After the Hurt (7 page)

Pepper still felt out of sorts. Jet-lagged. Emotionally drained. Sleep. She needed sleep. The ache at the base of her neck wouldn't ease no matter how many times she rolled her shoulders. Pepper had stopped counting the time zones she'd traipsed through on her journey. She'd forced herself to adapt by making bedtime the local time, whether she was sleepy or not. Trying to stay awake now was killing her when all she wanted was to crawl into that big, cozy bed and stay there for about a week. She looked at the clock and groaned. Only a couple hours left until she'd let herself get to bed.

Pepper paused at the top of the stairs when a wave of vertigo swept over her. She grabbed for the handrail and gripped it with firm fingers.

“Holy…” She gasped in the empty stairwell when the floor tilted under her feet. She clutched the rail tighter, hoping not to take a tumble. That wouldn't be wise. The wave passed and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Making sure she had a good hold on the railing, she descended the steps, carefully and slowly. She shook her head, unable to comprehend that only a few hours earlier she'd followed Tank up these same steps to her new temporary home. It boggled her mind how much had happened since her arrival in Toronto last night, or was it two nights ago now?

At the bottom of the stairwell, Pepper paused in front of the door that led to the restaurant. Maybe she should just go back and crawl into bed. She glanced back at the stairs and wilted. Unless she was on her hands and knees, no way would she get back up them right now. Her stomach shouted out for food. She held the doorknob for few seconds then held her breath and turned it, waiting a minute before entering the world she'd left behind. She didn't know anyone on the other side. Which also meant they didn't know who she was. That was a good thing. Right? She could go in, eat, look around a little bit under the cover of anonymity.

“Right,” she whispered. She pushed the door open and stepped into a long hallway. The smells from the kitchen made her mouth water and her stomach growled loudly. If Tank hadn't changed the design plans, she knew this would lead to the front of the house. It should open up just behind the wine cooler where she'd crashed into him last night. At first she tiptoed and crept down the hall. Why she felt like an intruder she had no idea. Silently she told herself off.
Don't be such a baby.
Putting her shoulders back, she walked like she belonged. Another lesson learned while away.

Pepper strode down the hall. To her right was the staff lounge. She was pleased to see it held the ambience from her original plan. Both she and Tank felt it was important for the staff to have a comfortable and quiet resting place for their breaks. Pepper smiled. Tank had gone above and beyond with the decor. Overstuffed chairs and a couch were clustered around the big-screen TV. She wasn't surprised to see a fight channel was on. The low lighting and table lamps provided a hushed and comfortable atmosphere. Just inside the door was a little nook with small appliances, a coffeemaker, a fridge, and a table.

Continuing down the hall, cooking noises grew louder. She stopped when the wall fell away to a grand professional kitchen. It appeared to be open to the restaurant floor, with a service bar that ran the width of the impressive area. This hadn't been part of the plans they'd drawn up, but she liked it. It almost reminded her of the
Hells
Kitchen
layout she'd seen on the TV show.

A few steps farther was the office. The door was closed, and she didn't try it to see if it was locked; even she realized that would be too intrusive. She stopped at the end of the hall where she'd bumped into Tank last night. It seemed like eons ago now, proof that she was beyond fatigued. Rounding the corner, she emerged into the restaurant proper. For a weeknight it was pleasantly busy. She glanced into the piano bar on the far side and saw some hustle and bustle. The band must play tonight.

No one paid her any mind as she walked up to the bar and slid onto the first stool. The bartender, a very good-looking, well-muscled blond, immediately dropped a coaster before her. She wondered if he was an up-and-coming fighter. He had the look. Tank had started to take newbie's under his wing when he retired.

“What can I get you this evening?”

Pepper smiled at him. “Pinot Grigio, please. And any seafood pasta dish that you recommend.”

“Would you like to see a menu?”

“No, thanks. I'm starved and if I look at the menu it will only make me have to decide and that will take too long.” He cocked his head sideways and furrowed his brows. Pepper figured he must think she was some kind of idiot. “I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't eaten in forever. Whatever you choose will be perfect.”

He nodded and gave her a charming smile. “Ah, I see. All righty, then. I know exactly what to order and will put a rush on it for you.”

He kept eye contact with her, which made her wonder if he was flirting. While he was cute, she had absolutely no interest. Her area of interest was upstairs, and she flickered her gaze to the roof, wondering what he—no,
they
were up to. She turned back to the bartender and the chilled glass of wine he set before her.

“Thank you so much.” Not wanting to give him the wrong idea, she refused to make eye contact with him. Pepper was grateful when he quietly laid out a linen napkin and then placed sparkling silver cutlery on it. That impressed her. Even eating at the bar was done with style.

Pepper curled her fingers around the chilled glass and brought it to her nose. She swirled the glass and inhaled, savoring the fresh aroma of the wine. No matter how hard she tried, her thoughts were never far from Tank. It was so damn good to see him it was nearly killing her. The fact that he was less than a stone's throw away almost made her crazy. It was all she could do not to bang down his door. His indifference was, well, not surprising, she supposed. The brief moment they'd had in the hall this afternoon had been totally unexpected. It sparked a little bit of hope that she could eventually break through his tough exterior.

Pepper sighed and dropped her chin into her palm, gazing off into space. How was it possible he was even more attractive than before, newly shaved head and all? Tank oozed raw sex appeal, there was no doubt about it. Even if he was trying to be fierce and unapproachable. A shiver rippled through her as she remembered the deliciousness of their kiss. She was jolted from her musings when her dinner was placed before her.

She looked up at the bartender and returned his smile. “Thank you.”

“I hope you enjoy your meal.” He turned away and busied himself doing bartender things.

She dug into the plate of pasta, spearing shrimp and gobbling it up maybe just a bit too quickly. Pepper closed her eyes at the explosion of flavor in her mouth. A foodie to the bone, she slowed down and took her time, enjoying the delicious food and wine. Breaking off a small piece of fresh bread, she wiped the last bit of sauce from her bowl. Sitting back on the stool, she swung her feet like a little girl and wondered what she should do now.

Glancing at her watch, Pepper gasped with surprise. It was just past nine. Still relatively early, but it seemed so much later to her. She looked around and saw the piano bar beginning to fill with people. Pepper slid off the stool, picked up her wineglass, and wandered over to the entrance. It was just like when she and Tank were in Vegas, where the dueling pianos had been such a highlight. The crowd had been tremendously engaged, and they'd had such a great time.

Peeking inside, she was thrilled to see it was actually packed with people. The pianos on the raised platform in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows were positioned perfectly. A faux octagon arena, it cut the room in half, pitting one side against the other. If what they'd experienced in Vegas was any indication, Pepper was certain it got just as loud and wild. The best part about it was the competition between the two sides of the room.

A small crowd had stopped on the sidewalk and peered through the windows. She wondered if Tank put speakers outside. Free advertising, nothing better than that. In the summer, patio tables would be a great idea too. There was plenty of room to consider it. She was starting to get a little excited about the possibilities and suggestions she could offer. Providing Tank was receptive.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, we are booked up tonight,” a female voice greeted her.

Pepper swung her gaze to the dark-haired hostess. “Oh. That's fine. I was just taking a look. Is it like this every night?”

“Yes. The pianos play from Thursday to Sunday and there's never an empty seat. Would you like to make a reservation?”

Pepper shook her head. “No, thank you. It's a great idea. I think this was modeled after one Tank had seen in Vegas.”

“Oh! You know Tank?”

“Yes, we're old friends.” Lovers hovered on her tongue, but she bit it back. Clearly this girl had no idea who she was. Pepper wasn't sure if that made her feel relieved or sad.

“You should have said so. I might be able to find you a seat.”

“No.” Pepper smiled and waved her hand. “Don't worry about it. I'll come back another time.”

“Okay, then.” A new group of people approached the hostess and she turned away to deal with them.

Pepper watched from the doorway until the music began. Instantly the place was in chaos. She smiled and itched to join in, but exhaustion fell on her like a heavy blanket. She stayed for a few mores songs and couldn't deny her fatigue any longer. She wanted her bed. The glass of wine made her mellow, and she wanted to curl up. Pepper wandered back to the bar. She tipped her head back, letting the last of the wine slip down her throat like satin fire. She sighed when it settled in her belly with sensuous warmth. Leaving some of the money that Tank had loaned her on the bar, Pepper walked behind the wine cooler to the hall. She was overtired and a teeny bit tipsy—a combination that made her long for some boy time. Tank time. But she put that right out of her mind as fatigue swept over her in another powerful wave. Hopefully she'd sleep like the dead and forget that she was all alone in a big bed with only a wall between her and Tank.

Pepper walked to the back of the restaurant and pulled open the door that led upstairs. Standing at the bottom and looking up deflated her. The steps rose like a mountain and she wished she had a Sherpa to carry her to the top.

Slowly, Pepper climbed them, using the railing to pull herself along. Every step was excruciating. She was crashing hard and the wine had certainly contributed. Not to mention the fact she'd hardly slept last night, thanks to the emotional strain of facing Tank and Meg. Everything was finally taking its toll.

Pepper paused and caught her breath at the top of the stairs. Her heart pounded and she felt a little lightheaded. Once steadied, she tiptoed down the hall, pausing only briefly in front of Tank's door. She eavesdropped a moment. Music still played and she wondered why he hadn't come downstairs. She didn't know his schedule. In the past, his weekends usually began on Thursday night. But things change. He could be having a quiet moment with…Pepper refused to finish that thought. Nope. Not going there. So she crept past, trying to ignore the sultry strains of music and the fact that
he
was in the apartment right next to hers.

Pepper stopped in front of her door and yawned. She stared at it with both relief and disappointment. She refused to let herself feel sad. She was back home and determined to make amends. If Tank wasn't receptive to her yet, she could only hope and pray that time would come. The empty room on the other side of that door was all she had right now. Pepper had gotten used to being on her own, so it wasn't new. As much as she tried to stave it off, though, a wave of loneliness brought hot tears to her eyes. She wiped them away and glanced down the hall.

The man that she loved with all her heart was in the apartment beside her. With another woman. Behind another door. One that she longed to go through but couldn't. Yet. Another yawn took over and pushed her nostalgic feelings out of her mind. Bed. Sleep. That was what she needed now. Reaching for the old door handle, she turned it and pushed.

Nothing.

Her tired brain couldn't make sense of why the door wouldn't open. Pepper pushed at the door a few times. She wiggled the knob, willing the door to open for her, but it held fast. Locked.

“Ah, shit, no. No, no, no.” She tried it again. Yanked on it like it would give way at her insistence. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants and fished for the key. A chill raced up her spine.

“I can't fucking believe it.” She slapped the door with her palm. “How could I forget the damn key?”

She tried the handle one more time. Turning her back to it, Pepper slumped against the door. “Now what?”

Her legs trembled a little bit and she nearly slid down the door to crumple in a pile in front of it. Tank's door was only a few steps away. She chewed her lip and glanced down the hall. He said he had a spare key. Here was the opportunity she'd been looking for all night. Right? Dare she interrupt him and little Miss Tart? A wicked grin curled her lips. But, it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Pepper deflated, she just wasn't up to a showdown, but she needed to get into her loft or sleep on the floor.

She groaned and pushed herself off the door. “I have no choice.” She told the empty hall. “I didn't forget my key on purpose. This is a perfectly reasonable reason to interrupt them. After all, I had to get into my apartment.” She reasoned to herself.

It wasn't like she needed to affirm interrupting them. Her chest hurt and she pressed her hand between her breasts.
Why am I so anxious?
Was she spoiling for a fight with Olivia? Would Tank disapprove or be mad at her for the interruption? Maybe she was afraid to face him. Regardless of the reason, Pepper trudged back to his door.

Sucking in a deep breath, she held her hand up and was just about to knock. A trickle of trepidation tingled along her spine. She shook her head, pissed at herself for forgetting the key. But unless she used the hallway floor for a bed, she had no choice. Standing tall, she rapped her knuckles on the wood.