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Matthew smiles wider. His hand goes from my hair to my ear, touching it lightly, then down the side of my neck, caressing it, and stops on my shoulder. “I said you’re beautiful,” he says simply.
My eyes widen. I shake my head.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says. “You’re not allowed to reject that compliment.” He takes both hands and holds my face, turns it up to his. “Don’t you know how beautiful you are? How can you not know?”
I can’t help it, I smile. Even if he’s just blowing smoke up my ass, still—it’s pretty nice to hear.
And holy hell, his arms go around me—those big beefy tatted-up arms, holding me tight, holding me close against that big beefy chest, and for a moment there, I think I’m actually going to be safe, that I’ve actually got love—
But I pull away. I pass my hand over my eyes and try to pull myself together, because obviously the day has been such a clusterfuck that I’m imagining things. He’s holding me like a brother, not a lover.
“Listen, Nic,” says Matthew, letting me go. “I’d be happy to stay here tonight, if it would help. It’s gonna take you some time to get your feet under you, after something like that. People think if you don’t get hurt that when it’s over, it’s over. But that’s not how it is.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, but my voice sounds small. Once again I’m in an emotional storm, tossed around by my red-hot desire for Matthew but also at the moment not wanting anything at all sexual, not after what that guy tried to do to me. And everything with Dane. And….well, I’m a mess, no way around it.
Matthew stands up to go and I thank him again. Actually the sight of him leaving is making my throat close up, it’s the last thing on earth I want, but I can’t tell him that.
He’s got his hand on the doorknob when he turns back around. “You know what, I’m gonna stay. I know you say you’re fine, and I’m sure you are, but I’ll just feel better about things if I’m here. Just toss me a blanket and I’ll sleep on the couch.
And I’ll tell you, I slept better with Matthew on my couch than I had ever slept before. I woke up the next morning feeling peaceful and rested.
At least until I heard him in the shower, and started picturing how he looked in there. Not so peaceful after that, lol.
6
I GET TO work early the next day. I need to show the owners I took their warning seriously, but also I’m feeling pretty beaten up and fragile, and the restaurant feels sort of like home to me. It’s loud and crazy in the kitchen, and the teasing can get brutal, but it’s something I’m part of and I really do love my work.
I’ve got a bag of potatoes at my station. I sharpen my knife and attack the pile, but my thoughts are zinging all over the place. I keep thinking about the awful smell at the City Jail, and how Dane looked kinda shrunken and lost. Because, uh, he is lost. And I keep thinking about the moment when that fuckwad grabbed me by the throat and dragged me into the alley, and how I wasn’t sure I was getting out of that alive.
But the main thing I keep thinking about is how Matthew called me beautiful, and how he pulled that guy off me like he was just an annoying mosquito.
And how Matthew would look in the shower, with suds all over that chest and those abs, and water running down his bronzy skin.
I get so involved imagining that I nearly cut my thumb off.
I’ve gotten so used to hating Matthew over the years that it’s tough to tell whether that’s what I still should be doing—does that make any sense? Did he get Dane in trouble? I’m not sure. And when he called me beautiful, was he just trying to lift my spirits like any really nice brother would?
Or did he mean it? Like, mean it?
I stay awhile after my shift, helping to organize the cooler. And then I ride the bus home, not looking forward to coming home to an empty apartment but feeling pretty okay about
it anyway. It’s almost five in the afternoon, the time when people in my neighborhood start stirring, some of them looking for trouble, so I’m on my guard, especially after yesterday. But I get to my building with no problem, and start trudging up the stairs.
I am not prepared for what I see.
Starting on the second floor, there are pots of flowers and helium balloons on the stairs. A sign stuck into the flowers says “Hello Nicolette!!” and then a little farther up, more flowers, more balloons, and a sign that says “Hope you’ve had a great day, Nic!!” and I’m thinking what the hell? I don’t know anybody who does shit like this. And then on my floor, even more flowers and balloons, and this time an envelope stuck in with the flower. I open it up, my hands trembling for some reason.
“I love you, beautiful,” it says.
Now I’m seriously trembling. It’s like my body understands the words before my mind does, and it’s shaking and excited and tearful and grinning. I unlock my door, half expecting Matthew to be inside, but of course he has no key. So I call him.
“Hey, Detective,” I say when he answers.
“Yup,” says Matthew. I can hear him smiling.
“I’ve got a stalker,” I say, grinning my fool head off.
“Yup,” says Matthew. “Listen, I’m off duty in fifteen minutes, can I come over?”
“Hmm,” I say, pretending to think it over.
“Nic!”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Hurry.”
And then omg I scurry around my place neatening and straightening as though he wasn’t here this very morning and already seen the mess. And I wash my face and put on some mascara and a swipe of lipstick, and brush my hair, although when I look in the mirror I despair. If I haven’t gotten it across to you by now, let me try again: Matthew is a serious, card-carrying hottie. Girls are always after him. He’s got these amazing blue eyes and a body that could be on the cover of magazines. And on top of that, he’s so not a dirtbag.
