Chapter 3
3
Nick
Kaden was off fucking some other woman, and he’d left Yasmine alone.
Or at least, that was what Cary said. And although she was the queen of gossip—according to everyone I’d met—she was also about one hundred percent accurate. In other words, she only spread news about verifiable facts.
We were three days from opening night.
I’d settled nicely into my role as head rigger. The circus was scheduled for performances for six weeks, starting in late November and ending just after the New Year. Six solid weeks of work and I’d be home for Christmas. Sweet. My work generally kept me close to home—because I worked in the film, television, and theater industries—but I was always up for travel when asked.
Yasmine exited the dressing room with a bag slung over her shoulder.
Without thinking hard about what a dumb idea this was, I cut her off from the exit.
She gazed up at me.
I’d never been this close, and her green cat eyes blinked up at me. Her flaming red hair hung loosely around her shoulders. In her solo trap act, she wore it pulled away from her face, but otherwise flying free. Her carefree attitude, all smiles and clear relaxation, made me glad she wore a safety line for that routine.
Kaden wore one as well, but he didn’t have the same joie de vivre. The same spark. He was precision and ice. She was wild abandon and fire.
“Can I help you?” She didn’t appear annoyed. But she wasn’t happy either. Instead, she wore a neutral expression.
“I was wondering if I could take you to dinner.”
“And pay?”
“Of course.”
“I pay my own way.” She snapped the words.
Which isn’t a no . “Do you have a favorite restaurant?”
“There’s one in Chinatown I always go to. Kaden’s not a fan.”
“The food or the atmosphere?”
A hint of a smile. “Both.”
I bent my arm, offering her the crook.
After a slight hesitation, she took me up on my offer.
She was shorter than me—although not by much. Her light perfume tickled my nose. A citrusy scent that I would never have selected for her. I would’ve assumed gardenias or lilies.
At every turn, she surprised me.
We headed under the Georgia Street viaduct and into Chinatown. Which also happened to buttress against the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver. One of the poorest neighborhoods in Canada in the most expensive city in Canada. The dichotomy lay stark before us. Extreme wealth on one side and extreme poverty on the other. I drew in a breath. “Do you come to Vancouver often?”
She cast me a sidelong glance. “This is our third visit. It’s one we always enjoy.”
“Where are you from?”
“Originally?”
Loaded question . “I meant where do you live when you’re not traveling?”
“Ah, but we’re always traveling.” She gave me an impish grin. “My father is Bulgarian and my mother is fourth-generation Canadian. Quite a difference in…life experience.”
“Do you come from an artistic family?”
“Well, athletic. My father was a trapeze artist as well. He and his sister had a magnificent routine. I love watching old videos of them.” She smiled. “And do you come from a family of riggers?”
I managed a smile. “My mother works in product management for some software company, and my father runs a repair shop.”
“Those sound like interesting jobs.”
“Well, my mom makes all the money. Dad believes in keeping things going and not always throwing things away and buying new. For him, he does his part for the environment by fixing things. Mom fixes things, but in a different way. Her company makes software for hospitals and medical clinics.” I winced. I needed to be witty and charming and was being anything but. Talking about my parents was the least interesting part of my life.
Or so I believed.
Yasmine, however, grinned. “That’s so awesome. I think I’d love a job where I could fix things. I can barely sew a button. I keep thinking I want to learn how to knit. You know, something to do during my downtime.”
“You have downtime?” I arched an eyebrow.
She grinned. “Kaden and I are not always joined at the hip. We have our own pursuits.”
“Like tonight?” Great. Way to be subtle.
A laughter burst forth from her. “Do you think I should be moping at home being jealous?” She pointed to a side street.
I would’ve missed it. My city, and she knew the way around better than me.
“We have an open relationship. We don’t hide that fact. Now, Kaden won’t fuck anyone in the troupe—that would be tactless. But he’s free to hook up with people wherever we’re visiting. I’m not worried. He always comes back to me.”
“That’s…magnanimous of you. I can’t believe you aren’t worried. He’s…very attractive.” Even I find him attractive, and I’m not generally into guys.
“He’s gorgeous. Women fawn over him and he enjoys their company. I don’t mind.”
I believed her. “And you? Do you get out and enjoy the company of other men? Or of other women?” Because that was a thing these days. The younger generation didn’t have the same concept of gender and sexuality as older people did. Not that I was much older—but eight years could be a vast difference. Someone’s late twenties could be a time of tremendous growth.
She winked. “I’ve considered dabbling.”
My cock stiffened.
She opened the door to a restaurant I’d never been to.
Hot air and the scent of spices wafted across the space.
Well, this is going to be interesting.