Stay With Me (22 page)

“What are you smiling about, beautiful?”

“I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Been waiting on you, darlin’.”

My eyes went from blissful to slightly squinty. I could do without all the nicknames. I mean, my parents had given me a perfectly serviceable name. Sometimes they’d told conflicting stories about how they’d decided to give it to me, but still. I
had
one.

“Mackenzie.”

Exactly.
See, Jordan knew my name. Wait, that hadn’t just been in my head.

My head whipped around to see Jordan standing in the aisle next to our seats, giving me a decidedly unpleasant look. I felt guilty. Caught. As if I was doing something wrong. And then I remembered. Oh, yeaaaah. I let him fuck me and then he didn’t call. What did
I
have to feel guilty about? What, should I have been pining at home with my phone clutched in my cold, lonely fingers? I was
glad
. Glad he saw me out with a hunky, cute guy living my life.

“Jordan,” I said neutrally.

He looked good. He
always
looked so damn good.

Rachel stood a scant two inches behind him, as if they were attached by Velcro, looking effortlessly fabulous, as usual.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

My eyes cut to Rachel, and I smiled sweetly. “Obviously. Hey, Rachel. Good to see you again.”

Hopefully, Jordan would know what I really meant, which was
I’d cut a bitch if I could
.

She smiled politely, clearly unsure of why we warranted anything other than a brief wave and a hello. “Nice to see you too. You were at Jordan’s party, right?”

“Good memory.”

Jordan was ignoring both of us and was squinting, laser-like, at my redheaded companion. “This a friend of yours?” He pointed to Darcy.

I shrugged. “I tried going to movies with my enemies, but it just wasn’t the same.”

Darcy grinned. “Is he always like this?”

Jordan sighed. “Unfortunately. My name is Jordan, by the way.” Pointedly. He all but said, “And you are?”

Luckily, my date was just as clueless to the presence of tension as he was handsome. “Darcy. Good to meet you.”

There was an awkward silence that settled between us.

“I talked to Drew,” Jordan said. “He told me you were on the job tonight.”

“I finished early,” I said sanguinely. “So I called a friend.”

He flashed a smile that wasn’t a bit genuine. “Good to know your phone is still working.”

I smiled. “It is.”

The cartoon popcorn and its goofy looking soda companion danced across the screen, and Rachel tugged at Jordan’s arm. “Honey, we should get to our seats.”

“Good to meet you, Jordan. Rachel.” Darcy gave them a friendly wave and resettled his pillow behind his head.

Jordan’s jaw went tight, and I wondered if the cool, always-collected Jordan would cause a scene. God knows I wanted to. It took everything in me to remain detached and aloof, when all I wanted to do was get closer to him. Put my hands on his face and kiss all the objections out of that gorgeous head. And I knew then that my date was over. Getting over Jordan wasn’t really an option right now, and Darcy was far too good to be used. Too bad he wasn’t an asshole. Crap. That made me even more annoyed than usual.

I looked pointedly at the crowd building behind him. “You’re blocking the aisle.”

He narrowed his eyes at me before Rachel ushered him on, and I pretended absolute ignorance as the chairs behind us squeaked. The little shit was sitting right behind us. I could hear their whispers, probably as she questioned his bizarre behavior and he made up something to spin it away. I could smell him, even over Darcy’s atomic cologne cloud. I could even feel his eyes making the back of my chair rather prickly. I was glad the chairs were so big he couldn’t see my head, because my ears were definitely turning pink.

Darcy leaned close after the first preview finished. “We should see that,” he whispered somewhere near my ear.

“We should,” I nodded. We wouldn’t. Not unless he understood that we could only be friends.

His tongue took advantage of the closeness by traversing down the shell of my ear, and I shivered a bit.
No
, I told myself sternly as his teeth sank into my lobe. No to whatever my asshole, which had decided that involuntarily clenching was an acceptable activity, was thinking. After a quick glance at his lap, I bit my lip. No to whatever his dick, clearly visible through his worn jeans, was thinking. That wasn’t fair to either one of us. When I turned my face to tell him so, his mouth landed on mine, and I wasn’t capable of speech for a minute or more. I blinked as he pulled away, feeling a little confused.

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

He took my chin in his hand, and suddenly I was forced to meet those velvety brown eyes. They were warm but perceptive. Hmph. I guess Darcy understood a little more than he let on. “So he’s the reason you took so long to call me?”

“Maybe,” I whispered.

His lips misted over mine again. His tongue dipped into my mouth this time, briefly, before he ended the kiss. “When you’re done playing in the closet, we’ll go out again.”

I flushed. “That’s fair.”

He groaned, letting go of my face and scrubbing hands down his own. “Nothing is fair about me not getting to tap that sweet ass.” He peeked through his fingers. “Unless….”

I grinned. “Dream on. Thanks for the hard-on before a two-hour movie, by the way.”

He flashed a white grin my way. “Just reminding you of what you’re taking a pass on. And why I’d be worth it.”

Damn.
I snorted. I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew Jordan would be a cock blocker the first day I met him.

I munched on popcorn as the lights went low. Damn me for not calling him before I fused my brain to that closet case. Damn me for not meeting him first. My questing fingers reached the nonbuttery part of the popcorn too soon. Damn the teenaged Kirk Cameron look-alike working the butter dispenser. Someone who thought eighties teen idol was a good look shouldn’t be trusted to dispense buttery goodness. And I
needed
butter if I was going to die alone, wrapped in an afghan. Anything else was just inhumane.

T
HE
AC
unit shut off, sighing like a great beast, and almost on automatic, my legs did the Russian Cossack dance. The covers went flying. I wasn’t hot. Or cold. I was… restless. Waiting for… something. Nothing?

In lieu of my old nighttime ritual—that smoky, delicious, lung-killing bitch, nicotine—I’d decided to give tossing and turning a try. I wouldn’t break, no matter how much I wanted to. It had been a month since my last, and I was making good on this promise. But sometimes late at night, when the mood was right and the silence was good, I wondered if my fingers would always itch for her papery touch and her smoky kiss.

I wondered if Nick still smoked. What he was doing. Feeling. Wondered what he’d think of this Jordan situation, certainly. And if he agreed that Drew’s bitchy observations about my patterns were correct. That was certainly the bad thing about dating friends. When you broke up, you lost in more ways than one.

Before I knew what I was about, I was putting in my iPhone code and pressing an old number. I listened as it rang with bated breath, half hoping to get his answering machine and not his actual—

“Hello?”

“Hey. Nick. It’s….”

Oh, jeez, did you say “it’s me” after so long? Or it’s Mackenzie. He knows who it is; he has caller ID. For Pete’s sake, say something before—

“Mac? Are you still there?” The warmth in his voice made my legs go a little weak. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Nick. I’ve been… busy.”

“Uh-huh. Busy.” His tone made me grin. “Too busy to return my damned calls? Why’re you ducking me?”

“I… I don’t know.” I really didn’t. I guess playing the injured prima donna suited me better than facing our past relationship like a mature adult. But I wasn’t going to
say
that.

“Well, at least you’re here now. I have a ton of crap to tell you. I don’t know how we’re going to catch up,” he lamented.

I laughed. “We should start at the beginning, I guess.”

And it was just that easy. He told me stories of meeting Peyton and tsked when I told him about Trevor. We laughed over the hilarious trials and tribulations of running the bed-and-breakfast and were nearly reduced to tears over my telling of spying on that Girl Scouts meeting. And as always, he made me retell my first day on the job hijinks, which he laughed at as if it was the first time.

His laughter finally reduced to chuckles. “Jeez, Mac, no one can make me snort with laughter like you do. I mean, what’s it been, like four years?”

“Five.” My throat felt tight. Too freaking long. That was the problem with disposing of old friends—leaving pieces of yourself behind with each one. You could make new friends, but there were only a few who knew what you looked like back in college. Less who remembered what your first day on the force was like, when you locked a perp, your badge, and your gun inside your running patrol car. Less still who’d held you late at night after your mother ran off on your family, letting you cry until you felt like an emptied-out husk of your former self.

I snapped my fingers for Finn to jump up on the bed—he was horrible at fetch, tricks, and Frisbee, but he was a champion at snuggling, especially for the difficult times. Then my forgetful mind remembered anew that Finn wasn’t there.

Only when Nick snorted did I realize I’d spoken aloud. “I remember when you got that mutt from the shelter. I can’t believe you let that prick have your dog.”

“I didn’t
let
him do anything,” I said, annoyed. “One day I came home and Finn was gone.”

“Jeez. You can pick ’em, can’t you?”

“I picked you, didn’t I?”

“I picked
you
, dear. Man, that Alzheimer’s is a bitch, isn’t it?”

I had to admit—he was right. He
had
done the picking up, on a three-hour flight to Los Angeles, talking my ear clean off while I tried to sleep and ignore the chatty blond. Somewhere over the Sierra Mountains, I’d slammed my mouth over his—I maintain, just to shut him up. We’d spent the weekend in Santa Monica, holed up in his aunt’s cottage, making fun of her California cooking (bean sprouts and sushi mostly) and getting to know each other. We hadn’t been apart much after that.

“You picked me in that you were a chatty fucking monkey, yes. But I made the first move.”

“Well, you
were
sluttier, dear. But if I hadn’t pushed, you would have spent that whole flight scrunching your neck pillow into a ball against the window.”

“In peace.”

“Peace, schmeace. There was no way I was getting off that plane without your number, graduation or no.”

“My dad was so pissed, especially since I gave them the lamest excuses ever for disappearing that entire weekend.” I grinned, remembering how I’d made excuses why I couldn’t
possibly
stay another minute at Robert’s graduation celebration before blowing off the after-party. Hey, no one told him to go all the way to USC.

“It was worth it. I knew from the moment I spilled that Coke on your tray table and you said—”

“Watch it, you freaking klutz.”

“Exactly. And I knew then,” he continued dramatically, “that we were meant to be.”

I chuckled. “You’re a fool, you know that?”

“It didn’t hurt that you had those dreamy hazel eyes and ridiculously long lashes. And an ass to shoot dice off of.”

My face was a little red. “Does Peyton know you talk to strangers like this?”

He laughed. “Peyton’s right here. He can admire a work of art like your ass. And he’s very secure.”

As if on its own, my hand migrated to the nightstand drawer. I glanced over, seeing all manner of items I wouldn’t need tonight—my meloxicam, a pack of gum, my safety pack of Newports, a lighter… condoms. Lube.
Certainly
wouldn’t need those tonight. I grimaced, releasing the silver knob, and the drawer slid shut. Habit was all it was. Talking to Nick brought me back to a damned good place, a place where we could talk for hours and smoke one or five.

That was then. Listening to Nick wax on about Peyton reminded me, more than anything else, that this was now. I reached back in and tossed my Newports in the bedside trash can.

“We never thought we’d be B and B owners. It’s a lot of work but totally worth it. It’s really amazing in the wintertime, and you should see the deer….” He trailed off and then laughed self-consciously. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No,” I said, meaning it. “I haven’t heard your voice in forever. I missed this. I missed… you.”

“Well, why didn’t you call? I left the relationship, Mac. I didn’t leave you.”

I sighed. “I know that. Now. There was so much anger between us… from me,” I corrected at his automatic protest. “I was pissed because of the accident, pissed that I couldn’t be a cop anymore… scared at the new changes in our life. Mine. Yours. Especially yours.” I was silent for a moment before forging on. “Do you think I don’t believe in love? Drew said I pick relationships that are destined to fail, as if to prove that love is a joke. Doesn’t exist.”

I flopped onto my stomach, burying my face between the pillows. All I needed to complete the picture was to swing my legs back and forth while twirling a long phone cord. (Sorry, I’m old.) My ramblings nearly blinded me to the fact that Nick hadn’t answered my question for several minutes.

“Do you think that’s true?” I prodded.

I could almost see his shrug. “Probably.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Well, do you want me to lie?”

Yes.
“No,” I said, begrudgingly. “Why do you think that is?”

“Jesus, Mackenzie, should I pull out the psychiatric couch?”

“If you need one to answer a simple question,” I shot back.

“Like this is a simple question.” He sighed. Gustily. “Probably because of what your mom did. I know I would be hurt. Pissed. Down on love. So even though you say you are looking for love in your many…
many
relationships—”