Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (12 page)

I tilt the cup forward slowly; the aroma burns my nose and makes me tear up.
 

“How have you never had vodka? Did you actually go to college or is it just a cover story for four years of Bible camp?”

“I drink beer,” I blink the water from my eyes.

“Gross,” Sydney comments, taking another drink from her cup.

“You asked for a glass just the other night.”
 

“That’s different. I was already drunk. Otherwise I can’t stand the taste of that crap.”

I rest my untouched cup down beside me. “Well I like the taste just fine. And it doesn’t get me drunk. Just makes me feel nice.”

Sydney cocks her head to the side. Then she hops off the futon and settles down cross-legged next to me. “All right, on the count of three,” she nods toward my cup. “You ready. One,” she says.

I pick the cup up and bring it to my lips.

“Two.”

I close my eyes.
 

“Three.”

Though it’s pretty much room temperature the liquid feels cold on my tongue. At first it burns but as it travels down my throat and spreads out in my chest it switches to warm. And a tingle runs up my spine. I grind my molars and fight against a shudder. “W—wow.” I take a deep breath through my nose. “How do you drink this stuff?”

Sydney laughs. “You get use to it. Besides this is nothing. This is the good stuff.” She tops up our cups despite my hand of protest. “To sisters, cousins, moms and dads.”

I can’t leave a toast like that hanging, so I join her, tilting my head back and allowing the drink to easily slip down my throat. This time I only flinch a little.
 

“How’d you end up here?” I ask.

She leans her head on the mattress and swivels it to look up at me. “In Washington?”

“Yeah. I mean Sweetwater to Seattle is a big change.”

“One I needed,” she responds with a soft sigh. “I just needed to get away. After…dad.”

“I know what you mean.” I couldn’t wait to leave Idaho knowing what had happened to my parents. Knowing the history that place held. It was like being haunted everyday of my life. Living in my great-grandmother’s house, seeing pictures of my mom everywhere. And not a word about my dad. It was like living in the middle of a mystery. Mariah was the opposite. She loved living on that farm, in that tiny little house away from civilization. But I couldn’t even stand to breathe the air there anymore. “Bad memories,” I add.

“Good ones too. Mostly good ones.” She raises her head up and swivels her whole body, propping herself up on one arm. “You are the only one I’m telling this to, so you have to swear—”

“I’d never. You can trust me.”

She pauses, licks her lips then smiles. “Thanks.”

I nod for her to continue.

“I didn’t leave Sweetwater because it was too country and I’m a city girl at heart. Okay, I am a city girl at heart, but I didn’t know that until I got here. I left because…I didn’t want to think about my dad every day for the rest of my life. And, yes, part of me was afraid I’d live out my days as some guys housewife and never live up to my true potential, but mostly I just couldn’t get him off my mind. Everywhere I looked, everything I touched, reminded me of my dad and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

I reach out and take her hand. Her fingers squeeze mine and she continues.

“He died broke, you know. Most people don’t know that. It wasn’t his fault. Not really. He was fifty-six. And up until that point, he worked his ass off. But he spoiled my mom. Bought her anything she wanted. Then out of the blue he has a massive heart attack and everything changes. He was a Texas Ranger. Which was so cool. You know what it’s like to tell people your daddy’s a Texas Ranger.” Sydney chuckles. “Instant popularity, that’s what it’s like.” She lets out a shaky sigh and releases my hand to pour herself another drink. “Of course he had to retire. And he got his pension but medical bled us dry. My mom was determined for him to get better. She wanted to try everything. Every medication, every surgery. By the time we buried him we had nothing but the house. We won’t sell. We can’t. So she ran away to Florida. I swear it’s the only reason she married that man. And me? Well, obviously I don’t want to live there. So it’s…just there.”

“Jeez,” I say. I don’t know how else to respond.
 

Sydney takes a swig of her drink then reaches over to top me up. “Alright, enough of this weepy talk. We’re supposed to be drowning our sorrows not fishing for ‘em.”

By the fourth drink, twenty minutes later, I feel like seasoned pro, but when I reach for more, the bottle is empty.
 

“Didn’t I tell you you’d get the hang of it?” Sydney asks, with a giggle. “Shoot,” she adds. “We just blew four thousand dollars.”

We’re both lying on our backs, staring up at the ceiling, which I’m pretty sure is starting to spin. As usual my senses are heightened. I feel and hear everything—Sydney’s breath on my cheek when she turns to say something, the sound of both our hearts beating, the feeling of the hard floor beneath my back.
 

“Yeah,” I say. “I feel…I don’t know what I feel.” Despite my improved senses, my tongue is swollen and my eyes are droopy. I push up to a sitting position and my head begins to swim. “Damn,” I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for the world to stand still again.

“Drunk much?” Sydney laughs.

I rise to my feet. “I don’t get—”

Sydney catches me as I stumble forward. “Drunk?” she asks. ”You’re drunk now soldier.”

I reach out for the bed, stumbling into it and fall onto my back. “Oh, no,” I groan, closing my eyes again to slow the constant spins. “This feels really wrong.”
 

“Just give it a minute,” Sydney says from somewhere in the room. “Once it settles you’ll be alright.”

How this little bit of a woman isn’t knocked out right now is beyond me. She’s less than half my size and seems totally unaffected.
 

I lie there, my mind starting to run wild again. But it isn’t the clarity that comes with a pitcher of beer, it’s a million thoughts swirling around, crashing into each other. And making a colossal mess.

I shouldn’t be here. That sentiment is stronger than all the others. Not because I’ll embarrass myself further than I already have, but because I really want to be here. I haven’t felt this normal in a long time. I sneak a glance at Sydney. She’s chewing on the rim of her cup and staring off into space.
 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

Her gaze meets mine and she smiles. It hits me in the center of my chest and I have to force myself to look away.
 

“Life. Crazy, unpredictable, anti-death.” She snickers. “What about you?”

“I’m thinking I’m glad I came here instead of crashing at Jimmy’s place, or in my truck. I like being here. With you.”

That didn’t just happen. I stare at her, wide-eyed, hoping I’ve only said that in my head. But it’s clear by the way she shifts in place, that she’s heard every word.

“I didn’t mean…”

Sydney clears her throat and tips her cup. She doesn’t look at me as she sucks the rest of her drink back. A few moments later she responds with, “God, you’re drunk.”

“I am,” I say and ease up to a sitting position.
 

Vodka clearly has a different effect on me than beer, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe what I need to do is say what I feel more often—in the moment that I actually feel it. I take a deep breath. I have two choices here; I can backtrack, blame it on the booze and laugh it off. Or I can be honest about what’s happening to me.
 

I’m falling for her. I look at her and my heart skips a beat. I find her odd gestures and outbursts endearing and even though she doesn’t look like most of the girls our age—she smells like soap instead of perfume, she doesn’t have weirdly long eyelashes, her lips aren’t unnaturally shiny and it doesn’t even look like she wears makeup—it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need it. Her skin is perfect, creamy looking, like if I touched it, it’d feel like feathers. There’s something about her that’s just…so damn hot.
 
Something that makes me want to stare at her all the time. Kind of like I am right now. I’m totally into her and I can’t help myself.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “Do you want some water, maybe?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I’m drunk too. Just like you said. But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean what I said. I really am glad I came here tonight and I really do like being with you. I like you.” I get down on my knees and sit on the floor next to her, then reach up to touch her face. “Can I kiss you, Sydney? I really want to kiss you.” I smile. “Again.”

“Um, I don’t know if—”

I don’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. I don’t believe I should. Maybe it’s rude or even a little presumptuous, but I can see in her eyes what I feel in my heart. It sounds cheesy as hell, but I’m pretty sure she wants me to kiss her too.

Holy shit, he’s kissing me. This hot, sculpted, incredible smelling, totally firm, jock is touching me. At will. StingRay Carlson’s lips are on top of mine and they feel fucking incredible. He’s holding my face between his hands. He’s pulling me closer. And he’s making cute little noises.

Wait. Was that a burp? Gross. Definitely a burp.

Before I can process, Ray jumps to his feet and bolts toward the bathroom. The gagging and hurling sounds that follow make me cringe.

“Are you okay?” I call.

Ray responds with a groan.
 

Shit.
 

I gingerly make my way to the bathroom. Before I’m even standing outside the door, my hand is covering my mouth and nose. As always, it goes down nice and comes out rotten.
 

“Hey,” I say, doing my best to hold my breath. “Why don’t you get out of those clothes? You can jump in the shower and I’ll run them down to the laundry.”

Ray nods, still not turning to face me. “All right.”

“There are towels in that drawer over there. I…don’t think I have anything that will fit you, but it shouldn’t take long to run your clothes through the washer. Just leave them outside the door, okay?”

He nods again. “Thanks.”

“Aren’t you drunk at all?” Ray sips his cup of coffee and wrinkles his nose. “This stuff is terrible.”

“Does the job.” I smirk. “Sobers you up, but not too much. And yes, I’m drunk. Kind of. I just know how to hold mine.”
 

I toss his freshly cleaned boxers in his direction and turn my back. “We should get some rest. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow.”

We haven’t talked about the kiss. In fact, he’s avoided looking at me for the last hour and half. He just sat there, wrapped in a towel, leaned back on the armchair.

His chest is smooth, which I totally didn’t expect, considering the amount of hair on his arms. I wonder if he shaves. I’m so tempted to feel how smooth his skin is it’s killing me. This guy needs to cover up, before I lose my mind and jump him.
 

Damn it. I considered him attractive the first time I saw him. All right, so his looks validated his god status in my eyes. And after that first kiss at The Rainier I fantasized about doing it again. But now? His lips were so soft and warm. And his kisses were strong, but not aggressive. I’ve never been kissed like that. Josh was a terrible kisser. Sloppy and disgustingly wet. But Ray? It’s like he’s been practicing all his life. Who am I kidding? Of course he has. Just look at him.

He steps into my view. “I’m decent,” he says, then he sighs. “And exhausted.”

“You take the futon,” I say.

“No way. I’ll sleep on the floor. “

“You have to drive tomorrow. You need the rest.” If I have to have a perfect view of his bare chest and bulging thigh muscles for the rest of the night, I’m not going to sleep. And yes, I’ll probably jump him.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll share.”

What? No.

“I’m fine on the floor,” I say. “It’s okay. You’re my guest.”

“And I almost puked on you.”

My heart slams against my chest and Ray drops his gaze.
 

Yes, but not before you kissed me and rocked my fucking world. There’s no way I can sleep in the same bed as him. I don’t even know how I’m going to sleep in the same apartment without having embarrassing and quite possibly revealing dreams.

“I’ll take one end, you take the other. “ He tosses me my pillow and I narrowly catch it.
 

Then I follow him over to the bed and climb in, pressing myself as close to the wall beneath the window as possible.
 

Ray eases in next, lying on his back and draping an arm over his forehead. “Never again,” he moans. “Just beer from here on out.”

I giggle and hug my pillow to my chest. I successfully out drank a guy. No a six-foot three, two hundred fifty pound jock. Not that I should be super proud of the accomplishment, but it is pretty funny.

“Are you seriously laughing at me right now?” Ray asks, his voice gravelly.

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his breath as it wavers and then grows steady. I tune out my own breathing and the distant sirens, as I imagine his face just a little closer to mine. And the way his breath would feel against my cheek. I don’t know how much time passes but sleep won’t come. Ray has begun to snore lightly and I get the annoying urge to snuggle up beside him.
 

Shit. What is wrong with me? Well, other than the fact that he’s insanely hot and lying half-naked at the other end of my bed? Oh and that I made out with him for the second time in two days. Even if it was only for thirty precious seconds?

I sigh.

It’s got to be at least three in the morning and I’m wide awake—certain parts of me more than others. I squeeze my legs together and hug my pillow tighter.
 

Then I take a deep breath through my nose, trying my damnedest to catch a scent of him. And that musky cologne he wears. But all I smell is my cocoa butter soap and vanilla scented dryer sheets. If I could just touch him. Maybe that’ll satisfy me. Then I can stop fantasizing about the way his smoldering skin felt against mine and finally get some sleep.