Neighbors (Entangled Flirts) (3 page)

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

I nodded with a smile spreading across my face and a blush threatening my cheeks. I kind of liked this nice Riker. He was less of a one-night-stand guy and more of a… Whoa. Where did that come from? I needed to get that thought out of my head.
Caviar type of girl, my ass.

An hour later, I rapped on Riker’s door. Josh answered, still in his camo pants and tan military issue t-shirt. He cleaned up nice for a slob.

“Hey, Rena, what’s up?” he asked as he bit into an apple. The juice spilled down his chin as he pointed at the jar in my hand. “What’s that?”

Riker glanced over Josh’s shoulder and answered for me. “Salsa.”

I smiled and held up a bowl of homemade tortilla chips. The guys stood back to let me in, but I thrust the jar toward Riker. He gripped the back of my hand before sliding his fingers across my skin. I dropped my head before he noticed my cheeks color coordinated with the salsa. I reached to my right and grabbed the polished chrome coat rack, pulling it into the apartment and setting it inside the door. Perfect.

When I turned around, both Josh and Riker had their eyebrows raised in question.

I shrugged, feeling more self-conscious than I should. It wasn’t a big deal. Jeannette had wanted one for weeks, and I bought it with the intention of giving it to her for her birthday. Naturally, Jeannette went out and bought one a few days before I could give her this one. It had been sitting in my apartment for four months. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”

Riker smiled and, for once, seemed at ease. I wanted to reach up and test the stubble on his chin to see if it was as rough as it looked. My cheeks burned at the thought.
Why am I suddenly lusting after this guy?

“Thanks,” Josh said as he took the chips from me.

“You’re welcome,” I mumbled, desperately wanting nothing more than to escape. “I… uh…gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.”

I grabbed the door and closed it before either of them could say anything else. This was ridiculous. Riker didn’t go all jerk for two seconds and I suddenly wanted to paw at him. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath and calm my thoughts.

One thing stood out from the jumble of incoherency: when C.J. Riker wasn’t being a jackass, he was a pretty decent guy. It made my head spin.

It was the Friday before CeCe’s party and I’d just picked up a painting by a local artist for John Higgins’ new office when I received the call.

“Oh, Rena, honey, I’ve got some bad news,” CeCe began in her nasally voice. I could see her flipping her over-processed hair behind her shoulder. “There’ve been some…changes and I won’t be needing your services anymore.”

I almost dropped the two grand artwork from under my arm as I stepped inside my apartment. “I’m sorry, CeCe. Did I hear you wrong?”

“I’m afraid not, honey. I’ll get your last check into the mail tomorrow.” On that note, she hung up. No explanation. No reason.

I didn’t even get the chance to beg. Leaving the art in my spare bedroom-slash-storage area, I bolted from the apartment before the tears had a chance to escape.

McGovern’s was packed when I walked in. I kept replaying CeCe’s phone call in my mind, wondering where I went wrong or what I could’ve done differently. Nothing. I didn’t do anything that warranted this. I’d given in to her whims. I’d guided her away from the leopard print bedding to something much more tasteful. I’d found the tiniest of details she demanded, even the hula dancer lamp for her husband’s nightstand. I did nothing wrong. But I was fired.

I’d failed.

I found the lone open stool at the bar and ordered whiskey. I don’t like whiskey, but I ordered it. It was the only thing I could think of at the moment and it seemed like the perfect thing to get me so drunk that I could forget.

The bartender sat the glass, two fingers full, on one of those tiny napkins that serve no purpose other than to keep ring stains off the bar. Usually, a good beer will sweat through them anyway.

Who cares about a stupid napkin?

I picked up the glass and drank it in one shot. The whiskey tore down my throat, burning into my stomach. I almost gagged. And I ordered another.

“Something tells me that you’re not a fan of whiskey,” said the last person I wanted to see at the moment. Things had improved to amicable between us over the last week, but I didn’t need him to see me at my lowest.

“I’ve had a really shitty day, Riker, so just don’t.” I sipped the second drink and glanced at the bartender. He smiled, knowing I’d probably tip big if I thought he was cute enough. The way I was drinking, he would be totally hot by the end of the night.

“We’ve all had shitty days.” Riker turned toward me and his prosthetic leg banged against the bar. I doubted it was on purpose, but the point was made anyway. “Tell me about it.”

I laughed, harsh and loud. “You want me to pour my heart out to you? We barely know one another. Why would I… Are you insane?”

It was his turn to laugh. “I had a colonel ask me that once.”

Curiosity got the best of me. “And?”

Riker bent closer, his eyebrows nestling near his hairline. “And I like living on the edge, Rena. Didn’t you know that?” He cocked his head and leaned away, taking a sip of his drink. “So, tell me, what’s got you drinking like a Navy Seal on leave?”

I closed my eyes, draining the last bits of whiskey. It wasn’t so bad once I got used to it. I stared at the three ice cubes as they swirled around. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

Riker took my empty glass and waved for another. This time, the bartender sat it in front of me and walked away without any flirtatious looks. Too bad, he was kind of cute in a blurry way.

“Come on. Josh has a table outside.” Riker slid off the stool, catching his foot on his way down. He fell forward into my chest. With the booze heating me from the inside, having Riker’s lips so close to my breasts was enough to send me into supernova. Although, I think he was more embarrassed than I was turned on. He straightened up and pulled me from the barstool. “Fresh air might do both of us some good.”

You got that right, buddy. I need to cool off.
A waitress strolled by us, and I almost reached out to snag the tequila shot on her tray.

A band warmed up on the stage outside. Riker took my free hand and weaved through the tables toward Josh. My toes were numb, but my hand was warmed by his light touch. When we sat down, I didn’t want him to let go and was disappointed when he did.

And that was not good. I shook my head to clear it, which made me dizzy.

“Hey, Rena. Long time no see. How’s it going?” Josh’s voice was too high and too happy.

I glared at him.

“She’s having a bad night,” Riker answered as if this should explain it all.

Josh nodded. “Been there, done that. So what’s got you down?”

I downed my whiskey, plus Riker’s, and felt the world spin beneath my feet. What could it hurt to tell them? “I got fired,” I slurred.
When did my speech go all wonky?
“My biggest client fired me. For no fucking reason.”

Riker looked at me like I’d gone off my rocker. Or maybe he looked at me like I’d just told the funniest joke on the planet. I wasn’t so sure. He was leaning sideways and his face was all fuzzy. He reached out and put his hand on my arm. It felt warmer than the whiskey in my belly.

“You don’t hold your liquor well, do you?” Josh asked with a laugh that sounded like the wind chimes my mom had on her front porch. I hated those wind chimes.

“I do so.” A waitress sashayed by and I ordered another. I liked this. I felt free. “I feel fabulous.” Riker’s hand was still on my arm. I stared at it for a minute, then up at him. “Do you mind not manhandling me? Or is that how you get your kicks?”

Riker leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I’m the only thing keeping you from falling on the floor.”

I grinned and put my lips near his ear, replying in the same manner. “Keep telling yourself that. I think you just like the way I feel.”

“Maybe.” His hand slid up my arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

I turned my head slightly, inhaling the spicy smell of his aftershave. My lips brushed along his jaw and I felt him shiver. It was exactly how I imagined he would react. A thrill raced through me, beating my conscience into submission.

“Rena, you’re drunk,” he whispered, but he didn’t pull away.

“I prefer to think of myself as uninhibited.” I let my hand fall on his thigh, feeling the thick muscle tighten.

“I thought you hated me.” He scooted closer, pressing his rough cheek into mine.

I chuckled.
How could I hate him? He’s smart, sexy, and sweet. I don’t hate him.

Josh cleared his throat and Riker sat back in his chair. I stared at him, not sure what exactly was going on. Then I remembered where I was and who I was with, and I let out an inner groan. I had the whole angels on the shoulder issue, and the devilish one was winning. This wasn’t right. But I didn’t want to stop this game we’d begun.

The band started playing the blues and it felt so appropriate at the moment. I swayed to the music, ignoring Riker as he adjusted his chair and put his arm behind me. The waitress came and went, leaving behind two more whiskeys. I downed them both before Riker could reach for his. It was a good thing my apartment was within staggering distance. The song ended and the band jumped right into another one. Another drink, another song.

That was all I remembered from the night when I woke up the next day in somebody else’s bed.

The sun streamed in through the floor to ceiling windows, gently waking me from a deep sleep. I felt great as I opened my eyes. Then I realized my bed was in the wrong spot. I rolled over slowly, the full effects of a hangover hitting me as the sheets slid across my bare legs. My focus cleared and I was in a bedroom exactly like mine, except flipped and stark white. It didn’t make sense.

The shower shut off in the bathroom down the short hall. I covered my head, leaving enough room to peek out without being seen. If I was going to do a walk of shame, I wanted a clue as to who caused it. Besides Jack Daniels, that is.

Riker hopped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist. He glanced toward the bed before turning his back to me. It took everything I had not to scream in frustration and run out of the room. It wasn’t possible that I’d given into the one-night stand fantasies I had about him. I wasn’t
that
weak. Was I?

How in the hell did I end up here?
I tightened my grip on the duvet.

The towel fell from Riker’s hips, and not surprisingly, there wasn’t any clothing on underneath. It was hard not to check out his rear, but my eyes only grazed over it before moving to where his leg should’ve been. It had been severed beneath his left knee, jagged scars cutting along the back of his thigh. I wondered, not for the first time, what happened to make him lose his leg.

He sat in a worn leather chair and pulled a pair of black boxer briefs into his lap. I couldn’t see what else he was doing, but it didn’t take a Nobel Prize winner to figure it out. When he stood, it was on two legs. He glanced back at the bed, a smile creeping onto his flushed cheeks. Holy hell, Riker was surface of the sun hot on a normal day, but seeing him fresh from the shower made my legs sweat.

No matter how much I wanted to avoid this moment, it was time to wake up. I pulled the duvet down, realizing for the first time that I wasn’t wearing my own clothes. I looked down at the USMC t-shirt over a pair of plaid boxers and groaned. The bed buckled beside me.

“How’re you feeling?” Riker asked without his usual sarcasm.

I took a deep breath and sat up to face him. “Like I was hit by a train.”

He laughed and my ears rang.

I closed my eyes, ready for the truth. “What happened?”

The bed shifted again. I felt his breath on my neck, sending shivers to my toes. “Nothing.”

“What?” I leaned back enough to look him in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t say nothing, sweetheart. You
did
stick your tongue down my throat.”

I cringed, not at what he said but the crude way he said it.

“The next time you wake up in my bed, I want you to remember how you ended up here.” He eyes burned with the intensity of a volcano.

As I processed this, I thought for the briefest of moments that Riker was going to kiss me. And for the briefest of moments, I wanted him to. But he didn’t, and that hurt more than it should’ve.

Riker stood up with a self-important smirk, grabbed some clothes from the chair, and went down the stairs. I waited for a count of twenty before getting out of bed, the memories of the night before rushing in. Touching his thigh, his lips to my ear, and the softness of his hand in mine. Guilt uncoiled in my chest. He wouldn’t have done anything without my prompting. Here I was in his bed, checking him out like a piece of sirloin at the meat market. Riker wasn’t lying about my virtue staying intact. I laughed at the absurdity of that thought. My virtue was so far behind me, a rearview mirror wouldn’t help me see it.

Still, I wondered exactly how I ended up in Riker’s bed and in his shirt. I don’t know why I trusted him, but I did.

My clothes were strewn on a chair by one of the windows. I slipped on my jeans and gathered the rest. Riker would get his shirt back later. Maybe. As I crept down the stairs, I hoped that Riker would be gone. And I wondered why he had the loft bedroom instead of the more convenient one on the main level.

I stepped off the last stair, feeling relatively home free, until I saw Josh in the galley kitchen. I tried to tiptoe toward the front door, but he turned around and smiled through the open window that looked out into the living room.

“Sleep well?” He grinned and sat a plate on the counter full of eggs and bacon.

I glared at him as he motioned for me to take one of the stools. Dropping my clothes over the back of a worn green recliner, I sat down reluctantly as he put a cup of the best smelling coffee beside the plate. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled.

“Eggs cure the worst hangovers.” He shoveled a large forkful into his mouth from another plate. “Especially the way I make them.”