Afraid to Fly (Fearless #2) (5 page)

While he watched me like a hawk, I took the opportunity to assess him physically, looking for any signs of mistreatment or neglect. Yes, he was on the small side, but that could have been hereditary. He was thin but didn’t appear to be malnourished. His pale skin and brown, shaggy hair appeared clean, as well as his clothes, if not a little nondescript. No name brands or flashy trends, which was the norm for most kids here. And according to his file, his sister was a student on a waitress’s salary. I’d be alarmed if he
did
stroll in here with the latest fashions.

We sat there for what felt like hours, letting the silent screaming of trepidation fill the space like an invisible fog. It wasn’t conventional, although it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. I imagined Toby didn’t say much even before his mother’s passing. Kids in uneasy living situations rarely said more than they had to in order to fly under the radar. After my parents died, I learned to keep quiet, because I thought not being heard equated to not being seen.

I was wrong.

I inwardly prayed that Toby hadn’t suffered the same delusion in his past.

At almost 5 o’clock on the dot, our vow of silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps and Amber’s voice.

“ . . . and this is the office of our assistant director, who also happens to be one of our most popular mentors here at Helping Hands. We thought he and Toby would make a great team, considering that Dominic—”

“You!”

The very second I heard her hiss that word, spitting it out like a curse, I knew that it had left the same cherry-painted lips I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since Saturday night. She was dressed in light blue scrubs, and her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Once again, very little makeup, and her lips were lightly glossed in a soft pink. It was the cocktail waitress from The Pink Kitty. And the way she was scowling at me, those endless, ocean blue eyes tightened into thin slits, she remembered me too.

I tore my gaze away from the fire that burned behind hers and glanced over at Amber, who looked as baffled as I felt. “You two know each other?” she asked gesturing between us.

“We’ve met,” I answered. It was true, although I didn’t disclose the
wheres
and
hows
of that meeting.

Remembering herself, and present company, Toby’s sister quickly schooled her features into something less controversial and nodded in agreement. “Yes. We’ve met.
Once.”

“Ok, so I assume introductions are not in order,” Amber replied skeptically. She continued to look at us with a touch of cynicism, as if she knew we were full of shit and was just playing along. I knew that smirk. It was the same one she wore when our students would try to pull a fast one, and she was on to them. She’d let them keep digging the grave for their lies, allowing them to believe they had somehow outsmarted her. Then, just as the feeling of victory had begun to set in, she’d wipe the smug grins right off their faces and read them from A to Z.

That was exactly how she was regarding us at that precise moment.

I had two choices. Either I play dumb and get embarrassed by my boss in front of a kid and his (insanely hot) sister, or be real and avoid further confusion and/or a potential conflict of interest.

“Actually, our run-in was so brief, I’d hardly call it an introduction. I didn’t even have the chance to get her name,” I admitted. Ok, option 2 benefitted me too. I didn’t catch her name, and I needed something other than the “sexy as fuck waitress in a strip club” when fantasizing about her in the wee hours of the night when no one was around to fill my bed.

“Oh. Well, Dominic Trevino, this is Raven West. Ms. West, this is Dominic. Now that we’re all acquainted, Dominic will be personally mentoring Toby, and ensuring that his transition here is enjoyable and productive.”

Raven.

It was like that name was specifically designed for her, and no other woman on this earth could ever bear it justly. From the black of her hair and the porcelain pallor of her skin to the mystery brewing behind those piercing blue eyes, she was a raven indeed. Yet, even knowing she despised me for some undisclosed reason, she didn’t represent death and longing. She was the vastness of eternity, uncharted and unseen.

“Is that right?” Her face was amused, but the sharpness of her voice could cut like a knife. This wasn’t residual annoyance from Saturday night. This chick genuinely hated me. Shit. Maybe I
did
sleep with her already? But even that wouldn’t explain her distaste for me. I was always crystal clear about my intentions with women. I could get them off, but I would never lead them on. Still, there was always that one who swore she could change me. Like her pussy had magical powers that could instantly transform my indifference into uncontrollable worship for her.

There was no such thing as a magical pussy. Trust me. I’ve looked.

Even if we had indeed already done the dirty, there was still no rational explanation for my lapse in memory, or her disdain. First off, I would have remembered. Funny as it sounds, I remember all of them. The way they felt underneath me, so soft and supple and warm. The noises they made when I pushed inside of them. The way they tasted on my tongue—some sweet, some tangy. Those were the memories that got me through the night. The memories that stilled the shakes that followed the terror of my dreams. I had been building my psyche’s catalogue for some time now, hoping that one day it would be too full of enjoyable remembrances to contain the old ones. The ones that still haunted me every fucking minute of every fucking day.

One day, it would work. One day the only connotation attached to sex would be pleasure. And that feeling would last beyond the initial act. It wouldn’t dissipate the moment my lover for the evening left my bed, leaving me in the cold darkness of my own thoughts. At least that’s what I was counting on.

Even on the off chance that my memory failed, there was no way Raven could have forgotten
me.

Let me just put it out there: I’m un-fucking-forgettable. And that’s not an issue of opinion. It’s a goddamn fact.

I had been with a lot of women.
A lot.
And during that time, I had learned and perfected the art of making love, which was precisely what these women felt with me—loved. Worshipped. Appreciated. I didn’t just fuck, nut and run. I took my time to ensure that each and every woman who had the privilege of gracing my bed and consuming my time enjoyed herself to the fullest. It was only fair for the service of distraction that they provided me.

So, yeah. Raven would have remembered me. And that wasn’t me being arrogant. It was me being honest.

“Ok,”
Amber drawled after a few seconds of tense silence. I knew what she was thinking, but before she could voice her concerns, one of the staff members summoned her from the other side of the door, informing her of a phone call.

Once we were left to our own devices, I turned on my most amenably professional smile and climbed to my feet, my hand outstretched. “Good to formally meet you, Ms. West.”

She looked down at my hand, but refused to take it, much like her little brother. “I’m sure. And call me Raven.”

I nodded, resisting the urge to turn on the charm and woo her panties off. All hope wasn’t lost. She may have been glaring at me like I had just skeet-skeeted all over her favorite shirt, but she had offered her first name. People who truly despise you don’t give a damn about being on a first name basis.

I pulled my hand back and stuffed it into my pocket casually, like that had been my intention all along. “Nice to meet you, Raven.” I made sure to emphasize the V and the N, letting those two letters rest on my tongue for a second longer than necessary. She could hear it too, and cut her eyes into slits in response.

“Come on, Toby. Let’s get out of here,” she said, turning her attention to her little brother.

With that, the small, quiet boy picked up his book bag and joined his sister at her side. I was positive this would be our last meeting. Whatever beef this girl had with me, surely she would not allow her brother to be subjected to it. And while I would never act unprofessionally in front of a child, I could understand. If she wasn’t comfortable with me, there was no way she could be comfortable with me being alone with Toby. So there would probably be some lame excuse as to why he wouldn’t be returning to the program, which really was a shame in regards to his social and academic success.

“Well, Toby, it was great hanging out today. You come by and see me anytime, ok?” I wanted him to know that I was here, and my door was always open. Even if he didn’t care, I needed him to know that
I
did.

Judging by the smug smile on her face, Raven must’ve suspected that Toby didn’t enjoy his time at HH. But what he did next left her stunned one second, and damn near furious the next.

Toby picked up the pen and pad I had left for him on the side table, scribbled a few words and set down the paper before walking out of the office.

I was still grinning when Raven whirled around to follow him without uttering a word. I’d been given another chance to see them again.

B
Y FIVE-THIRTY, I WAS
out my office door and on my way home.

By six, my head was pounding and my dick was aching.

By eight, I was balls deep in the warm, soft, wet confines of my favorite mode of escape.

Tonight, it was Alyssa. Twenty-six. Duke alumna. Kindergarten teacher.

Alyssa was a relatively new face at Dive, my favorite watering hole, and the first stop in my after work routine. Now that Kami was pregnant, and there was no way Blaine was letting her tend bar while his seed grew inside her, she had been coming up with new ideas to expand clientele. One of them was a Happy Hour menu, featuring some fruity mixed drinks, $2 shooters and some cheap eats. It was a hit out the gate, and now Dive was attracting some new patrons, many of them hot, professional women.

Did I mention how fucking fantastic my BFF is?

Alyssa had been in a few times with a couple girlfriends. She always ordered some ridiculously sweet libation with extra cherries. They’d hang out for a couple hours, order appetizers, giggle about their day and leave. She was never accompanied by a man, and there wasn’t ring on her finger.

Those variables, coupled with the fact that she was hot in a sexy librarian type of way, put her on my radar.

I watched from my usual spot at the bar between chatting with Blaine and listening to CJ’s latest misadventures in dating.

“So let me paint this picture for you,” he began, loosening his tie. It was hard to believe that CJ, aka Craig Jacobs, was one of Charlotte’s most respected contractors. Apparently, Blaine helped him out with some of his startup costs for his business a few years back, but CJ had turned his dream into a reality all on his own. He was a solid businessman, yet a hopeless barbarian. “I’m sitting at a stoplight, when I turn to see this chick at the bus stop beside me. She’s standing there in her basic bitch uniform—UGGs, leggings, and some American Apparel hoodie, sippin’ on Starbucks. I would bet my left nut the music blasting in her earbuds was Taylor Swift, but that’s beside the point. So I’m lookin’ at her, and she’s lookin’ at me, and it was like we had this psychic connection. Like some fucking telepathic conversation where we didn’t even need to use words. I was all
“Get in”
and she was all
“Sure.”
Dude, it was totally some Jedi Mind Trick shit.”

“Jedi Mind Trick shit?” I laughed. Only CJ.

“Fucking serious. So she gets in, doesn’t say a word, and I drive us to the closest motel. Get a room and, well, you know what happens next.”

Blaine made a tsking sound and shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“You know I did! I blew her back out! And the only time she made a peep was when she was screaming out for God to come save her from my mighty anaconda!”

Blaine groaned while I doubled over in laughter. CJ was as simple-minded as a box of rocks, but he was always good for a story.

“You do realize there are such things as STD’s and unplanned pregnancies, right? Like, you’ve got to know that you’re pretty much playing Russian Roulette with your dick.” Blaine raised his brow at his cousin and cringed at the word “dick.”