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That energy seems to waken something deeper than mere physical attraction and lust. It’s something far more ethereal…an emotional connection orchestrated by fate.
“Kaye…” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Yes?” Her face tilts up. Those rosebud lips of hers are kissably close.
“Whatever happens with Scott—know that no matter which direction you choose, whatever decision you make—I’ll be there if you need me.”
The air between us crackles. My heart pounds in anticipation as we inch ever so close toward our first kiss. Our gazes lock, and like two magnets, they pull us together.
Her lips part ever so slightly as her breath hitches.
I take both her hands in mine, gently squeeze, then release them. I cup her chin, tenderly, and stroke my thumb along the curve of her jawline, enjoying the moment and soaking in every breath, every beat of my heart, and every sigh she whispers.
We remain in this suspended state for what seems forever, but is probably no more than mere moments.
Kaye breaks the trance with a sigh.
“Thank you. I appreciate it, and I can really use a friend right now.”
And just like that, I get relegated to the friend zone.
What the fuck just happened?
Disappointment and shock hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s a fight to keep my face impassive. I turn away, not wanting her to see the disappointment in my eyes. I allow myself one final moment before backing off completely, firmly claiming my role in the dreaded friend zone.
“Just call if you need me.” I shove my hands into my pockets and walk away.
If it weren’t for Douchebag Scott, I wouldn’t be forced to accept friendship in place of something more.
Just friends?
Forever?
I refuse to accept it. It’s not fair. Not where this night was meant to go. I want way more from Kaye, but she’s not ready, too twisted by Scott’s threats.
And I can’t beat him to a pulp. That’s not fair. It’s not right. The asshole deserves a thorough ass-beating.
This sucks.
It really sucks.
I swallow my disappointment, turn away, and force myself to retreat to where the others gather around the gas fire pit. Nothing prepares me for the hollow feeling growing inside of me.
So, I grab another beer and drink myself into oblivion.
ELEVEN
Zeb
Summer speedsby as the weeks pass. I find myself frustrated both on the home front and at work.
Mitzy’s technical team makes no inroads into Maximus Angelo’s human trafficking operation, except to confirm the bastard’s back at it. Until that’s put to rest, we continue the protective detail at the townhome.
Rafe and Hayes take the brunt of the shifts providing protection for the girls. Their shifts last 48-hours each, depending on what’s going on at work. That’s four days out of seven when I have no legitimate reason to be around Kaye.
Brady, Booker, Alec, and I split the rest of the 24-hr shifts, which means I get to see Kaye once a week at best; sometimes far less.
It’s been two weeks, and I hate it.
