Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) (7 page)

“I’m going to kill him! No—killing is too good for him. I’ll get a Tony Baldini voodoo doll and stick it full of pins. Right in the crotch.”

That coaxed a laugh out of Calli, but it didn’t last long. “He’s not worth the effort. Really. I’m fine.”
 

She turned away, taking a surreptitious swipe at her cheek.

Forget the voodoo doll—Annabelle was going to jab the pins directly into the real Tony’s man parts.

“What is wrong with all the guys out there?” She’d spoken louder than she intended to, and voice echoed off the walls of Calli’s tiny studio.
 

Good. Why should she keep quiet while her world fell apart around her? “We’re fabulous! We should have guys begging to date us.”

Not with all your sexual hangups
, whispered a voice inside her head, but the vodka was throwing a house party inside her parietal lobe, making it easy to ignore.
Thank you, vodka.

“You’re right!” Calli knocked back half her drink. “We’re intelligent.”

“And employed.”

“Yes!” Calli clinked glasses with her, sloshing some vodka onto the floor. “And, unlike some guys, whose names I’m not ever mentioning again, we can have conversations about things besides the 1965 GTO we’re restoring.”

“Or how our next paper is going to be published in
Nature
.”

“And we know how to feed ourselves and do our own laundry. Did you know I had to teach Tony how to scramble an egg? Shoot. I said his name.”

“You should’ve let him starve to death.”

“The man definitely did not appreciate me. But just because Tony, Christian, and your mystery man were too stupid to see how good they had it doesn’t mean we have to be alone. The second we get back out there, we’re going to have more guys than we can choose from. Hot guys. Who don’t need to borrow money from us to put gas into their piece-of-crap Ford Fusions.”

“Exactly!”

“Come on. I know exactly where we’re going to find our rebound men.” Calli set down her glass and tugged Annabelle to her feet.

The sudden movement made the floor switch places with the ceiling. She held onto Calli for dear life. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“Hurry, or all the good ones will be taken.”

Good ones? She tried to ask for clarification, but the only word that would come out of her mouth was, “Huh?”

“Rebound men.” Calli fumbled in her purse for her cell phone. She dropped it twice before finally capturing it. “I’ll call a taxi. We have to stop by your place, and I can’t drive right now.” She squinted at her phone. “Why isn’t this thing working?”

“What’s at my place?”

“You need a wardrobe change before we hit the bar. Something that accentu… Accentutates your natural hotness.”

Annabelle started to laugh—Calli was wasted—but then the words penetrated.

Crap, crap, crappity crap. “Maybe this isn’t the best night to go out. My head is…” The word escaped her. “You know. Doing that floaty thing. And I hate those meat-market bars.”

Calli must have finally gotten her call to go through, because she held the phone to her ear. “You’ll like this one. It’s totally classy.” She wobbled toward the door, dragging Annabelle with her. “Don’t worry. Everything’s under control.”
 

*

Ty crumpled the note in his fist. This was
not
the way the night was supposed to go down. If Annabelle’s sexual issues hadn’t been a sign from the universe that he belonged back in her life, he didn’t know what was.

Which was exactly the problem. He
didn’t
know.

He hated this shit. The uncertainty. The second guessing.

What the hell are you trying to tell me?

He didn’t realize he’d asked the question out loud—make that
screamed
it out loud—until Annabelle’s next door neighbor scurried into her place like a serial murderer was on the loose.
 

Christ, he was a mess.
 

No wonder Annabelle wanted nothing to do with him. If he couldn’t deal with his own shit, how was he supposed to help her?

Like you were in this to help her. You just wanted into her pants.

No he hadn’t. He’d wanted to help her. To be a good friend.

A good friend would take a hint and leave instead of lurking on her doorstep.

Something sharp dug into his palm. The note. He still had it clenched in his fist.

He opened his hand, and the crumpled remains fell to the ground. The paper cut was barely visible, but his entire hand throbbed.
Damn it.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of sign?” he demanded.

The evening was still and silent. Gray clouds provided an impenetrable cover to the moon and stars. If some higher power had been trying to communicate with him, there was no sign of it now.

There was nothing.

*

“Okay.” Calli stopped in front of Annabelle’s closet. “Lessee what we have to work with.”

“I
told
you. I don’t have anything that accentuates my natural hotness.” The words felt strange coming out of her mouth, like each one was slippery, and if she didn’t hang on tight it might escape.

She hadn’t had anything to drink since Calli’s apartment, but after the ten minute taxi ride she was even more buzzed than before.
What’s up with that, vodka?

“You gotta have
something
.” Calli grabbed the handle. The closet door squeaked in protest, refusing to move. She jiggled it a couple of times with no success. “What’s
wrong
with this thing?”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re drunk.” Annabelle elbowed Calli out of the way, but when she tried to grab the handle, her hand slipped.

Calli giggled. “Who’s drunk?”
 

“I’m only buzzed.” Annabelle finally connected with the handle. “Ha! Gotcha!”

“You’re talking to a door handle.”

“You’re right.” Now they were both giggling. “I’m talking to a—” The door swung open, dumping Annabelle on her ass. “Ow!”

“Finally.” Calli flicked through the meager options hanging from the single rod while Annabelle hauled herself back to her feet. “No. No.
Definitely
not.”

“Told you I didn’t have anything.” Annabelle surveyed the jackets, shirts, pants, and dresses, all hanging in their own little sections, neat and orderly, like her life had been before Ty dropped in from out of nowhere.
 

Neat and orderly and boring
.

“Excuse me?” she protested, before she realized she was talking to a voice inside her own head.
Okay, vodka. That’s enough.

“I said, what about this?” Calli shoved a hanger her direction.

The deep blue fabric was soft and sheer. It danced over Annabelle’s skin like a world of possibilities, and she had the absurd thought that Calli had conjured it out of thin air, like some kind of vodka-powered fairy godmother. Then she recognized it as one of Liv’s designs. She’d pretended to love it because it was her older-sibling responsibility to be supportive, and fashion design had more earning potential than unemployment. But as soon as Liv had taken off, she’d buried the dress in the back of her closet. It was too short. Too sheer. Too
much
.
 

“It’s perfect,” Calli said.

“I don’t know.”
 

“It’s gorgeous. At least try it on.”

“Wear it yourself if you like it so much.”

“
I
already have a dress on.”

Of course Calli did. In the seven years since they’d met, Annabelle had never once seen her friend wear shorts, jeans, or—heaven forbid—sweats.
 

Today’s outfit was a casual sundress, but with Calli’s peaches and cream complexion, blue eyes, and blonde, Disney-Princess hair, she’d undoubtedly catch the attention of every guy at the bar. And with every second that passed, the khakis and button down Annabelle had worn to the lab grew more grubby and constricting.
 

What the heck—it couldn’t hurt to try the dress on.

She stripped her clothes off and pulled on Liv’s creation. The tank wasn’t skin tight, but the delicate fabric molded to her body. The skirt swirled as she walked, and the deep blue color gave the sense that she was rising from the ocean.

“You look ama…amashing,” Calli said.

Annabelle stared at herself in the mirrored closet doors. The clothes had transformed her exactly like Calli had said, bringing out her inner hotness. She’d had no idea her baby sister was this talented. She really should have tried the outfit on.

Of course, even if she’d known how good it looked, she probably wouldn’t have worn it. It certainly wasn’t proper lab attire. Even on a date, she preferred something more conservative.
 

She let herself take one last glance at her reflection, committing it to memory. “It’s gorgeous, but I’m not sure it’s really
me
.”

“’Course it is. The new and improved you.”

Calli sounded so certain about it, like all Annabelle had to do was change her outfit, and she’d have a brand new personality to match her new style. She wished it were that easy. The woman in the mirror would have no problem taking charge of her sex life.

“Le’s go,” Calli slurred. “Taxi’s here.”

“One second.” Annabelle tried to shimmy out of the dress, but the fabric clung to her skin, like it didn’t want to let go. Like it knew that it belonged on her.

She’d promised herself that TAing for Human Sexuality would be a new beginning. A chance to let go of her past issues and move on with her life. Well, she was never going to move on to the healthy, loving relationship she longed for if she stayed locked in her apartment, dressed in khakis and sensible blouses.

She let the soft fabric fall back over her knees. With one last look in the mirror, she made her decision. For at least one night, she was going to be the woman she saw staring back at her.

Confident. Bold. Someone who knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to take it.

T
HE
FIRST
THING
Ty saw was the scrape. Even in the dim light of Sean’s apartment entryway, it was impossible to miss—a huge swath of scabs starting at Sean’s calf and disappearing under his shorts. The kite must’ve dragged him half way across the beach.
 

“Damn, man. What’d you do to piss off the kiteboarding gods?”

“The wind picked up at the wrong time.” Sean disappeared inside. “Want a beer?”
 

“Must’ve hurt like a motherfucker.”

Bottles clinked as Sean opened the fridge. “I’ve had worse.” He spoke in a flat, emotionless tone that made the hairs along the back of Ty’s neck stand up and salute.

It was like the injury had happened to someone else. Like Sean’s body had split off from his mind, becoming a separate, entirely disposable entity.
 

Shit
. What if Keri had been right? “You went to the doc, right? Got it cleaned out?”

“You sound like your sister.” Sean’s voice went an octave higher than normal. “You need to see a doctor, Sean. This is serious.”

“Fuck off,” Ty said, but he didn’t put much force behind it. Sean sounded normal now. Ty needed to stop letting his drama-queen sister plant crazy ideas in his head.

“She practically had a heart attack when she saw it.” Sean handed Ty one of the chilled longnecks, keeping the other for himself. “I know she’s only had one year of med school, but she should still be able to tell the difference between a little scrape and a life-threatening injury.”

“You know how she is.”

Sean clicked on the remote, effectively ending the conversation.
 

Ty sat down. He tried to concentrate on the game, but he wasn’t in the mood for baseball.

Sean must’ve sensed it, because half way through the seventh inning he muted the big-screen TV that served as the only form of decoration in his living room. “What’s with you?”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to study.”

“Can’t be harder than BUD/S training.”

He dug up a smile. “Yeah, well…it’s been a long time since I’ve done that too.”

Sean winced, and Ty gave himself a mental kick in the nuts as a whole lot of awkward flooded the room.

Sean examined the label on his beer bottle. “Look, Easy. I know what this is really about. You miss her.”

Goosebumps marched down Ty’s spine. How had Sean found out about Annabelle?
 

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Hardy told me she’s in Reno, waiting tables at some club called
Vapor
.”
 

Reno? Vapor?

Finally, Ty connected the dots—Sean was talking about Bri—and the goosebumps stood down. “No, man. It’s not like that.”

“Go after her. You know how to talk to women.
Talk
to her. Work your Tyler MacKinnon magic.”

“It’s over with Bri. I told you that.”

“It doesn’t have to be. If you lo—”
 
Sean paused. He swallowed a couple of times, like trying to say the L word had made him nauseous.
 

Ty let Sean hang there for a minute, eyes bugging out, skin green, but eventually he had to take pity on his friend. “This isn’t about Bri.”

“You can’t give up because you hit a little bump.”

“It wasn’t a bump. It was the entire universe telling me—”

“You and your universe bullshit. Don’t be so damn stubborn. Maybe the universe wants you to get off your lazy ass and do a little work for once.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s—” He broke off as Sean’s words finally penetrated his iron-plated skull. His friend was right.

Not about Bri, but about Annabelle. Maybe Ty hadn’t been wrong about the signs after all. Maybe the universe had specifically chosen him to help Annabelle because he cared about her. Because he wouldn’t give up at the first sign of trouble.
 

He stood up, turning his back on the TV even though the Padres had three men on base at the top of the ninth.

“Wait. Where are you—”

“Sorry, man.” He’d explain everything to Sean later. First, he needed to see Annabelle. “Gotta go.”

Sean pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “Here’s the address.”