Ocean (Damage Control Book 5) (8 page)

To cook soup.

Okay, maybe it’s not a date. Doesn’t much sound like one, but a girl can dream, right? Or rather fantasize and delude herself.

It’s enough that he asked me for help. Let me look at his palm. Let me
in
. Even if just a little.

Yet the warm feeling in my chest won’t quit as Amber and I make our way to the coffee shop where we’re meeting with the girls. I park, climb out of the car and haul Amber inside. I want to see the girls and go home. There’s an itch under my skin to be left alone, think, prepare.

For what exactly? To cook soup? I sigh to myself as we enter the coffee shop and make a beeline for the table occupied by our friends.

Maybe to dress up? To fix my hair? To think about the deep lines in his palm?

What am I doing?

I’m in a bit of a trance as we sit down and Cassie goes to get our coffee for us. I smile absently at Ev and Manon. The Damage girls.

I’m just friends with Ocean. So why am I freaking out?

“So when are you and Jesse moving in together?” Ev wants to know, and Amber blushes. She does that a lot lately, more than usual. Interesting. “Any date set? Apartment found?”

“We looked at a tiny studio we like,” she says. “Could be the one.”

“As long as it fits a double bed…” Ev winks, then turns to me. “Hey, girl, did you read the cards for me?”

“No. I…” Was distracted. Trying to read my own fate. Spreading them again and again.

Obsessed, Amber said. Maybe I am. I kept seeing paths and the urge to act, to take a chance, a risk.

And ended up with the spread that spoke of someone’s need for my help. There was no indication it was Ocean. I just felt it in my gut.

“That’s okay,” Ev says as Cassie returns with our coffees and plonks herself in the seat next to her. “I decided I’d rather wait and be pleasantly surprised when Micah and I take the next step. I’d rather not think it was fated, you know? But that it’s something we’ve worked on together.”

She sounds so sure. So content and safe in her love for Micah. In his love for her. How is she doing that? How can she just wait and not want to sneak a peek into the future?

“So… studio? Double bed?” Cassie turns to Amber. “Moving in together, and…? When? What next?”

“I don’t know yet. Soonish, I guess. Jesse’s so excited about it.”

“Like you’re not.” Cassie winks. “I can’t imagine not living with Shane, and it’s only been a couple of months.”

“How is he doing?”

“Fine. Better. Sometimes he loses his footing a little. A trigger, a nightmare. But he recovers.”

“Because you’re there for him,” Amber says, her eyes shining.

It’s so weird, watching the two of them interact—Amber and Cassie. After the awful fight over Jesse Lee, it’s hard to believe they’re fast becoming friends, but there you go. After Cassie apologized and got together with Shane, everything seemed to smooth out.

“Jesse likes the studio,” Amber says, sipping at her Latte. “And he was glad to leave his apartment, even though he’s getting along much better with his roommates nowadays. But it’s chaos in there, and now with Travis’ friend crashing in their living room it’s impossible to have any quiet and privacy.”

“Privacy, huh?” Manon waggles her fine brows, and laughter bursts out of me.

She’s a quiet one, but she can be funny when she’s relaxed.

“What about you?” Manon turns to me, a gleam in her eye, and my laughter dies. “I heard a certain blue-haired someone drove you home and stayed the night last week.”

“Yeah, well.” I swallow hard. “That’s all that happened, sadly.”

“That boy wants you,” Ev declares.

She’s said that before. But the evidence points to the contrary. “I don’t think so.”

“He so does. He’s waiting for the right moment to make his move.”

“He never needed a right moment to make his move in the past.” I’ve watched him hit on girls week after week in Halo, leaving with them, my heart feeling all twisty and unsettled. “Can we just change the subject?”

I’m thinking of the lines in his palm. The head line, broken and crosshatched over and over—important decisions he’s had to make in his life. The forked life line indicating interruptions and changes. A fate line, also cracked and marked with obstacles.

The only straight, consistent line is that of the heart. So long and deep. Like a wound.

The fact he let me see? It feels like a much greater gift than my stupid muffin.

“I like Ocean,” Amber says quietly. “He’s a good guy. He’s helping one of Jesse’s friends out, even though he doesn’t know him. Heart of gold.”

Helping out a friend of Jesse’s? I open my mouth to ask more about this, but Ev leans forward.

“Do you girls know anything about his brother? Micah was telling me the other day that he overheard Ocean talking to him, and it sounded bad.”

“Grim?” I lean forward, too, forgetting all about my other question. I’m not even trying to pretend I’m not interested. “Why, what did he say?”

“Well, Ocean kept asking if the brother was okay. Raine is his name, apparently. If he could see him. And that he was sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” The edge of the table is digging into my stomach. “Did he say?”

“Something about an accident. And about their parents.”

“His parents are alive?”

“I know, right?” Ev sighs. “He never talks about any family, so I assumed he was an orphan, like Micah and Jesse. But Micah says they’re alive. Ocean told him so.”

“He doesn’t look so good lately,” Cassie says, and there’s worry in her voice. “Ocean, I mean.”

Yeah. So I’m not the only one who noticed he looks off. Withdrawn, quiet, glum. Worn out.

“Did something happen to him?” I ask. “Something I don’t know about?”

“Aw, you’re concerned,” Cassie says in a singsong voice. “I knew it. You’re in love.”

“What? Why? Not true. Not in love with him.” I grab my coffee mug and hide behind it. “You’re the ones who brought this up.” I gulp down some scalding liquid, tasting nothing. “Did I mention I’m not in love with him?”

Silence falls over the table, and I’m fully aware of four pairs of eyes boring a hole through my head.

“What?” I mumble.

“Don’t you know,” Ev says, a grin spreading on her face, “that denial is the first stage?”

“That’s for grief, not love,” I say, but Ev is snickering like an evil witch.

“Same thing,” she replies. “Same thing, baby girl. You’ll see.”

***

Much later, after evening has fallen, I park outside Ocean’s building. I’ve never been to his place before, but he explained on the phone how to get here.

I’m unaccountably nervous. And excited.

Unaccountably because I know Ocean, and because this isn’t a date.

Repeat after me, Kay: Not a date.
No reason why you’ve spent two hours trying to find the perfect outfit and hairstyle. No reason why your hands are shaking as you turn off the engine and why sweat is running down your back.

I don’t have a crush on Ocean. I don’t. I just like him.

A little too much.

I’m nervous because I got to read the lines of his life, I tell myself, shivering as I remember touching his rough palm. And because I know his brother’s name, and the fact he has problems with him, and his parents live, and there was an accident…

One taste, a dip of a fingertip into the mystery that is Ocean, and I’m thirsty for more. Denial or not, I’m dying to know more.

If curiosity killed the cat, this is a high-risk mission.

One last deep breath, and I grab my bag of groceries and step out of the car. Smoothing down my coat and skirt, I hit the door buzzer.

Here we go.

He only asked for my help. That’s what I’m here for. To make soup, apparently.
No problemo.
I can do this in my sleep.

Mom ensured I have all it takes to make a good wife. Cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, mending socks. All the important skills a woman needs, right? No matter how I fought it, despite my protests, some knowledge managed to seep in.

The door clicks open. I push it and enter the dimness of the building. The elevator, small and claustrophobic, brings me up to the third floor.

When the doors scrape open, I find myself on a narrow landing with three doors. One of them is open a crack, and yellow light spills out.

Someone’s standing at the opening, blue hair falling into long-lashed eyes, muscular shoulders, arms folded over a broad chest. He’s dressed in low-slung black sweats and a white tank top that leaves his strong arms bare, the tattoo of an angel on his forearm barely visible.

I shiver with cold just by looking at him. “Hey.”

“Come in,” he says ands steps back inside.

I follow and a blast of warmth swallows me. “Whoa. Let me guess. You left the oven on? Or maybe you decided to turn your apartment into a sauna?”

He snorts, watching me as I put down my groceries and shrug off my coat. “Nah. I like it warm, and he was cold, so…”

He.
Who’s ‘he’?

Ocean huffs, probably noticing my blank expression, and takes my hand. “Come on. Let me introduce you to Jason.”

Jason.

Too shocked for words, I let him lead me into his tiny living room. The curtains are drawn against the only window. A corner lamp is on, and in the dim light his sofa and coffee table are mere shadows.

Someone is lying on the sofa, covered with a blue blanket. A man. His has his tattooed arm thrown over his eyes, and his blond hair is showing dark roots.

Jason.
Who is he? What am I doing here? What’s going on?

Definitely not a date, this one.

“Jason.” Ocean puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. “This is Kayla. Kayla, this is Jason.”

The man lifts his arm and peers at me from overly bright dark eyes. “Kayla?”

He’s handsome, even though he’s too thin, his cheeks kind of sunken in, and his lips cracked. His eyes are expressive and deep, his face all angles and shadows.

Not as handsome as Ocean, but handsome all the same.

He props himself up on his elbows, the blanket slipping down his chest, and whoa, his chest is bare and ripped, covered in tattoos and… scars?

Okay, this is getting more confusing by the minute.

“I, um.” I make a vague gesture toward the door. “Maybe I should—”

“I’ll show you where the kitchen is,” Ocean says and starts off toward the entrance. He grabs my groceries and shoots me a brilliant smile that blinds me for a sec, leaving stars in my eyes. “This way. Hard to get lost in here.”

“—should go?” I whisper.

Too late. If I say it out loud, it will sound awful, like I’m not pleased to meet Jason, whoever he is—and besides, I promised to make soup.

Why the soup? Why am I here? What in the world?

My cards didn’t warn me about this. Nothing warned me about the fond look on Jason’s face as he follows Ocean with his gaze, or about Ocean’s quick eye roll in the other man’s direction. There’s some fondness there, too, mixed with vague exasperation.

Shit.

“Ocean…” My mind spinning, I hurry after him, across the living room and through a low door into a kitchenette.

“Sorry I asked you for this,” he says, emptying the bag on the tiny table in the kitchen corner. “I just fucking panicked for a moment. I’ll pay for the groceries. Gimme the receipt.”

“It’s fine,” I mumble, trying to get over my shock. I go to stand beside him by the table and nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” He winces and wraps an arm around his middle, which reminds me of the awful bruises he’s got there. Before I apologize, he moves away to open a cupboard and take out a pot. “Oh right. Jason. Yeah, I didn’t get the chance to tell you about him.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” I swallow hard, plaster on a smile.
Ah well.
“He’s cute.”

Ocean turns toward me, a frown pinching his features. “What?”

“He’s cute. Real pretty.”

His scowl darkens.

Huh.

“You think he’s
pretty
.” His voice is flat.

I shrug, busy myself with the veggies I bought, sorting them. “Sure I do. I wish you’d told me about him earlier. I was starting to crush on you, you know.”

Safe to say it now, I guess.

“You were?” he whispers. “You are? Having a crush on me?”

He sounds breathless. I shoot him a glance over my shoulder as I finish piling up foodstuff. His blue eyes are wide. “Yeah. You’re pretty, too, in case you don’t own a mirror. And you did go out with girls. That confused me. Confused everyone, I guess. So are you bi?”

“
Bi.
” The way he says it is like he’s never heard the word before in his life.

“Bisexual. Or bi-curious?” I turn to face him fully. “Why are you staring at me like that? Did you think I wouldn’t approve? I’m fine with it.”
Just disappointed, is all.
“Or are you gay-gay and the girls were a smokescreen?”

“What…?” His hands clench and unclench at his sides. He’s vibrating with some strong emotion, but his face shows mostly confusion. “What are you talking about?”

I blink. “You. And Jason.”

“Me and Jason, what?” He lifts his hands, rubs them over his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend—”

“He’s not my boyfriend! Yeah,
he
is gay, but you don’t think… You think me and him are
together
?”

Oh. Oops?

Okay, maybe I jumped to conclusions there.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I just thought…”

In two strides, he’s right in front of me, and those callused hands grip the sides of my face. “How about I show you what I like?”

His mouth, hot and hard, covers mine. When I gasp, his tongue slips between my teeth and tangles with mine. Pleasure hits me, flowing in my blood like liquid gold, pooling between my legs.

God can this boy kiss.

Before I can catch my breath, his hands slide down my neck to my shoulders, and he pulls back. The blues in his eyes glitter. There’s a question in them.

I put my hand on his chest, stand on tiptoes and kiss him back.

A soft growl rises in his throat. His hands fall off my shoulders, land on my hips. As his mouth crushes mine, lips moving, demanding, teeth clacking, he walks me backward until my ass hits the small table. In one movement, he lifts me on it, sending groceries crashing to the floor.