Reclaimed (Powell Sanctuary #5)

Chapter 10

10

Aiden

Fucking hell, my shoulders hurt. I roll the joints, wincing at the way they pop in the tense sockets. Sleeping on the couch with two fucked up shoulders isn’t for the weak, I’ll say that much. The gunshot might be healed but the lingering ache isn’t something I expect to be rid of anytime soon.

The loud music at XO’s throbs in my skull, and for the first time in months, I’m not enjoying my visit. Don’t get me wrong. Isla is sexy as always strutting her sweet ass on that stage, but I’m not here to watch her dance.

I’m here to keep her safe.

And part of that job means that I can’t focus solely on her three-song set and the way she shimmies and works that pole between her curvy legs, no matter how much I want to devour her heart-stopping performance.

My attention remains on the sea of faces in the crowd, watching for anyone who’s paying her the wrong type of attention.

I’ve reclaimed my center front row table, now complete with a reserved sign until I come in during each of her shifts. The story I was told is Isla threatened to quit if Manny didn’t honor the accommodation, and since her boss isn’t eager to see his prime dancer walk out on him, he obliged. Begrudgingly.

If he hadn’t been a total ass I would have paid a hold fee, but I like Isla’s way a lot better. Her method is easier on the wallet.

I toss back a swallow of the vodka neat. The chilled drink leaves a ring of condensation on the table. It’s my only one of the night. A token to ease my overactive sense of awareness.

The usual crowd fills the space. Eager old crusties, as Isla calls them. The typical bachelor party getting their last hurrah before one of the boys is off the market. Men still wearing their wedding rings claiming to their wives they’re working late, sipping drinks with colleagues after a long day at the office. This is the only joint in the county, so most of these guys drive in from out of town, which makes finding someone who doesn’t quite fit in a difficult endeavor. If we were at The Rocks, I could name every person in that bar. Out here, most everyone is a stranger.

They didn’t even bother to increase security. The usual guard stands watch at the front door and the back hall. The shithead Isla was arguing with last week, Lucien, prowls around the main floor spending equal amounts of time flirting with the waitstaff as he does keeping an eye on things.

I don’t like that guy. There’s something off about him, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.

A thunderous applause snaps me from my scrutiny. The dimming of stage lights alerts me to the end of Isla’s set. Calls of Stella have me out of my seat, tossing back the remainder of my glass.

I breathe out sharply at the bite of vodka, toss down a tip, and slide on my leather jacket over my white tee. Minnesota was gifted with a week of dipping temperatures, heralding the return of fall. I flip the bill of my cap forward and adjust the fit on my forehead. Then I position myself at the mouth of the hall to wait for Isla to change her clothes.

She walks out a few minutes later pulling the long curly cascade of brown hair over her shoulder.

God, she’s gorgeous.

Blonde, brunette, or whatever, she can pull it off with ease. The new color only draws the golden desert hue of her eyes out against her light complexion.

“Ready?” she calls out to me with a straight face.

Relieving her of her duffel, I wince internally. To say this week has been a bit awkward is an understatement. It isn’t only the weather causing the chilly air. The house we’re staying in together has been nearly arctic and it isn’t the old windows and doors to blame.

“Ready,” I drawl with a slight sarcastic bite. The look she sends my way could freeze water.

I follow her out the rear exit, keeping my gaze firmly averted from the sensual swing of her round hips.

The headlights on my sedan flicker as I unlock it with the fob. She climbs into the passenger side without waiting for me to secure her bag in the trunk. I slip into the driver’s seat beside her and can practically feel the wall she’s erected between us.

The hum of the engine starting cuts through the quiet.

“You know, for this to work, we have to actually pretend to like each other in public.” I say as I point the car on the highway in the direction of home. “Otherwise the creep might think he’s doing me a favor.”

A stinging slap lands horizontal across my chest.

“Ow!”

“That’s not funny,” she nearly growls.

My fingers twist around the leather. “You’re right. It was insensitive.”

I feel her eyes on me but keep mine on the dark road.

“I didn’t expect you to actually admit it.” The shock in her tone is undiluted.

“I’m not a total asshole, Isla. I can apologize without getting defensive.”

She harumphs and leans back in her seat.

To fight the smile teasing my lips, I keep the conversation going. “You didn’t fill your dance card tonight.”

Her head rolls on the seat to face me. The sound of her swallow is poorly concealed. “I told Manny I’m not taking private dances anymore.”

“If it’s because of this arrangement, you don’t have to do that.” My heart ticks faster in my chest. I can’t say that I’m not pleased I don’t have to drive her home smelling of other men, knowing she just got done grinding in their laps, but that has to be solid money she’s walking away from.

“I don’t feel safe being alone with strange men. He understood. Said it’s my cash I’m leaving on the table, as if I didn’t already consider that.”

“Is it going to be a hardship?” I ask softly.

“Maybe at first, but I’ll adjust. As long as I can keep working Friday and Saturday nights. I make more those nights than most people make in a week. Worst case scenario, I pick up an extra shift.”

“That’s good. Hey, and your new roommate is taking care of half, so you can save what you’d normally pay until you figure out your finances.”

“I don’t need you paying my bills, Powell.”

“Same,” I bite, putting enough intention behind the one word to clearly convey my meaning. I’ve been single so long that I have a hefty savings account. A single guy in his thirties doesn’t have a lot to spend money on. Besides Chevy. And my sister is the vet, so even that work was done at a steep discount.

“Okay, I won’t argue,” she capitulates around a yawn.

I give up any further disagreements, no matter how playful, in order to let her rest. When a glance over at the stop sign before her house, her eyes are closed.

She doesn’t startle when I throw the car in park on the street across from her four-plex. I quietly kill the engine, and keep the jingling of the keys to a minimum as I remove it from the ignition. They fall to my lap in my hand as I take her in.

The steady rise of her shoulders are a sure sign she’s fallen asleep. Those petal pink lips are slightly parted, allowing even breaths a quiet escape. My chest squeezes as I look at her.

A wrinkle forms between her brows, and her shoulders twitch before she startles herself awake.

“Hey.” I gently touch her shoulder, and her head whips to me. “You fell asleep.”

She squeezes her eyes closed and pushes disorderly strands of hair off her face. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”

“Bad dream?”

She closes her eyes heavily and shakes her head. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming about.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

Exiting the car heightens my focus again as I scan the darkened street. She really needs to contact someone about the lack of streetlights all the way out here. Even if there wasn’t a serial killer on our minds, this can’t be safe for anyone walking around after dark.

I retrieve her duffel bag and follow her up the old, wooden stairs.

“We should make you a key.” She shoves open the door and drops hers on the rectangular entry table.

“I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”

“Good. I want to sleep in.” She toes off her sneakers and leaves them by the door.

I lean a shoulder against the corner of the wall and cross my arms as she wobbles her way across the room. I can’t fight my smile as she plops herself onto her couch and buries her face in the soft blanket she keeps on the back.

“I thought that was my bed.”

“Just five minutes,” she groans.

“Take as long as you want.” I start removing my shoes as Chevy jumps into her lap. Without moving the rest of her body, her arm darts out to pet my cat. He snuggles in close, giving me the direct feeling that I’ve been replaced.

I drag the blanket off the back without disturbing her position and tuck it loosely around her body.

“What do you need?”

“Sustenance,” she mumbles. “Don’t worry. I can get it.”

“Don’t you dare move.” My rumbled command halts her movements. “Let me feel like I’m good for something around here.”

“Fine.” She follows the word with a good-natured huff.

“What do you like to eat after work?”

“I have taco salad prepped. And a sparkling water, please.”

Sure enough, the right side of the fridge is stacked with containers. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice.

I set the items down on the coffee table. “When did you have time to make all this?”

“When you were working.” Isla sits up and pushes her hair out of her face. Even with the tired purple rims beneath her eyes, I’m not sure she’s ever looked more beautiful.

That explains why I didn’t notice. I’ve been taking my calls at my place so that I didn’t have to move my equipment. We agreed that unless the threat moved closer, we’d be okay to be apart during the day. I’m only a phone call and six-minute drive away.

I guess when I saw the containers I just assumed they were leftovers and not my business.

“It’s really smart. I’m sorry for all of this.”

She pauses with the lid in her hand. “For what?”

“You really have a good thing going. You’re independent and organized. I’m sorry I’m intruding on what seems like a really nice, quiet life.”

“Yeah, well…” she crushes a handful of tortilla chips on the top of her meal. “Sometimes I crave a bit of chaos.”

The grin she sends my way is more than a little heated.

“I’m glad you’re finding the positives in this situation.”

She swallows down a bite. “I am now that I’m no longer starving. I’m not liable for my hangry attitude.”

I flip the baseball cap around on my head. Isla pauses with a forkful halfway to her mouth as she watches my hands.

“Noted.” I wink.

She shoves in a flustered bite.

“I have something I’d like to run by you.” I settle into the opposite side of the couch and rest my arm across the back. “We’ve laid low this week, and I’m not complaining. For the first time in months, I had some peace and quiet. But I was thinking it might be time to make this public.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“My family does this weekly dinner on Sundays. It’s sort of a tradition. Once my siblings started to grow up and move out, one by one, they’d stop in on Sundays until it just became the thing we all did together. Anyway, I’ve been avoiding them for the last couple of months.”

“And you want us to go together,” she surmises.

“Yes.” I twist the hat around and back again. “We don’t have to stay very long, but it would get it over with all at once so long as everybody shows up. All the spouses and kids come. Juniper will be there, so that’s one less person to tell.”

Isla rolls her lips between her teeth and scrunches her nose. “I haven’t told her yet.”

“We tell them all together then.”

“She’s going to hate me.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Isla suddenly hops up from the couch and marches her dirty dishes into the kitchen. She raises her voice above the sound of running water. “I’ve been keeping a lot from her lately. It’s not that I want to keep secrets, but I’m trying to keep her from seeing how much of an absolute mess I am.”

Her cute rant has me frozen in place on the couch. Maybe that’s the key to getting her to open up. Keeping my own mouth shut.

Before I can get a word in, she announces, “I’ll be right back,” and walks down the hall.

Chevy turns a glare on me, then butts his head against my arm.

“Sour patch,” I mutter, scratching him beneath his chin. “You’re rubbing off on her. Or maybe she’s rubbing off on you.”

Digging my phone from my back pocket, I scroll to the family group text and type out a message.

Me:

Dinner on Sunday?

Frankie:

You’ll be there?

Jude:

It’s on. Usual time

Me:

Yeah, I’ll be there and heads up I’m bringing someone

Cortney:

WHO

Corjan:

Is it a girl?

Jack:

No, it’s a turnip

Cortney:

TELL ME WHO

Mom:

Can’t wait to see you sweetie

Lee:

Mom, why are you still awake?

I shove my phone away while a barrage of messages continue to vibrate the device. They can talk amongst themselves and try to solve this unsolvable riddle. It’s not like they have to wait long. It’s already after midnight Saturday, so another twenty-four hours won’t hurt anybody.

Isla comes out of the bathroom a moment later. She’s tied her newly-dyed strands on top of her head in some sort of knot. It’s a little crazy looking, but the style is cute.

A nervous energy follows her as she sits beside me.

Her back is straight and she holds her chin high as if she’s been sorting through a decision and finally settled on one.

“I think there’s something we need to do if we really want to sell this thing.”

I run a hand over my hat and settle it along the back cushions. “What’s that?”

She pulls in a full breath. On the exhale, she says, “practice kissing.”

Fixating my gaze across the room, I slowly blink. Of all the things I thought could come out of her mouth, practice kissing didn’t even make the top twenty—scratch that—top fifty of that list. My heart gives a wild thump against my ribs as if to say, answer her idiot!

“Uh,” I clear my throat and lick my lips. “I think I’m familiar with how to do that.”

Shit. She doesn’t know I’m a virgin, does she?

There’s no way.

“But we haven’t kissed each other.”

She’s not wrong about that.

Not that I haven’t imagined it.

“Come on, stand up.” She’s all business as she pops up from the couch and puts her hands on her hips, oblivious to my internal predicament. “We need to see if there’s chemistry.”

I rise at a much slower pace.

Standing at my full height, I’m at least a head taller than she is. I steady myself and look down, and the sight of her trusting desert-colored eyes gazing up at me nearly does me in.

Does she have any idea how fucking pretty she is?

“Okay, so, how should we do this—oh!” She squeaks when I grab her wrist.

I drag her hand up between us and flatten her palm on my chest. The heat of her sears through the thin layer of my cotton tee. I fight to keep my eyes open. To hide how fucking affected I am by this.

Blindly, since her eyes remain locked on mine and I’m not going to be the first to break that connection, I find her other hand hanging limp at her side. I drag her arm upward until I settle her other palm over my leather jacket against my hip.

“Keep those there,” I order in a raspy growl.

God, if she were to move them, to roam places on my body that haven’t been touched, I’m afraid of what might happen. I’m certain I’d embarrass myself. There’s a high probability she’d call this entire thing off.

For a minute, I just gaze down at her. And she looks up at me. Her eyes open and trusting. Patiently waiting for me to lead us down an untraveled road we more than likely can’t come back from.

Her trust is heady and foreign. The last thing I want to do is fuck this up.

“Hold still,” I murmur, my lips barely parting to release those two words. I stare at her like she’s a puzzle I’m trying to solve but I’m a few pieces short.

I feather the fingers of my right hand over the side of her neck. Her pulse jumps, dancing rapidly against the digits. My thumb strokes around the other side as I marvel in how smooth her skin is.

Her breath catches, the hitch driving through my chest and straight to my cock. I haven’t kissed her yet and I’m already fucking hard, throbbing, pressing against the zipper of my jeans like it’s trying to break through the restrictive fabric.

Time slows to a crawl as I lower my lips to hers.

The first brush is tentative, testing the invisible boundary between us. Isla gasps a few seconds in, as if she was holding her breath and forgot she needed air. My hand slides from her neck into the back of her hair, slipping into the strands beneath her bun and tilting her head back to deepen it.

My tongue slips into her mouth. A groan vibrates through my chest and I know she can feel it beneath her hand. She curls her fingers tight into my cotton tee as if she needs to be closer and can’t get close enough.

She tastes like mint and raspberry from her sparkling drink, the combination reminding me of a crisp summer cocktail on a summer day. The loose strands of her hair tickle my cheek, and I reach back to untie her crazy bun. The curls tumble down her shoulders and back. While I devour her, I bury my hands in the soft mess.

I’ve kissed other girls and fooled around a handful of times, but for some reason this feels different. It feels like I’m kissing the person I want to kiss for the rest of my life.

She releases my leather jacket to wrap her hand around my lower back. Her touch ignites a fire, and when she yanks us flush, a shudder races down my spine.

Fuck.

I don’t think I’ve been this hard in my entire fucking life and the unmistakable bulge behind my zipper is now pressed into her soft belly.

It’d take an act of god for her to miss it.

The kiss concludes slowly, a testament that neither one of us wants it to end.

Isla regains her voice first.

“What was that?”

I clear my throat and swallow. “Practice kissing.”

Her eyes widen adorably. “If that’s practice kissing, I can’t wait to see what real kissing is.” She swipes her index and middle fingers across her swollen lips.

“Me either.” A shocked chuckle escapes. Hearing it, Isla laughs too.

God help me.