Chapter 14
— Remmy —
I distractedly stabbed at the pasta Scout cooked while watching him shovel another forkful into his mouth. When I snorted, his eyes flicked up.
“What?” he asked, chewing, before a pucker formed between his eyebrows. “Do you not like it?”
Smiling, I shook my head. “I love pasta and this is yummy. I’m just amused.”
Another loaded forkful paused on its ascent to his mouth. “About?” In it went, and I laughed.
“That. You eat like such a boy.”
“I am a boy.” He pointed his fork at me. “And you eat like a sparrow. Get it in your mouth already, honey.”
“I’m savoring it because I love sun-dried tomatoes and feta.” I popped both plus a pasta spiral into my mouth. “Mm. Match made in heaven.”
“Like milk and cookies,” he agreed.
I stabbed my pasta again, this time focusing solely on my fork collecting the spirals.
“Scout?” I hated the insecurity in my tone, and when I looked up, he was already locked on me.
“Mmyeah?”
Again, I cursed the doubt in my chest. “Why me?”
His handsome face scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“Like, why am I here?”
“Uhh…” His brown eyes darted around as if searching for the answer in his kitchen. “Because I invited you?”
Despite myself, I burst out laughing. “No, silly. You could have anyone, within reason obviously—”
Scout snorted softly.
“—so why me? Why not any other woman? Some base bunny?”
His dark gaze held mine. “Because you’re gorgeous, and you’re not like other women.”
It was my turn to scoff. “You’re wrong, Ace—I’m exactly like other women. I’m just a bit more of a bitch than some of them.”
He chuckled. “You’re not.”
I shook my head and circled my fork at him. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Deep down, we all want the same thing: To be treated with respect, to be heard, to be reined in when needed, to be loved hard, and to be fucked harder.”
A hum came from Scout’s chest. “See, it seems like simple shit when broken down like that. But I know women, there ain’t nothing simple about y’all.”
I grinned. I knew that. Hell, all women probably did. But it was refreshing not to have to censor my conversations with Scout.
“Not under the surface,” I added with a shrug, then filled my mouth pasta.
“Remmy?”
Ah fuck, now it was my turn to be on the receiving end of that tone. “Mmm?”
As he laid both palms flat on the table, I gulped, feeling like I was facing an inquisition.
“I like you, Remmy. I respect and trust you.” He spread his arms wide, emphasizing the fact I was in his space. “You don’t strike me as a needy woman, or a doormat. You’re reckless enough to know what this is, and smart enough to walk away if you want to.”
My eyes held his, unrelenting and unblinking. “I don’t. Don’t want to walk away, that is.”
One corner of his lips twitched. “Didn’t think so.”
Sufficiently provoked, I set my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You’d miss me.”
A wry little glint entered his eyes, along with a lopsided smirk. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, oh yeah.”
We fell into comfortable silence, the only sound the scraping of forks against our plates, until once again Scout broke the silence.
“So, when are you going to tell me a little more about yourself, Remmy Adams?”
Despite my heart dropping, I lifted my chin. “What do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “What do you do?”
Ah fuck. I hated this question, so I replied with my normal, “My background is digital media.”
Scout’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah, it’s something I still love after many years.”
“And you have your brother here in Portland. Your mom and dad too?”
“Yup. No one else though. Grammy and Merce’s parents are still in Gatlin Falls. We moved when I was a toddler. Bastian was five.”
“I remember Merce mentioning you on occasion after summer breaks, but I never remember you visiting back home.”
“We did sometimes, but mostly just to see Grammy and Pop. I haven’t been back for the longest time, and they both passed a few years ago.”
An ache bloomed in my heart. I never got to have an intentional last visit with them. I was too busy ruining my life to notice that they were nearing the end of their journey in this world.
I remembered my last phone call with them. During my recovery. Despite me creating a divide in our family, Grammy and Pop had remained steadfast with their unconditional love. The last time they had called me, Pop reminded me that true love couldn’t be broken even in the hardest of circumstances.
I understood that now. Understood why Mom and Dad had eventually left me to live my life after years of trying to help me. When they finally threw up their hands in surrender, I took it as them giving up. Instead, they’d exhausted all attempts to intervene, and the last alternative was to let me figure life out for myself. Thank fuck for Bastian though. I wouldn’t be here today without his refusal to let me figure shit out for myself.
A warm hand landed on mine and brought me back to the present. Where Scout’s eyes held questions and concern, mine were inconveniently clouded with moisture.
“Can I help fight any of those ghosts?” he softly offered.
I sniffed andblinked rapidly. A flushing heat washed across my cheeks. I wasn’t used to being so unguarded in the company of others.
I forced a watery smile. “They’re gone now.”
Scout gave me a dubious look from under his brows.
“Really,” I assured him, squeezing his fingers back.
“Wanna talk about anything?”
“Nope.”
He stood abruptly, gathered our empty bowls, and carried them to the dishwasher. My eyes stayed on the muscles rippling over his bare back while biting down bitter disappointment. I looked down at my acrylic nails and sighed. Chances were, Scout wouldn’t last two new nail cycles.
After slotting the dishes into the dishwasher, he turned and leaned his ass on the counter behind him, hands planted either side of his hips.
“I know I can be egotistical sometimes, but I really am a good listener.”
While my heart got a little buoyant on hope, I smiled. “Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.”
“Another pop?” he asked, lightening the mood.
I rose and pushed my chair in. “Sure. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope,” came his reply from within the fridge. He emerged with a frown. “Actually yes. Take this and sit on the couch.”
“How’s that going to help?” I asked while accepting the offered can of pop.
His goofy grin made my chest flutter. “Just go sit down… Please,” he added when my eyes narrowed sharply.
I loathed to be told what to do. Choosing to pick my battles, and thus concede this one, I did as he asked and sat my ass on his couch in the open living area connected to the kitchen.
Scout plonked down beside me, slung his arm across the back of the couch cushions, and took a long sip from his pop can. I studied his profile. He was different here. So different from the man I’d met at the wedding, then the ballpark. Here, in his own space, he was laid back and not egotistical… for the most part.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, honey,” he drawled without looking at me, causing my heart to kick.
I stared a little longer before breaking the ice again. “Is this really your home?”
His focus flicked my way. “Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I’m essentially a stranger, and you’ve invited me in without hesitation. I could be a psychopath for all you know.”
An amused little twitch tugged one corner of his mouth. “Are you a psychopath?”
“No, but that’s not the point.”
He angled my way, bending his knee on the couch between us. “I actually have two places in Portland. This is my entertainment pad for when the boys come around.”
“Or when you have women around.”
Scout ducked his head a fraction in agreement. “Or that. Which isn’t often, mind you. My other home is close by. It’s a home-home, but to be honest, I kind of prefer this one because the house feels empty with just me. Like I’m doing it an injustice by not filling it with a family.”
Fuck, this guy wasn’t worried about oversharing. It blindsided me for a hot minute.
“If you’re looking to fill it with kids, I’m not your gal. Sorry—harsh, but true.”
His full-bodied laughter echoed over me. “I’m not. Not anytime soon, at least. Still got a little time left before I start sowing my wild oats for that purpose.”
Feeling at ease again, I kicked back into the plush cushions. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one. What about you?”
“Thirty-four.”
A shit-eating grin pulled his mouth wide, and he all but gave himself a high-five. “Niiiice. I’m fucking an older woman.”
I rolled my eyes while he nodded smugly. “Pa-lease. I’m fucking you. Not the other way around.”
“Sure, honey,” he drawled around another sip.
Biting down on my smile, I welcomed the little bubble of happiness trickling up my ribcage. For once, I was happy in the moment and not stressing about when it would all blow up in my face. It normally did. It was just a matter of time before the honeymoon phase ended.
I studied my manicure, contemplating what design my nails would be adorned with when it came time for us to call it a day.
“I like that you take care of yourself.”
My eyes flicked up to Scout’s, finding him smiling gently. “It’s something I don’t take for granted,” I confessed. “There was a time when I could barely afford basic shampoo, let alone haircuts and treatments. And there was definitely no mani and pedi.”
Though I didn’t elaborate on it, a pedicure was one of the first things I did once I had spare cash. In my line of business, it was imperative.
Scout leaned forward and lifted my ankles onto his lap one by one. As his thumbs expertly massaged the arch of one foot, he studied the two half mandala tattoos on my inner arches.
“How have I not noticed these before?”
I snickered. “Not many notice them immediately.”
“Do these have any significance?”
I bent my foot enough to see one tattoo. “Nah, I just thought they were pretty when I was a teenager.”
“They still are,” he agreed. “I’m surprised you don’t have more ink.”
My gaze flicked over his torso and arms, adorned with a selection of images, symbols, and roman numerals. “The pain put me off. Bottom of the feet fucking hurt, so never again. I’m a piercings girl now.”
The corner of his mouth tugged. “I love that your nipples are pierced. It makes your tits even hotter.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
He chuckled. “Makes me want to swing off them with my teeth.”
“Don’t you dare.” I laughed, playfully kicking out with my free foot. I didn’t fight when Scout locked it down within his warm grasp. “Do you want to know something random and a little freaky that I noticed back in Montana?”
His thumb resumed rubbing the arch of my foot. “Of course.”
“The mandala on the back of your neck is almost identical to mine.”
Scout’s eyes widened, and his hand automatically flew to the spot. “No way! I haven’t seen it in years so I’ve kinda forgotten what it looks like.”
I pressed my feet together and hovered them in front of his face. “It’s like this.”
“Well damn.” He laughed heartily. “Yeah, that’s freaky. Another reason to indicate you’ve worked your voodoo magic on me, Remmy,” he drawled.
“Next time, I’ll introduce you to my voodoo doll. Her name’s Belladonna, which means deadly nightshade.”
Scout froze like a pale marble statue. The only part of him that moved were his lips. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
Giggling, I flicked my feet to the floor, set my drink on the coffee table, then crawled along the couch. Perched on Scout’s lap, I took his face in my hands and leaned in to whisper, “I’m fucking with you so bad.”
On a growl, Scout lurched to the side and effortlessly pinned me to the couch. “Now it’s my turn to fuck with you, honey.”