More Than Nothing (Pine Springs), page 15
“Hey, Elenie.” He stood up from the bar stool, towering above her, and leaned down to press a kiss against her temple.
What. The. Fuck.
She almost whimpered.
He smelled of washing powder and aftershave. So damn clean. It was all she could do not to rub her face against his chest like a cat and breathe him in.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Huh?” Elenie looked up at him and blinked.
“Drink?” Roman asked again, pointing to the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Oh, uh, I’ll have a gin and tonic, please. If that’s OK.”
He stepped away from his bar stool and pushed it toward her. “Take a seat.”
Elenie shrugged off her denim jacket, laying it across her lap. Her flowery cotton dress was old and worn, just like her ankle boots, but it was pretty. She fiddled with the material under her fingers and straightened the hem on her thighs, wishing her stomach would settle.
Roman, rumpled and casual, was dangerously handsome in black jeans and a soft, khaki Henley. He pushed his sleeves up as he waited at the bar and she swooned a little more. His hair was slightly damp at the ends. Elenie wondered how recently he’d been in the shower. Her cheeks warmed and she forced herself to stop staring.
She wasn’t the only person checking out the police chief. Looking around the bar, she counted at least four girls plus a guy in a flannel shirt who were studying him with hungry eyes. It was hardly surprising. He was drop-dead throw-your-panties-over-your-shoulder-and-have-a-defibrillator-on-standby gorgeous. That he seemed so unaware made him all the more compelling.
This is not a real date. This is make-believe. Perhaps if she kept telling herself that, it would save her from making a fool of herself.
Roman slid a drink in front of her. “One gin and tonic.”
“Thank you so much.” Elenie, desperate for something to do with her hands, picked it straight up and took a gulp. She shivered as the tart iciness slid over her tongue.
“There’ll be quite a crowd in tonight. There’s a band playing soon,” he said. “Should work in our favor.”
Elenie let herself be reassured by his steady confidence. She gave a jerky nod. “Yes, it’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t sure she believed it.
Chapter 22
Roman
If only subtlety was a language Frank Dax understood, they wouldn’t be going through with this farce.
Every time he thought about putting Elenie in danger, Roman’s stomach plunged and rolled, cement-mixer style. His objectivity was shot. The only thing stopping him from shutting down this whole plan—forcefully, instantly, permanently—was the hope he’d seen on her face.
It absolutely killed him.
How could he know how it felt to go home every night to that house? To a mother who had treated the care system like a crèche and chosen Dax over her daughter. To a man who mocked her, ignored her, or hurt her.
Thea kept sweet popcorn in her cupboard for him when she and Luke only liked salty. Florence left him a voice message every Halloween, singing a ridiculous song about witches they’d found funny when they were kids. His parents had sent regular care packages of food and books to the city, as if he hadn’t had access to any shops himself. It was something he’d taken for granted. Even laughed about.
Elenie had no one. He’d seen the hunger in her eyes at his parents’ house.
If Frank was at all suspicious that Elenie still had the ear of the local PD, there was no way she’d be able to gather the intel they needed. His default setting was mistrust; he was never going to simply take her word for it if she promised to keep her distance from Roman. There needed to be witnesses to an implosion that left no doubt.
Men like Dax dealt solely in things that went boom. Fingers crossed, this performance should solve that.
They needed a brutal, public face-off to shatter any question of an ongoing link. But to do that, they had to confirm the connection first. It was this part that had the potential to blow up in Elenie’s face if they didn’t play it right.
Roman hooked a second bar stool and pulled it closer to Elenie’s, settling in behind her and drawing her back to sit between his thighs. His stomach muscles rippled. Her hair smelled heavenly, like sugar and ice cream. He fought the urge to wind the soft waves between his fingers and press another kiss to her temple. God, how he wanted to.
She was temptation with a ramrod-straight backbone.
This whole charade was fucking dangerous. And half of that danger had nothing to do with Frank Dax.
“Is this OK?” Roman murmured next to Elenie’s ear.
Her nod was a firm jerk of her head. “Yes. It’s good. People are looking.”
The band members appeared to raucous applause. They cut through the patrons and took up their instruments, jumping straight into a fast-paced country song that got the audience clapping and stamping. The reverberations thrummed through the floorboards. Gathering his professional control around him as tightly as he could, Roman rested his hands on Elenie’s waist, trying his best to make it look intimate but feel unthreatening. He ran a deceptively casual eye around the bar.
He’d had a couple of evenings in the Barrel with Milo and Luke since his return, knocking back any flirty encounters with closed body language and a reserved smile. It wasn’t usually as busy as this but he’d chosen a good position. Their location at the bar left them wide open to the attention of others. He tried to assess how much interest they were getting. A group of women nearby threw glances their way, before turning back to gossip among themselves. Roman was pretty sure they were the subject of it.
“See anyone you know?” he asked Elenie, his mouth close to her ear. She gave a tiny shiver; his fingers flexed on her waist.
“Uh, Craig Perry’s sitting in a booth near the corner. He’s with a couple of friends.”
“Describe him.”
She screwed up her nose. “Navy tweed jacket, mustard-colored t-shirt and jeans. Medium height, sandy hair. Stupid, punchable face.” Roman flicked a glance in the direction she mentioned and identified him in seconds. “He’s in our house too often for comfort these days and he likes to brush past me in doorways so he can touch my breasts.”
Roman struggled to keep his face impassive. “D’you know the guys he’s with?”
“Yeah. The meathead with curly hair is Vince Detler. He hangs around with Tyson, too. I wouldn’t trust him to babysit a dog.”
He grunted and shot them another look.
“Some of Ty’s other friends are in the booth next to them,” she continued. “I can’t see him or Dean.”
She tapped nervy fingers against her glass and Roman covered them with his own. His thumb drew calming circles on the back of her hand. “That’s no bad thing. Better they hear about it, rather than see us and kick off in person.”
Now he knew who Craig was, he was aware of the Brit looking over in their direction every now and then. When he next caught him doing it out of the corner of his eye, Roman made a point of brushing one of Elenie’s curls out of her face. She drew in a sharp breath but threw him a flirty smile over her shoulder.
He closed his eyes as his groin tightened and bloomed with heat.
Not the place, dammit.
Roman shifted his position and rested a casual hand on Elenie’s thigh, the butter-soft cotton of her dress catching on his rough fingers. If only they were anywhere else but here, somewhere else alone. But those wishes were not his to make. Elenie wasn’t his to claim.
He focused hard on the performance of the band’s lead guitarist. This secondment was an opportunity to get himself steady again. If he did his job right in the meantime, he might leave Pine Springs in a little better shape than before. Those were his goals. And he couldn’t let a gray-eyed woman from a family of criminals disrupt them.
The next hour passed slowly.
They did their best to chat and act like a normal couple on a normal date. An enamored couple on a normal date. They ordered more drinks and listened to the music. Roman tried to make Elenie laugh; he was delighted when he succeeded. She leaned tentatively against his chest. He held her loosely, the seam of his jeans skimming either side of her thighs. The tension gradually eased from her body and she relaxed in his grip.
Zena wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection but she’d also complained he was too uptight when they attended social gatherings or work events. He’d never been quite sure what she wanted from him. And he’d always thought himself too private to ever want to make out in public.
If this was a proper date, Roman realized he wouldn’t much care who was watching.
When Elenie laid a cautious hand on his leg, the heat in his body climbed a few degrees. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw against her hair. She drew in a breath and held it.
“You make it difficult to remember why we’re here,” he growled in her ear. The words forced their way out, even as he tried to hold them back. She immediately lifted her hand from his thigh. Roman caught it, mid-air, and placed it slowly back where it had been. “Leave it there.”
Electricity sparked between them. He could feel it crackle in the humid air, like a summer storm waiting to break. Elenie’s fingers curled against his jeans.
Behind him, someone pushed someone else who collided with Roman’s back. He jostled Elenie, automatically tightening his grip around her so she didn’t tip off her stool.
“Easy, buddy.”
A gangly young man, wearing far too much aftershave, wilted under his ferocious stare. “Sorry, dude—my bad.” He held up both hands in apology.
Roman let him off with a nod and put a little distance between himself and Elenie. She didn’t return her hand to his leg.
Tyson’s friends played drinking games. Rowdy jeers and back-slapping accompanied each round of shots. Someone knocked over a beer. The band moved into their final song of the evening. Last call rang out and people flooded the bar to refill empty glasses.
“Let’s move out of the way,” Roman suggested.
He led Elenie away from the band, toward the opposite end of the bar, where they leaned against a wall just behind Craig’s booth. Roman looped a casual arm around her shoulders, fingers tapping a deceptively relaxed beat against her collarbone. As the last chords of music died away, the noise level began to drop.
They gave it another quarter of an hour or so, each pointing out people they knew by sight, relating stories they’d heard about them or experiences they’d had dealing with them. Roman found her observant and funny, as always. It reminded him of the afternoon at the fair. Talking to Elenie was easy.
Finally, their conversation tailed off. There was no delaying the next step.
He turned her to face him and gave both of her shoulders a squeeze, wanting to pull her closer and whisk her out of the bar. Instead, he smiled and the moment belonged to just the two of them.
“Best fake date I’ve ever had,” he said.
Elenie tilted her head. “Been on many?” she asked.
“None.”
She huffed out a laugh. Her smile flashed bright, then faded.
“Ready?” Roman’s hand closed over her own, removing her denim jacket from her fingers. Elenie’s mouth twisted. She nodded. “OK, then. It’s showtime.”
Chapter 23
Elenie
Roman held out her jacket and Elenie slipped her arms into the sleeves. He pulled her back against his body, wrapping his arms around her from behind and stuffing his hands into her front pockets. The heat of his chest burned like a brand of fire, a tattoo on her skin she’d wear forever. She summoned a laugh and pressed backward, the butterflies in her stomach no longer from desire.
When Roman’s body went still behind her, Elenie’s heart stuttered, struggling to beat within the icy crust forming around it. He removed his hands slowly from her pockets.
“Are you kidding me?” He held a small plastic bag in his fingers. Inside were two tiny, colorful pills. His face had transformed to a grim mask of disdain and the change was devastating.
She held her breath.
“For Christ’s sake, Elenie. What part of ‘I’m a fucking police officer’ don’t you get?” Roman’s voice, carefully moderated to reach and penetrate the conversations of nearby drinkers, was dangerous.
“I didn’t—”
“Save it.” His disgust pierced her chest, even though she’d steeled herself to expect it. Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, then wiped a hand across his face. “Everyone told me not to trust a Dax. I should have listened.”
He towered before her like a rockface. A statue of untouchable masculinity, so far above her that she’d never felt so small.
“Roman, it’s not mine. I didn’t know it was there. Please!”
All chatter had died in their section of the bar as everyone listened avidly to Elenie’s unconvincing denial. She reached for his arm, dropping her hand again when he stepped back. The distance felt like a chasm.
“Forget it. You’re not worth the risk to my career.” His eyes could cut glass. The cruel twist of his mouth was alien. “You’re barely worth an evening of my time.”
She flinched as his words hooked themselves right into her soul. Undeniably true and achingly painful. They hurt even knowing why he said them.
Roman shoved his hands into his pockets—bag, drugs, and all—and walked away from her. Weaving between the late-night drinkers, he pushed through the doors of the bar and strode out into the dark.
It felt symbolic to be left behind. It felt like foreshadowing. While Elenie’s head knew the plan and exactly what to expect, her heart didn’t seem to get it.
Tyson’s buddies had noisily shushed each other to eavesdrop but now they let out a whooping round of applause. Several of them reached for their phones. All had big mouths and a love of trouble; it wouldn’t take long for the gossip to spread.
Craig Perry pushed himself up from the table. “That was bloody priceless, babe! Let me know in advance next time and I’ll sell tickets.”
Elenie took the half dozen steps needed to stand in front of him. Lifting a full shot glass from the tabletop, she downed it in one, wiping her mouth with the cuff of her jacket. “He’s an arrogant fucker.”
Her voice broke on the last word. She let her lips tremble, made sure Craig noticed. Swiping at her eyes with heels of her hands, she turned away and left the bar.
Roman was nowhere in sight.
The night air wasn’t cold but her teeth chattered. Shuddering inside her thin jacket, she squinted across the parking lot, indecision freezing her feet. Where to go and what to do? Her brain felt like cotton candy. And cotton candy made her think of Roman.
A breathy sob escaped Elenie’s lips before she clamped them together. She would be OK. She could get through this. All was going as expected. The pills she’d lifted from the pocket of Dean’s ripped jeans, dumped on the floor of his room, had served their purpose. Although he’d kicked off when he found them missing, Elenie was right at the bottom of his list of suspects and she’d flown under the radar of his temper tantrum.
She lifted her chin. Going home tonight wasn’t an option, so she just had to think of somewhere else to hole up for a while. It wasn’t something they’d discussed. She didn’t like to disturb Otto this late but his house was only a fifteen-minute walk away and the moon was more than three-quarters full.
“Hey!”
She turned toward the soft call. Caitlyn stood by the open passenger door of an SUV. Milo, his face mostly in shadow, leaned against the fender.
“Here!” Caitlyn called again. “Jump in.”
Elenie ran over. Flicking a grateful smile at Milo, she ducked behind Caitlyn to pull open the rear door. “Thank you so much!”
She didn’t realize she’d let out a wobbly sigh until she met Milo’s eyes in the rearview mirror. There was quiet sympathy in his smile. He started the car and drove smoothly out of the lot. Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of a pretty little house, painted in soft green, near the center of town. Caitlyn ushered Elenie inside.
“Alcohol, coffee, or a cold drink?” she offered, heading for the kitchen.
Elenie was studying their wedding portrait on the wall of the living room with a raw heart when the hammering started on the door. Wired but exhausted, edgy and unsettled, her nerves jangled. There was no going back now; the plan was in motion.
“Did you find her? Is she here?” The front door slammed, footsteps sounded in the entryway, and Roman surged into the room. He checked his stride for a second when he saw her. His eyes flashed with relief as he crossed the floor to stand in front of her, laying careful hands on her shoulders. “You OK?”
“I’m fine.” Only an iron will stopped her from swaying toward him.
He searched her face. She knew he knew she wasn’t fine. “You were great.”
“You didn’t need to send them to find me.” The concern in his eyes nearly melted her. What she wouldn’t give to slip back into a fantasy land where he might look at her like that because he really cared. But in the real world this man could never be hers.
Roman grunted. “You’re not on your own in this, Elenie. You’ve got people looking out for you now. And you’ve got me. They only know we’ve done this to keep Frank off your back. Nothing more.”
He might have continued but Caitlyn barreled into the room, leading with her stomach first.
“You didn’t get a chance to answer so I’ve made us all hot chocolate. Since I can’t drink, I don’t see why you can’t all keep me company.” She plonked four mugs down on the coffee table, kicking off her sneakers with a sigh of relief. “I’ve even given you marshmallows. Don’t tell me I’m not the best hostess ever.”
Roman pulled Elenie down next to him, leaning forward to snag them each a mug of chocolate. Milo perched on the arm of Caitlyn’s chair and stroked a hand over his wife’s fiery curls. Elenie blew across the top of the hot chocolate to cool it, a wave of exhaustion rolling over her. Roman’s arm pressed against hers and the closeness made her unruly heart scurry.
