Chapter 10
LONDON
I guess that means something.
We did okay?
Owens invited Davey and me. And I can only hope I don’t make an ass of myself. It’s been an age since I’ve been out. I have Kels on standby if I need to bail.
My phone buzzes.
I slip it out of my handbag, swiping the screen open to read the message.
Don’t you dare behave, you know you deserve some fun. I’m on call waiting to be your driver. The courtesy also extends to your current arm candy.
“Did she just call me your arm candy, London?” Davey says, raising a brow.
I chuckle. “He. Kelvin. And yes, you’re my arm candy tonight.”
“Oh okay, as long as it’s alright with Kel.”
I bump Davey’s shoulder with mine. “More than fine. Besides, we’re kin. Forged through literal fire, remember?”
Now he chuckles. “Damn, you are so right.”
“God, how hard was the last shift?”
“Brutal. Sometimes I second-guess every moment that led to this point. And some days, I can’t think of anything else I’d do. But still . . .”
He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. I understand.
“Tennison!” Sandy calls from by the bar’s entrance, waving a hand.
“Hey!” I wave back, and we file inside after him.
Inside is a smokey joint. It’s on the smaller side, with a bar and booths before the back opens to a small dance floor. The lighting is ambient, setting a cozy feel. Music courses through the joint, not loud enough to be obnoxious. Just right.
“Drink?” Davey leans in.
“Sure, whatever you’re having is fine.”
“Okay . . .” His brows lift toward his hairline.
“Sure, surprise me.”
He messes up my hair, which is out for the first time around my crew. It flies everywhere, my unruly thick waves bouncing around my shoulders.
“Be in the corner, Davies,” Sandy says and leads me to the large circular booth where Owens and Hammond already sit.
My gut flips like I’m the new kid in a group of friends who have been together for years. Their connections and close-knit culture is already cemented, and I’m not part of it.
Yet, at least.
“Sit!” Owens pats the seat beside her.
“Oh, thanks.” I drop into it.
Hammond’s blue eyes find mine, his fingers turning a coaster through his hand as he doesn’t break eye contact. When a lump rises in my throat, I break the stare and look around the space. I recognize other crewmembers. Some from 41. Some from 37?
Davey arrives with two pints of . . . “Is that Guinness?” The words tumble from my lips before I have time to think otherwise.
“Absolutely. Best refreshment this side of the globe, I’ll have you know.” Davey hands me one of the oversized glasses.
I chuckle, sipping the foam, and smile up at him. “Thank you.”
His face cracks up with laughter.
“What?” I swipe at my face, and foam slicks over my palm.
Owens is cackling to herself. That seems to be her normal state—genuinely happy all the damn time. Sandy shakes his head, handing me a napkin. “Here, kid.”
He slides his arm around Owens’s shoulder and leans in.
Hammond’s Adam’s apple bobs, his focus not leaving me even as his crewmates huddle up. Davey slides into the booth beside him, and he breaks his stare. It’s only then I feel the heat creep up my throat. I pick up the glass and busy myself with downing the dark drink.
We start chatting, and mostly it’s the crew asking Davey and I about our families, our lives before 53. Davey tells us about all the crazy shit his grandma does. And we laugh at her brazen attitude and sass. I’ve decided after two pints I’m going to be Audrey Davies when I grow up.
“What about you, London?” Heidi, that’s Owens’s first name, how cool is that . . .
“What about me, Heidi on the hilltop?”
She raises a brow.
Too old school?
Wow, this drink is guns.
I down the dregs of the glass in front of me as another one appears. I scrunch my nose up.
I need to pee . . .
The table in front of me sways a little, taking my glass with it.
Shit.
Shit.
“London?” Sandy says my name funny.
I smile up at him. “Sandy. Did your mum name you after the girl in Grease?”
Heidi and Sandy—hang on, what is his first name—give each other the side-eye. No. They look at each other . . .
Davey giggles . . . Um, okay bro. And falls into my shoulder.
Dude, yeah nah.
I push him off.
“We’ll take Davey,” Sandy says, rising with Heids. I can call her Heids, right?
“Tennison, you’re with me, unless you have another way home?” Hammond stands.
I—hold on . . .
I grab at my bag, but it keeps moving away from me.
“Wait, I ca—”
Huge hands haul me from the chair to my feet. I sway, the seat of the booth rubbing at my calves. My stomach tightens before turning.
Oh shit.
How many of those things did Davey—
Cool breeze hits my face. Cars whiz past, the sidewalk rises up, and something hard and warm holds me upright.
My mouth waters with every step I take in the cool night. The buildings move as I walk past.
I retch, slapping a hand to my mouth.
What the hell is in that stuff? How long has it been since I dran—
I double over, and rough hands guide me to the gutter.
“Oh shit.”
Fingers sweep at my neck, my hair bundled up away from my face.
I lose my stomach to the gutter. The dark drink comes up the same shade it went down.
I sink to my butt and rest my cheek on my knees.
How did they get there?
A groan sounds from above me. A big form folds, shrinking as he sits on the sidewalk next to me.
Hammond?
“Yeah, you’re okay. What’s your address, Tennison. Let me get you home safe.”
“I—”
No, Kel was supposed to . . .
Stars fill my peripherals, and the world turns sideways.
Warmth folds around me as I mutter a curse before darkness sucks me right into its abyss.
Wetness slides over my cheek.
Cold wetness nudges my temple. My body is concrete.
Groaning, I roll ove—
And face-plant onto the hard floor.
What the?
“Ah, fuck.”
I force my eyes open. They’re almost too heavy to function. But the furry wagging tail that fades into view has me blinking hard.
Kel doesn’t have a dog . . . or a cat.
He—
“You’re awake.”
I jerk, rolling back before sitting up against a sofa.
Rubbing my eyes, I glance around the space I’m in.
Not Kel’s.
This is definitely not Kel’s place.
And—
“Petal!” I drop my knees, and she plants herself on my lap.
Petal, that means this is . . . Hammond’s place.
As if just remembering someone spoke to me, I look up to find him staring at me and Petal. He’s in a tight T-shirt and grey sweats, like he just woke up that way.
Okay, so he probably did.
Apparently, this is his house.
This is his pup.
“Oh girl, I have missed you. Has this man been good to you?” I ask, rubbing her neck, tracking my fingers over her eyes, and cuddling her to my chest.
“We’re getting used to each other.” Hammond squats, holding out a mug.
May as well be an olive branch.
I hesitate before taking it.
Petal jumps from my lap, jostling me.
Last night rushes in. The Guinness . . . the bar . . . the walk home.
Oh god. I place the mug on the floor and drop my head into my hands. “Urgh, fuck.”
“Sorry about the sofa. Didn’t think you’d want to wake up in a stranger’s bed.”
He thought right.
“I—”
Hammond pads back to the kitchenette space. Of his tiny, tiny apartment. It makes our place—
Oh, shit. Mama.
“Where’s my phone?”
“Your bag is on the front table.”
I move to stand and decide against it as the room spins. Hammond drops the spatula he’s wielding and walks for my bag. It’s in my hands a moment later.
“Thanks,” I utter.
He pushes up a smile, and nothing has ever looked so forced. Probably can’t wait to get rid of me. I most likely screwed up his plans of taking somebody home last night. A guy like Hammond must have a roster of willing women to—
“Bacon with your eggs?”
“Um, you don’t have to cook me breakfast. I’ll get out of your hair.”
I take a steadying breath and stand, with the help of the couch.
“Sit, Tennison.” He points the spatula to the stool at the kitchen counter.
“Okay, but you really don’t have to make me breakfast.”
“You need it. Sit.”
Bossy damn man.
I sit, heaving my bag over the back of the stool.
A plate appears in front of me. He rounds the counter, and a moment later the coffee I left on the floor comes to rest by my plate.
“Hamm—”
“Miles.”
“What?”
“You can call me Miles, we’re not at work.”
Oh.
I clear my throat and adjust on the seat before staring at the food.
Cutlery. I’m missing cutlery.
“Can I—”
“Shoot, sorry.” A knife and fork slide over the counter toward me.
“You’re not eating?” I ask.
He shakes his head, like he’s snapped out of some far-off dream. “Yeah, starving.”
“What time is it?” I reach for my phone.
“Almost eleven.”
“Oh shit, sorry. Were you waiting for me to wake up?”
He slides a second plate to the place beside me. Well, this is cozy.
Sitting down on the stool, he sips the mug of coffee he made for himself. We eat in silence. Me, because I have no idea what to say to the man who is practically my boss but took it upon himself to make sure I made it home—well, somewhere—safely.
My head pounds, but I make the effort to eat the breakfast Ham—Miles cooked me.
This is a first, a man cooking me breakfast.
Not exactly how I pictured it. When I imagined this moment, it was not this. The queasy sensation in my belly settles with every mouthful.
We eat in silence.
A comfortable silence. Like two people who are at peace in each other’s company. Not at all awkward like I expected it to be.
Huh.
As I take the last bite and set my fork down, the plate disappears as Miles rises.
Miles.
That will take some getting used to.
“I’ve got errands, but you can take a shower and I’ll run you home when I get back?” He rinses the plates and cutlery before turning around for my answer.
“Oh sure, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, Petal could use someone besides me to talk to.”
His gaze moves to the pup who has made herself at home on the couch.
I chuckle. “I can keep her company. I’ve missed her.”
Something unreadable flashes through his eyes and he nods and pads for a door I assume leads to the bedroom.
Sliding from the stool, I relax on the couch with Petal. “So, you really like it here, girl? One blink for yes, two for get me the hell out of here.”
She blinks.
Once.
“Fell for the handsome face, did you?” I press my forehead to hers.
“Doubt it, most likely the treats and daily walks, but who’s counting?” Miles rounds the couch, fully dressed in a polo and jeans. And he smells like . . .
Lust on legs.
Fuck a girl sideways.
My heart bursts into a pace I’m pretty sure doesn’t sustain life. I swallow as my gaze tracks over the angles of his jaw, the toned shoulders and chest stretching out his shirt.
He runs a hand through his hair that is somehow damp despite me not hearing him shower. His dark blond hair stands on end, messy . . .
Nope.
Nada.
Not going there, London.
He is your boss.
A scant memory of Sandy and Owens huddled together on the booth seat last night flickers through my mind.
Isn’t that sort of thing forbidden?
I cast my mind back to the rules and regs I studied meticulously in the academy.
Yep, it totally is.
“Be back in an hour. Have fun, you two.” He glances to Petal before pulling the door closed behind him.
I slump on the couch.
Dangerous territory, Tennison.
I chuckle at my own Hammond accent in my head.
Yawning, I curl up on the couch, trying to squeeze in by Petal. Five minutes later, my body aches from trying to balance on the edge to save moving the pup.
I can’t. I roll off and pad around the apartment. The small space has a large flatscreen, the couch Petal has taken over, a small wooden coffee table that looks like it’s straight from Goodwill. Knowing this man, it probably is.
There are two doors off the kitchenette. The one on the left opens to the small bathroom that has a toilet and shower over an old style claw-foot bath. Bet Miles—wow, that really does feel odd—doesn’t even fit in it . . . But I would.
No, London.
Don’t.
I try the second door, if only to distract myself.
It opens to a king bed and two plain bedside tables, one with a book and an alarm clock. A dresser littered with photos of Miles and some guy that has a megawatt smile plastered across his face doing various adventurous things. In one they’re . . . on a farm?
Ranch, they call them ranches over here.
I’ll never get used to all the new words for old things.
Weariness washes over me.
And I can’t resist the pull of the biggest, softest-looking bed I’ve ever seen. I sit on the side, gliding a hand over the navy duvet.
“Oh, god.”
I moan, laying back. The bed gives way and huddles me in its snuggly softness all at once. Rolling over, I crawl up the bed. Before my mind has time to catch up with my exhausted body, I’m under the covers, head pressed into most incredible scent-covered pillow . . .
Just a few minutes.