FORTY-FIVE
A BUS WAS RIGHT. There were so many bodies, talk about entourage. Roxie came with a bunch of others, some not in uniform. What a sight. The bold hostess stood at the front of their ride, taking control of the music and lighting—yes, there was music and lighting—pepping them up, answering questions, encouraging everyone to sing along. Geez, the woman must have some helluva pharmacy in her bathroom. How was she always on?
They drove into the concrete lot. The gates weren’t open to the public yet, so they’d have a little time to set up. Others had the same idea. People milled around, some with purpose, some with little. Some wore uniforms, some had a more conservative or functional look.
The bus dropped them off behind the warehouse. Inside, each team’s station was designated by temporary walls on three sides. The external wall of the warehouse ran behind them, leaving a small channel between for access and storage, backstage. From the front, cars were driven onto ramps and—
A broad black curtain at the head of the room fluttered. What were they hiding back there?
The lights died only to rise again with flashing colors and strobes scattering across the ceiling of the massive space. Shit, they couldn’t be a permanent feature. Why would a cold warehouse need—maybe they had rave parties there or something.
“Whoa, someone called the professionals,” Tripp said, slinging an arm around Roxie and crossing one ankle over the other. “You go full power, baby.”
Tripp kissed her head and wandered off to join a woman from another team who’d been gesturing at him. Actually, there were more than a few. Even those not gesturing seemed mesmerized by him. Guy sure could work it. And he thought Buoy worked fast? Could there be a cat fight? Roxie scampered over to a group near the vast entrance and…
Darroch.
She hadn’t seen him, not at first, but he was there, three stations down with the Breckenridge Intimates team. In a cruel twist, he spotted her just a second later. She wasn’t ready, didn’t know what to say. Should she say something? Go over there—she couldn’t. Closing her eyes to erase the view, all she could do was pretend he wasn’t there. No one in this building was an ex. No one in the building made her laugh and shared her bed and—damnit.
This was never going to work.
Leaving their bay, she went backstage to the water cooler. That was all she needed, a drink, a moment, she’d pull it together. It didn’t matter that he was there, she’d ignore him, forget him.
Full of gusto, she whirled around and—someone body-blocked her.
“Jesus,” she gasped as water sloshed out of the cup onto both of them.
“Sorry!”
“Darroch!”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You can’t just sneak up on—” She frowned. “What’s that smell?”
“Smell?”
She groaned when she figured it out. “Oh, man, it’s you, isn’t it? Why do you have to do that? You always do that.”
Unable to look at his face, she heard the smile in his words. “What do I do?”
“You can’t ambush a woman just going about her life. It’s not right. You know it’s not right. I’ve told you before and—walking around, cornering us, attacking us with that masculine, over-powering—you have to stop. Just stop being…”
What? Hot? Not like he could do much about that and the scent. It was like wild, irresistible pheromones, did the guy release them on purpose? Either way, he didn’t have to top it off with the deodorant and cologne and… himness.
“You’re the only person on the planet with the cure.”
And that swagger was enough to wake her up. “No.” Sickness narrowed her throat. “I’m doing it again, how do I always…? What an idiot—”
“We need to talk. I need to talk. You need to listen, baby, I’ve—”
“No,” she said, tossing the cup into the trash then backing off. “I don’t want to talk, I’m over this—”
“I’m not over it.” He caught her arm, and in her pulling it away, her back hit the wall. “I’ll never be over it. I’ll never be over saying I’m sorry, never be over making it up to you. Whatever it takes, I’m going to prove to you just how sorry I am.”
“You can’t because I won’t believe it.”
Except when his fingertips touched her waist, she could feel him getting closer and was struck immobile. It wasn’t fear, she didn’t fear him. The worst part was she missed him, missed this, being near to him, adored by him. What she’d thought was real, wasn’t. What else didn’t she know? If he could lie to her about something so huge, what else could he be lying about?
“I miss you, Cherry. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, you’re all I think about.”
“What difference does it make if you’re tired or hungry? We won’t be together either way.” Closing her eyes, she checked herself. “Not that we were ever together.”
“Strike two, Cherry, I—”
“Strike two?” Anger landed her gaze on his. “Try three, four, and five too. No. Some things are unforgiveable.” Forgiveness is a choice. Shit. Did Roxie have to be in her brain right then? “I don’t forgive. I won’t forget. No.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, it got away from me. On the phone you… I don’t know what it was, I was connected to you, felt connected to you—”
“Ah!” She raised a hand. “I don’t want excuses.” And that was exactly what he was dealing. “I don’t want your words.”
“Actions,” he said. “You want me to act?”
Closing her eyes didn’t help her anxiety. “No!”
“What do you need me to do? Name it and it’s done.”
“I don’t want anything from you, nothing from you. I want you to leave me alone, that’s what I want.”
“Roch.”
His brother’s voice turned him. “We’re fine, Tripp.”
“You guys want to see this.”
Just as he retreated, a blast of sound captured them.
“Everyone ready to make some cash?” a woman hollered, a woman with a microphone.
They rounded to the Crimson station just as the huge black curtain fell and music blasted loud.
“Oh my God,” she said, glancing around at the exuberant faces fixated on— “That’s Kari-K.”
“No one we can’t reach,” Tripp said, extending an arm to offer her a hand. “You’re on the Crimson team. Quit harassing our team, Roch, go back to your own.”
He didn’t interpret, game play, or meddle… but Tripp was still his mother’s son. Though Darroch’s jaw didn’t appreciate his brother refereeing, she did.
Taking Tripp’s hand, she rounded Darroch to let herself be led to the others admiring Kari-K blasting out one of her classic tracks.
“How did we get—how do we know Kari-K?”
Tripp looped an arm around her to prop himself against her. “There’s no one we can’t get.”
“Isn’t this costing a fortune?”
“Everything you see is from Crimson, or it’s been donated, including time.” He kissed the top of her head. The first stream of cars appeared. “Time to get to work.”