Red Red Rose (17 page)

“Nathan’s
the kind of ass who will probably call the cops because James hit him,” I
argued.

“Somehow
I doubt he wants the cops involved, and Raynes can handle him,” was all he said
and then he pulled the truck out of the drive and around Nathan’s Porsche.

“You
sure you want to go through with this date?” I sighed. “I promise I won’t hold
it against you if you drop me at the end of the drive and get out of here.” The
night was off to a rough start, and this was only a second date. I could only
imagine what was running through his head, but then again Spencer wasn’t like
most guys.

“Why
would I do that?” His eyes remained fixed out the windshield as he pulled out
of the drive and onto the street.

“I
don’t know. I’m sure you could find a less complicated girl to take out. One
without delusional exes and over-protective friends hanging around.”

The
hint of a smile cracked his serious expression. “Don’t want less complicated,
sweetheart. Want you.”

Well
damn, that did funny things to my stomach and I was the one trying not to crack
a smile. He glanced at me and I knew I wasn’t doing a very good job at
suppressing my grin. It was like a ripple effect. I watched his spread before
he turned his eyes back to the road, and then I was biting my lip futilely.

“Now
would probably be a good time to tell me where we’re going.”

“Follow
Eldridge to Broadway.” I guided him the couple miles to our destination. When
he shut off the truck in the parking lot, he turned a bemused expression on me.

“Here?”

“Mmhmm.”
I undid my belt and hopped from the truck eagerly.

“Laser
tag?” He came around the truck, eyebrow quirked.

I
cocked my head and smirked. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

He
let out a low chuckle. “Oh sweetheart, this is going to be fun.”

Once
inside, Spencer refused to let me pay even though it was my idea. We were
outfitted with our gear and guns while the rules and gameplay were outlined for
us. Trading a few final taunts, we were each led to a different entrance into
the dark arena and turned loose. Just inside were the re-spawn points or home
bases. Currently they were operating with three teams inside. My vest had been
activated to the blue team and Spencer to green. I had my gun at the ready, my
finger on the trigger, as I began navigating each turn inside the lowly-lit
maze. Hearing footsteps ahead, I ducked and poked my head around the corner. A
red vest was raising his gun to hit a fellow blue. I got my gun up and pulled
the trigger before he even had his laser sighted on his target. His vest beeped
and the lights started blinking.

He
emitted a low curse and he started backtracking to his home base. My blue
teammate gave me a nod and then disappeared around another corner. No radio
communication in this game so we had to rely only on our own senses. I was
determined to get to Spencer before he got to me. Back in college, Em and I
came here with our group of friends almost weekly, so I was no amateur. Even
though they constantly changed the maze up, I was still familiar with the basic
layout inside and feeling confident. I took out another red and three greens
without taking a hit. I’d had a couple near misses, only just managing to duck
out of the way and return fire. I think one of the red players I’d taken out
was gunning for me, because he popped up twice more, his sights set on me. He
almost had me pinned down before someone on the green team appeared and took
him out. Then I stepped out and took out my green rescuer. No mercy in war,
even if it was only laser tag.

I’d
yet to see any signs of Spencer. I headed deeper in, and passed three blues on
their way back to our home base to re-spawn. It appeared that I was headed
right into the thick of it; no doubt that’s where I would find Spencer.

I
stuck my head and gun around a corner to check that it was clear. Seeing no
enemies, I hurried ahead, scanning the area as I moved. I was just about to
turn another corner toward the sounds of heavy laser gunfire when I felt a
presence behind me. Before I could turn, strong arms wrapped around me and
pulled me back against a lean body.

“Gotcha,”
he whispered.

Damn
it.

He
managed to get the drop on me.

One
arm maintained a firm hold on my waist while his other hand snaked up my vest
to grab my chin and tilt my head, exposing my neck. He lowered his face to the
crook of my neck. He nuzzled me there and then I felt him skim his nose along my
jaw up to my ear. A warm tingly sensation swept through me. He wasn’t playing
fair, but two could play this game.

I
let out a soft groan and relaxed into his hold. I might have even pressed my
backside into his groin ever so slightly. Hey, all’s fair in love and war, and
this was war. He squeezed me tighter to him and I heard his deep inhale just
before his warm lips came down on my neck. I used his moment of distraction to
subtly shift my gun in my hand so that it was pointed up, and then I slowly
moved it back, hoping it was aimed at his vest.

Finally
realizing what I was doing, he stilled and started to pull back. I took my only
shot and fired. A satisfying beeping followed and I knew his vest registered
the hit. I felt his body rumble with a low chuckle as he pulled me tighter
against him again. I sucked in a sharp breath when he nibbled my earlobe
between his teeth and tugged.

“Bad
girl,” he whispered, and then released me with a gentle shove. I laughed
softly, but when I turned to face him, he was nowhere in sight, having already
retreated toward his team base. I took the victory and continued into the fray,
only to round a bend and come face to face with Spencer, his vest not flashing.
We both had our guns raised in an instant.

I
frowned. “You cheater, how did you get your vest re-set so quickly?”

“What
do you mean? I haven’t been hit.”

“I
just hit you!”

His
brow furrowed and he looked down briefly at his vest then back up at me. “You
haven’t even fired. How could you have hit me already?”

“No,
not just now, but a second ago. Back there.” I pointed over my shoulder with my
thumb.”

“Then
it wasn’t me you hit, sweetheart. I wasn’t back there.”

What.
The. Fuck?

He
used my momentary distraction to fire and my vest lit up.

Sonuvabitch.

I
grabbed Spencer’s arm and started dragging him back through the arena toward
the maze exit. He put on the brakes.

“Why
are we leaving? Don’t tell me you’re a sore loser,” he said playfully, but when
I spun around and he caught my expression, which was anything but playful. His
turned serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Some
creep in here . . .” I looked around, not sure how to say it. “He . . .”

Spencer
set his hands on my shoulder and leaned in close. “He what?”

“Someone,
I thought it was you, came up behind me and grabbed me. Then he started . . .”

“What?”
he repeated, this time more intimidating.

“He
was touching me and kissing my neck.” I averted my eyes and was thankful that
the low lighting hid my flush from his eyes.

“What
the fuck?”

My
thoughts exactly.

He
grabbed my arm and started tugging me toward the exit. As soon as we were out
of the maze, he found the nearest employee and confronted him. “You need to
shut the game down.”

The
employee looked startled. “Is there something wrong sir?”

“Yeah,
you’ve got a fucking creep in there who put his hands on her.”

The
employee with the name badge that read Matt, looked at me concerned. “Are you
okay?”

“Yeah,”
I nodded. “It just freaked me out. I thought it was him at first. The guy came
up behind me and grabbed me and touched me intimately.” I left the details at
that.

The
guy’s frown deepened and he looked around for a moment like he wasn’t sure what
to do, then looked back at me. “Did you see the guy’s face?”

I
shook my head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Well,
I’m not sure what we can do. I could shut down the game and bring everyone out,
but if you don’t know who it was, I’m not sure what good it would do, if he’s
even still in there. Our games run constantly, which means people are in and
out constantly. I’ve had a handful of people leave the game in the past ten
minutes.”

I
looked at Spencer, who didn’t look pleased, but wore a look of resignation.

“I’ll
let my manager know we had a complaint, but like I said, there’s not much we
can do with it. I’ll ask some of the other players when they come out if they
noticed anything like that,” he offered.

“Thanks.
He might be on the red team. I can’t say for sure, but there was a player on
the red team who seemed to be gunning for me. I don’t think he liked that I
took him out.”

“If
something like this ever happens again, make sure to try and get a look at the
person. If you could tell me for sure that he was on the red team, I could pull
up every red player that your gun tagged and try to get a name, but I’ll let
all of our staff inside the arena know to be watching.”

There
wasn’t anything else we could do, so I let Spencer take my hand and lead me out
to the parking lot. I could see his eyes scanning as if he expected my
mysterious groper to jump out and yell
“gotcha”
again. I couldn’t
suppress the shudder that rolled through me, and it wasn’t one of those
delightfully naughty shudders, but a disturbing,
I feel dirty
, shudder.

“You
okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.
Freakin’ perverts. Probably some horny teenager getting his rocks off.”

Spencer
let out some unintelligible grunt.

I
sighed, “I promise my life isn’t usually this drama filled.”

Only
then did his face soften and he lifted his hands to my face, holding it gently
between his palms. His lips came down on my forehead. “Not your fault,
sweetheart. Just tired of not being able to keep these assholes away from you.”

“It’s
not your job,” I said softly, hoping to ease whatever guilt or obligation he
was putting on himself.

With
light pressure from his forefinger he tilted my chin up, lifting my gaze to
his. “Maybe I want it to be.”

I
closed my eyes and exhaled a soft groan. I curled my fingers in his jacket and
dropped my forehead to his chest. “Could you not be perfect for like, I don’t
know, ten minutes? You’re going to give me a complex.”

I
felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter, but his arms wrapped around me and
then I was cradled to his chest. “Don’t worry, your illusions will be shattered
soon enough. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hang onto this impression you have
of me while it lasts.”

We
stood like that in the parking lot, huddled together for a moment longer, while
I mentally pondered what his flaws might be. Maybe he snored. Or left the
toilet seat up. Or maybe he had six ex wives or was a Metallica fan.

“So
where to next, sweetheart?”

I
was reluctant to let him pull away, but we couldn’t stand in the parking lot
all night. I eased out of his arms, keeping my fingers buried in his jacket,
and tipped my head back. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for a slice of
Bellingham’s best and a cold one.”

“That
sounds about perfect.”

It
wasn’t until we were in the truck and he made a wrong turn that I realized we
had a problem. “Umm, Alfie’s is back on Broadway.”

“Alfie’s?”
He looked across the cab at me with a confused frown. “Why the hell would I go
to Alfie’s when the best pie in Bellingham is at Westside?”

“Westside?”
I sputtered. “No way. Alfie’s is far superior.”

“Girl,
are you out of your damn mind? I haven’t even been here that long, but I’m
pretty sure everyone in the city knows that if you want beer and pizza,
Westside is the place to go.” He was a guy so of course he would say that.
Westside Pizza was a pizza joint and sports bar that was joined to a brewery. While
they made good pizza, nobody did it like they did it at Alfie’s.

“See,
now I think you’re letting yourself be persuaded by the beer. Sure they have
the best brews, but if we’re talking strictly pizza, Alfie’s is where it’s at.”

He
made a turn, correcting our course, all while grumbling under his breath that I
needed a pizza education.

Alfie’s
was everything you’d expect a hip, funky pizza joint to be; laid back, good
music– not too loud– good drinks, even better pizza and not ridiculously
spendy. We snagged a booth in the back and right away a server was there to
take our drink orders and give us menus. The drinks were the easy part; our
server was back with those in no time, but after a ten minute debate about
pizza toppings, we had no choice but to compromise and order a half and  half
pie. Just because it’s meat, doesn’t mean it
has
to go on the pizza.
Spencer was not of the same opinion, and more than that, he didn’t believe that
pineapple had any place on a pizza.

I’d
found his flaw.

The
nerve of him. Pineapple makes everything better. Okay, maybe not everything,
but certainly pizza.

“What’s
going on in that brain of yours?” Spencer pulled me away from my silent judging.

“Just
wondering if you paid that kid inside the arena to harass me so you could try
to get the drop on me,” I fired back.

He
snorted a laugh. “I think you’re underestimating my supreme laser tag skills
and your ability to wreak havoc on the judgment of the male population.”

My
eyebrows shot up. “We’ll get back to your supreme skills in a minute, but what
do you mean,
wreak havoc on the male population
?”

“Your
affect on guys, Nora. I’m starting to fear for my safety, because it seems that
you drive them to the brink of crazy and then push them right off the ledge
with your feminine wiles.”

It
was my turn to snort, and I almost choked on the sip of beer I’d taken.
“Feminine wiles?”

He
simply grinned and raised his own glass to his lips.

“Okay,
back to the laser tag comment, I think I want a rematch, then we can compare
skills.”

“Oh,
sweetheart, I don’t need a rematch to know that my skills surpass yours.”

I
glared. “Oh, you think?”

“I
know, and you would too if you had bothered to glance at the leader board
before we left. I was sitting at thirteen kills and zero lives lost. You my
dear, made a valiant effort, but finished at just nine kills and one life lost.
Therefore, I win.”

“The
hell you do. Like I said, rematch. We didn’t get to finish that game. Besides,
I don’t believe you even got thirteen kills.”

“Any
time, babe, and I’ll be happy to give a repeat performance.”

“Yeah,
we’ll see,’ I muttered. Then I brightened when another idea came to me. “Do you
paintball?”

A
grin spread over his lips. “Be careful what you get yourself into, darling.”

“Bring
it on. Next Saturday. I’ll take the day off. There’s a place Em and I used to
go with James, a section of woods near their parents’. You can use James’ gun
if you don’t have one.”

“Nothing
like a little home field advantage,” he remarked.

“If
you’re so good it shouldn’t matter.”

“Fine.
Challenge accepted, but I hope you have good protective gear.”

Our
server returned with our pie, but not even the wonderful smell of bread, cheese
and sauce broke the stare down we were having. His lips twitched and my eyes
narrowed. He was the first to reach for a slice. I followed up, almost burning
my fingers and dropping it on my plate when some of the cheese and sauce
dripped on my fingers. I sucked it off and then looked up at Spencer who was
not hiding his grin.

“So
how is it that you’re an only child with such a competitive streak?”

“I
wasn’t always. Before I was adopted, I was in lots of homes with lots of kids,
and everything was a competition. Plus I just like to win,” I tacked on to take
away from the depressing turn of conversation.

“I
see.” His eyes had lost a little of their mischievous twinkle. Before digging
into his pizza, he tugged the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and I got
my very first real look at the ink that covered his forearms. He caught me
staring.

“You
have any tats?”

“Nope.
I think I’d like to, but first I have to deal with my dislike of needles.”

“Eh,
it’s not so bad depending on where you get one and whether or not you’ve got a
heavy-handed artist.”

“Maybe
someday. Did you get yours done all at once or over a long time?”

“Took
me several years to do all this, plus the ones I have on my chest.” While we
ate he shared some of the meaning behind the different pieces I could see. I
loved that he’d found a way to intricately weave quotes from his favorite
literature into some of the pieces, and that set us off on a discussion
traversing history and all the greats; Tolkien, C.S., Hemingway. He was even up
on his Jane Austen. I had to remind myself that the guy didn’t like pineapple
on his pizza.

“You
going to take your shirt off for me later so I can get the full picture?”

He
licked a bit of pizza sauce from his lips and then washed it down with a long
drink of beer. His eyes remained fixed on me over the glass. Mine were still focused
on his lips when he set the glass back on the table.

“For
you I could be persuaded to lose more than just my shirt,” he smirked.

I
swallowed. “We’ll just start with the shirt,” my voice came out a little more
breathless than intended.

“Whatever
you want.”

Oh
sweet, sweet Jesus.

What
I wanted . . . let’s just say it would get us arrested in public, and if his
heated gaze was anything to go by, his thoughts were sprinting the same
direction. I picked up my glass only to realize I’d already drained it. I felt
like channeling Thor and throwing the glass to the floor and shouting for
“another”
but I doubted another beer would help the situation any. If he was going to
start stripping later, I needed all of my inhibitions properly intact.

“Can
I ask you something?” I detected a bit of reluctance and was curious what would
have him holding back.

“Sure.”

“You
and Raynes. There’s a story there.” Of course he would pick up on that.

I
let out a long breath, and lowered my gaze to the piece of crust I was picking
at, while I thought about the best way to respond.

“You
don’t have to tell me about it. I just couldn’t help but notice he had that
kicked puppy look on his face when I picked you up tonight.”

I
cringed. “He did?”

“Yeah.
He did.”

The
guilt, though unwarranted, started gnawing at me again. “It’s not much of a
story. We flirted a bit in the past, but he was already military when Em
introduced us. He’s like a super secret super soldier or something. Em said he
was always off doing dangerous stuff in dangerous places that he could never
talk about. They would sometimes go months without hearing from him. I wasn’t
cut out for that. I knew it. Em knew it. He knew it. Now he says he’s getting
out.” I ducked my eyes again, but not before I saw surprise flash in Spencer’s.
This was altogether an uncomfortable conversation. Just par for the course
tonight, I guess.

“Really?
I got the impression from him and his dad that day at the shop, that he was
looking to be career military like his old man.”

I
shrugged. “I don’t know. I think Em has him all mixed up. It’s tearing him up
and he doesn’t know what to do. None of us do. We just want her to come home. I
don’t want to think about what it would do to him, or any of us, if she doesn’t.”
I could barely voice the last part.

Spencer’s
hand reached across the table and took mine. “I wish I could do more than just
tell you it’s going to be okay.”

“You’re
doing it. This right here, this whole night, making me laugh and smile, it
means I’m not sitting home in my room crying, worrying about her or getting
drunk to try and make it all go away.”

His
features softened and he let go of my hand to lift his to my face. He brushed
my hair out of the way with the backs of his fingers and then gently cupped my
jaw, sweeping his thumb over my cheek, before pulling me part way across the
table to meet his lips. He brushed them over my cheek, along my jaw, then the
corner of my mouth before finally touching his mouth to mine in a light caress
that ended much too soon. He pulled away just an inch and held my eyes before
releasing me and then we both sank back down in our seats.

“I’m
sorry, Nora. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You
don’t have to apologize for doing that. Ever.”

“That’s
good, because I plan on doing it again.” He relaxed against the back of his
booth and his eyes searched out our server. He lifted his hand briefly to snag
his attention and then asked for a to-go box and our check. He tossed back the
last of his beer and then was content to watch me until our server returned. My
foot tapped rapidly and my fingers played around the rim of my glass while he
remained still and so at ease.

He
couldn’t just say something like,
“I plan on doing it again,”
and then
ask for our check and leave me wondering what exactly he meant and more
importantly, when. Because I was perfectly okay with a repeat right now. I was
actually craving it. I was definitely not ready for the night to be over, but
Spencer paid the bill with cash and we left the restaurant.

We’d
been driving for a few minutes with just the quiet music of the radio to fill
the silence when Spencer finally spoke. “I don’t want to take you home.”

“I
don’t want to go home,” I admitted boldly.

“But
I think it would be best if you did.” He kept his eyes forward, never breaking
from the road.

“Okay.”
I didn’t know how else to respond. I’d just told him I didn’t want to go home
and his reaction was to tell me that I should anyway. Wasn’t much I could say
to that.

“Believe
me, it’s not what I want, but what I want wouldn’t be good for either one of
us. Not right now.”

I
bristled at the implication of his words, and more precisely, his tone. That if
he didn’t get me home, we were a foregone conclusion and the night would end
with us sweaty between the sheets. Or maybe it was only my mind that kept going
there.

“That’s
fine. I’m feeling tired anyway.” I stared out the window. After a few blocks,
he made a turn that took us in the opposite direction of my house.

I
looked over at him for an explanation. “I thought you were taking me home.”

“I
am. Just not yet. I realize all that before didn’t exactly come out right and I
made a bit of an ass of myself.”

“If
I’m not going home, where are we going?”

He
didn’t answer me. His eyes were focused on something in the rearview. A scowl
darkened his expression. I waited, and a moment later he relaxed, eyes back on
the road. He did everything with such intensity. He made a few more turns and I
couldn’t tell what direction we were headed.

“Soo
. . . are we just driving around in circles?”

“No,
sorry. I made a wrong turn. We’re almost there.”

Almost
where?

It
was only another minute before I found out. He pulled up outside one of
Bellingham’s best small diner cafes. I knew this one quite well. It had been
here longer than I had and from the decor I’d say going back a good thirty
years at least, with only minor updates having been made to the interior. It
was cozy and old fashioned if not outdated, but the food was excellent.

I
cocked my head at Spencer when he put the truck in park. “We’ve already eaten.”

“Yes,
but I realize now that twice at dinner you’ve been deprived of dessert. I
intend to rectify that tonight.”

If
the food at Home Town Café was good, the dessert was to die for. I mean, I
loved the treats from Sweet Indulgence, but I would probably prostitute my body
for a single piece of pie from Home Town. Thankfully that wasn’t going to be
necessary, but after the three slices of pizza I already had, a new pair of
jeans might be.

My
face must have lit up at the mention of dessert, because Spencer chuckled and
then entwined his fingers in mine and pulled me toward the café. “Come on,
let’s get you some dessert.”

I
was wholeheartedly for this new plan. Pie beat going home, hands down, every
time. And his easy smile was back. He’d ditched some of that enigmatic
broodiness that had made an appearance in the truck.

I
didn’t even have to look at a menu once we were seated at a little table in one
of the large windows that made up the front of the café. I knew what I was
craving. Spencer didn’t touch his menu either.

“Do
you know what you’re having?” he asked me.

“Yes,
but if I had known you were going to bring me here, I might have stopped at two
slices of pizza. I don’t know if I’ll have room for a whole slice of pie.”

“We
could always share,” he offered.

“It
sounds like wisdom, but I know myself and I might try to stab you with my fork
if you made a move on the pie. I can’t be held responsible for my actions when
I’m in the thrall of key lime.”