REDEEMING THE ROSE: GILDED KNIGHTS SERIES BOOK 1 Page 8

  “Tink.” Chuckling, I bring my drink up to sip. The more I have, the less shocking it is to my system as it goes down. “I forgot what it’s like to not know everyone. I guess as a transplant, every place and person is new to you.”

  “That’s the way it usually works when you move to a new town as a grown woman. People either wanna be my friend, or they think I’m gonna steal their husbands, despite the fact I don’t consider him all that sexy.”

  “Did you try to steal Tink’s husband?”

  She licks her bottom lip and shakes her head. “Not yet. Is he worth dying for?”

  I laugh under my breath and let my gaze drop to my hands on the bar. Nadia is annoyingly beautiful, the kind of beautiful where she knows it, and so she’s purposely in a guy’s face and has no regrets about it. “Why are you here?”

  “Because today sucked a little bit.”

  “I meant why are you in this town?” I glance over and meet her eyes. “Why here? Why my sister? Why not stay where you were?”

  “My business,” she retorts. “She’s sweet. And again, my business.”

  “The fact you won’t tell me your business leads me to believe it’s nefarious and unneeded in this town.”

  “Orrrr…” she counters and sips. “It’s merely none of your business, and I don’t bow down to the patriarchal bullshit where a man demands my obedience simply because. If you’re one of those guys, then it’s best we get that out in the open now. It’ll save us both a whole heap of drama over the years when we just can’t seem to get along.”

  “You plan to stay here for years?” I can’t help the way my lips wrinkle with disappointment. Why am I such an ass? Why do her living and work arrangements bother me so much? “Working for Abby?”

  “I liked my first day,” she answers. “So yeah, I think I’ll stay there.”

  “You said just a minute ago you had a shitty day. How can a shitty first day end with you still wanting to work there?”

  “Because the shitty had nothing to do with your sister or my future working in her shop. There was a minute there that was crap. It was fleeting, but dug its way into my soul. I’m still wound up from the buzz of a first day on the job, but exhausted at the same time, which means I figured a drink or two, and a crowd to appease my extroverted nature, was exactly what I needed.”

  “Extroverted.” Again, my lips wrinkle. “I don’t get you people. Don’t crowds eat your soul and kill your energy?”

  “I guess that means you’re an introvert,” she laughs. “Surprise, surprise. Grumpy dude is an introvert. Who’d have thought?”

  “You can go now.” With a huff, I turn back to study the bar. “You’re eating my soul and killing my energy, so it would be best if you moved along.”

  “Lies,” she counters so easily, so confidently that my gaze comes back to hers. “It’s actually a known fact I’m a giver. I do not suck souls dry, but rather, I feel good to be around. Everyone tells me so.”

  “Everyone lied to you.”

  She only rolls her eyes. “My smiles are fuel for people like you. My wit and charm, a recharge station. If one of us is the exhausting soul-sucker, it’s you and your ‘the whole world sucks and no one can be trusted’ bullshit.” Then she stops and smirks. “I don’t have to censor my swears for you, right? Are you going to need a safe space to sit and collect yourself?”

  My temper spikes and sends a single, dangerous brow up in warning. “Are you mocking my sister?”

  “No.” She snorts. “I’m mocking you. Abigail is the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Literally. She’s quiet but strong. Compassionate, but doesn’t allow a pity party for more than a minute. She’s witty, and beneath her goodie-goodie exterior, she has a small vein for petty retribution.” Nadia’s eyes twinkle with fun. “That vein excites me. I look forward to expanding it and pushing her further into the unknown.”

  “Which is why you can go now.” I bring my drink up and swallow it down the way a beer should be swallowed. “My sister does not need you in her life. She needs neither a mooch looking to steal from her, nor a daredevil friend who pushes her out of her shell and into a police station.”

  “You’d rather she stay squished inside that shell? No room to move, no room to grow?”

  “I’d rather you mind your own business and don’t concern yourself with things you have no clue about.” Chugging the last of my drink and regretting the way the vodka—tequila? Rum, maybe?—rushes to my brain, I slap the glass back to the bar and push up to stand. “If you remain employed at sister’s shop, then I expect you to do your job, and not a fuckin’ thing else. I don’t want you expanding her any-damn-thing. She doesn’t need a partner in crime, nor does she need a cheerleader for dumb shit.”

  I bring my eyes to Nadia’s, but now I’m looking down, and she, straight up, so her strong chin juts forward and could rest against my chest, if only there wasn’t a foot of space between us. Her pert nose is slightly longer at this angle, slightly more bent. And her lashes, dangerously long so they kiss her skin—and mine too, if not for that foot of space.

  No.

  Fuck.

  “I’m leaving. Make sure you get home safe tonight. No driving.” I’m not working, which means I can’t save you if you hurt yourself. With a shake of my head and a huff of disgust for myself, I toss a little cash onto the bar for the drink I never wanted, then turn away and head back the way I came only twenty minutes ago.

  My boots, the same boots I was wearing at work when I was standing in front of Harrison Fucking Best, clomp against the steel staircase so loud that the few patrons downstairs glance across at the noise I make. They quickly go back to minding their own business when they catch a glimpse of the rage in my eyes, which means they don’t catch the way my heart goes skittering when my clomp-clomp-clomp is replaced with a high-pitched click-click-click.

  “Wait!” Nadia’s voice is loud, attention-seeking, and gives absolutely zero fucks about what people may think of her chasing a man out of a dance club. “Mitchell!”

  I push faster, more determined, and head through the club exit into darkness. Turning toward my truck out of habit, I study the shiny chrome wheels, the sparkling paint I’ve not yet scratched up.

  My truck is the only new thing I own, the only shiny thing I actively went out and paid money for. Everything else, I wear, use, or consume until it ceases to exist. My shirts are ragged and holey, my jeans worn so thin that moving too fast is a threat against the seams. My boots are decent, but only because they’re supplied through work. And my haircut… well, I paid for clippers, and will wring every last second out of them till they die.

  When the alcohol in my blood races faster because of my haste, I blow out a heavy exhale and turn away from the truck, and instead, move toward the road. I can walk home. I’ll come back for my ride tomorrow.

  “Mitchell! Wait, jesus.”

  “Go away, Nadia.”

  “Do you have any clue how hard it is to run in heels?” And yet, she click-click-clicks and follows. “Mitchell! Wait a damn minute.”

  “It’s dark, Reynolds, and this isn’t the best part of town. You need to turn your ass around and go back to the club.”

  “Well, that’s a great plan and all, but I think I’d rather follow you until you stop thinking of me as annoying, and start thinking I’m cute.” Her racing heels turn quieter behind me. Not silent; she hasn’t stopped moving. But she’s no longer running. Too bad for me, I’m too proud to turn around and watch her walk. “I don’t know what I did that offended you so much.”

  “You sat down next to me.” Slowing my stride, since we’re getting further away from the club, and I’d feel like a dick if she got hurt because of me, I dig my hands into my pockets and bow my shoulders as I plow forward. “You slid up next to me in a club when I was Monday-drinking. That’s clearly a sign a man wants to be left alone to pout.”

  “I was Monday-drinking too. So why can’t we pout together? We could exchange woe-is-me stories and try to c
ompete over who has it worst. You’d win, since I have a shiny new job, an awesome new boss, and my bad thing was something that happened to someone else. I was simply absorbing that, and felt bad for her, so I wanted to drink away my sorrows for a minute.”

  “I don’t want to compete. I’d much rather be left alone.”

  I startle when Nadia’s arm wraps around mine and cinches us close together. Her hip touches mine as we walk, her shoulder brushes my bicep. “Don’t get too excited,” she says when my eyes snap down to hers. “I didn’t realize how dark it was out, and now you’ve got me walking into the middle of nowhere. I’m…” she hesitates. “Well… somewhat afraid of the dark. So now you’ve gotta escort me back to safety.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” With her arm around mine, I spin us on the spot and head back in the direction of the club. And lights. And her house. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “How do you know where I live?” She places her left hand over her right, so she’s not merely looping her arm around mine and walking, but she’s cuddled into my side and making my stomach dip. “I can’t say I’m not a little creeped out by you right this moment.”

  “I saw your CV on Abby’s table the other day.”

  “So you read it?” Nadia makes some kind of faux grunt of disgust in the back of her throat. “That’s rude.”

  “I’ve already made it pretty clear that I take care of my sister. I don’t trust you, but she’s half in love with you already. I’m not going to apologize for taking care of her.”

  “She told me some stuff today.” Resting her cheek on the ball of my shoulder, she glances up and tempts me—too fucking tempting—to look down and meet her gaze. “She was a sick kid, huh? She said that she had cancer a while back, and that’s why you’re the way you are.”

  I hate the way my stomach hollows out. The way my heart races. The way my palms grow sweaty.

  “She said you especially are invested in her health, because you donated bone marrow when you were sixteen.”

  “She shouldn’t be telling you that stuff.”

  “She said you forfeited an entire season of football because of the procedure, then you got some crazy infection in the hospital, which was painful and cost you another couple weeks of being laid up.”

  “We don’t want your pity.”

  She scoffs. “I wasn’t offering pity. I was offering you the knowledge I have. Abby said that because of what you did for her, you consider taking care of her now like taking care of your investment.”

  “Wait.” I bring us to a screeching stop so that Nadia stumbles and I have to catch her before she lands face-first on the road. “What?”

  “What?”

  “Investment?”

  “Yeah.” Shrugging, she looks up at me through those too-long lashes. “She thinks of what you do as a job. It’s not that you don’t love her, she knows you do, but she thinks you’re extra protective because you don’t want your sacrifice to go to waste.”

  “She said that?” The ache in my chest grows and blooms. It makes me think of an opening flower, but once it’s spread wide, the inside is black and mean, festering and poisonous instead of beautiful and sweet. “She thinks I regret helping?”

  “I never said regret.” Nadia turns front on again and forces us to walk. “She knows you love her. Geez, she knows. She won’t shut up about it.”

  “But she thinks I think of her as an investment?”

  “She thinks you’re extra vigilant because you want to make sure it was worth it.”

  “Of course it was worth it!” I explode. “She lived, didn’t she? She’s thriving and happy. Fuck. What does she think I’m gonna do? Tear her spine out if I catch her misbehaving?”

  “I, uh… don’t think that’s how it works,” she laughs. “Donating bone marrow does not equate donating a skeleton.”

  “I know! You think I don’t know that?” I force us to stop again, and even with Nadia’s hands on my arm, I bring my own up to rub my face. “Fuck. She’s got it all wrong. She’s…” I shake my head. “I have to call her.” I bring my hands down, drop one into my pocket, and fish for my phone. “It’s not how she th–”

  “Wait.” Stepping around in front of me, Nadia places a hand on mine and stops me from angry-dialing. “First of all, it’s dark out, and quite possible that she’s already in bed for the night. And second, what are you gonna do? Tell her you’re Monday-drinking with her brand-new assistant? That won’t bode well for me in my performance evaluation. No.” Shaking her head, she pulls me along and goes back to walking. “Let’s not throw that scrap of information into the ring just yet.”

  “So you’re ready and willing to lie to my sister. And you think I’m the right person to know that about you?”

  She scoffs, loud and obnoxious. “If you think you’re protective of her, you have no clue just how violently passionate she is about her brothers. She’ll tear my nails up one by one if she finds out I think you’re cute. She’ll rip my eyeballs out, one, then the other, until I agree to either marry you, or leave you be.”

  “Marry?” I exclaim. “The fuck are you talking about?”

  “Abby wants weddings and nieces and nephews,” she laughs. “Pronto. Which means she wants the forever women to come along. I’m clearly not that person, and therefore, will not pass muster to be hanging out with you over a glass of liquor and late-night shenanigans. And since I don’t qualify, she’ll hurt me to get me out of the way. You’re crazy if you think she’s some kind of innocent.”

  “You’re crazy,” I reply. Because that’s all my sheepish brain can muster. “Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Right,” Nadia snickers. “But I’m not a fly, am I? I’m a woman hanging out with her big brother. Now, tell me about your bad day.” She cuddles into my side again as we pass the club and head toward her street. “I was under the impression you should be working tonight. The fact you’re not is surprising, because something else I heard from your sister is that you’re a workaholic. Mitchell Rosa, the guy with no time for himself.”

  “I choose where to spend my time,” I reply defensively. “I just so happen to really like my job, which means I’d prefer to spend my time there, rather than at home touching a game controller.”

  “Yeah, it would be a total waste of time touching your joystick,” she counters with a smirk. “And by the way, preferring to spend your time at work is code for workaholic. It’s okay. The first step to recovery is admitting it.”

  “How about you mind your business?”

  She merely chuckles and cuddles in closer. The breeze is cool, just enough to bite at bare skin, but not so cool that either of us could wear a coat and not be too hot during our trek. “So why aren’t you at work tonight?”

  “My boss is an asshole.”

  “Ha, same,” she jokes. “Kidding. Mine is awesome. What did yours do to earn your wrath?”

  I draw in a deep breath so my lungs fill, and Nadia’s eyes flick to my chest for a moment. Then I exhale again and thrill in the way her gaze comes back to mine.

  I shouldn’t be thrilling at any damn thing; I shouldn’t be anywhere near this potentially no-good-for-my-sister, could-be scammer. But here I am anyway, and my heart trots a little faster than usual.

  “It’s not what he did to earn my wrath, but what I did to earn his.”

  “Interesting. What did you do?”

  “Made him look bad at the country club.”

  I roll my eyes when hers come back to mine. “I was on a job a little while back. An apartment building fire. I couldn’t save someone, and now it’s coming around to bite me. A family member of the deceased thinks it’s my fault they died. And my boss thinks that regardless of who died, I should have been more convincing about it all.”

  Nadia’s brows pinch together into a scowl. “How so?”

  “As in, my patient was already dead, I couldn’t save her, but her dad is pissed and thinks I could have done more. The building was collapsing, shit was falling. We
would have ended up dead if we didn’t move, but because he didn’t want to leave her, I had to physically pull him away, or he’d have died too. He thinks I should have saved her too.”

  Finally taking something seriously, Nadia speaks slower, her tone more thoughtful. “Could you have saved the patient?”

  I shake my head and swallow down the ball of disgust in my throat. “No. She was gone before I ever touched her. I tried to help her. I was working on a dead body and praying for a miracle. But once shit started falling, I had to make a choice, or there would have been a hell of a lot more fatalities.”

  “You being one of them.”

  “Me, the mother, the father, and Nixon, if he’d reached us like he tried to. My friend at work, Luc, he was coming to us too. And then there’s the rest of both crews, fire and medic, who’d have thrown down if one of their own got hurt. It would have been a bloodbath if I didn’t make my move.”

  “But the patient who died has left behind some who grieve, and those who grieve are making trouble for you?”

  I nod and lead us around a corner and onto a darker street. “Right. My boss cares more about his approval rating than he does about what we actually do on the front lines. We’re ordered to make him look good, no matter what.”

  “And what would he have you do in this particular situation? What would be his optimal outcome?”

  I like how she can discuss this in a way that is academic, but not disrespectful. I misjudged her when I thought she was either a scammer, a porn star, or a dumb blonde. So far, none of those seem to fit.

  “Honestly? He’d have had me and the father die on scene. It would be a bother for him to find more staff, but he would’ve benefited from the publicity of losing a worker on the job. He’d have spun it so that me and the dad went with the girl and were protecting her in the otherworld.”