Only Trick

“I just saw your car still parked on the street and you said you’re at my place, so if you’re not here then—”

I hear the buzz of his door over the phone as I push the button. “It’s me. No more questions. Got it?” I press End and proceed inside to the elevator. He opens the gate when I reach the top, sporting the rare million-dollar-white-teeth smile.

“Not another word,” I warn.

“Hey, Darby!”

I look past Trick to see his receptionist walking down the stairs in the far corner.

“Sorry I didn’t realize who you were when you came in earlier.” She has the most angelic smile.

My cheeks flush. So much for avoiding the embarrassing situation. I offer my hand as she approaches, but she goes straight for the hug. Now would be the appropriate time to play a quick game of twenty questions. Starting with Who are you?

“Darby, this is Tamsen.”

My eyes light up with recognition, then I squint with a bit of confusion. “Grady’s sister?”

She laughs. “Same father, different mothers.”

I nod. “Very nice to meet you.”

“Bye, babe.” She leans up and kisses Trick on the cheek.

“It was nice to meet you, Darby.” She moves past us to the elevator.

My brain tells me I should be jealous now that I know Patrick Roth is not gay. But she has this positive vibe that makes it hard to not like her, and Trick said she’s like family. Like a goddess for a sister.

“Bye,” I say with a few second delay and a kind smile in return.

“Ready?” He pulls on his leather jacket and hands me one too.

I slip my arms through and hold them up, taking notice that it fits me. “Whose jacket is this?”

“Yours.”

“What do you mean?”

He flips the lever for the elevator to come back up. “I mean it’s yours.”

“You bought it for me?” I follow him onto the elevator.

“I did.”

“Thank you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him for the jacket. As for the storage room incident, that I’m still pissed about. Unfortunately, I can’t express all of my anger without confessing the true amount of time I spent in it.

His eyes search my face for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

As the large garage door opens, he twists my hair and pulls on a helmet. It too fits perfectly. Two Goldie Locks moments in one night. I stare at him, not even trying to hide my adoration. He will be the hardest puzzle I’ve ever tried to figure out.

“You’re welcome.” He grins before bringing his own helmet down over his head.

Two questions dance in my head: What am I doing with this mysterious guy that is curiously unpredictable and completely lovable, and what is he doing with me?

Chapter Thirteen

Sometimes knowledge sucks, like now, when all I want is to enjoy the ride but images of gurneys with limp bodies being rushed into the ER after motorcycle-car accidents play in my head. As we weave through traffic, I melt into Trick’s body allowing a small and irrational part of myself to feel safe. Surrendering to my vulnerability, I let him control my fate.

Trick pulls up along the street by Cantina Laredo. After removing his helmet, he takes mine off and I finger through my hair.

“What?” I question because of his signature stoic expression. “I know, I am a mess with my helmet hair and naked face.”

His hands slide up my neck and into my hair, pulling me to him. “You’re a beautiful mess.” He brushes his lips against mine; it’s a mere whisper of a kiss from the docile side of Trick Roth that must have been gagged and tied up by the dominant ego that had his way with me just hours earlier.

On the outside he’s a deep canyon with jagged edges, but I’ve just started to get a glimpse of what most people don’t see past the surface … and it’s stunning.

“Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the restaurant.

“You could say please.” I double the speed of my steps to keep up.

“You could say no.” He opens the door and like the true gentleman I don’t think he really is, he lets me enter first.

“What would you do if I said no?”

“Get a table by the window, order an appetizer, and watch you stand on the sidewalk basking in your independence.”

We’re seated by a window, ironically. “Someone sure did a number on you.” I shake my head.

“Sorry.” He looks over the menu. “I’m in uncharted territory with you. Thank you for accompanying me into the restaurant.” His sly smile steals all sincerity from his words.

Screw it. Trick will be my unsolvable puzzle, and I’ve just decided I wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s a take-me-as-I-am-I-don’t-give-a-shit guy, stopping on the confidence scale a hair shy of arrogant—aka make-you-beg-for-it sexy. I’ve met my match. It’s possible I’m actually way out of my league. No worries, I shall rise to the challenge.