Zeke (The Powers That Be, Book 2) (5 page)

And that had
been the end of that. Well, not until a week later when he’d called
to apologize. Then he’d asked if I wanted to have a threesome with
him and Belinda.
That
had been the end of that.

Before Lance,
I’d had two semi-serious relationships and those boyfriends had
also ended up cheating then asking if I wanted to have a threesome
with them too (what was it about guys and threesomes? Not that
there’s anything wrong with them if that’s your thing; they just
weren’t my thing). But I’d really been head over heels for Lance, I
wanted to marry him for crying out loud, and look how that turned
out. So after the Belinda debacle, I decided I’d had enough of men
and needed to take control, making my future my priority and I
hadn’t dated or looked back since.

Until now.

I was outside
the Dean’s office when I told Jay, “This guy scares me. He’s
someone I could totally fall for. I just don’t want to get hurt
again.”

There. I’d
said it.

“I know,
honey, but that’s the chance everyone takes. You’re not the first
person to get hurt and you won’t be the last. And what if this
guy’s…” she gave a dramatic pause before finishing, “
the
one?”

Good old
romantic Jayla. She was an English literature major and wanted to
be a professor. She also lived in a Jane Austen novel most of the
time and actually wanted to write historical romance novels
herself, so yeah. So while she lived that life, I was the opposite.
I’d become the realist, the pragmatic one who always did the right
thing. And, oh, how much fun that was. But if it got my family out
of debt and allowed my little brother to take girls to dinner on
dance nights, then I was willing to do what it took to get us
there.

But then I
sighed as I ruminated on everything, especially what Jay said. On
the one hand, I felt I did deserve to have some fun. I mean, I was
twenty-four and hadn’t really gotten to live out the college
experience because of my responsibilities.

On the other
hand, what if Zeke was the cheating, let’s-have-a-threesome sort
like the others?

“I know what
you’re thinking, Scar. What if he’s a cheating, threesome-wanting
bastard too?” Well, she certainly knew me well. “Look. What
happened with Lance and those other dipshits was a reflection on
them, not you. And I swear, if you start trying to tell me again
that you think you’re not good in bed and that’s the reason they
cheated, I’ll smack you.”

I felt it was
a legitimate theory but secretly hoped she was right, but I
couldn’t say I still wasn’t just a little paranoid. I mean, three
guys had cheated on me. In a freaking row. That kind of does
something to a girl’s self-esteem. You know, fool me once, shame on
you, fool me three times, I’m just a poor judge of character. Or
bad in bed.

“Besides, I’ve
only heard of Zeke dating a couple women this year, like Jillian
Snow, who was the Homecoming Queen, and that one redhead on campus
who’s appeared in some rock videos. But I also know that he went
out with a lot of women his first two years, so, see? He’s grown up
by just dating two this year. And no one’s ever said he cheated on
any them, so I think you’re safe,” Jay added.

Well, that was
reassuring. Flash to sarcasm dripping down the walls here.

I blew out a
breath. “Okay, see? That’s another thing. He could have anyone he
wants, so why me? I’m not a Homecoming Queen and I definitely
haven’t been in any videos. So what does he want with
me
?”

She laughed.
“You’re so obtuse sometimes.”

“Uh,
thanks?”

“Do you not
look in your mirror every day?”

“Of
course.”

“And do you
not see what’s looking back at you?”

“Pretty sure I
do.”

“Scar, you’re
stunning. You’ve got these incredibly exotic eyes. Your skin is,
like, gorgeous. And don’t get me started on your hair. And all
that’s just the outside. You’ve got a beautiful soul as well! I
mean, look what you’ve done. You sacrificed two years of school to
work and help your family. You amaze me!”

No, Jayla
Anastos amazed me and she was the stunning one with her Greek
ancestry showing strong in her gorgeous olive coloring, her long
shiny black hair, gorgeous full lips, straight nose and big, hazel
eyes. Besides her lack of a filter around other people, she was
truly a genuine sweetheart.

“Whatever you
say, Aphrodite,” I retorted.

She snorted.
“That’s me. The goddess of love.” She shrieked out a laugh and I
knew Dex had to have grabbed her and was tickling her which made me
wish for the eight-millionth time that I had a relationship like
theirs.

They’d been
together since their freshman year in college and had been
inseparable. I’d met Jay that same year when she’d taken a job at
The Nook because she was bored, she’d said. She came from a very
affluent family, her dad being some bigwig at Microsoft, so it
wasn’t that she needed the money. Dexter, too, came from wealth,
but from the way they both behaved, you’d never know it. They were
so down-to-earth. The only time I’d remember she had money was when
she tried paying for things for me, but I always turned her down,
well, except for the Katy Perry ticket she’d bought for me. I’d let
her say it was a birthday present and was glad I had because that
concert was amazing.

“So get it out
of your head right now that you’re not good enough for him or that
you’re not pretty enough or that you might make him cheat or
whatever idiotic excuse you can think up not to go out with him.
He’d be lucky to have you and you remember that!”

I heard Dex
shout out a, “Yeah!” in the background and had to smile.

Such good
friends.

“Go meet Zeke
for drinks. It’ll be fun. What’s the worst that can happen? You get
free drinks from a hot guy? Or you finally get to have some fun in
your life?”

And that’s what
I was afraid of, that by going out with Zeke I
would
have
fun. And I’d like it. I’d like him. And my plans would all go to
shit
.

To say I was freaking
out would be an understatement
.

When I walked
into the office, I saw that Dean Moreland had gone home and hadn’t
left anything on my desk for me to do, so I grabbed my purse and
headed for the bathroom to see if I could make myself a little more
presentable.

When I came
out, it was five till seven, so I sat at a desk and called Grammy
to let her know I’d be late then tried to act busy. When it was
straight-up seven, my heart was about to beat out of my chest in
anticipation but when Zeke didn’t show, the beating in my chest was
there because of my apprehension.

Seven-thirty
and still no Zeke. Well, that was it. He wasn’t coming. I’d been
duped by a guy yet again.

And I was
pissed at myself for allowing it to happen.

I stood with a
sigh, pulled on my coat, grabbed my purse and headed out, locking
the door to the office and pulling it closed behind me. As I walked
down the long hallway to the front where Jezebel was parked, I
found I could hardly contain the tears that were threatening, damn
it. I knew better than to agree to go out with him. Having been
burned three times, I thought I would’ve learned by now.

Stopping at
the first set of double doors, I blinked several times, putting my
head back to stare at the ceiling trying to dispel the waterworks.
No crying over a guy!
I told myself. God knew I’d cried
enough in the past. So finally getting my emotions under control
and telling myself I didn’t need anyone, I blew out a breath and
went through the first set of doors, then the next set, and out
noticing it was snowing a little harder now. So pretty. At least
there was that. And just as I started down the steps, what I saw at
the bottom made me want to cry for a different reason now.

Zeke stood
looking up at me, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, wearing
a friggin’ Hallervan baseball cap that made me bite my lip because,
damn, he looked so good it should’ve been illegal, and he was
smirking (seriously, how could someone make a smirk be that
sexy?).

And he’d
shown. He hadn’t stood me up.

I took in a
shuddering breath, still a little emotional at thinking he’d blown
me off then continued down the steps to meet him.

“Hi,” I said
when I reached the bottom.

“Hi.” And now
he grinned. Good God, just his facial movements were disarming.

I was in so
much trouble.

“I, uh,
thought you, um, changed your mind,” I said quietly, looking up at
him only to be held captive by those devastating eyes of his.

“Funny story,
that,” he answered with a snort.

“Oh,” I
replied then stood there not really remembering the protocol of
chatting with a guy who was a potential date since I’d been out of
the loop for a while. How pathetic was I?

He full-on
smiled now, then lowered and shook his head. When he looked back
up, he asked, “Walk with me to my truck?” When he held his hand out
to me, I stared at it for a second then looked up at him, my brain
having suddenly left the building. At my lack of acting as if I had
even one brain cell in my body, he chuckled, reached for my hand,
took it in his huge one, gave it a squeeze (now giving me that
knee-buckling half grin) and led me to his truck.

As we walked,
I rolled my eyes, mentally castigating myself for behaving like, as
Grammy would say, a nitwit. I was a four-point-oh student, for
chrissakes! But this guy just seemed to bring out the dumb in me,
his hotness just lobotomizing me. I wondered how long it’d take me
to start behaving as if I had a friggin’ clue, jeez.

He began to
explain his funny story. “So, after I got here I tried going in but
the doors were locked. I didn’t have your number,” he shot me a
look with his eyebrow raised, “so I tried calling the office, but
this campus is where my cell phone service goes to die, so I walked
around out here trying to get some bars on my phone, holding it out
in front of me like an idiot, like it was some kind of divining rod
or something. I won’t bother mentioning all the strange looks I got
from people leaving their classes.”

That made me
giggle and he shot me another look, teasingly this time. And
whoops. I forgot the doors were timed to lock at seven and mumbled
an “I’m sorry” which got me another hand squeeze and another
jaw-dropping grin.

Once in the
parking lot, we headed toward a black pickup truck. “I thought we’d
take my truck, if that’s okay?”

I nodded and
when we reached his truck, he dropped my hand and opened the
passenger door putting his hand on the small of my back to help me
inside which, of course, sent a shiver through me, and as I put my
seatbelt on, I watched as he walked around to his side, mesmerized
by how handsome he was. He was also pretty easygoing having made me
feel comfortable each time we’d talked, so taking a deep breath, I
decided to come out of my fog and actually show him I had a
personality.

After he got
in and started the engine, I looked over at him. “So, Chevy, huh?
Guess you must like recalls?”

He looked over
and stared back at me for a moment through narrowed eyes and I was
afraid I’d pissed him off. Then he barked out a laugh, throwing his
head back and it was the most beautiful thing I think I’d ever
seen, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the masculine column of his neck.
Wow.

“Really gonna
go there, are you?” He chuckled, and reaching across, rested his
arm against the back of my seat and playfully tugged on a piece of
my hair. “And just what do you know about cars?”

I couldn’t
help but smile at him. “My dad’s a truck driver, so I’ve listened
to him talk. I think I was born knowing what an intake manifold
was. My crib mobile probably had spark plugs hanging from it.” I
shrugged.

He stared at
me for a moment, eyes dancing in amusement, then moved his arm away
and put the truck in gear. “Yeah? What line does your dad drive
for?”

I told him the
name of the company and he told me his dad had worked on some of
their engines before. We talked then about his dad’s shop and he’d
started telling me he’d worked there every summer since he was old
enough to hold a wrench just as we pulled up to O’Leary’s Sports
Bar. My friend Natalie was a waitress here and I wondered if she’d
be working tonight. I’d almost applied here instead of taking the
work study job in the Dean’s office, but she’d complained about the
football jerseys she had to wear so I passed. She’d also told me
there was a hot bartender, which had piqued my interest a bit, but
when she’d said he was kind of a jerk, I double passed. I’d had
enough of jerks.

When we
parked, before I could even get my seatbelt off, Zeke was at my
door opening it holding out his hand to help me down. Keeping my
hand in his (which freaked me out a little because I wasn’t used to
all the touching), he led me to the entrance and once inside, he
told the hostess we’d be sitting at the bar.

He took off
his jacket and hung it on the rack by the door (keeping his cap on
to torture me, I suppose) then helped me with my coat—God, such a
gentleman—then he took my hand again leading me toward the back
where we sat on stools at the bar.

“Hey,” an
extremely good-looking guy said from behind the bar walking over to
where we sat. He must’ve been the bartender Natalie had talked
about because he
was
hot. And upon getting a good look at
him, I had to do a double take because he looked a lot like
Zeke.

“What’s up,
little brother?” Zeke asked.

Another
brother? Dang. I looked up at Zeke and he grinned down at me.