Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

My jo

ker side takes a step back when I realize she’s being deadly serious and not laughing along with me. She tries to push me toward the door but I swirl her around, taking control of the situation. I was only messing around but it doesn't look like she found it very funny.

I press her up against the wall to my right, holding her wrists on either side of her head. “Amelia, calm down. It’s only a box.”

Her breath catches as our chests touch, her gaze not moving from mine as she seems to gasp for her next breath. “It’s…” Her eyes search mine, looking for something before she flits her gaze away and whispers, “It’s private, Nate.” Her head shakes, a small movement that if I wasn’t watching her so closely, I wouldn’t have known she did. She kicks up the corners of her full lips, putting on a fake smile I can see right through. “You have no boundaries, you know that?” Her eyes connect with mine again, only this time she’s placed her shutters down, not letting me see what she’s really thinking.

I loosen my grip on her wrists but I don’t move away. “I wasn’t actually going to look inside, that’s your business.”

We stare at each other for a few beats, a weird tension passing between us. I’ve seen the looks she’s thrown my way and I can’t say I haven’t been throwing flirtatious vibes right back at her. Something's changed but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I mean, I’ve always been attracted to her but back when she first started working here she was an eighteen-year-old live wire compared to the woman she’s growing into now six years later.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low. “Can I step away without you freaking out again? I promise I won’t go near the box and reveal your dirty secret.” I wink at her and my gaze flicks down to her throat as she swallows, fascinated at nearly being able to see the beat of her pulse through her skin.

“I—yeah,” she stammers, blowing out a breath, her hair flicking out of her face with the force. She touches her cheeks, the slight shaking in her hands not going unnoticed. I want nothing more than to ask her what’s going on, to make sure she’s okay. But something in her eyes stops me.

I gently run my fingers across her wrists before resisting going any further and taking a step away. “So, Tris ran out with the kids when he got my message that I was coming over?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, he came home and said he was taking them out and I had the night off.”

“Night off, huh? You going to go out and let loose?” I raise a brow. “It is Friday after all.”

She smirks, pushing off the wall and squeezing past me, picking up the box and pushing it underneath her bed on the other side of the room. “Sometimes I wonder how anyone takes you seriously as a lawyer.” She stands up, walking over to her small kitchen murmuring, “Let loose,” before scoffing.

“Because I’m a perpetual badass… and I’m good with my mouth.” Her eyes widen. Most people would be embarrassed with the innuendo, but I roll with it, crossing my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes before pulling open the door to her refrigerator. “Want one?” she asks, holding out a bottle of water toward me. Water. This is what she’s doing on a Friday night?

I raise my other brow and shake my head. “Nope. This isn’t happening.”

“Huh?” She scrunches up her nose as I step toward her, taking the bottle out of her hand and placing it on the counter.

I tap the end of her nose with my pointer finger. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“What—I… huh?”

I stop by the front door, my gaze roaming over her sweatpants and tank top. A tight, tight, tank top that doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. “Well you can’t go out in that, and you need to eat, right?”

“I… I need to eat?” She frowns, still not having moved from the spot she’s standing in as she stares at me like I’ve got two heads.

“Last time I checked it’s how us humans functioned. So yeah, you need to eat, I need to eat. Let’s go and eat together.” I motion toward her closet. “Go and change and I’ll meet you in my car out front.”

I don’t give her time to protest as I walk out of the pool house, adjusting myself as the tight tank top invades my mind.

The soft click of the door snaps me out of my thoughts. I don’t move, watching as Nate saunters across the backyard and back through the house.

I’ve known him since I first came to work for Tristan—he’s not only Tristan’s best friend but also Clay and Izzie’s uncle. He’s a permanent fixture around here, which is why I need to not let the butterflies swarming in my stomach affect me.

From the first time I met Nate, there was something in his eyes that called to me—the sadness; the grief he was going through from losing his cousin. He hid it well with his jokes and his addictive laughter, trying to keep a front on for the husband and kids she left behind, but I saw it.

Over the years it slowly dissipated, but I still feel some kind of connection to him. A connection I knew I shouldn’t—couldn’t—have with him.

We’ve become close over the last six years, but I always keep him at arm's length. He can’t know the real me. The me I pushed deep down and locked away all of those years ago.

My gaze flicks over to my bed then to the box I can see sticking out from underneath it. It brings a whole new meaning to “monsters under the bed.”

What I should do is lock the house, get into my bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend he didn’t just tell me we’re going out for something to eat.

He’d been so close to seeing what was in the box, another couple of inches and he would have. There’s no way he could have known what it means, at least not unless he opened it and saw the words written inside.