why not put me to good use?”

He looked down at her, cold, aloof, and unreadable. Again. She wondered where the Tank from last night had gone.

“Pretty much everything's done for that. I have to be somewhere, so if I come up with something else I'll get back to you later. Right now if you can just wait for the locksmith, that would be great.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Pepper was dying to get out of the loft, but she couldn't. Not before the locksmith did his thing. She wanted to get downstairs, get the lay of the land. Maybe even go out and get her ID sorted out. Glancing out the window made her shiver. Never-friggin'-ending snow was so depressing. Would she ever get used to this blasted cold weather again? The few months in Bali had certainly spoiled her.

Pepper tried not to think of the conversation she'd overheard on the phone. It was easy for her mind to run away with her. She was good at jumping to conclusions. When he wanted to, Tank could be very intimidating. Even she, who knew—correction,
had
known—him so well, could be pulled up short when he got that way. Tank was all quiet power that brooked no argument sometimes. He'd always had that side to him and she'd known just how far to push it; otherwise she might have pressed a little harder now. He could be scary sometimes, which was why he'd done so well as a fighter. He was good at getting his message across effectively with calm, hushed words followed quickly by a strike, whether physical or verbal. She'd seen it firsthand when she'd pushed him just a little bit too far. No, of course he'd never struck her, but his verbal hits could be just as painful.

She smiled. Oh yes, she knew she could be difficult, and warmth bloomed in her chest as she remembered how well Tank handled her. During their more heated arguments she gave as good as she got. And the make-up sex. Delicious. He was the only person who ever really got her. Totally understood her. Well, until recently, anyway.

She needed to chill for a while and distract herself. Get busy with something. Otherwise she'd go stir-crazy. Pepper stood in the doorway of the den and looked around. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it could use a straightening up. She pushed the furniture around. Washed and polished the floor until the hardwood gleamed. She rearranged the furniture to her liking. Pepper checked each piece of furniture to see if it was damaged in any way. It didn't make any sense for the break-in, but then who knew why people did the things they did?

A few hours later, when she was satisfied, she stood by the window, arching her back to stretch out the kinks. A bath would be awesome right about now. Shit! She just remembered the locksmith still hadn't come yet.
And
she'd have to figure out where to go to get her ID replaced. She groaned, thinking of venturing out in the cold.

Gazing down to the snowy street below made her miss the tropics even more. She shivered. Not from being cold but from not being hot, like she was used to. The only problem with coming back here was winter. She'd grown used to the tropical weather, sun, and riot of glorious colors. Here everything was gray and dismal. Snow still fell and people hurried along the sidewalks bundled up against the bite of cold. Cars rolled through the increasing slush and the gunmetal sky grew darker. It was just past noon, but the snowy sky made it seem later in the day.

Memories of spectacular sunsets on warm beaches filled her with a bittersweet longing. She was a tropical sea baby, not a snow bunny. Not for the first time, Pepper wondered if a lifestyle change was in order. If things turned out poorly here, with Tank, then maybe she would move away. For good.

Right now, stuck in the apartment for the afternoon, she let herself drift on memories of Bali and the lovely people she'd met. Finding her way to the hospice had been a godsend for her. A selfish thought to be sure, but it had been.

But being home was confusing, more than she thought it would be. Pepper didn't want to lose the clarity she'd worked so hard to gain, or her new way of looking at life. Once back in the real world, it made her see how hard it could be to hang on to that perspective.

Even though slightly bewildered by everything, Pepper knew that coming home was the right thing to do. For so many reasons. She moved to the next blind, closing it against the miserable view of winter. A loud knock at her door made her jump out of her skin. Geez, she was on edge.

“Who is it?” she called out and walked to the door. She wished there was a peephole to look through.

“Lucky Locksmith. Here to change the locks, ma'am,” a muffled male voice came from the other side.

She wound her hair in a knot at the back of her head and pulled the door open.

“Please, come in.”

A small wiry man greeted her with a tool kit big enough for a giant. How on earth did such a little guy manage to carry it?

“It's this door,” Pepper indicated, stepping back to let him by.

“Yes, ma'am. I won't be long, and don't let me keep you from anything.”

“Okay, I'll be in the other room, then.”

He nodded, and she went back in the den. She was antsy to get out of the loft and couldn't wait until the locksmith was done so she could go downstairs. It was time to familiarize herself with Octagon.

Tank had a hard time feeling good about what he'd just done. It seemed so final. No coming back. He'd made a fateful decision that set a whole new path in motion. He stood in his office and looked at the envelope in his hands. He'd been so sure about his decision this morning when he'd explained everything to Meg. Now it felt like he'd done something wrong.

Sliding the papers out, he read them again. Simple and to the point with a considerable check made out to Pepper. His heart jumped when a laugh echoed from the hall. Tank dropped the papers and check on the desk. He hadn't heard that laugh in so long. Her laugh. It was magical and drew him out of the office. He halted when he saw her in the kitchen.

Surrounded by a pile of carrots, Pepper bantered back and forth with the cooks. He watched her. She had them laughing, obviously telling them one of her bizarre stories or pieces of useless information. He smiled. She was the queen of useless information, and he teased her about it whenever the opportunity arose. It did constantly surprise him, the shit she knew.

Pepper tackled the carrots with gusto, quickly peeling them. When had she become so domestic? Tank couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her prep food. Toast was about her limit. In a pinch, maybe slicing a tomato for a sandwich. So watching her now was like watching a brand-new Pepper.

Just what happened to her when she was away?

Tank wanted to know. The more time he spent with her or near her, the more he sensed a huge change. He was curious about the events that had made such a profound difference in her. All he had to do was ask her. Go into the kitchen and ask, demand some answers. Instead he backed away, letting her have her moment with the staff.

Just as he turned away she looked up and saw him. Her cheeks flushed, eyes bright and her smile wide. Tank automatically smiled back. She looked happy. Even with her hair pulled back and wrapped in a net. The white apron, which looked so ordinary on everyone else, made her look fantastic. It hugged her body, accentuating the curves beneath. Reminding him of all those treasures he knew lay in wait for him. It'd only been a couple days since she'd exploded back into his life, and it was starting to seem like she'd never been gone. But they still had a lot to talk about. It was he who kept that conversation at bay. Maybe because if they talked, one of two things would happen. He'd forgive her and they could try again. Or she'd move on.

He felt like he needed to have a reason to be in the kitchen besides being there to gape at her. So he made it look like he'd planned to speak with Chef Michael. He walked over to him.

“How are things looking for the gala?” Tank inquired.

“Everything's good. I have a new helper.” He smiled and nodded his head toward Pepper. He turned his back and lowered his voice so only Tank could hear him and asked, “Are you okay with her being in here?”

Tank glanced at Pepper. She didn't appear to be listening, all focus was on her carrots now. Tank nodded. “It's okay. Not really sure what to make of all this yet. If she wants to help out in the kitchen, I have no problem with that as long as you don't. The kitchen's yours, you know that.”

Chef answered, “It's fine. An extra set of hands prepping never hurt anyone.”

Tank nodded. “Fine, then. I want to find Val; have you seen her? I haven't heard anything about that shipment of wine yet.”

“She called. Snow squalls are making her drive in slow.”

Tank shook his head. “It's been a shitty winter for weather. Times like these I wish I was down south. I sure hope it eases up tomorrow for the gala.”

“I hear you,” Chef answered. A clatter behind them caught his attention. “What the hell!”

“Okay, then.” Tank smiled when Chef stomped off to see who had dropped what in his precious kitchen.

Tank walked past Pepper. “I see you're making yourself right at home.” His tone wasn't as light as he'd planned it to be. It wasn't intentional and the hurt reflected in her eyes made him feel bad. He hadn't meant to be sarcastic, but it had come out that way.

Pepper glanced down at her carrots and attacked them with more ferocity.

“Just trying to fit in and help out.”

Even though he knew her feelings were hurt, her voice was hard and cold. She was trying to keep her temper in check. Another difference about her. He was pushing her away to protect himself. After last night's drama with the break-in and the subsequent coziness in her bed made him realize how vulnerable he was, he felt he needed to keep that wall up, for a little while, anyway.

Pepper stood in the shower, the hot water raining down from the ceiling. She looked up. It was quite a contraption built into the roof. She hadn't even begun to figure out which knob turned on what showerhead. And when she tried, an ice-cold stream of water belted her right in the middle of her back. She screeched and scrabbled with the different knobs until the hot stream warmed her frozen skin. It was like a body car wash.

Right now, though, she just wanted the hot water to sluice away her worry of the past couple of days. She hated that she and Tank were still at odds with each other, and just when she had a glimmer of hope the night of the break-in, that silver lining darkened again. She had to show—no, prove—to him she was a different woman. An idea formed in her mind and she stood straighter. A smile curved her lips and she quickly finished her shower. She knew exactly what she was going to do now. Tonight.

Pepper had to demonstrate to him one way or another, that he could trust her again. With new resolve and purpose, Pepper quickly got ready.

She was determined it was going to be a good night.

An hour later she was downstairs in the restaurant. Her heart hammered and she was nervous. It was time to show Tank she could be counted on as an asset to Octagon.

Pepper positioned herself at the desk by the front door. The door where she'd kissed him the other night.
The kiss that he didn't return,
she reminded herself. A completely different kiss than the much more passionate one they'd shared upstairs in the hall. Since the break-in the other night, they'd not been alone long enough to talk. She was beginning to think he was doing it on purpose.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on it, though. She had to get her shit together and be ready to greet the patrons. Pepper had no idea if there was someone doing the job already. She just assigned herself that duty and would roll with it.

Glancing around the restaurant looking for Tank, she was disappointed not to see him. She'd hoped to talk to him. Nothing confrontational, just conversational. With no sign of him, she went about her newly self-assigned role and was the hostess with the mostest, greeting everyone and assuring their evening at Octagon went flawlessly.

Every now and then she'd look around for him. She thought she saw his shadow behind the wine cooler, where she'd seen him the first night she arrived. If it was him, why was he staying away?

Her feet were killing her in the knee-high leather boots by the end of the night. It was hard getting used to being on her feet all night. Flips-flops or going barefoot wouldn't cut it here. When the last of the diners had left, and it was just the piano bar going strong, Pepper slipped away and flopped into one of the overstuffed chairs in the employee lounge. She watched a taped fight on the TV and guzzled back a glass of water.

“Holy hell, my feet hurt,” she complained to the empty room. Pepper knew if she took her boots off the chances of getting them back on were slim to none. She leaned back in the chair, scooted down, and rested her feet on the table, letting out a big sigh.

The lights were off and she hadn't bothered turning them on. Darkness and quiet slipped around her in a comforting embrace. The distant sound of the pianos and crowd singing was a nice backdrop. She was sleepy, still not caught up from jet lag.

Pepper dozed.

A cellphone ringing reached down into her layers of sleep and pulled her out. She blinked and looked around, wondering where she was, then she remembered. Stretching, she paused mid-yawn when she heard Tank talking. About to make herself known, she froze and held her breath.

“Yes, she's still here,” Tank answered, his voice holding a touch of agitation. The other person must have been talking because he was quiet and then his reply made her heart sink. “No, I'm not going to let her stay that long. Hopefully just another day or so. And no, I haven't.” He was silent, obviously listening to the other person again. “I know, I know. I'll do it.”

Silence again as he listened and Pepper thought her lungs might burst from holding her breath. She was well aware he was talking about her but to whom she had no idea. It annoyed her she was the topic of conversation for the second time between Tank and somebody else. It felt like an intrusion into her world that their private affairs were public information. Pepper knew she should let him know she was here. But she didn't want to. Hoping to find out more, she continued to listen even though anger was beginning to rear its ugly head. She had to keep a lid on it. Getting angry at Tank wouldn't accomplish anything.

“Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow night. Love you too.”

Pepper's heart chilled. Her anger was replaced by hurt.
So he does have somebody else. Somebody he loves.
Olivia.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she dashed them away, refusing to let them fall. If she did, that would be utmost failure. It really sucked overhearing conversations sometimes.

She heard him leave the room and sagged back into the chair. This was all for nothing. He was already committed elsewhere and there was no way in hell she would be the other woman. Pepper let herself wallow in self-pity for a moment. In a way, she was glad she'd overheard the conversation. It let her know where she stood and which direction she needed to take. Which, evidently, wouldn't include Tank. She sat up and thought for a few minutes. She knew exactly what she had to do now.