4
GOLDIE
The job after the Bjorn’s takes a couple of hours, and then I lie in bed for at least another hour, churning over the most perplexing night I’ve had in my career as a locksmith. The room. The triplets. The strange eye phenomenon. I shake my head, blinking in the darkness. I must have imagined the golden eyes and the static. I was tired, exhausted really, and it was gloomy in the hallway. It must have been that or a trick of the light. The alternative… well, there’s no alternative that won’t render me some kind of paranormal conspiracy nut-job.
I don’t wake up until after ten a.m. and head to my kitchen with a rumbling stomach.
I make myself a big bowl of porridge, adding a knob of salted butter and a spoonful of honey like my momma used to do, making it taste just right. I’m going to need lots of energy to clean my apartment from top to bottom and deal with over a week’s worth of laundry. I wear headphones to listen to a thriller audiobook. I hope it’ll keep my mind from wandering back to strange places, but the eerie story sends fear creeping up my spine, forcing me to put it aside.
When I’m done with the chores, I take a shower and dress in tight black jeans and a yellow top that drops from one shoulder. It’s cute but sexy and a perfect day-to-night outfit. I’m meeting my friend, Rosie, for a late lunch that will most likely involve mimosas, and she’s eager to visit a new bar in the adjacent town. Whenever we go out, I always end up returning home a lot later than I expected.
I take a cab to the little diner we love. They serve the best burgers and onion rings. The fries come loaded with cheese, spicy salsa, avocado, and jalapenos, and the milkshakes are to die for. At least, with a belly full of delicious food, any alcohol I drink later won’t affect me too much.
Rosie’s walking up to the diner as I arrive. I settle the bill with the cab driver while Rosie waits on the sidewalk. Her short flowery dress gets caught in the wind and she clutches her denim jacket around herself. The wind is high and the weather unseasonably cold, and I’m grateful for the warm black coat I grabbed at the last minute.
“Hey, girl,” Rosie says, pulling me into a big hug as the cab driver signals into the traffic flow.
“Hey, yourself.”
We draw back and grin at each other. “Looking good, Goldie. Something has put a glow on your cheeks.”
I frown and shake my head. “Must be my make-up.”
She threads her arm through mine, and we approach the door to The Shake It Up diner. Rosie pushes her way inside, and we’re immediately hit with the scent of grilling meat. My mouth waters, but then I realize we’re going to hit the bar later, smelling like barbeque. Oh well. Men love grilled meat. They’ll probably end up clustered around us with mouths dripping saliva.
We slip into our usual booth and glance over the menu even though nine times out of ten we order the same thing. Rosie tucks her auburn hair behind her ear, biting on her bottom lip. “I feel like steak,” she says.
“Seriously? You’re mixing it up?”
“Hell yeah. I feel like a change. Life’s been boring.” She drops the menu onto the white table between us and settles back against the worn, red faux-leather seat. “So, what’s got you glowing? There has to be a man involved.”
“I’m not glowing,” I scowl.
Rosie narrows her eyes and grins. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt. Who is he?”
I roll my eyes, but the smile that tugs at my mouth is a total giveaway. I fold my hands in front of me and lean forward. “Just a customer.”
“A customer?”
“Yeah, a guy who needed a locksmith.”
“And you fixed more than his lock?”
“No.” I snort as the server interrupts us. He’s new, and his eyes linger on us a little too long. I order a burger and fries with a vanilla milkshake, and Rosie selects a steak with fries and a strawberry milkshake. He pours us water from a glass jug and leaves it on the table. We both watch him go.
“The view here sure has improved since the last time we had dinner.”
I grimace, remembering the previous server whose trousers always hung too low beneath his big belly, revealing a stretch of back skin and his butt crack. “It sure has,” I agree.
“So, who’s the guy—sorry, the customer—and what’s gotten you radiating?”
“I told you, he’s just a customer, but he was cute. He had the whole stoic, silent, brooding thing going on. You know how much I like reserved men.”
“Yeah, because you like to imagine they’re cool on the outside and boiling beneath the surface.”
“He is boiling beneath the surface,” I admit.
“How do you know?”
“I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality. Let’s just say I discovered some personal stuff about him while I was on the job.”
Rosie leans forward. “Come on, Goldie. You have to tell me. You know I’ll keep it to myself.”
I know no such thing. Rosie’s a good friend, but discretion isn’t her middle name. I draw my fingers across my lips to signal I’m zipping them tightly closed.
“Fun sponge!”
The server returns with our milkshakes, and Rosie beams at him, touching her hair seductively. “Thank you sooooo much.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
She practically melts all over the floor. When he’s clearing the next table, Rosie fans herself with her hand. “Don’t you just love it when a good-looking man has manners?”
“He knows his customer service.”
“He can call me ma’am in bed anytime.”
We both snort with laughter, but she watches him like an eagle circling over a rabbit .
“Can you at least give me a name and a description?”
“Robert,” I say. “And he’s tall, dark, and handsome in a rugged, mountain-man kind of way… lumbersexual, if you know what I mean?”
“Spirit animal?” Rosie has a thing about spirit animals. Apparently, all humans have an animal we most closely resemble, either in character or appearance, or both. Rosie’s convinced my spirit animal is a yellow butterfly. Yellow for my golden hair, and a butterfly because she feels like I’m unsettled.
“Bear,” I blurt. “He’s got a big build and dark hair and beard.”
“Chest hair?”
I snort mid-sip of my milkshake. “What do you think I do when I go to people’s houses to change their locks?”
“You can tell,” she says.
“He was wearing a sweater. It wasn’t bulging through, thank goodness.”
“Nothing like a warm rug to snuggle into.”
I wrinkle my nose. I like a little chest hair but calling it a rug isn’t appealing.
“Eye color?”
“Brown,” I say. And gold. Weird, sparkly, glowy, radiating gold. I don’t tell Rosie that part. She’ll accuse me of reading too many Twilight novels or something.
“Good. Big hands?”
“Definitely.”
“Nice house?”
“Like something from a fairytale,” I admit.
“Rich then?”
“Who knows? People can have huge houses and no liquid assets. ”
“Yes.” Rosie rubs her chin and studies me. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
Besides the weird obsession with spirit animals, Rosie also believes she has a sixth sense.
“What gives you a good feeling?”
She wiggles her fingers, staring up and to the left. “I’m not sure. He feels just right.”
I snort and flop back against the chair. “You thought that about Devon.” Rosie loved my ex until he dumped me for a redhead.
“Yeah, well, Devon went against his destiny.”
“Straight into someone else’s vagina.”
“Exactly. The mystical power of the vagina cannot be underestimated.”
Our server chooses exactly that moment to reappear with our food and fumbles with the plates a little before he sets them down. Rosie struggles to contain her laughter, and his cheeks flame as red as the pleather we’re sitting on.
When he shuffles away, forgetting to tell us to enjoy our meal, we both burst into fits of laughter.
By eight p.m., we’re in The Blue Lounge, sipping their signature Blue Diamond cocktail. I have no idea what’s in it, but my head is spinning after half a glass. The music is loud enough to vibrate the floor, and lights flash white, turquoise, dark blue, and purple, giving the space the liquid feeling of being underwater. The crowd is an interesting mix, from early twenties college types to mid-forties professionals. Rosie and I perch on stools at the bar, close to the prospect of more drinks and the barman who looks like a young Marlon Brando, just Rosie’s type.
I scan the crowd, fascinated to watch the girls dancing and the men watching. Humans like to imagine we’ve left the animal part of us behind, but what’s going on here is a blatant mating ritual. I’m just about to turn back to Rosie when a movement by the door catches my eye. I watch a man edging around the bar. All I can see is his shoulder and the back of his head, but my heart does a weird skip at the familiarity. Is it Robert?
That would be one hell of a coincidence. In the six months I’ve lived around here, I’ve never noticed him before. Now he’s in an adjacent town at the same bar as me. I strain to keep my eyes on the man, but he disappears into the crowd. He didn’t seem like the type for a bar like this. He’d fit better into a gentleman’s club with a cigar and a glass of single malt.
“Are you okay?” Rosie asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think he’s here.”
She frowns, looking over her shoulder, even though she has no idea who she’s looking for.
“Mr. Stoic,” I prompt.
“Oh, this is going to be good. Where is he?”
“It might not be him—”
“You’ve gone all red,” she laughs. “Jesus. He really has an effect on you.”
I smooth my hair, even though it adds to Rosie’s amusement. “Do I look okay?” I ask. “Just in case he comes over. Nothing in my teeth?” I grin widely, and Rosie shakes her head.
“You don’t think I would have told you by now if there was. What kind of friend do you think I am?”
I touch her arm. “A good one, sweetie.”
“He better come over,” she says. “If he doesn’t, he’s an idiot.”
“I thought you had a good feeling about this one?”
“Yeah, but men.” She leaves that statement hanging because it needs no explanation. There’s a reason we’re both single right now. The picking of good men has proven slim, and neither of us has the patience to linger over a relationship that isn’t worth our time.
I sip my cocktail, desperate for something to take my mind off the fact that I could be about to face the triplets and their weird intensity again, and this time in public. What would Rosie say?
It didn’t happen , my mind whispers. You imagined it all.
Maybe the golden eye thing was a trick of the light, but Hunter’s rabid expression was real, and Robert’s desperate need to push me out the door was also undeniable.
The way we parted wasn’t normal.
I glance over my shoulder again, hoping to glimpse him in the crowd, but instead, I catch the eye of a tall, blond, suited man who’s standing in a group. He smiles broadly, and my instinct to be polite pulls at my cheeks. Damn. He’s coming over.
“Man approaching,” I hiss at Rosie.
She turns with a big smile on her face, expecting Robert. The blond hair is a dead giveaway it’s not.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Mark.”
“I’m Goldie, and this is Rosie.”
“Hi, Rosie.” His eyes drift over my friend, settling on her bare legs for a second too long. Jesus, dude. Make up your mind! He sways a little on his feet, and his beer sloshes over the edge of his glass onto the floor, splashing Rosie’s feet.
“Jesus,” she exclaims. “You got beer between my toes. ”
“I can lick it off for you,” Mark slurs.
This guy is the literal worst.
“I’ll just wipe it off, but thanks for the sweet offer.”
Mark steps back as Rosie strides away, heading for the restroom. “So, Goldie… that’s a pretty name, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I nurse my drink, praying Rosie will return soon.
“How are you enjoying your night?”
“Good so far. What about you?”
“Better now I’m talking to you.”
I feel sorry for the guy. He’s obviously very drunk and lacking in the flirting department. He’s all right-looking but not my type. Too average Joe combined with Captain America; clean lines that aren’t memorable.
“Well, I’m here to catch up with my friend,” I say, hoping to put him off sticking around. I glance over my shoulder, praying Robert will approach. It’s stupid to want him to shoo this guy away, but that’s what I want. A strong, stoic bear of a man to come and defend his territory.
When did I become his territory? Jesus. My brain is sliding into some weird places.
Mark’s friends drift over as Rosie approaches. She’s flushed across her face and chest. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“I’m having some kind of allergic reaction,” she says. “Must have been something in the sauce for the steak.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know. I should get some antihistamine.”
“Shit. Okay.” I slip from my stool, grabbing my coat as Rosie slides her arms into her denim jacket.
“Where you going?” Mark slurs, grabbing my arm, and I freeze.
“My friend needs to go home.”
“But we’re just getting started.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as Rosie opens her mouth to rail on the guy. He’s too drunk to bother getting angry.
“Don’t be sorry. Stay,” the friend says, leaning in. His beer breath is overpowering.
“We can’t,” I say. “See you around.”
Mark still hasn’t let go of my arm, and I try to pull it back, but he’s a leech.
Behind me, I sense his approach before I see him. “She said she needs to leave.” Robert’s rumbling but calm voice sends a hot pulse of relief through me. I turn, finding him looming over all of us, a veritable wall of man. Rosie’s eyes widen, flicking between Robert and me. Mark finally lets go of my arm as Robert’s extra height and muscle mass register in his animal brain. See, this is what bugs me about the world. I can express myself as much as I like, but it still takes an oversized man to deal with situations like this.
I take a step back and find myself pressed against the length of Robert’s hard body. His scent envelops me, taking me back to the room of my fantasies, overwhelming my senses. Everything about him unravels me.
Rosie looks between us, her brows rising. Has she noticed how calm I am in his presence? Can she see what I feel? Settled. Safe. Anchored. Seen. All of this is crazy. It isn’t possible for a person’s body to know another’s the way mine knows Robert’s.
Except it feels real, as though I’ve slotted myself into place just by being in physical contact with him. He rests his big hand on my hip, hot as a brand, steadying as a weighted blanket .
“It’s time to move on,” he says to Mark and his hangers-on. It’s delivered without aggression, but his meaning is brutally obvious. If you don’t move on, I’ll make you. My panties are suddenly shamelessly wet.
I wonder if he’d say things like that in the bedroom. ‘It’s time to spread your legs, Goldie.’ ‘It’s time to show me your pretty pussy.’ ‘It’s time to take my cock out.’ ‘It’s time to fuck the cum out of me.’
Oh, man.
He must have some seriously potent pheromones because I’m losing my ever-loving mind. I turn and crane my head to look at him, finding his expression fierce and devastatingly handsome. I swoon a little as his hand tightens on my flesh, but his gaze never wavers from the men in front of us. He grits his jaw so tightly his beard ticks.
Mark mutters something under his breath, but his friend, who seems a little more sober, directs him away. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Evan and Hunter on the other side of the dance floor, but I avoid more than a cursory glance. Even just scanning over them and sensing them in my periphery sends a jolt of heat and unease through me.
“Thanks,” I say, expecting Robert to let me go. His fingers flex, but instead of releasing me, he rests his other hand on my waist and lowers his lips to my ear.
“It’s time to go home, Goldie.”
I shudder just from the sound of his voice and the heat of his breath against my skin. I close my eyes, breathing him in, letting his proximity settle around me. My synapses fire like fireflies at midnight. I’d be putty in his hands.
I’ll never have a chance to find out the extent of his dominance and control, though.
“Yeah,” I whisper. My voice is lost in the music, but he hears me and straightens, releasing his hold.
“I’ll walk you out.” His hand on my elbow is electric, and I move, compelled.
Rosie follows, staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. Outside, Robert puts his phone to his ear. “Yes. The Blue Lounge.” He returns his phone to his pocket. “The cab will be here in five minutes.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” I say.
“How did you know we needed a cab?” Rosie asks.
“Sorry, Rosie, this is Robert. Robert, Rosie.” I wave between them.
“Two drinks at the bar.” Robert’s hands find their way into his pockets, and he widens his stance, blocking the wind from hitting us.
Silence hangs between us as Rosie presses her hand to her chest.
“It’s still bad,” I say. “I wonder what it was.”
“Who knows? I should carry antihistamines around with me. These reactions are getting more and more frequent.”
“Mushrooms,” Robert says.
“What?” Rosie and I both say in unison.
“You ate mushrooms?”
“Yeah. In the steak sauce,” Rosie says slowly. “How did you know?”
Robert shrugs. “It’s a common reaction. Best avoid them.”
As if it’s been conjured from thin air, the cab pulls up beside us. Robert opens the door, and Rosie slides in, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. I’m frozen to the spot, not sure how to say goodbye to a man whom I feel deeply connected to but barely know. “So—”
“So.” He smiles, and it’s like the sun streaming through gray clouds after the gloom of a storm. “Sleep well, Goldie.”
Getting into the cab feels like working against the pull of a magnet. I can’t stop looking at Robert as the cab pulls away. It’s not until we’re ten feet away that Evan and Hunter appear behind him. They’re distant figures when their eyes flash golden in the night, taking my breath away. It’s a relief that Rosie’s looking at the road ahead.
“What the hell was that?” She takes my hand. “You’re shaking.”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Whatever it is between you, it’s powerful. I told you. I have a feeling.”
“Me, too,” I say. “But I have no idea what the feeling is.”