His To Love Part 6

Which had been most of my problem for the last ten years. It wasn't like I didn't date, or never took advantage of men, or hadn't had my share of times where I'd been the one taken advantage of. But none of it had mattered much because every guy I did date couldn't measure up to the memory in my head of a boy I had once loved.

"Not sure I like seeing a pretty thing like you slamming back shots alone."

I smiled at his compliment and was greeted with his smile in return. It was friendly and genuine, and I almost hated that I couldn't stop thinking that he was tall, but not as tall as Tyson. Built, but not as muscular as...

"How about I get that shot, anyway," I said, my smile disappearing. "And a prime rib, done medium. Along with more shots."

He looked at me curiously before finally nodding and walking away.

As soon as he was gone, tension drained from my shoulders. He was right. I didn't need to get drunk two nights in a row, especially since I rarely drank. The smartest thing would be to cancel my dinner order, head straight back upstairs, order room service, and spend the rest of the night looking for jobs and apartments.

Unfortunately, I had never been that smart, so when he slid two more shots in front of me, I smiled as he took one with me, this time using the salt and lime he provided.

"Thank you," I said quietly after I set my lime down on the offered napkin.

"If you're gonna drink," he said with a wink, "you might as well not do it alone."

I laughed softly and then immediately stopped when a wall of heat hit my back and a deep, masculine voice practically growled, "She's not alone."

The bartender's eyes snapped up and then widened. I didn't need to look to know that Tyson was behind me, and he sounded completely unhappy.

I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary display of alpha maleness when his hand trailed along the back of my shoulders. Tiny gooseb.u.mps erupted all over my skin, and I forced myself not to s.h.i.+ver beneath his touch.

His hand left my shoulder, but then went to my thigh when took the seat next to me.

I stared at my water gla.s.s, feeling warmer in my cheeks, while the bartender turned to Tyson. "Of course. What can I get for you?"

"Whatever the lady's having," Tyson said, his voice still tight.

I watched the bartender move away and I wanted to shout for him to come back. To have another shot with me. To smile all happily and whatnot and not leave me with the man next to me. But that was ridiculous, so I kept my mouth shut.

I looked down at the firm hand on my thigh and fought another s.h.i.+ver. A white dress s.h.i.+rt with sleeves rolled up his forearms showed off the perfect amount of dark hair and a s.h.i.+ny silver watch at the wrist. What was it about a man and a nice thick watchband that made women want to drool? It was so simple, but so s.e.xy.

I gulped and slowly pulled my eyes up to see him fully.

When our eyes met, his hand on my thigh tightened, his lips pulled thin, and then he turned me on my barstool until my legs were in between his.

He looked better than he had that morning and he had looked absolutely lickable then. Sitting in front of me now, he looked slightly angry, definitely annoyed, and as his eyes scanned my face and then dropped to my body where he took in the lightweight, emerald-colored sweaterdress which clung to every curve of my body, he looked...

Well, he looked like he wanted to eat me alive. Possibly after shouting at me.

"Hey," I said lamely, and looked over his shoulder. Staring at him directly in the eye was too intimate. We were too close, me sitting in front of him, his thighs spread wide so my knees were in between his. His arms went to the back of my chair and he effectively caged me in.

His lips twitched slightly, as if he was now more amused than annoyed.

"Have a bad day?" He nodded toward the empty shot gla.s.ses on the bar.

I grabbed my water and took a sip, reveling in the cool water that helped douse the heat I felt rolling off Tyson.

d.a.m.n it. The man was magnetic and s.e.xy and irresistible and I knew I should resist him, but his pull on me was impossible to ignore.

So instead of lying, or brus.h.i.+ng it off, I opted for honesty. "Yeah."

I frowned and turned back to the bar. Tyson let me go, allowing me to turn away from him, but his hand stayed on me. His fingers brushed lightly though my black hair until I could feel him fidgeting with the ends, twirling them around his finger.

The gesture was soothing, not s.e.xual at all, but I still felt my body respond with warmth that spread to my lower stomach.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar but with his head turned in my direction. I didn't say anything until two more shot gla.s.ses appeared on the bar in front of me and I nodded toward the bartender as I reached for the one in front of me. "Thanks."

The bartender grinned. "No problem." His smile disappeared as soon as he glanced over to Tyson, and I couldn't help but smile. He was rather large and intimidating, and I almost felt bad for the cute guy.

"Just like you said this morning. My dad's still an a.s.shole." I took the shot and as it hit my stomach, I figured that was my last one.

Three shots in ten minutes were dangerous and I needed to keep my senses tonight.

"You wanna talk about it?" Tyson asked.

Genuine concern flashed in his eyes. But there was something else there, too. Something that made his jaw tighten and his teeth grind together. I didn't know what it meant, but I didn't like it.

"No, Tyson. I don't want to talk about it." A b.i.t.c.hy smile spread across my lips, and Tyson's eyes hardened further. "Why don't you tell me why you're here, suddenly everywhere I go."

His Adam's apple dipped. "That what you want to do right now, Blue? Start the question and answer portion that I promised we'd have tonight?"

I didn't know why he suddenly looked so angry, or why his nostrils flared in the way they always did when he was really, really p.i.s.sed.

But I did know that answering his questions, or listening to him answer mine, was the very last thing I wanted.

"Nope." I spun back to the bar and got the bartender's attention. "Two more shots please."

"I think you've had enough," Tyson whispered next to me.

"I think that if we're going to talk...I shouldn't have to be sober."

Chapter 5.

I wiped my lips with my napkin before sliding the plate away from me. A large prime rib and a baked potato with all the toppings was exactly what I needed to help soak up the tequila shots. The dinner had provided me with the perfect distraction from whatever it was that exploded behind Tyson's eyes and expression when he brought up answering questions.

With dinner done, I could no longer procrastinate.

"My mom's dying," I stated plainly. Next to me, Tyson sucked in a breath. I didn't look at him. I didn't want to see the expression on his face. If it was too caring, I would cry. If he didn't appear concerned at all, I would cry.

This is why I don't typically drink. It makes me a crybaby. I don't even know why I chose to blurt that out the way I did. I blamed the tequila.

"What?" Tyson sounded shocked. I didn't blame him.

I swiped my mouth with my napkin again and took a sip of water. The ice cubes clinked against my teeth, and I sucked in a breath after I placed the gla.s.s on the bar top. My hands trembled slightly, and I shoved them into my lap.

"Cancer."

The air thickened before my chair spun slowly until I was once again sitting between Tyson's spread thighs.

He reached out, pressed a finger against the bottom of my chin, and pushed up. He stopped when I was staring directly into his eyes, and I hated what I saw.

A mixture of anger and concern. The concern I got. The anger made me frown.

"Cancer?" he asked.

I cringed as I watched the word form on his lips. It looked like death. Even though the two words were vastly different, they also meant the same thing.

"Yeah, again."

He blinked and then shook his head, shaking away the shock in his expression. "She beat that s.h.i.+t in high school."

Also when I was in elementary school. He might not remember that, but we were together when her breast cancer returned for the second time. I couldn't remember the number of nights he held me in his arms while I sobbed, so fearful she wouldn't survive.

My eyes filled with tears and I turned away from him, but his finger on my chin stopped me from getting far.

"That why you came home?"

"Yeah." I whispered it so quietly I practically breathed the word through my lips. I blinked rapidly several times to clear the tears away before getting the bartender's attention. He had left us alone as soon as the meals came, but now, I needed him and what he could offer me.

When he met my gaze, I flicked two fingers up signaling for more shots when Tyson wrapped his hand around mine and put it on the bar. "I think you've had enough alcohol."

I stared directly at him. "I think I've had a perfectly s.h.i.+tty twenty-four hours, and if I want to get wasted, that's not your call."

"You got wasted last night, Blue."

I didn't need the reminder.

With a heavy sigh, Tyson stood from his stool and tossed a stack of cash onto the bar. "This is for both of us."

Turning back to me, he held out his hand and waited for me to put my palm in his. While I debated the intelligence of such a decision, one of his eyebrows arched in a silent dare.

I put my palm against his and his warm fingers enclosed my hand. The familiar heat that started whenever he touched me slowly slithered its way down to my s.e.x until everything felt warm and tingly.

Dangerous.

"What are we doing?" I asked, sliding off my stool until I stood in front of him.

"I thought we'd go for a walk."

My lips twisted and I looked down at my dress and wedge sandals. "I'm not really dressed for a walk."

"Let's go change, then."

A walk sounded nice.

Fresh air sounded better.

During weekly conversations with my mom, she had told me about the riverfront that had been built within the last few years along the Detroit River. It was supposed to help revitalize and renew a dying city, bring back life and energy to a city that was devastated by the economic collapse of the last decade. She thought it was beautiful and peaceful. While she had showed me photos, since two of my father's legit companies were actual investors and she had spent hours working on benefits to help fund the projects, I had yet to see it for myself.

With the first small burst of excitement building, I allowed Tyson to pull me toward the elevator banks.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly once we were alone and the elevator began rising to my floor.

He was silent for several moments and in his reflection on the metal doors, I saw his jaw working back and forth. Finally, his lips parted. "Thought about you today. Wanted to know if you were okay after seeing your dad. And mostly, I just wanted to see you again."

My eyes narrowed. I couldn't tell if he spoke truth or lies. Maybe a mixture. I hated that I doubted him so easily now, when he was the one person in my life that I never doubted before.

I had trusted him implicitly. Now everything was different.

I was different.

He followed me down the hallway to my room, staying a step behind me, not touching me. My fingers trembled slightly as I took out the keycard for the hotel room. I bobbled it and it took me three tries to open the door.

Behind me, I heard his soft chuckle and embarra.s.sment warmed my cheeks as I opened the door. I turned away from him, holding the door open to prevent him from seeing my reaction.

"I'll be just a moment," I whispered.

Turning on my heels, I rushed to my bedroom and whipped off my dress and shoes, leaving them in a pile on the bedroom floor. I quickly pulled on a simple pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved running s.h.i.+rt, and grabbed my running shoes. At the last second, I pulled a jacket from the closet. It was mid-spring and getting warmer every day, but there was still a chill in the air and the breeze off the water could make it cooler. Tyson was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white s.h.i.+rt, and while I'd look frumpy next to him, my day had been a rush of confusions, emotions, and bad circ.u.mstances. Comfort was my new armor. Something that would probably make my father's eyes go wide before he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. I smiled at the thought and at the small, tiny, rebellious feeling that welled up inside of me. Besides all that, I hadn't worn heels all day for years, and my feet and ankles were killing me. My arches almost sighed in relief as I slipped them into my gray and purple Pumas.

While wrangling my long black hair into a simple ponytail, I reentered the living room. Tyson's back was to me and he was looking out the window, seemingly watching the Detroit traffic rush by on the streets below us. With his shoulders tense and back straight, hands on his hips, and even the slightly tightened jaw, it only served to me remind me that he was no longer that laid-back easy-going teenage boy who used to make me laugh loudly and fiercely.

His emotions in the last twenty-four hours switched from flirtatious to annoyed with the snap of a finger. As I stared at him, knowing he could see my reflection in the wondow checking out every curve of his muscular back, I wished like h.e.l.l I still knew who he was...what made him tick. What he was thinking about as he turned to me, jaw tight, one side of his lips pressed into a frown. As if he couldn't stand his own conflicting emotions.

Perhaps we had become similar. I had my own set of conflict bubbling inside me whenever he was close to me. But if tonight was the night for questions and answers, then tonight was the night I got the answers to mine.

- "This is really beautiful," I said. My words floated into the breeze and vanished almost immediately. Detroit had done amazing things with their riverfront by creating a carousel park and adding beautiful, wide, and well-lit sidewalks. The riverfront stretched into the harbor, and my mom told me there were pavilions where bands would play live music in the summer. The noise of the boats and the ferries taking tourists and visitors across the river drowned out some of the conversation, though. But still, with the sun setting behind us, I could barely tell that the Detroit River was inky black and something you'd never even want your enemy to step their toes into.

"They've done great things here."

Tyson looked as enamored as I was as we walked. Conversation had been sprinkled in between long stretches of comfortable silence. Based on his own surprise and quiet reflection while we strolled the riverfront, he told me that he hadn't been in Detroit for at least the last five years, since about the time he graduated college from Central U.

We were leaning against the railing, a carousel with blaring music and laughing children behind us and the water in front. I could make out the buildings at Belle Isle Conservatory, a small island in the middle of the river. Sungla.s.ses shaded his eyes and his forearms rested on the emerald green railing; my own fingers curled around the warm metal. I fidgeted in the lingering silence by pus.h.i.+ng away from the railing and pulling myself back, but never letting go. Using the metal like an anchor, I took my first leap and admitted something I knew I shouldn't.

"I watched you in college. I cried when you got hurt."

A harsh puff of breath pushed past his lips. I heard it, but fear kept my gaze focused on the water. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him s.h.i.+ft until just one of his arms was on the railing and he faced me. His other hand came up and one finger trailed down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. Gooseb.u.mps erupted everywhere, and my shoulders tensed at his light touch. His finger traced along the ones I still curved around the rail, before he moved around my fingertips and in between the s.p.a.ces. I had to close my eyes and hide the things his simple caress was doing to my insides. And my heart. His touch was so gentle, so reverent.

"Why'd you leave, Blue?"

I swallowed thickly and shook my head. That wasn't the question I wanted to start with, but it was the one that really needed answering. Forcing myself to be brave, to hear answers I might not want to, I slowly turned until his finger dropped from my hand and his palm settled on the side of my hip. He didn't put pressure on me, but it felt as if his hand was crus.h.i.+ng me.