Othello Station (12 page)

“
Mmmmm
.”

I can’t help myself. I flip onto my side and run my hand from the back of her knee up to the curve of her ass, then over the dip of the small of her back. I rest my hot palm there, placing it flat against her skin. I move in, slowly craning my neck to bring my mouth to her ear. I brush away some hair to expose the side of her cheek. “Feeling good?”

Dark brown eyes blink and find mine. Her head shifts and she rolls onto her side to meet me, curling her body inward and resting her hands beneath her chin. Just like an angel, kneeling to pray. Like the one in my dreams. The gentle one that turns into a dove. She’s on a pedestal in my mind, but as I stare back at her here, in the flesh, I suddenly realize she’s on the same pedestal in my reality.

The amusement on my face hardens. I feel the smile slip away. I really can’t get rid of the dove. Now it’s manifesting itself right here, in my world.

“I feel…new,” she says. “Brand new. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for fucking you?”

“Call it what you want.” She shrugs and exhales peacefully. “It made me feel alive again. So, yes. Thank you. For a while there, I lost myself. But now I can see the road back. Or…forward. Whatever.” She hums softly and closes her eyes, then wiggles closer to me, burrowing into my chest. My arm closes around her, welcoming her warmth.

“The Land of the Living welcomes you back,” I say, resting my chin on top of her head, as if I know anything about that world. As I say the words and she drifts into slumber, I can’t help but wish I knew what that must feel like. To be alive again. Mira’s ignited something in me—something new and fresh and thrilling. Something sinks in me as I struggle to place the emotion. All I know is I’ve touched heaven, and all it’s done is remind me just how numb I really am.

***

My eyes open. They’re met with sunlight. I squint while my head rolls to the side, searching for Mira. She should be tucked against me, naked and warm, her arms snuggled tightly against my chest while she rests in my embrace, but she’s nowhere to be found. I couldn’t have scared her off. The sex couldn’t have been that bad.

Could it?

I sit up on my palms, leaning back in the bed, peering around the apartment. The soft flutter of bird wings catches my attention, calling me somewhere to the left. A sliver of white pirouettes around the corner, through the bedroom and out into the kitchen.

“Mira?” I stand, letting the blanket drop from my waist. My feet pad the bare floors as I wander over to the kitchen. My eyes land on the counter, where I nearly lost a finger. My wound isn’t sore anymore, though. The bloody knife and Carina’s stitch work are fleeting thoughts. What I’m really focused on, and all I really give a damn about in the moment, is where the bird went. Where are those blinding white wings and those dark, warm eyes? Why can’t I hear that obnoxious flapping?

“Mira? Where are you?” I call out again, walking back into the bedroom. Nothing. She’s not in the bathroom. Either is the stupid bird. Does she have a pet dove or something? Did I miss this somehow? If she did, that would explain a lot. Like all these weird fucking dreams.

I pause in front of the bathroom.

Is this another dream? My eyes search for a cage, somewhere, anywhere in the apartment. My breath quickens, and suddenly my relaxed, sleepy state slips away, catapulting me into a deep, dark pool of fear. It’s an abyss, and I can see no way out.

My feet kick into action again. “Mira, where are you? Can you hear me?” I throw my pants on and hurry for the front door, tearing down the main hallway to the stairs. She wouldn’t be hanging out with Garrett, would she? What time is it, anyway? Just as I start down the stairs, the dove’s wings flutter at the bottom of the landing. They disappear around the corner, and I jog faster down the stairs, calling Mira’s name over and over again.

When I reach the apartment’s ground floor, I finally see it—the dove, in full glory. It’s hovering at the entrance, looking right at me. It drops gracefully to the floor, landing as lightly as one of its feathers. I crouch down and reach out. Wings flap and then
poof
, it’s gone, sending me scrambling. I spin around, searching, eyes roaming everywhere.

“Grant?” A hollow echo calls from above, then calls again, an angel’s voice repeating my name. “Grant?” The angel’s wings wrap around me and my shoulders shake. “Grant!”

I blink frantically and spring up, smacking some kind of wall. When I register where I am, my brain quits telling my lungs to panic. “What’s going on?” I scrub my hands over my face and try to focus my gaze on Mira. She’s sleepy, naked, and so, so goddamn beautiful.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Was I?” She nods, and I take in the tension on her face. She’s rattled. “Are you okay?”

“I am. But what about you? Are you okay? It must’ve been a pretty bad dream because you were really freaking out.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” Her concerned expression ripples, a small smile bubbling through. “What’s so funny?” I frown, crossing an arm over my chest. This girl is damn good at making me feel the size of a peanut.

“Nothing.” She attempts to stifle her amusement, but it’s an epic fail.

“I mean it. What’s so damn funny?”

“You’re sorry for having a bad dream. Do you always take yourself so seriously?”

“Why shouldn’t I take myself seriously? I scared you. So yeah, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just so…” She waves a hand in the air and looks to the ceiling.

“So, what?”

“High strung.”

“You’re pretty high strung yourself.”

“No, I’m just…you make me nervous.”

“There’s no reason to feel nervous around me.”

“You’re so intense. I think I’ve seen you crack a smile like, twice since I met you.”

“Life is intense. I just have that resting bitch-face thing, or whatever they call it. The male version. I can’t help my face.”

Mira suddenly flings back, falling into the sheets, roaring in raspy, tired laughter. I sit there dumbfounded, still wondering what in the fuck is so damn funny. “Oh my God,” she covers her mouth, gasping for air. This girl is having a grand old time.

“Mira. Will you quit?”

She pulls herself back up to a sitting position and slides one bare, silky leg over my lap, turning to face me. I let her straddle me, immediately planting my hands on her hips. She’s so uninhibited, so bold, sitting on me like this, completely exposed and lit up with laughter. All I want right now is to throw her back down and drive into her, but I’m still hell bent on knowing what’s got her so worked up. I am not a funny man. I’m sure as hell not good at making women laugh. I make them come. Make their legs shake and make them beg for more. Make them smile?

Not me. Not Ever.

“I want you to try something,” she says, gazing down at me. She rubs a finger along my bottom lip. “Think of something really stupid. Something from your childhood. There’s got to be something you’ve done that you can find humor in, right?”

“I find humor in lots of things.”

She cocks her head skeptically.

“What about you? You turn completely psychotic the second the subject of money comes up. You’re terrible at taking compliments—or gifts, for that matter. You’re just as serious as me.” As I make the accusation, I know it’s only partially true. And it’s not entirely fair. Mira is, by far, much more carefree. But something weighs her down. There’s a shadow that looms over her ray of sunshine, and I’m not sure why it’s there or what causes it to overshadow the light; I only know it hovers.

“We all have triggers.” Her smile falls a bit. Some of her light dims. I instantly feel like an asshole.

I lift a hand to cup her face, smoothing a finger along her cheek. I want the light back. I’m desperate to strike the fucking match. “Tell me yours.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because things are going so well. Why spoil it?”

“It won’t spoil anything.” I reach up and peck her chin. “Come on. Tell me.”

She leans into the kiss but quickly turns her head to glance at the alarm clock on the floor. “What are your plans for the day?”

“You’re looking at them.”

“You were hoping to just be a bum in my bed all day?”

“Sounds like a damn good plan to me. Well, and this…” I skate my hand up the curve of her hip and grope her.

She smacks my hand but lets me squeeze her. She’s not fooling me. She loves it. “I have a job, you know! I can’t just stay in bed with you all day.”

“You don’t need to remind me. You have ten of them, thanks to that cheap hotel of yours.”

“Hey. At least I have job security. I can do it all. That makes me an asset.”

“That makes you a door mat.” I leave one hand on her hip and brush her long, wavy hair over her shoulder with the other. This gives me an absolutely perfect view of her gorgeous, perky breasts.

I grope her again. God, I’m weak.

“You can do so much better. Do you know how many high-end hotels in the city would love to have you? And they’d pay you a hell of a lot better, too.”

“And what do you know about the hotel business?” She gives my shoulder a playful pinch. “For your information, I’m happy where I’m at. I love the people I work with, and I love the job. I take pride in what I do.”

“You should. I’m not putting your profession down, babe. I’m just calling out the obvious. You deserve to work for a company that appreciates you and doesn’t take advantage of you.”

“It’s the corporate world. It’s just the way of things. No matter where I work, it will always be the same dilemma. They’ll always want to pay me as little as possible and want me to do as
much
as possible.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s ridiculous.” She pushes off me and stands at the side of the bed, bending to snatch up the white lace that covered her body the night before. “Hey. You ditching me?”

“I actually do have the day off. But I’m not staying in bed all day. I’m gonna wander around town and take some pictures.” She lifts an old camera from atop a stack of books.

“That thing’s ancient. Does it even work?”

“Works like a charm.”

“What are you taking pictures of?”

“The places I’d like to recommend to our customers. It’s for a project I’m working on. I can’t afford to actually go to them myself, but I had this idea…” She shakes her head and goes quiet.

“What idea?”

“Never mind. It’s dumb.”

“Mira. Come on, what is it?”

“I kinda wanted to make a cheat sheet. More like a book, for reference. Not just for myself, but for everyone at the front desk. Our guest service scores are better when we sound like we know what the hell we’re talking about. The more information we can offer people who ask us for recommendations at the desk, the more competent we are in their eyes, even if we don’t actually
know
firsthand. Our job is all about going the extra mile for our customers and improving those scores…so I thought this might be a way to…ya know?”

A smirk spreads. “You’re saying you want to be able to fake it until you make it.”

“Not fake it, exactly.” Her grin matches mine. “Just…fib a little.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable.” I shrug. “It’s a way to research what you’re recommending without actually dropping the cash to try these places out yourselves. Makes sense to me.”

Her embarrassment dissipates a bit and she looks at me with hopeful eyes. “Really? You don’t think it’s a waste of time or anything? Because I thought if I put this binder together and paired the pictures with print-outs of the menus for each place, it could be a handy tool for everyone at the desk. New hires included. Not everyone that comes to work for us is a Seattle native, ya know?” Her nose wrinkles and I remain quiet, staring at her. “Don’t look at me like that. You can tell me if it’s dumb. I can take it.” She says she can, but if I said something like that—and really meant it—the words would crush this girl. This job really is something special to her.

So I opt to ditch my natural tendency to deliver my usual, cynical commentary and encourage her, instead. As much as I dislike her place of employment, I lessen the blow but still speak the truth. “It’s not dumb. It’s thoughtful and says a lot about how you value what you do for a living.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because this company has no idea what they have right in front of them.” This girl is doing this in her free time. Thinking of the best interest of her team and her employer. They need to pay her more. They need to promote her. Something. “People like you belong in management.”

Mira cracks up, rolling her eyes. “Don’t get carried away.”

“No. I’m being serious.”

“Okay, well.” She waves a hand and pulls her hair back to tie it in a ponytail. “Anyway, do you want to come with me or not?”

My jaw grinds and I glare at her, wishing she’d take what I’m saying to heart. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t see herself in the same light. So I give up and chew over thoughts of the next project I should be working on. And the fact that technically, I should be checking out of the hotel today and heading back to my place. But Mira’s standing there in white lace, asking me to spend the day with her. Who in their right mind would say no to that?