Bad Wolf(79)

I nod, my hand still resting on his wrist. It's his inked arm, and the thin scars scattered on his skin tickle my palm. His pulse ticks under my fingertips, fast and uneven, when I trace the nearest scar.

"JJ … "

He pulls his hand away and rubs at his eyes. Then he shoves his chair back and staggers to his feet. For a long, frightening moment, I think he may fall, his knees buckling slightly, but he catches himself and walks over to the coffee maker. I don't dare ask again if he's okay, let alone ask about the scars, or the bracelet.

That almost kiss made things even more awkward between us than they used to be, and here I thought it wasn't possible. He jams a filter into the machine, measures out the ground coffee and fills it up with water, his movements jerky. The muscles in his back shift and glide under silky bronze skin, distracting me, as he starts the machine percolating.

His shoulders rise and fall, and he braces his hands on the counter, bowing his head. From the top of his muscled back to his long legs, he is …

Beautiful. So very beautiful. No wonder all the girls want him.

Damn.

"So …  Saturday a week from now." His voice is still rough around the edges, but when he straightens, pours the coffee and returns to the table with two mugs, his step is steady and there's no sign of anything dark in his expression. "You said you're going, right?"

Either he's an excellent actor, or I really imagined the pain I glimpsed in his eyes, and I don't know which is freaking me out more.

I drag one of the mugs toward me as he takes again his seat across from me, my gaze snagging on the leather band, which is back where it belongs.                       
       
           



       

"Well, I can't think of a way to bow out of this one without pissing Ev off."

"Then go." He pushes the sugar pot toward me. "You said you wanted to become more sociable and shit. Go and shine."

Yeah. Put that way …  I did say it, didn't I? It's what I should try and do.

"It's not hard," he says and gives me one of his wicked, lopsided grins that send butterflies tumbling in my stomach.

Well, it really looks like the awkward moment has passed …  For him, at least.

"Easy for you to say." Easy for you to do, to pretend nothing almost happened between us. I glare at him as I grab the sugar and dump two spoonfuls into my coffee. "I need a crash course in sociability."

"Yeah." He chuckles, not denying it. "And I need training in shopping."

"You're serious about this, aren't you? Why is shopping a problem for you?"

He blows on his coffee, his expression distant. "I'm afraid to spend. Afraid to make the wrong choice, and give away my money for something useless. Hell, I don't even trust banks. I hide my money inside my room."

My mouth hangs open. "Are you serious?"

He nods, looking sheepish.

"But you have to pay for things, right? Rent, bills, food? How do you do that, if you have trouble spending?"

He shrugs. "I force myself to do it. I mean, I don't spend much on food. I eat at the café and the taco joint where I work, mostly. I save the rest."

"What for?"

He puffs out a breath. "For colder days? For when I lose it all again."

My mug clatters when I put it down hard. "Why would you lose it all? Zane is training you, and I bet he's got a job lined up for you when training's over. He and Rafe and the others …  they don't seem to me the kind to kick people out on the curb."

"You can never tell, though, can you?" His eyes narrow. "It doesn't matter. That thing you said, about a crash course … "

Wait a minute, is he suggesting … ?

I shake my head. "No. No way."

"You don't know what I was about to say."

"Sure I do. I'm a mind-reader."

His bright smile flashes. "We could help each other out. If you take me shopping, I'll take you partying. It's a perfect solution."

"Read my lips: No."

"Come on, Embers." His smile fades and a crease appears between his dark brows. "There's this wedding reception you're supposed to attend and don't want to. There are clothes I'm supposed to buy and I don't fucking know how. The clothes I buy when left to my own devices are crap, they don't last the damn month. I need someone …  Someone to show me how to spend, crazy as it may sound. Someone to tell me it's okay to use the money, to buy something good." He presses his thumbs to his temples, as if fighting a headache. "Would you think about it?"

Holy hell, he is serious.

It's a crazy idea. Tempting. But crazy. May be fun.

Frigging insane.

I sigh. "My parents believe going out will solve all my problems. I only have to change, get out of my shell."

When I look up, I see a flash of emotion in his eyes I don't have the time to decipher before it's gone. "I don't think you should change," he says. "You're just fine as you are."

I blink at him. That's not the reaction I was expecting. It was either a guffaw, or him agreeing with my parents' assessment.

"I am?"

"Yeah. Why should you pretend to be something you're not? To like something you don't? Like parties. If you hate them, then why pretend you don't?"

God, good question. "Because then I seem like a freak? I mean, everybody likes parties, right?"

"You're not everybody, and you're not a freak," he says, his smile faint, but I think I like it even more than his smirks and wide grins. It feels more real.

And wait, hasn't he said this before? About me not being everybody? It's obvious, and yet another meaning lurks between his words, something he's trying to tell me.

Yeah, or I'm imagining things.

"Come on." He raises his mug, clinks it with mine. "Say yes. Help me out here. Otherwise I'll show up at the wedding naked."

And of course my gaze immediately flicks back to his sculpted chest and arms, and my mouth runs dry. I lick them. He's putting me in a tight spot there.

"Okay, on one condition."

He puts down his mug, wary. "Spill."

"You will answer three questions from me." And why the heck am I doing this? Curiosity, I think. It's gotten the better of me.                       
       
           



       

He stills, not even blinking, for a long unnerving moment. Then he shrugs. "A game, huh? Well, why the hell not? I'm in."

Wow. I realize I didn't expect him to agree. What do you know …  and what have I gotten myself into?

Too late to back out now, though. "Then it's a deal."





Part Two





"One day," Helen says, "our luck will turn. You'll see. Life can't keep fucking us up. Something's gotta give."

"Whatever," I mutter, hands in my pockets, trying to pretend I don't give a fuck about tomorrow, though I know she sees right through me.

She sucks on a cigarette, her slight body leaning against a brick wall. Her black boots are scuffed, her skirt almost non-existent, and her cleavage dips low. She's badass, she's fierce, and every time she climbs into a car with a guy, my stomach drops to my feet.

"Believe it, kid," she whispers conspiratorially, leaning toward me. "Trust in the demon. The demon watching over you and me." She winks. "Because it sure ain't no angel."

~ Jesse





Chapter Ten





Jesse





Absently twisting the leather band on my wrist, I lean back on the wall outside Damage Control and pretend I'm resting my eyes.

Not watching the street like a hawk, waiting for Amber to show up.

Maybe she changed her mind. I wouldn't blame her one fucking bit. What the hell was I thinking when I suggested this idiotic plan? I wasn't thinking, that's the problem. Or thinking with my dick and that cold space inside my chest that feels warm when she's around.

Fuck.

Besides, how will it help if she's with me? Short of handing my money over to her, I don't see how I'll be convinced to spend it, and I'm not handing my money to anyone, not even to pretty, grumpy girls. So, what the fuck, right? I should turn around and leave.

But I don't move, instead checking the street obsessively, tapping a rhythm with the heel of my boot on the wall and humming a song I hardly recall under my breath.

Until she appears.

A blue summer dress hugs her curves and she wears leather sandals that lace up to her knees. Her toenails are also painted a light blue, and goddamn, it's sexy. She's sexy. With those curves trying to burst through the cloth, her dark hair pinned up and her mouth in a small pout, she's enough to make me forget my doubts.

Hell, if she asked for my money, I'd pass her my wallet right now, I wouldn't even care.

Did I mention she's dangerous? I have to fight to catch my breath as she approaches me and that small pouts turns into a hesitant smile. My jeans are fast growing too tight over my hardening dick, and for the first time since I can remember myself, I'd give my right arm to kiss a girl.

This girl. Only this girl.

Jesus F. Christ.

"Ready?" She adjusts the strap of her leather bag on her shoulder. "We've got a bus to catch."