Serving Side by Side (Rocky Royal Romance Book 3), page 12
“She looked awful,” Dean added. “You don’t look so great yourself, Simonson.”
“I’m fine. Sorry again. I’ll take over now.”
“I’ll bring you up a radio,” Dean said, as he started down the long hall.
“Thank you, sir.”
He could feel Addington’s eyes on him as he struggled to regain his composure and a normal breathing pattern, but he didn’t look at her.
A white man Sam didn’t recognize was approaching the residence, with Dean right behind him, so Sam assumed they were together and he waved him through.
“Hey, whoa.” Georgie shot out a hand to stop the man. “Aren’t you going to frisk him?”
“Oh. Right.” Sam patted the man down, but found nothing suspicious. He opened the door for the man.
“Did you get his ID?” Dean asked, glaring.
“No, I . . . Sir, may I see some ID?”
As soon as the ID was recorded and checked, Sam closed the door to find his supervisor staring at him.
“Why are you acting like it’s your first day on the job, Simonson?”
Shame had his chin dropping to his chest. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m fine. Really.”
“No, you’re not,” Georgie said. “It’s pretty obvious why, too.”
Dean crossed his arms. “Maybe you picked up the same bug Macias has. Go home.”
“No,” Sam said forcefully. “I’m not sick. I’m here to work.”
“You may be, but your mind’s not.” Dean stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Don’t make me involve anyone else in this. Go home and get your head straight. We’ll see you Monday night.”
Sam hesitantly headed back down the hall, looking over his shoulder. Sullenly, he gathered his things and went back to his apartment.
TEZZA
IT WAS POURING OUTSIDE, the kind of midsummer rain that spoils picnic plans and prompts newspaper umbrellas. She felt the vibrations from the thunder through the hardwood as she pressed herself away from the floor into another push-up. It was the perfect weather for feeling upset. Two days, and she’d heard nothing from him. Two days. How had she gotten so attached to him in just a few months? How did he have this kind of power over her?
There was a knock. Her heart seized. The tall, dark shadow was about the right size. She scrambled to answer the door, then took a deep breath to try to play it cool. He stood there, water cascading out of her overflowing gutters behind him.
“What kind of commitment do you want?” Sam asked over the roar of the rain. He looked like he was going to throw up.
She pulled one arm behind her back with the other to keep from folding them across her middle. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you to have an easy out. Because it wouldn’t be easy for me.”
“Me either.” He lifted his hands, as if to rest them on her hips, but stopped himself, tucking them under his armpits. “I’m not ready to get engaged.”
“Fine. But stop acting like this”—she gestured between them—“can be undone at a moment’s notice.”
Sam nodded slowly. “I just want you to have everything you need . . .”
“And if I want the same for you?” She gentled her voice. “I’ve lost track of all the things you’ve done for me. Yet I tried to do something for you—something you even asked me for—and you freaked. Why is that, Sam?”
He shrugged with one shoulder, staring at her porch light. “I’m too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t want my limits to be a burden. I don’t want you to resent me.”
“And you think I’ll resent your needs?”
“You might.” It was hard to hear him—he said it so softly, eyes still fixed on the stupid porch light. “You don’t know the full extent yet. I was trying to . . . to ease you into it. Give you more reasons to stay first.”
“Don’t. Give it to me. All of it. Let me decide if it’s too much.”
He finally gave her his soft green gaze. “May I come in?”
She moved aside, then closed the door behind him. They stood together in the entryway, him dripping on her floor.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last two days. About us. About my past relationships. About the future. About my uncle’s business.” He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. “And I think I haven’t agreed to take it over for the same reason I couldn’t accept your gesture on our last date. It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to do that for me . . . Giving to you feels right, natural. Getting the same treatment from you feels uncomfortable. I almost feel like I tricked you, like I manipulated you into it somehow.”
“Sam. Look at me.” She pointed to herself. “Do I look like someone who’s easily manipulated?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “No.”
“If you’re not sure, we could wrestle again.”
“No, thank you.” He sighed, running a hand over his head. “I’m new at this; I don’t know how it all works. I don’t want to take advantage of you, T.”
“You’re not. My gestures, big or small, come from my heart. And if I need space or distance, I’ll ask for it. Trust me.” She sighed, touching her ponytail, smoothing it down. “I’ve had time to think, too. I’ve been . . . rushing things with you. Maybe to avoid dealing with my grief over Rocco.” Tezza turned toward the window and tried to blink back her tears.
“Have you thought about seeing a counselor?”
She growled, crossing her arms over her chest. “All they want to do is talk.”
In her peripheral vision, she could see him covering his mouth with one hand, nodding, and she knew he was trying not to laugh. Tezza smacked him on the arm with the back of her hand, then noticed for the first time how soaked he was; he was shaking. “You’re drenched. Are you cold?”
He nodded.
“Take off your shirt. Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”
“I’ve been a little distracted the last few days.” He paused. “I don’t think any of your shirts will fit me.” Tezza jogged down the hall to grab a towel and the shirt she’d bought him. She pushed both at him, then moved to fill the teakettle. A cold Orangie would want tea.
“What’s this?”
“That’s a towel, petunia.” He stripped off his sopping shirt, revealing his hard chest, and Tezza could’ve sworn that the windows in the kitchen began to fog up.
He scowled. “I meant the shirt. Where did it come from?”
“I went to a D-Descareti tailor.”
“Why?”
“T-to get you a shirt with flat seams.”
“Why are you stuttering? I’ve never heard you stutter before.”
I never have. But now your beautiful, bare brown chest is in front of me, and apparently, my mouth can’t take it.
She shrugged one shoulder and turned so that he wouldn’t see her face, but it was too late. She felt his heat at her back, just shy of touching her.
“You know,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper register, “Abbie’s been helping me improve at reading body language, too.”
She tried to keep her tone casual. “Really?” One word was all she could get out.
He nodded slowly, the tip of his nose caressing her cheek. “Particularly attraction nonverbals.”
Tezza tried to change the subject. “The flat seams should be more comfortable on your skin.”
“Mmm. Did you know your cheeks are flushed?”
Does he know that he’s flirting with me? Or is he just being curious? Either could be true with Sam. “I was just exercising.”
“And your respiration is increased.” He laid his strong hands lightly on her hips, his sandpaper thumbs brushing just above the waistband on her skin.
Oh. Yeah, he’s starting something. “Like I said. Exercising.”
“Hmm.” He tipped her chin toward him until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “And your pupils are dilated,” he whispered. “Is that from exercising, too?”
“No,” Tezza whispered back.
He dropped the confident act. “Even when you’re mad at me?”
“Even then.” She licked her dry lips. “P-put the shirt on. Please.”
Chuckling, he complied, covering up his beautiful body, despite the silent, disappointed blubbering of her own body, which apparently had a mind of its own and wanted Sam. She couldn’t blame it. She shook her head, trying to get back on track with their conversation.
“It comes down to this: you think you’re a nuisance, because you’re socially awkward and miss nonverbal cues and ask inappropriately intimate questions. But Sam, that’s what makes you Sam. You’re compensating unnecessarily. Stop it. Please.”
“I’ll try. For your sake.”
“No!” she laughed. “For your sake. That’s the point.”
“Right.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’ll try, for my own sake.”
“Good.”
“And will you go to a counselor? For your sake?”
She thought hard. She couldn’t promise something she wouldn’t do. “I’ll try it once. Will you go with me?”
“If you want me to. Though I think my awkwardness will likely make the whole situation more uncomfortable . . .”
Tezza shook her head. “All you have to do is hold my hand.”
“I can do that.” He took both her hands in his.
“I know. That’s one reason I love you.” She rested her head on his chest. “I meant what I said. I do love you, at least a little bit.”
“I love you at least a little bit, too.” He bit his bottom lip. “I wasn’t intending to let you say it before me. I was going to give us a few more dates first. But you beat me to it in typical fashion. I wanted to say it back in the hangar, but I was very overwhelmed and I regret now that I—”
Tezza kissed him. She kept her hands intertwined with his, pulling him against her body. No face touching, no light touch. Stay focused.
“Am I ever going to get to finish a speech?” he asked, scowling.
She shook her head, grinning, and he grinned back.
Chapter Fifteen
TEZZA
HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT he’s doing to me, Tezza thought. Oh, he knew what he was doing; after just a few months together, the man was a quick learner. He was lavishing her with the exact kind of kisses she craved; slow, deep, adoring. She knew he was doing it intentionally, because he’d stopped all her attempts at reciprocation, even pinning her hands under her legs to keep her from touching him lightly by accident so he wouldn’t be annoyed or distracted. She wasn’t used to beating back her response to a man’s closeness anymore—married women don’t need to, after all. Rocco had certainly encouraged and enjoyed her eagerness. It was getting easier to think about him . . . that Rocco was gone. All that dumb talking had helped a little bit. Time was filing off the sharpest edges of grief, but it still cut her sometimes, made her bleed. Her new man held her then, too.
Sam cradled her face in both his hands, brushing his thumb along her jaw. It was possessive and tender, and it was pushing all her buttons in a delightfully problematic way. But when he reached up and pulled the tie out of her hair to let it fall around her shoulders, she wrenched her shaking hands out and pressed herself away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thick, his gaze a little kiss-drunk.
What’s wrong? You might as well have been undressing me just now.
He drew his eyebrows into a deep V. “What’s that face mean, love? I thought you liked it like this.” She couldn’t keep a laugh from bubbling out.
“Yes, I do like it like this, very much.”
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and moved toward her again, but she held him away, much to her body’s chagrin.
“But . . .”
He lifted one eyebrow. “But?”
“But that was my ‘walk to the bedroom or I’ll carry you there’ face.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed softly. “Ah. I see.”
“Now,” she went on, “if you want to get in an airship and take a quick trip to the Land of Lust . . .”
He blinked. “You want to elope in Descaret?”
She shrugged. “I’m game if you are.”
“Tezza,” he sighed. “I know you’re a practical woman . . .” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “And believe me, it’s one of your best traits, but we’ve only been dating a few months.”
“Okay, sugarlump.”
He grimaced. “Is that better than ‘petunia’? I don’t know . . .”
“That’s what my mother calls my father,” Tezza said, nuzzling his neck. “And my yaya called my yayo.”
“Are those your grandparents?”
She nodded, inhaling deeply. Sam smelled like nothing but himself. She pressed closer.
“Did you use that name for Rocco?”
She stopped to think. Had she? Her twenties had been marked by a rejection of her home culture that she just couldn’t maintain in her thirties. Traditions and customs seemed so important these days, in a foreign country, in a way they hadn’t at home. Perhaps it was a way of finding her community. “No. I didn’t.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, that was . . . Forgive me. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“I don’t mind,” she whispered, bringing their foreheads together. “Ask me anything.”
“Was he good in bed?”
Her heart broke a little, looking into his vulnerable eyes, but she nodded.
“Thank you for not lying to me,” he said, looking away. She wanted to gently push his face back toward hers, but she let him take some emotional distance.
“But not at first.”
He turned back on his own. “Really?”
“Of course. Neither was I. But we loved each other. We trusted each other. I asked him not to lick me. He asked me not to moan so loudly in his ear.” She grinned at Sam’s blush.
“I knew you’d be loud,” he whispered, and she giggled as she brought their lips back together for a brief, cherishing kiss, the kind meant to remind him that every bit of this was okay.
SAM
SAM WAS FIGHTING HIS senses hard. Edward had invited them all over, and since it was Saturday, Sam could actually go. He hadn’t hung out with his friends in so long, he wanted to stay, to participate. But he found himself drawing away, sitting on the farthest edge of the couch. They were crunching chips. The volume was too loud on the video game, his app said it was 79 decibels. Way too loud. He’d worn the wrong shirt; it was new, hadn’t been washed enough yet, even though it said it was 100 percent cotton. Even the flashing on the screen grated, his eyes felt accosted.
“Sorry I’m late,” Tezza said to no one in particular as she walked in. She stopped abruptly in front of Sam. “What’s wrong?”
He avoided her gaze. “Nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Simonson,” she warned. “I know nothing, and this isn’t it.”
He ran a hand over his face. “Lay off, T. I just had a long day.”
She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then went around the back of the couch to stand behind him. He felt her strong hands begin kneading his shoulders.
“No offense, but I’m not in the mood . . .” That’s when he felt the magic stirring around him. “Is that you?” he muttered, and she hummed her affirmation. “What’re you doing?”
“Helping.” The magic trickled down his spine like cool water, flowing across his overexcited nerves, flushing out the static. The music’s volume reduced, losing no clarity. Even his shirt seemed to feel softer. “Better?”
“My head . . .” She shifted her hands to his neck, and he felt the ache being drawn toward where her fingers massaged him. He rolled his shoulders and sighed, feeling twenty pounds lighter. Tezza leaned forward and gave him a lingering peck on the cheek.
“See? I knew you weren’t fine.” She was moving away when he grabbed her wrist. He couldn’t let her go; he never wanted to let her go. Not just because he loved her, not because she could ease his discomfort, but because everything was discomfort compared to her presence.
He looked up at her. “You still want to go to Descaret?”
Her eyes lit. She came around the couch to see him better, but her posture was guarded. “Don’t tease.”
“I’m not. I’m serious. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, what’s happening over here?” Saint asked, and Sam turned to find them all staring at him, the game paused.
“We’re getting married,” Sam replied.
“Really?” Abbie squeaked, and he nodded. “Congratulations, you two!”
Edward came over, grinning, and shook his hand firmly before drawing Tezza into a side hug. “That’s fantastic! Please let Ms. Scrope know your date as soon as possible, and I’ll rearrange my schedule—”
“No, you misunderstand. We’re getting married tonight. We’re eloping.”
Silence fell over the room. His friends’ faces were contorted; Edward opened his mouth, then closed it, looking at Abbie, who was scowling. Saint, if Sam was reading him correctly, was livid, and Saint’s date just looked uncomfortable.
“I’m getting better at nonverbals, but this,” he said, gesturing in a circle toward them, “is mostly nonsense to me. Would somebody please say something?”
Saint stood, took a step forward, and opened his mouth, then froze suddenly. “Edward, did you get a cat?”
Sam’s head snapped toward the door. There it was, the tortoiseshell, exactly as he’d seen it that first night, tail twitching lazily, standing just two feet inside the doorway, sniffing at the wire bookshelf that held board games and Ping-Pong paddles.
“Get it!” Sam shouted, but Tezza was ahead of him already, and he could feel her rallying the magic to her, quicker now. The animal darted toward the door, but Tezza threw out a spell to slam it shut just before it could go through, and even he could feel the magic send out a hard ripple when the pressure in the room changed.
“T, we’ve got to get the royals out of here,” he said, creeping closer to the animal where it hid behind a bookshelf.
“No, I’m not opening the door, it’ll get away. Whoever did this isn’t very skilled or it would’ve walked right through the door. It’s blunt magic; we’re putting an end to it tonight.”
