Page 5 of Grind
More of my awful mistakes, my dirty laundry, bared in public.
The big man’s dark ocean eyes scan my face. He laughs, and the sound has a lightness to it, an openness, that’s drawing me in with an irresistible force. Every part of my body hurts, and yet I can’t seem to stop staring at this man.
Who, I remind myself, I know nothing about.
Whose inviting exterior could be hiding anything. Awful things. Do I trust my instincts, or not?
“We’ve had a hell of a night, haven’t we?”
“Ava,” I offer suddenly.
“Ava,” he repeats, rolling the arms of his white dress shirt up to his elbows to reveal an intricate shamrock tattoo on his forearm. Impossible muscles cord his arms and then disappear beneath the expensive fabric.
Connor.
I know absolutely nothing about him. He saved me from Brooks, but a familiar wariness settles in. Even if he’s perfectly safe, perfectly kind, he doesn’t deserve my kind of trouble landing on his doorstep.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, my eyes lingering on the tattoo. “I don’t mean to be any trouble.”
He eyes snap up to mine, assessing. “I don’t know who told you that you were trouble, Ava, or an inconvenience. You’re not. You’re my guest and I’m pleased to have you here.”
The dimples flash and I look at his face, then back down at the tattoo. Something about it nicks at the edge of my mind. Familiar somehow, although I can’t think why.
Sully flings open the door to the back office then, a loud bang sounding as it bounces off the wall, and his booming voice cuts into the room. I flinch, knocked abruptly out of whatever was flowing between Connor and me.
“Hey, boss, I got rid of the fucking prick. He’s gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow,” Sully calls loudly, sounding delighted.
He sees me and stops abruptly, eyes going wide.
“Shit. Pardon my French, lady.”
“No, you’re right.” I ignore pain stabs as I swing my legs down to the floor. “He is a fucking prick. He’s also Mayor Stacy’s son, Brooks, and unfortunately, my ex-boyfriend.”
It’s like the air gets sucked out of the room instantly. Now everyone knows how it feels, I guess.
Both men watch me intently, the force of their combined gaze pinning me to the couch. They look at each other, and it’s hard to read the silent communication that runs between them. With a frustrated sigh, Connor stabs a hand through his thick black hair. His smile turns wolfish. Every instinct I have screams danger, although the undercurrents don’t seem directed at me.
Have I traded one bad situation for another?
“Boss,” Sully’s voice is a warning.
Connor rises to his feet quickly, almost looming over me. All I can do is stare up at him with wide eyes. That familiar fear tightens around me like a vice.
“I should go,” I say rapidly. Whether I’ve walked into something or I’m just unwanted because of the baggage I’ve brought with me, it’s time to get out of here. Find somewhere safe. Anywhere. I’m feeling around the couch for my things and trying to get to my feet. Pain shoots through me like lightning. I press my lips together hard, fighting it back. I’ve fought through much worse than this.
Connor’s face clears. He looks down at me, the tension of his face easing and a hint of his boyish grin returning.
“Easy, Ava.”
I falter, my hand resting on my bag. His voice is deep and decisive.
“I just have some quick business to finish up here, and then I can take you home.”
Home.
It’s not a suggestion—there’s a kind but definitive edge to his voice.
My mind races, the endless fear that engulfs my life hitting me with the word. I can’t go home. It’s not safe. My stomach feels like it’s being shredded from the inside, a thousand terrified butterflies with razorblade wings escaping. No doubt Brooks will be there, furious after being humiliated.
