Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (8 page)

The Peter Edward Williams test was a tough one, and humiliating. The thought of subjecting Indigo, and myself, to the PEW turned my stomach. But Pete was right. Listening to his insight would have spared my suffering during and after the year of Nikos.

My phone chimed. When I checked my inbox, I found his text:
Had a great time. Nice meeting you ... officially.  Now you have my number - Indigo.

"W
ho does he remind you of?" I snapped the kitchen radio on, extracted my burning feet from my sneakers, then peeled off my clinging pants and kicked them into a corner.

"Not sure." Em's voice quavered as she hopped from one foot to the other, removing her running shoes.

"Come on. Tell the truth. Who's one of the hottest bloodsuckers you know?"

"Damon?" She grabbed two ice-cold waters from the fridge.

"Oh yeah, but keep going." I took a few slugs, then fell into the beat of the music, releasing pent-up anxiety.

"The guy from
True Blood
?" She followed me into the living room. "Yeah, he's more along those lines actually, kind of, I guess." She twirled around, then bobbed up and down.

From the way we bounced around the room, no one would have ever guessed we'd just completed a twenty mile cycling event.

"Yesss. Smoking hot Viking. Oh, baby." I threw my arms around, tossing them over my head as I danced, avoiding the furniture. Caught up in the music, I swung an over-enthusiastic hip into Emma's side, shoving her into the wall. We both collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically.

"Sorry, Em. I'm feeling hyperactive."

"Take it down a notch, girl. At this rate, you won't make it through the week."

"What ... You think it's gonna be a whole week before he calls?"

"God knows. You know how guys are. I don't get my hopes up anymore. What do you think of Billy?"

"He seems like a cool guy. Attentive, that's for sure. You two barely took your eyes off one another the entire time we were in Kelly's."

"I know." Emma beamed. "Hey. Mike Kelly's a nice guy. I've never seen him there before, which is odd as he's the owner."

"You just never noticed him. Just like, maybe we've seen Indigo and Bill before, but just never noticed them."

"Doubtful." She shook her head.

"Yeah, guess you're right." I scrunched my mouth. "Hey, who do you think the mysterious beauty Bill mentioned was ... is?"

“From the look on Indigo’s face, what do you think?” Emma’s smile was so crooked.

My grin swelled. “I was afraid to think, and I’ll still have to find out for sure, but since you seem so certain ... make you a bet Indigo calls first.”

"Loser cleans the bathroom for a month and you're on."

"Toss you for the shower."

"You can go first, Jewel. I'll brew some tea."

The look on her face said she couldn't wait to flop on the sofa and spill everything about Bill. Still, her eagerness failed to hasten me. I was sidetracked. Standing under the rushing water, my brain replayed the entire day. I couldn't get Indigo's face out of my head. I saw every perfect feature, lingered on the touch of his lips on my cheek, imaging how it would feel to seal his mouth with mine. Throw my arms around his neck. Feel his arms wind around me.

There was something about the synthesis of power and sensitivity that was hurling me over the edge. Sure, Indigo was hot, but so were a zillion other guys. There was something about him that went so much deeper. Even when brooding, he oozed sensuality, and the thought of being touched by capable hands that healed was enough to drive me insane. I had a feeling he'd be an amazing lover: strong , demanding, experienced. He would have to be all of those things because he'd be slicing into someone with a scalpel someday. How ultimate was that? I mean, how much hotter did it get? And intimate? He made me feel comfortable and secure, in a different way than Pete. Much different.

Em's fist banging on the door woke me from anatomy and analysis. "Sorry," I yelled. "Be right out."

"Thanks for steaming up the bathroom," Em said on her way in as I headed out wrapped in towel.

"Hurry up. I can't wait to hear about Arkana," I yelled on my way into my room where I dried my hair and dressed in sleep shorts and tank top.

In the kitchen, I stuck a bag of organic chocolate chip cookies under my arm, then carried our tea into the living room, set the rose colored ceramic mugs on the coffee table, and immediately grabbed a chewy cookie. The aroma of chai drifted with rising steam, which was ambushed by the fog escaping the bathroom when Em opened the door. She tiptoed to her room and returned not five minutes later, dressed in pajamas, hair wrapped in a towel.

"Finally," I complained as she plopped down on the sofa beside me. "Here," I shoved a cookie into one of her hands and her mug of tea in the other. "Munch and talk."

We sat on the plush cushions facing each other, legs tucked beneath us, our feet covered by socks.

"I met Billy in high school." Emma's voice was low and hesitant, like she was beginning a confession.

"I figured as much."

"Do you want to figure out the rest? Or give me a chance to tell you."

"Go ahead." I stuffed my mouth with another cookie.

"Before settling in New York, my family lived in Texas for a while. I was a freshman. Billy was a senior. He was drop dead gorgeous with long, wavy dark hair, big brown eyes. He was quiet. Mysterious. And the fact that he was the lead vocalist in a local rock band didn't hurt."

"I can imagine. Did you go out with him or what?"

"Kind of."

"Okay, so did you hook up? Details. I want details."

Emma gulped her tea. By the look on her face, and the expression that settled in her stunning eyes, I could tell she was reliving a part of her past that went deeper than she'd have wanted to admit to. So deep, she'd never mentioned any of it.

"I had no idea you lived in Texas. Why didn't you ever tell me about Bill?"

"It was such a special time in my life, Jewel. And difficult. The horrors of starting a new school. Feeling awkward. So out of place. The beauty ... and the shock ... of first love. I guess I wanted to keep it all for myself."

"Or it was too painful to talk about?"

"When you're approaching fifteen, what isn't painful?"

"How about when you're twenty-one?" Cradling my warm mug with my palms, I smirked.

"You are so right." She placed her mug of tea on the table. "Billy wasn't like other guys. He had it all but didn't act like it. Do you know what I mean?"

"I guess." Indigo bombarded my brain. "Yes. I know exactly what you mean."

"A bunch of us used to watch the band practice after school. Billy didn't even know I was alive. Or so I thought. Unfortunately, I didn't find out until a month before we had to move again just how much he knew I was alive."

My eyes bulged."He was your first."

She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Crummy break. You poor thing. Why'd you have to keep moving?"

"My dad's job."

"How'd you find out Bill was interested?"

Her face lit with what must have been glorious memories, and unforgettable for both of them, as was obvious by their reunion.

"One rainy afternoon, I was walking into the pharmacy in town. He was on his way out. I thought he nodded and smiled at me, but figured it was my imagination. What would he see in me? You know?"

"No. You're perfect. But go on."

"When I left it was pouring out. And Billy had waited for me. He was under the awning and when I came out the door he walked up to me and called me by my name."

"Oh my God. How adorable."

"Yeah. I can still remember my shock. It was one of the best moments of my life. So we shared his umbrella and then he drove me home. Before I got out of the car he asked me out. We hit it off so well, I swear, he was my first love. And sometimes, first love is true, you know how the expression goes. We saw each other every day after that. Until I had to move. Then we lost touch. Cheesy story, huh?"

"Not at all. It's beautiful." My fingers bridged beneath my chin, I shook off a chill of excitement.

O
n Sunday, Emma, Pete and I went to an afternoon movie, then stopped at Kelly's for an early dinner. We had a great time, but I was living in yesterday, hoping to run into Indigo, knowing it would never happen.

Monday arrived all too soon and it was back to the grind. Professor Bachman stopped me before I left his Political Science class, which surprised the hell out of me. Crap. It was too close to graduation to spring something on me now. Please, no ...

I found it ironic that I'd landed in Gerald Bachman's class again, ironic and beneficial, because I knew his method of teaching. He was a lot nicer this semester too, especially when he told me how pleased he was with my progress, and that I was a member of his PPL (Preferred Performance List). The date for the next Police Exam was to be announced, but Bachman told me he'd be putting in a good word for me, and suggesting application placement in line with my outstanding GPA.

So, Emma, Pete and I celebrated with dinner and drinks on Tuesday after work. It wasn't every day someone told me how great I was. I kept checking my cell, but heard nothing from Indigo. I assumed rotation was grueling as hell, and that was my excuse for not hearing from him by Thursday evening.

My saving grace was a classmate, Yvonne, who extended an invitation for me and Emma to accompany her and a few other girls to a male strip joint.

Emma wasn't crazy about the idea, but I forced her into it by promising to clean the bathroom for an additional two weeks, six in total, because as it turned out, Bill texted her on Wednesday to see what she was doing the coming weekend. I needed her company, because I didn't want to be a fifth wheel at the club, and since I didn't know anyone but Yvonne, I'd feel less incongruous with Emma at my side. Besides, goodie two-shoes Em needed to see the spicy side of life. I laughed at the thought of breaking her social cherry.

When Pete heard about Rugged Nuggets he wanted to come. We laughed and told him he'd be thrown out unless he borrowed one of our sexy outfits. Then he informed us he was teasing, and casually added he'd met someone named Casey Brandon and was contemplating a hook-up that night.

"Casey who?" I asked, the name unfamiliar.

"Brandon," he repeated with an attitude. "From the Upper West Side Library."

"Librarian?" I scrunched my face. "Hooking up with a librarian doesn't sound at all like you, Pete."

"So, you think you know my type?"

I winked and plucked his cheek. "Baby. It's stamped all over your face."

After something sounding like a grumble of annoyance, he clammed up. Pete was up to his eyeballs in our shit. Perish forbid he showed us his cards, or even flashed his hand in our direction. But that was Pete, and we loved him.

The week flew by without a word from Indigo. I refused to cave to another letdown. Fuck him. I'd graduate soon and be on my way to the academy, no strings attached. Friday arrived and Em and I helped each other select outfits. We walked out the door dressed to kill. Why? When the club would be filled with nothing but other howling females.

E
mma, Yvonne and I nursed a round of drinks while waiting for the other girls to arrive. The club was filling fast, and the first act would start in less than fifteen minutes. I kept an eye on the front door, watching for the trio of lost-looking females.

The crowd was revved and ready to rock. Women of all ages, shapes and skin tones sat at tables, filled the bar, or chatted in empty floor space. Everyone waited to be entertained by some of the most gorgeous males on the planet.

The club was dim, but sapphire blue track lighting showered the walls and occupants with a touch of ecstasy. It had to be the owners' way of warming up the audience. Ambiance was a big part of city life, clubbing, just about everything related to the high octane area.

I checked the time on my cell and yawned as I continued to scan the crowd. Then she hit me like one of the sacks of flour I used to sit on in my parents' bakery. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I did a double-take, the movement loosening my fake lashes. There she was, the center of attention in a group of females trying to out-dress each other. Champagne bottles littered the table, and a garter hung around the neck of an open bottle positioned before a gorgeous brunette. My detective skills sprang into action. Bridal shower, no doubt.

I elbowed Em. "Pssst. Over there ... in the red strapless ... twelve o'clock high," which meant their tables, lashed together in a horseshoe, were stationed almost dead center in front of the stage and just to the left of the corner where we sat.

"Holy shit." Em's breath puffed into my ear. "That's the blonde from the coffee shop? The one who wedged herself between you and Indigo?"

"Go ahead. Rub it in."

"What are you two whispering about?" Yvonne asked.

I gave Em
the eye
, warning her not to spill the beans about our weekend.

"We're just admiring the dress that girl's wearing."

Yvonne's head immediately twisted in the blonde's direction, then she turned back with a sour look. "Hmm. Miss Whitehall in the flesh. Her and her groupies are slumming it."

"Huh?" I lost control of my mouth.

My anguish must have been evident, because Yvonne pitched me a quizzical look, while Emma's face filled with compassion.

"Do you know her?" Yvonne asked before downing a shot. Beyond beautiful, Yvonne was intuitive ... and thirsty.

"Can't say I've ever had the pleasure." My face almost cracked. I wrapped my palms around my Malibu Bay Breeze. "Looks like a bridal blast. Who's getting married? Any idea?" My heart began to race. I shot Em a look that screamed desperation.

"I doubt Vanessa's gonna be a bride any too soon." Yvonne drained the last of the three shots lined up in front of her, and motioned to a guy with groomed chest hair and skin tight toreador pants. "The guy'd have to be out of his mind." She laughed. "Another round of drinks, handsome ..."

"He's not our waiter, Yvonne," I informed. "I think he's the next act." I'd watched him exit the dressing room not five minutes before she flagged him. "Looks like he's on his way to mingle with the bridesmaids."

"Whitehall..." Emma looked thoughtful. "Vanessa Whitehall?"

"Like the designer clothing line?" I chimed in. Great, that's all I needed. Wasn't it enough she was pretty damn striking? Did she have to be rich too? "That would make her a descendent of the billionaire multi-corporate and everything epic mogul ..."

"Nah ah." Yvonne appeared to be in a mood to dish, and I was all ears. "Guess again."

"No way," Emma beat me to the punch. "The condos?"

"The condos, and skyscrapers, and the park, and the biggest shopping mall in this area. Should I go on?"

Dear God, what was I up against? Quit now, Jewelia. You're in way over your head.

Yvonne seemed on edge. She kept checking her gold bracelet watch, anxious eyes scanning the room. I couldn't help but stare. With cocoa skin and honey eyes she could take any guy's breath away. Her wavy mane, overflowing her bare shoulders, didn't hurt, either.

"They should be here any minute," I said, offering reassurance.

"Who?" she replied, her gilded eyes taking in my face, then dropping to the cleavage spilling from my plum silk top.

I scrunched my mouth like I always did when confusion clouded my brain. "The other girls." I redirected my gaze to Emma. "Right?"

"Don't ask me. I don't even know who
I
am tonight."

"They're not coming. Didn't I tell you?" Eyes still canvassing the room, Yvonne's comment was casual.

"No and thank you. I've been bending my neck this whole time watching out for no one?"

"I can't wait to see him." Yvonne seemed to be in her own private conversation with her timepiece.

Emma just shook her head.

"I'm lost." Observing the intense look on Yvonne's face, I laughed. "She's this way in school, too. I have no idea who she's waiting for, and she's evidently keeping it to herself." I leaned into Emma, but with the racket, and Yvonne's lack of attention, it wouldn't have mattered if I screamed.

Still, I wondered. If it wasn't the other girls, then who? This was ladies' night ... although a group of guys were gathering on the other side of the club. After our show ended, from what I understood,
drag
would take the stage.

"Who can't you wait to see?" Emma wasn't going to let her slide.

"Ssh." Yvonne's mind and eyes were occupied.

The toreador Yvonne had mistaken for a waiter started his routine ... on the floor beside the bride. Music blasted from overhead speakers and the room pulsed with a sexy rendition of the Wedding March. He bumped and ground around the tables, grabbed the centerpiece garter, took the future Mrs. Someone in his arms and hoisted her onto the stage where a guy had pulled a chair into the center.

Toreador hopped up with the ease of a prowling mountain lion, spun the girl until she looked drunker than she'd appeared at the table, then cradled her in his Herculean arms and carried her to her throne where he deposited her butt.

"Is this the norm?" said Emma, in a state of disbelief. "I didn't think dancers could touch patrons."

"He's setting her up for a lap dance, Emma." My eyes drifted from the stage to the horseshoe table of screaming girls. "Big money must have bought the night." My stare lingered on Vanessa whose lips formed an attractive, but somewhat annoyed pout.

"The stage is up there," Emma reminded.

My mouth felt droopy. "I can't help it. She's probably the maid of honor who paid for tonight without even stopping at the bank."

The room exploded with cheers, wolf whistles and howls. Hercules posed behind her, did a few mouth-watering moves, then commenced to grind against the chair back. He threw the audience into even more frenzy when he reached around for her arms and drew them up and over her head, where they flat-out rested against his rippling abs. She leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the hell out his hands clutching the air in front of her. He had to have been double-jointed, because he performed these goodies from the rear. And that was just the beginning.

The next thing I knew, he swung his tantalizing body around the chair, hoisted a leg, and hips rocking like an out of control satellite, hammered his bulge almost into her face. He turned and gave her his backside, did a spin, bowed before her. He then dropped into an agile squat at her feet, which must have boosted her adrenaline, because her mouth flew open at the same time her eyes bulged. After pretending to run his hands up and down her legs, he slid the garter as high as his fingers could reach while sparing her privacy. Without hearing the sound, from the slide of her lips, and her hips, she emitted a definite gasp of delight.

"Would you look at that ass?" I said to no one in particular.

"Like two action packed cannon balls." Yvonne downed another shot.

"Oh my God," Em began a phrase she would continue to repeat the entire evening. "I can't believe this is happening." She sucked in her third gin and tonic through a straw.

I laughed, enjoying the shock on her face. "Wait. There's more."

"I bet. I'm waiting for him to throw her down any minute and mount her." Em sounded like she didn't believe she'd even thought the words, no less said them.

"What do you think of the show so far, Yvonne?" I had to ask, because my classmate was bouncing so hard in her seat, I was afraid she'd launch at any moment.

"I think my man's got it all over that guy." Competing with a round of loud cheering, her voice rose with each syllable. By the time she finished speaking, the table of women next to us turned and stared.

Hercules had the place in an uproar. The audience clapped with a beat that kept time with every move he made. The music and dance ended on the same note, but before his last bump, he pulled the girl to her feet, dragged her around the stage doing the
electro
, then set her down on the main floor where she returned to her friends and slumped over the table. Everyone applauded and screamed while Vanessa Whitehall scrambled to the bride's side, reviving her with another bottle of bubbly.

His encore performance was a sexy stroll to the center of the stage, and back turned to the audience, he stripped off his pants, exposing a enticing set of buns. After a few flexes and delicious booty rumba, he spun, and humped the air while beckoning with open arms, driving every female insane before he strutted off, still moving in all the right places.

"I'm exhausted just from watching him." Emma seemed to be getting into it, and she looked giddy.

"Just think," I said close to her ear, "you've got your own rock star now. He looks like he'd be an awesome stripper. Plus he'll be singing to you while he does his thing."

Beneath the heat of the lights, I couldn't tell if Emma blushed.

My ears were buzzing from the music. I must have spoken louder than I realized, because Yvonne looked at Emma and squealed, "You're dating a stripper too?"

Emma scowled. "I think Jewel's had too much to drink. I'll have to call Pete to come and get her."

Then it hit me.
You're dating a stripper too?
"Huh?" Somebody please clue me in ...

"There's my man," Yvonne announced, the proudest smile spreading across her gorgeous burgundy lips. She sprang from her seat, waving her arms, then tucked in her lower lip and whistled through two fingers, the pitch almost breaking my ear drums.

As the backlit stage turned from blue to gold, techno pulsed, and from behind a shimmering drape, a bronzed warrior appeared. Sauntering out in full battle gear, he paraded around, giving us a taste while the audience almost lost it. The club erupted with screeches, women yelling:
Spartan the Warrior King.

He looked like he could own a kingdom, and any woman's heart. Beneath the lights his body glistened. So did his eyes: without a problem, they seemed to find Yvonne, for a moment fixing as he thrust his stuff.

He had one of the most ripped bodies I'd ever seen. A studded collar surrounded his thick neck, a wide belt crisscrossing his bulging pecs. Leather wristbands enhanced his bulky arms, and his kilt was so short it didn't leave much to the imagination ... or hide his coordinating black jock strap. He wore the sexiest gladiator boots that hugged the muscles of his legs. No wonder Yvonne went nuts for him. He was the most incredible eye-candy. I could only imagine what he tasted like. I thought I detected a hint of a smile on his handsome face before his features molded into
dramatic
anger.

Ebony braids hung to his shoulders, and topping them off was a gleaming helmet, which he slipped off and extended with those crushing arms, offering it to a damsel in distress seated at Vanessa's table.

Yvonne screamed so much, so loud, her smooth voice turned deep and sexy raw. Her eyes watered, either from screaming, or unabashed love.

I was on my fifth drink when my head started to spin. In my alcohol induced imagination, I envisioned Indigo up on the stage, hips rolling, doctor hands tearing off his green scrubs. The thought made me so hot, I needed a cold shower. I could almost feel his arms around me.

"Do you think he's into me?" I slurred in Em's ear.

"If you're referring to Indigo," Em slurred back, "yes. He appeared very attracted to you."

"If he was here now ..." Inebriation made me miss him so much more ... and envision doing things to him I'd never consider when sober. Well ... maybe.

Emma giggled. "The poor guy wouldn't stand a chance."

The Spartan gyrated to the edge of the stage, leaned, and handed his helmet to a redhead seated beside Vanessa, who looked pissed that he hadn't chosen her.

Next thing I knew, the chick was up on the stage, wearing the headgear, cradled in his arms, pressed against his scrumptious chest, and their hips thrust in time, almost as if rehearsed.

I thought I detected annoyance on Yvonne's face, but then she joined the war chant and smacked her palms together so hard, I was surprised her wrists withstood the impact. She stood, and proceeded to do her own version of his bump and grind, right in the middle of the aisle, drawing stares and applause. "Swing dat ass," she sang at the top of her lungs. "Bring it on, baby boy."