All the Pretty Lies
Page 4

I’m shocked. It feels like I’ve been here only a few minutes. Or a lifetime. I’m not sure which. Kind of like the way I feel about Hemi. On the one hand, he’s a perfect stranger who gives me butterflies of a different kind every time he looks at me. But on the other hand, in a way I feel like I know him. Like we’re…connected. But not in the way one might think. I feel as though there’s a tug of war going on. Between us as well as within us. I’m the sheltered girl trying to break free and really live for the first time in her life. I’m striving to put fear and reservation and hesitation aside in favor of seizing the moment.
But not Hemi.
I get the feeling that he’s lived that way for a long time, that he seized all of life’s moments until something happened to make him stop. Stop and take notice. And slow down. And distance himself.
I could be way off base. But if I’m not, how do two people like that meet in the middle? Or do they? Is that even possible?
Maybe I’m overthinking something that’s merely fleeting. I mean, he’s giving me a tattoo. He didn’t ask me to move in, for God’s sake.
But still…
I’m sure it’s psychotic as hell that I don’t want the night to end, that I’m willing to endure such discomfort to stay here a little longer.
You’re pathetic. And desperate.
But that other voice inside me pipes up again, reminding me that there’s no time like the present. No one is promised a tomorrow. We have today. Right now. Nothing more.
Hemi’s hand over my ribs, rocking me gently back and forth, shakes me out of my stupor. I don’t know how long I’ve been watching him, thinking, saying nothing, but I’m guessing too long. I nod and smile, pushing myself up into a sitting position, protectively holding one arm over my chest.
“Oh, sorry,” Hemi says, whirling around in his chair to tend his equipment so he can give me a little privacy.
With my eyes glued to his broad shoulders, I right my bra and fasten it. I pull down my shirt then reach for my pants, tugging them up to where they belong.
Hemi stands to throw something into the garbage. When he turns back toward me, our eyes collide. That’s when the impulse hits me. It slams into me like a gust of wind going ninety miles an hour. It steals my breath and makes my heart beat so hard that I can hear it in my ears. And for once in my life, I put thought aside. I don’t overthink it. In fact, I don’t think about it at all. Before I can change my mind, I slide off the table and step toward him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t back up, just stands tall and perfectly still. Watching me. I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. What I’m about to do. And I wonder if he’ll stop me.
But I don’t overthink that either. If I do, I’ll chicken out. And I can’t afford to chicken out on life anymore.
I take another step toward him, building up the nerve to just do it, just kiss him. But Hemi surprises me when he takes the step that will bring us near enough to touch.
He’s so close, my chest almost brushes his every time I inhale. I sway toward him the tiniest bit, craving the contact. With him. A perfect stranger.
“Sloane,” he whispers, the sound of my name on his lips bringing chills to my arms again. He reaches out to push my hair back over my shoulder. His fingertips linger on the skin of my neck before they fall away.
“Hemi,” I sigh, melting into the heat of his eyes. I knew there was something between us. Well, I’d hoped. Hoped I wasn’t imagining it. But now I know I wasn’t. It’s there, staring out at me from behind his hooded midnight eyes. Blatant and unabashed, he wants me. And I want him, too.
“You need to walk out that door and never come back.”
My heart stops. Of all the things I thought he might say, this came out of nowhere. “What?” I ask in a small, uncertain voice.
“You need to leave. And don’t look back.”
I scramble to recover. “But…but what about the rest of my tattoo?”
“I’m not talking about your tattoo and you know it.”
“Then what are you talking about?” I inquire, playing dumb to save what’s left of my crumbling pride.
“I’m talking about you. And me. This. Us.”
“There is no us.”
“There will be in about thirty seconds if you don’t get the hell out of here.”
“What if I don’t want to leave?” I’m confused. Is he saying that he wants me? Or that he wants me to go?
“I’m not asking.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to go?”
“Because guys like me change girls like you.”
“Girls like me?”
“Innocent girls.”
“What if I’m not that innocent?”
His lips quirk in a wry grin. “Oh, you’re exactly that innocent. I can practically smell it on you. Sweet, pure, untouched. And, if I’m being honest, I’d like nothing better than to taste that on the tip of my tongue.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
I watch him wrestle with…something. “I don’t have the time or the inclination to get involved in ruining someone else’s life.”
“What makes you think you’d ruin my life?”
“Oh, trust me. I would.”
“But—”
“But nothing. For tonight, I’ll be the good guy you need me to be. Whether you know you need it or not. I’m asking you to leave, Sloane. But I promise you—promise you—that if you so much as darken my doorway again, I won’t let you walk back out again.”
I’m torn between heady elation and harsh rejection. “Hemi—”
“Go, little girl,” he says softly. “Go before I change my mind.”
CHAPTER SIX - Hemi
A persistent buzzing wakes me. I swat toward the sound and hear my phone clatter as it hits the floor. With bleary eyes, I lean over the side of the bed to look down at it. I have to blink three times before I can focus on the lighted screen. I note two things. Number one, it’s only fifteen minutes until eleven. It’s too damn early for anyone to be calling me. Everyone that has my phone number knows I work at night and sleep late in the morning. Number two, it’s my older brother, Reese. Wanting an update, I’m sure.
I curse under my breath when my head pounds as I lean over the side of the bed to reach for the phone. I roll back up quickly, throwing an arm over my eyes as I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it.
“What?”
“You’re still in bed?”
“Hell yes, I’m still in bed. You know I don’t get in until after three most nights.”
“You’ve got more than seven hours already, you pussy. You’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t go straight to sleep, asshole.”
“Damn, you’re grouchy. You must’ve been drinking.”
Reese has always complained that drinking makes me pissy. I guess maybe he’s right. I feel like I could drive my fist through a solid steel wall.
“What do you want?” I ask, ignoring his observation. Lucky for him, he lets it go.
“Just checking on…things.”
“’Things’ are fine. No change.”
“Are you any closer?”
“You say that like it’s easy to get close to these people when it’s anything but easy. They’re naturally suspicious. It’s what they do, who they are.”
“And I’m sure you don’t inspire confidence as a trustworthy guy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You ink skin. You’re a step up from a criminal in some people’s eyes.”
“Oh, right,” I say drolly. “This sounds familiar.”
“I didn’t say I feel that way, just that some people do.”
“Well then ‘some people’ can kiss my puckered ass.”
“Look, I didn’t call to pick a fight. Just…just keep me posted.”
“I will,” I squeeze through my gritted teeth.
“And lay off the sauce.”
“Suck it, dickweed,” I murmur before I hang up.
I peek out from under my arm long enough to hit the disconnect button. I’m sure once I get sobered up, I’ll feel like shit about this conversation, but right now, I’m just ill.
Reese is a good guy and I love him. We actually get along pretty well. Normally. Our relationship has just been a little strained since I moved to the Atlanta area. We’ve all been under a lot of pressure and stress. Losing Ollie changed everything.
Already tired of my thoughts, I sit up quickly. Too quickly. My head spins and throbs. I press my palms to my temples and squeeze, wishing I could make it stop.
“Damn you, Sloane,” I mutter into the emptiness of my bedroom.
I blame her. One hundred percent. What the hell was she thinking, coming into the shop, looking all sweet and innocent?
But I know it’s not that. The sweet and innocent I can handle. That’s never appealed to me. It’s the sweet and innocent combined with this innate sexiness that she has that’s tempting me. Tempting me bad. There’s a little gleam in her eye that says she wants me to show her naughty rather than nice. And oh, how I could show her naughty. I could show her naughty like she’s never even dreamed before.
But a girl like her deserves nice, too. And naughty’s all I’ve got. It’s all I’m interested in. Especially now. Which means I need to stay away from her. I need to deny myself the pleasure of her. And I’m not used to denying myself anything that I want. Including women.
Sloane might have to be the first.
And I like it even less than I thought I would.
Ignoring the still-drunk swim behind my eyes, I get up and head for the shower. For the cold shower.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Sloane
The only good thing I can think of when I open my eyes is that it’s Thursday. Which means tomorrow is Friday. Which means no classes. Which means I can sleep in.
I roll over and look at the clock. Three minutes until my alarm goes off. This is the fourth morning I’ve awakened before it sounds its annoying buzz. And it’s the fourteenth morning I’ve awakened thinking of Hemi.
I haven’t seen him or talked to him since three Saturdays ago. When he told me to leave. I did. Even though I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay, to explore what I saw in his eyes, felt in his touch. Explore all the things he hinted at but didn’t say.
But I didn’t. I left. And now I get to wake up every morning with the regret of my decision.
Throwing back the covers, I head for the shower.
Less than an hour later, I’m climbing into the passenger side seat of Sarah’s truck.
“Good gawd, couldn’t you find anything with bigger tires?” I gripe as I struggle to pull myself through the door.
“I’m a country girl. It’s what we country girls do.”
“I’m a country girl, too, and I don’t have a big-ass truck.”
“That’s because your dad doesn’t think a lady ought to drive a truck.”
She shifts into gear and zooms away from the curb. She’s got me there. That’s precisely what my dad thinks.
“Like he knows. I think he just googled ‘how to be a lady’ when Mom died and took bits and pieces from every article he could find and foisted it all on me.”
Sarah turns her curly blonde head and narrows her black-lined, powder-blue eyes on me. “You’re probably right, but he still did a good job with you. You’re a lady, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe I’m tired of being a lady.”
She grins. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
I laugh. “I think you’re enjoying my rebellion more than I am.”
“Oh, I’m enjoying it all right. Finally…finally we get to live a little.”
“You could’ve been living all this time.”
“And leave my best friend behind? Not a chance.”
“You’re all talk. You weren’t gonna do anything until I did it first.”
“Nuh-huh.”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Hey, I’m not the virgin here.”
“No, but I didn’t see you getting a tattoo.”
“That’s not my idea of wild. Besides, look how that turned out.”
“What do you mean? It hasn’t ‘turned out’ at all yet. I just haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”
“Yes, you have. You just won’t admit it.”
“Won’t admit what?”
“That you’re too chicken shit to go back in there and put him to the test.”
“I’m not too chicken shit. I’m just giving it some time.”
“Time to what? Ferment? This is sex, not wine, Sloane.”
“I know, but…”
“But nothing. What happened to all this ‘spread my wings’ and ‘seize the day’ and ‘no regrets’ shit?”
“Nothing happened to it. It’s just that…I mean, he asked me to leave. It’s not easy to come back after something like that.”
“Look, you are gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re funny as hell and you’ve got a kick-ass rack. What’s not to love? Trust me. You just turn on that smile and you’ll have this guy on his knees.”
“No offense, but I don’t think that’ll work with him. I mean, he’s not like the other guys around here.”