Page 11 of Seductress

I’d taken him back to Owen more than once, worried that my dog was sick, or had some kind of medical condition, and that was why he was so inactive. But he’d assured me the dog was just a lazy asshole. Healthy as could be, but lazy as hell.

I scrubbed my last shift at the fire station off my skin, then stood under the water for another ten minutes, taking advantage of the fact my water heater at home was a million times better than the one at the firehouse before finally climbing out and toweling off. I headed for the dresser and grabbed a pair of underwear, noticing not for the first time I was running dangerously low and needed to do a few loads of laundry. Out of all the chores out there, laundry had to be my least favorite, and I tended to wait until there was nothing left to wear before biting the bullet and getting it done.

I didn’t bother sorting my colors from my whites. If anything I owned ever turned pink, I’d either deal or throw the shit out and buy replacements. Those multi packs of socks and tees weren’t that expensive, after all.

I dumped a load into the washer and pulled out the load that had been sitting in the drier since the last time I did laundry. Everything was as wrinkled as hell, but I didn’t really give a damn. What did it matter if I went out for a beer at the pizzeria or something in wrinkled clothes? I wasn’t trying to impress anybody.

It was on that thought that the image of Hardin Shields popped into my head. What would she think if I walked into Junior’s looking like I wore something pulled out of the bottom of a messy drawer that had been forgotten about for years? Was she the type of woman to separate all her clothes into a million different loads when she did her laundry? A load for lights, a load for white, a load for dark colors. Did she just toss her stuff in a drawer or fold it neatly? What did her closet look like— I jerked to a halt in the middle of my bedroom.

And why the fuck did I care?

None of those questions mattered, and odds were, I’d never know the answers. I had no business thinking of Hardin in any way.

I tossed the basket I’d been carrying onto the bed and gave my head a violent shake to rid myself of thoughts of a woman who would nevereverbe more to me than she already was.

But... what was that, exactly? I’d always thought of her in the back of my mind as a friend, but now that I gave it some real thought, I wasn’t sure I could call her that. If not for the fact that I was a regular at Junior’s, I wasn’t sure the two of us would ever talk. The little I knew about her life either came from short conversations that happened while I sat on my stool at the pizzeria or secondhand from her brother.

I knew all about her ex-fucker through Owen, and after everything he’d shared, I wasn’t sure who hated the asshole more, me or him.

I had to admit, I’d wondered a few times why I never saw her with another man. I kept waiting for the day when I’d walk into her restaurant and she’d be cuddled up with some douche who somehow had conned her into being with him, but that day hadn’t come yet.

And I refused to delve too deeply into why I was relieved by that fact.

Rationally, I knew it was only a matter of time. She was beautiful and smart and funny. She was a total catch, and one day, some dipshit was going to see her worth and snatch her up.

Christ, the thought of that made my stomach sour.

“For fuck’s sake, Grimes. Get your shit together already,” I grunted to myself as I moved to the closet and snatched the door open. I started grabbing empty hangers from the wooden bar so I could put my clothes away when my eyes caught on a box that had been sitting up on the top shelf, untouched and unopened, for four years. Even before moving here, the first time I’d dragged it out in over a year was the day I had to pull it from the hall closet at my old house in order to pack it up.

My stomach bottomed out and all thoughts of a certain clover-eyed beauty flew from my brain like a puff of smoke through an open window.

I’d done a good job of putting that box and its contents out of my mind for a long while now, so it didn’t make sense that I’d suddenly remember it out of nowhere. I knew the contents of that box as if I’d just looked in it yesterday, not more than five years ago. I could close my eyes and picture every item. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the box like it was a cobra poised to strike, but it felt like an eternity had passed before I found the strength inside me to lift my arm and reach out.

Electricity zapped through the tips of my fingers the instant they brushed against the dusty cardboard, zinging down my arm and piercing my heart. It felt like being stabbed in the chest with a white-hot poker.

I yanked my hand back, stumbling over my feet in an effort to get the hell out of that closet. I slammed the door shut and pressed my back up against it as though a fucking monster or something was about to jump out. A ridiculous reaction for a grown-ass man who was looking at abox, for Christ’s sake.

I waited a few minutes before moving, concentrating on my deep breathing and letting the tremors fade from my hands and legs before pushing away from the door and moving to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

Fuck the laundry. What would it matter if I waited another day? Or another ten. There was no one in my life to make sure I did the simple, everyday tasks.

Not anymore.

Otis came lolling into the room just then and turned to look at me, and if I could have read his mind, I was sure he would have been telling me I looked like a dumbass for freaking out the way I had. Good thing I was the owner, and he was the dog.

“We’re going on a run,” I clipped out, pointing at my dog like he could actually understand what I was saying. “And I don’t want to hear any of your shit. Your lazy ass is going too.”

It was official. I was losing my goddamned mind.

6

HARDIN

“Will you stop that? You’re going to make yourself bleed.”

Asher reached across the table and smacked my hand away from my mouth so I couldn’t keep nervously chewing on my cuticles.

“And also, it’s really gross.” I looked to my friend Sloane who was sitting next to Asher in the booth across from me. Not long ago, I hadn’t known these two women very well, and now, they were two of my closest friends.

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