Read Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) Online
Authors: Catherine Gayle
Tags: #contemporary romance
I’D HOPED THAT
by the time I got to the community center, London would have stopped crying, but she hadn’t. I didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. It wasn’t like she was Harper and I could just hold her and rock her and tell her stories in Russian, and then everything would be okay. But there were tears streaming down London’s cheeks as she eased herself into the passenger seat of my car. And she was shaking. Hard enough I could see it.
Made me want to punch something.
I took apart her wheelchair and stowed it in the backseat. For once, she didn’t even attempt to help me with it. That only further emphasized what a mess she was, because under normal circumstances, she would be bristling at the thought of me doing something for her that she could do for herself.
I didn’t like it. Not a bit. But there wasn’t anything around for me to hit, and hitting something wouldn’t make me feel any better, anyway.
She didn’t budge when I closed the door and went around to climb in on the driver’s side. Didn’t balk when I reached for her hand. This wasn’t like her. Not at all.
“What happened?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing important.”
“Important enough you’re crying.”
“It was just Wade. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that, but now wasn’t the right time to start up another argument. I squeezed her hand and then moved mine back to the steering wheel so I could drive her home.
“What’d you mean, you aren’t my pet project?” London asked after a few minutes of silence other than the sounds of the road and her occasional sniffles.
“Don’t want to fight right now.”
“I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m trying to understand why you left today without sitting in on even a minute of the group session. Wade said you bolted before it got started, and when you answered the phone a bit ago, you shouted at me that you’re not my pet project. So what’s that about? Did he call you that?”
I realized my grip on the wheel was hard enough to stop blood flow, so I intentionally loosened my fingers and tried to calm down. It was bad enough that London was crying. I didn’t need to add my own bullshit to the mix. “Wasn’t Wade. One of the counselors.”
She fell silent again for a moment, staring out the window. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have said something like that.”
“You’re not denying it,” I pointed out.
“I’m not denying that there are people I take it upon myself to help in every way I can, and that sometimes other people see that as me taking on a
pet project
. That doesn’t mean I see things that way, and it doesn’t make it the truth.”
“Am I one of those people?”
“You’re one of the ones I care enough about to do more than maybe I should. More than you’re ready for, at least. So in that way, I suppose you could say you are.”
“And Miller is another,” I said.
“Yes. Even though I know there’s nothing I can do for him. He’s got to help himself. So do you.”
I came to a red light and stopped, turning to face her. She angled her head toward me enough for me to see that she’d stopped crying.
Thank God.
“I won’t apologize for caring about you, Dima. Or for caring about Wade. Maybe I care too much. Maybe that’s my problem. But if it is, it’s
my
problem and something I’ll have to learn to deal with on my own.”
“That’s why you were crying?” I asked. “You care too much?”
She sighed. “Too much. Not enough. Depends on who you ask.”
“I wish you wouldn’t let him hurt you,” I said, turning into her driveway and putting the car in park.
“So do I.” London laughed, long and loud. “Trust me, I’m working on it. But even those of us who can be stone-cold bitches most of the time have hearts underneath. No matter how hard you try to protect yourself from all the crap life throws at you, you’re going to get hurt. It’s part of being human.”
I climbed out of the car and started taking out the pieces to her wheelchair while she put it together. How badly had he hurt her? I couldn’t help but wonder if she was so hard on the exterior because she was afraid of being hurt again. Sounded like that was at least partially true. So maybe she wasn’t as put together as she wanted people to believe. Sad to say it, but that made her more relatable to me. I could definitely understand trying to prevent repeating the past, in whatever way it might manifest itself.
“You have plans tonight?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Debating going out with the guys.” Actually, I’d been hoping Hunter or Tallie would call me and beg for my help with Harper, but they hadn’t done that in a few days. Hunter had told me this morning at practice that he thought the baby was finally getting over her colic. Was it bad that I wished she’d have it a little longer just so I could go over to soothe her? Probably. “Drew’s getting the boys together,” I added.
“Oh.” London shifted from the car to the wheelchair. “Well, if you’d rather stick around and order pizza…”
“Any chance I can get you naked? I like you better naked.”
She pursed her lips and raised a brow. “Not likely.”
Pizza with London might still be better than anything else I could come up with as a way to spend my night, even if I couldn’t get her clothes off. I shrugged. “Could stay a while.”
She chuckled and headed for her front door. “Well, I’m not going to twist your arm.”
I was still debating whether I should stay or go, but my feet had apparently made up their own mind. She held open the door for me, and I followed her inside.
She headed for her desk and pulled up her laptop. “Any preference on pizza?”
“They have stroganoff?” I asked.
She pulled a face. “Stroganoff pizza?”
“Just stroganoff.”
“Not likely.” London smirked in my direction. “Guess I’ll order what I like, and you can be happy with that.”
“Guess so.”
“Grab me a glass of wine, will you?” she asked. “I’m still shaking after…” She stopped herself and shook her head. “I just want some wine tonight. Need something to help me relax. There’s an open bottle of red in the fridge and glasses in the cabinet to the right. And you can help yourself to whatever you want. Wine, beer, water…anything.”
I went into the kitchen and fixed her a glass of wine, taking a bottle of water for myself.
I still didn’t know how things had turned out like this. Why was I here with her at all? And did I believe her when she said she wasn’t looking at me as a pet project? I wasn’t sure.
The only thing I was certain of was that I couldn’t stand the thought of walking away from her now that I was with her again, and that scared the shit out of me.
“
I STILL CAN’T
get over this smooth baby face,” London said, leaning over to trail the backs of her fingers along the line of my jaw. I’d been at her place for hours, since long past the time we’d finished our pizza and I should have gone home, but I wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
She didn’t seem to be in a rush to kick me out, either. Might have had something to do with all the wine she’d been drinking. At this point, she was more than just a bit tipsy, but at least she wasn’t shaking and crying like she had been when I’d first picked her up. I kind of liked her like this if it meant she wasn’t going to dig for long-buried treasure in my mind. I just hated that it took Miller upsetting her so much that she drank half a bottle of wine to cope with the shit he made her feel.
We’d had dinner and talked about all sorts of things we’d never discussed before, since usually I distracted her by trying to fuck her. But now wasn’t the time for that. She still wouldn’t tell me anything about what had happened this afternoon with Miller to leave her in tears, and I still wasn’t sure I could accept her answer about me being her
pet project,
so we were avoiding all of the above by having conversations we’d never come close to having before.
I told her about the upcoming trip and how I was bringing Sergei’s mom along with me, and she filled me in on her plans to expand the community center’s programming to include arts and crafts activities for seniors. After I spent a while telling her about how Viktoriya was becoming something of a little sister to me, London demonstrated the way her niece liked to braid her hair, complete with off-key singing. By that point, she’d had at least four glasses of wine, and she’d lost all her inhibitions.
Our interactions tonight were light and playful, nothing like our usual intensity, even if there was still a lot of anger simmering beneath the surface for me, and a lot of hurt lurking behind her eyes. Hurt that Miller had put there. And maybe I’d put some of it there, too, by not following through with going to her group session.
But the whole time we’d talked, we’d kept our hands to ourselves.
Until now.
My pulse went through the roof the second her fingertips touched my skin, especially because my face was still sensitive where the beard had been. Every time I shaved, it left me feeling raw and vulnerable. If she kept touching me, I’d lose my resolve and put my hands on her, too.
I couldn’t allow that to happen. She’d said no fucking, so there would be no fucking, damn it.
“Not a baby face,” I said, backing away as far as I could without tipping her off to the fact that she was making me insanely uncomfortable. I needed distance. I needed time to rein in my control. “Baby skin is like silk. I know.”
“Yeah, from all your time with Harper.” London didn’t take the hint, inching closer to me on the couch and tracing the line of my jaw with the tips of her fingers. Her thigh brushed up against mine, and my cock jerked to attention. “How’s she reacted to the lack of facial hair?”
“Pulls my hair instead.” A grin made its way to my lips, one I couldn’t stop. “She likes to put fingers in my mouth.”
London smirked. “There are worse things you could put in your mouth.”
And there were better things I could put there, too, but that thought had nothing to do with Harper and everything to do with London, so I kept it to myself.
London looked like she might have been able to read my mind, though. Her eyes went dark and sultry, and she licked her lips.
Damn her.
I got up and went into the kitchen for another bottle of water. Not that I was thirsty. I just had to get away from London before I did something I’d regret.