Page 8 of Grind
“Look, these are to keep the bad guys out, not you in,” I gesture at the locks. “You can leave anytime. I’ll be happy to call you a car, call a friend, or take you somewhere and pay for a hotel room at any place in the city.”
My shoulders tense as I say it, though. I really don’t want her to go, I realize, and I don’t like feeling that way. If she’s here, I can keep her safe. And if she’s here, she’ll be with me.
Her dark green eyes linger on the bolts.
“Do you deal with a lot of bad guys, Connor?” her voice is very quiet.
Hearing her say my name, even in that innocent way, is almost too much. Turning away so she doesn’t notice the effect she’s having on my body, I drop my suit coat and tie on the counter.
“In my line of work, you can’t be too careful.” I go for nonchalant and try not to give too much away, answering her question over my shoulder. Yet for some reason, I don’t want to lie to this woman.
When I turn back, she’s walked over to the center island and is tracing her fingers over the marble. My eyes linger on the point where her fingertips touch the hard stone.
“This is gorgeous,” she murmurs. My chest swells with pride as she admires work I did myself.
“Thank you. Actually, I installed that. My family bought this place a few years ago, and my dad put me in charge of rehabbing it. Picked it all out, put it together for all twenty units…” My voice trails off. I don’t miss those construction days, but from my vantage point tonight, they seem a lot simpler than whatever mess I just stepped into.Don’t think of Claire.
She looks up at me then, our eyes locking across the room. Tension’s building in my body from sheer proximity, like she’s sending off pheromones that tell my DNA to stand up and take notice. Her eyes darken slightly. She might be feeling it too.
You could filet the damned tension in this room with a steak knife.
“So you do construction and manage a nightclub?” Her voice lilts up, like she’s curious and forcing a little lightness into it. It feels good she appreciates my work and that she’s interested in what I do.
It’s more complicated than that.
I don’t answer, suddenly feeling like I might be in danger of pouring every secret out of myself to her. The force of that realization slams into me. My life is held together by secrets. She’s affecting me in ways I don’t understand, and the stakes are way too high to make a misstep. For both of us, it would seem.
I move toward the stove. “You hungry?”
She immediately freezes up, her body going completely still. Her face flushes a deep red.
“Oh, no,” she says, a beat too fast. “I’m fine. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
A cold rage takes shape in my chest. I fucking hate every person that ever made her feel like she was an inconvenience, or that she had to be quiet and small. But I’ve got to play this differently. Lighten the mood.
“Look,” I say, pulling a frying pan off the copper rack and flipping on the gas. “I can’t promise it’ll be good, but I’m starving.”
My stomach growls as if to offer proof.
Flashing my best smile, I add, “Don’t make me eat alone.”
The smile seems to do it. She eases back onto the stool where she’s sitting and gives a tentative nod. My eyes are on her glossy dark hair that she’s pulling forward nervously over her shoulder and twisting around a finger.
“Actually, I am hungry.” It’s like a confession.
“Good. What’s the last thing you ate?” The stainless steel fridge door swings open, as I pull out eggs and a carton of milk.
“What? Oh, I had a sandwich before my shift.”
I grab the whisk and pour the eggs and milk into a bowl. A dash of salt, a lot of pepper, and I’m beating the eggs with a little too much enthusiasm.
“Shift? What kind of work do you do?”
The wariness comes back, a tension line forming in her forehead as she unconsciously bites her lower lip. “I’m a server at Gus’s Diner six nights a week.”
Know the place. It’s in a tough part of town, not too far from the club. My eyes scan her again; she’s tougher than she looks but I don’t like the idea of her working in a place like that.
“That where you meet that ass—that where you met Stacy? He a customer?”
