Deep Blue (8 page)

I nudge her closer, just to be annoying.

She reaches back and pinches the thin skin on my forearm. It hurts like a bitch. I should never underestimate Gen in a test of physical prowess. The girl may be all that is elegance and poise, but she’s scrappy.

Point taken. Cali’s matchmaking operation is shut down. I’ve proven I’m a poor judge of mates.

I glance at Jaeger, who is inexplicably animated this evening. He’s actually doing the talking in a conversation with Adam. No matter what mistakes I made in choosing Eric, there’s no question that Jaeger is a good guy. And to confuse the situation even more, I don’t think Eric is a bad guy. He just wasn’t a good guy with me … which means good guys can be bad guys with the wrong girl …

My brain hurts.

I think I’ll give up this whole dating thing. Take a vacation from it. Focus on the future. Law school.

Okay, maybe just the immediate future, not the post immediate future, where life takes the turn I’m not ready for.

A sharp heel punctures my musings and my ballet flats, breaking the skin on the top of my foot. My gag reflexes activate.
Mothereffer!

Before I can even hop on one foot and attempt recovery, I’m knocked to the side by a bony hip as the wielder of the heel, wearing a cellophaned-on dress, latches on to Jaeger.

“We’re taking shots. Join us,” says the girl with … crap, I’m not even sure what color her hair is. It’s sort of striped—brown? blond?—it’s nearly impossible to tell. She yanks Jaeger away.

Jaeger hesitantly follows, glancing back without making eye contact.

I sip my beer, fighting the urge to throw my cup at her head. She’s all over him, and I hate it.

I hate it that I hate it.

Breanna and I talk for at least an hour, and I’m so proud of myself. I don’t look for Jaeger once. This is a massive accomplishment, because I’m obsessively glancing every few minutes at my iPhone to keep my subconscious occupied. However, in my colossal effort to keep from looking for Jaeger, I’ve lost Gen.

I remove my visual blinders in order to make sure my best friend hasn’t been roofied. I spot her a few feet away in a corner, loomed over by a medium-sized guy with a lightweight black jacket and hair product sculpted for the bedhead look. Gen in platforms is over six feet tall, so she must seriously be leaning away from him for her to be hidden by this guy.

The place is crowded. I try to determine the most efficient way to reach her when I spot Mason. He’s facing my direction and I wave for his attention. Amazingly, in all this chaos, he sees me and smiles. I gesture to Gen with a distressed look on my face.

Mason glances over and frowns. He immediately navigates his way through the crowd, slapping a large palm on the guy’s back. He pulls Gen out of the corner to his side. Casual words are exchanged between Mason and the unnamed male, then Gen and Mason walk off.

I catch Mason’s eye and give him a thumbs up. He nods in recognition, but instead of bringing her over, he walks across the room and up a flight of stairs. Gen doesn’t seem distressed. She’s grinning, so I assume this is okay with her.

Several more minutes pass as I listen to Breanna complain about Adam’s flirting with other women before I decide it’s time to check on Gen. “Breanna, watch my cup?” I hand her the beer I’ve barely touched. “I want to find out where Gen went.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She looks around, confused. “I didn’t see her leave.”

“I think she’s with Mason, but I want to make sure.”

Breanna’s mouth twists. “And interrupt? If she’s with Mason, they might be …”

Gen is the last person to have sex with a guy at a party. I’m 100 percent certain I won’t interrupt anything like that, but there’s a wide range in between. I hate to ruin Mason’s moves, but I’m not in the mood to trust anyone right now.

“I’ll cover my eyes before I walk through any doors.”

Breanna laughs. As we part, she turns to say something to Adam a couple of feet away, but he’s talking to a different girl this time. Breanna spins in the opposite direction and slams back her drink.

I do not see that relationship lasting. And I wouldn’t blame Breanna if she were the one to end it.

I round a corner at the top of the stairs and a hand reaches out and pulls me inside one of the bedrooms. “
Gahhh!
”

“It’s me,” Jaeger chuckles in my ear.

Nice. He thinks this is funny. He almost stopped my heart with that maneuver.

“
What
are you doing?” I punch him in the stomach, which only bruises my knuckles.

He looks down and shrugs it off, as if I patted him on the belly like a good boy. He guides me into the room by the shoulders. It’s small—a second bedroom that seems to serve as an office, with a couch against the wall.

Before I know what’s happening, Jaeger plasters me to his chest and falls backward onto the couch.

I’m sprawled on top of him, legs sliding off his waist in an inelegant partial straddle. He lies there with a goofy grin on his face, his arms loosely draped over my back.

I could get up if I wanted to, but I don’t. “Well, this is—” I glance pointedly at my position atop him. “—interesting.”

He squeezes me lightly.

Jaeger is enormous compared to most guys, but I’ve never felt afraid with him. In fact, lying on top of his warm, utterly masculine body is amazing, and oddly comforting.

I study the unguarded look in his eyes. He’s not as rumpled as Mason, but by my estimate, he’s three sheets to the wind. “How many beers does it take to topple a giant?”

Jaeger squints and raises one hand. His fingers flick as if he’s counting. After an absurdly long time, in which I yawn and examine my nails while lying on my hot man-chaise, he finally says, “Twelve? No, fourteen—we downed two this morning.”

“Fourteen! How are you even conscious?” I press my fingers to his neck, pretending to check for a pulse.

His baseball glove–sized paw captures my hand and flattens it against his chest, his eyes closing contentedly. After a second of hesitation, I lay my head below his chin and consider how strange this moment is. I’m on Jaeger, in a loverlike pose, only he’s
my friend
. And yet, this is the only place I want to be. I won’t analyze that thought too closely.

After a minute, Jaeger’s breathing changes.

What the …
He did not just fall asleep. We may be friends, but I’m still
a woman
, and, I like to think, fairly attractive.

I squirm a little to test my theory. He doesn’t move. A light purr emanates from his throat, growing deep and steady.

Goddammit, he did fall asleep!

Great. Just great. What does it say when a guy passes out with a girl plastered on top of him? The hits to my ego just keep on coming.

I press one ear to his wide chest, listening to him breathe. After a while, it grows creepy—on my part, not his—so I roll off my man-chaise and stand, collecting the remains of my dignity. I wouldn’t mind cuddling longer, but in Jaeger’s unconscious state, that would make it weird.

Exiting the room quietly on a frustrated sigh, I close the door behind me. This party was just getting fun, hanging out alone with Jaeger.

Down the hall another door opens. Gen walks out, followed by Mason. She sees me and relief washes over her face.

What did Mason do? I spear him with a glare. He nods with barely a glance at me, and continues down the hall and around the corner.

“Are you okay?” I ask Gen.

“Yeah.” Her face is calm, so I relax a little. She glances after Mason. “I’ll explain in the car.”

And she does. It turns out the party was a bust all around.

Mason tried to kiss Gen in his bedroom and she dodged it. I tried to cuddle with Jaeger and he passed out. No one got lucky tonight. Not my goal, but still.

My brilliant plan to help Gen is in a shambles and my own relationship drama battles hers for biggest disaster.

“Yo, sis, what’s up? I was just thinking about you.”

My slightly overprotective brother, Tyler, is a slob, but he’s a good brother and I could really use his company. “What do you think about coming for a visit?” I say over the phone.

Tyler is a community college teacher with summers off, so he’s available. As long as I don’t tell him about Eric—he hates my ex—having Tyler around will help take my mind off things. There’s a small voice in the back of my head that wants to pump Tyler for information about his old high school buddy Jaeger, but I’m ignoring it.

He chuckles into the line. “Funny you should ask, because I’m here.”

“What? Where?”

“With Mom. Came out to see her new digs.”

My mom just bought her first house, in Carson City. She’s rented her entire life, so this is huge.

“You should check it out. It’s not much, but she’s proud. It would mean a lot if you came.”

Jesus, as hard as my mom worked at the casinos to put Tyler and me through college,
I’m
proud. She only recently relocated to Carson. She’s got a stable job with benefits there. It pays less than what she made in Tahoe, but Carson City has lower living costs. “I will, I promise. I’ve been getting settled with my job and all, but I’ll come out as soon as I can.”

“Well, don’t take too long, or you’ll be leaving again.”

For grad school. How could I forget?

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

“About what?” Tyler doesn’t know about my reservations over school. I’m avoiding thinking about them, but they’re fixed in my subconscious.

“Dude, what’s up with you? About me driving out.”

“Oh. I already said I want you to come.”

“Cool. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Everything all right?”

I wouldn’t call my brother the most perceptive male, but he can be at inopportune times. “Yeah, fine.”

And it will be. Now that things are officially over with Eric, I’ll eventually move on. It’s everything else that has me screwed up. At some point I’ll have to address school. Just not now.

Two hours later, Tyler walks in the door and drops his duffel on the dark brown wall-to-wall carpet of our rental house. We picked this place for its proximity to the lake, but it’s the size of a dog kennel and the furnishings look like something from a seventies sitcom.

Tyler lifts his brows wearily. “Where do you want me?” He peeks inside the single bedroom. “I don’t mind spooning with Gen, but you snore.”

“I do not snore!” I punch him in the arm and he grins. “You can sleep in the loft.” We both tip our heads back to view the alcove above the kitchen.

We have a single bedroom, but there’s a small loft up there with a sketchy pull-down ladder. Neither Gen nor I wanted to risk our lives to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, so we share the queen downstairs.

“Leave your stuff here, there’s not much space up there.”

His gaze is dubious. “Is there a bed?”

“There’s a full mattress on the floor. You’ll be fine.”

Tyler digs into his duffel, already spilling shit across our living room floor.

“Tyler, our place is small. Rein in the clutter.”

He bites into the PowerBar he unearthed from his crusty bag and scratches his flat belly. “Can’t. Not my nature.”

This argument’s a losing battle. He’s totally right and sometimes I wonder how he manages to attract as many women as he does. Physically, I suppose he’s good looking. His hair is wavy and a little longish and hipster, especially when paired with his dark reading glasses. I’m not going to call the color
red
, because he’d kill me and it’s not totally accurate. Let’s call it
chestnut
—a medium brown with red highlights. Lots of red highlights. Neither of us are carrot tops like our mother. I am forever grateful for our father’s plain brown hair.

Tyler and I both have pale blue eyes, and that’s probably our most redeeming physical quality. I often get complimented for mine by the opposite sex. I assume he does too. Add to that a six-foot-two athletic build, and I suppose some women might find him attractive, if you look past his slovenly ways, flash temper, and myriad other annoying habits I’ve had to live with all my life. As a brother, though, he’s protective, funny, and loyal.

Over the next couple of days, Tyler and I hit our favorite food spots and he visits me at the casino. He brought his mountain bike, so when I’m sleeping in the a.m. after working late, he entertains himself on the trails with a buddy still living in town.

Having Tyler around has been good for my morale. I’m feeling sorry for myself and Tyler keeps me distracted. He has no patience for mopers and is highly vocal about it—usually in the form of an insult that pisses me off and snaps me from my depression.

The weekend’s almost here and I’m working tonight, but Tyler has dropped in for a visit. He’s gambling at my table and I’m kicking his ass, which is sweet music because he always beat me at cards growing up.

“Damn, Cali, when did you become a shark?”

I’m trying to act professional, but I can’t help shooting Tyler a smug look when my customers aren’t looking. I have three decks in my dispenser, which reduces a player’s ability to make predictions. Tyler counted cards when we were kids. He is disabled at Blue.

Despite my best intentions not to, I’ve obsessed over asking Tyler about Jaeger. I don’t want to give my brother the wrong impression. Knowing him, he’d assume I had a thing for his buddy and get all overprotective. But it’s been long enough since his arrival that I think it’s safe to venture onto the subject.

My last real customer saunters off and I deal Tyler another hand, ever-so-casually saying, “So, I think I ran into one of your friends from high school. Do you remember that athlete, Jaeger?”

“Jaeg?”

Jaeg
. That’s why his name was familiar, but not. He went by a nickname in high school. “Yeah, isn’t he the one you said was going to the Olympics?”

“For skiing. Of course I remember him—he was one of my best friends. But he’s not going to the Olympics—or he didn’t go.” Tyler swipes his hand for a hit, and then hits again after I deal the card. He busts with a king, a three, and a nine. “Shattered his knee. Sort of dropped off after that.”