Chapter 17 Desi
DESI
Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.
“I don’t want any,” I yell over my shoulder as I bend to pick up Disco from where he’s barking and wagging his tail in his kennel.
“I’ve heard that before,” Reznor murmurs as he walks in the back door without being invited and rests a shoulder against the doorjamb.
It’s much easier keeping my attention on Disco and the collar I’m putting around his neck than looking at Reznor.
We haven’t talked since the other night. It’s been a few days, and yet I fear if I look at him, defeat will be written over every part of my body. The kind of defeat that tells him he’s right, I’m wrong, and oh yeah, can we have sex right now to make up for my stupidity?
“What do you want?” I ask without looking at him while I coo over Disco and head toward the front of the house.
“Here you are,” I say when I enter the main area of the grooming shop.
Jeff is texting someone on his phone. He looks up when I enter, a smile wide on his lips when he sees Disco.
I turn, surprised to see that Reznor stayed in the other room.
“Thanks. Ah, you look handsome as ever, Disc,” Jeff says as he takes him from me.
“He was great per usual. That hot spot under his front arm looks better too.”
“I thought it looked better so that’s good to hear.” Jeff hands a check to me, and I place it in my drawer. I half expect him to have one foot out the door when I turn back around, but he’s standing there staring at me like he has more to say.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Ah, that’s sweet.” But I’m suddenly uncomfortable. When Reznor said the same comment, I swooned. But with Jeff, there is no swooning. No nothing.
“I’m telling you, the offer still stands.” A warm smile. “We were—”
“Good luck with that,” Reznor’s voice says from behind me, making both Jeff and me jump.
Jeff’s smile fades as he takes in Reznor with his shoulder against the doorway, eyes burning a hole into him. Jeff gives Reznor the fuck you lift of his chin in greeting. “Hey.”
Reznor doesn’t say a word, but rather waits with a slight smirk—perhaps saying fuck you right back.
“Reznor, this is Officer Jeff Nelson—”
“Reznor Mayne,” Reznor says, cutting me off and making his own introduction. “SFPD Swat Commander.”
And the gauntlet has been thrown down, the pissing match commenced.
But Reznor doesn’t move from his spot against my wall, and Jeff stares at him for an uncomfortable space of time before he realizes he’s the odd man out in this situation, when I’m more than certain he thought this whole interaction might go the other way.
After all, Reznor is in my house and clearly isn’t a client.
“Well, uh,” Jeff says with a quick shake of his head before looking back at me, “thank you. Disco looks great as always. I’ll uh...I’ll talk to you later, Des.”
I smile softly at him. “Talk to you later.”
I wait for the door to shut behind him before I reprimand Reznor for his testosterone-laced claim that I never gave him the right to make.
“Really?” I ask, voice escalating as I turn and face him and his goading smirk.
“What did I do? I just told him good luck.” He shrugs innocently. “He’s gonna need it when it comes to you.”
“Stop being an ass.”
“An ass?” He takes a step toward me, body tense, posture telling me he’d welcome the fight I’m all too primed to give him.
“You said I have no claim to you”—he throws his hands up as if he doesn’t care—“so you’ve slept with him.
I guess that means I need to go sleep with someone else to make it fair that—”
“No!” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. A simple knee-jerk reaction I wish I could take back, because I hate that I just gave him the upper hand.
His chuckle is low and grates on my ruffled nerves. “So there is something there then.”
Gritting my teeth, I walk past him without responding. I find things that keep my hands busy—sweep the dog fur off the floor, dry the inside of the basin with a towel, realign the products on my shelf—all while he’s standing behind me watching.
“I’ll tell you what, Desi Whitman. I think you’re a chicken.
I think you hide behind your preconceived notions out of principle—or at least that’s what you label it, but fear is fear.
You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.
” My hands still and my eyes meet his in the reflection of the window in front of me.
“The question is, how bad do you want it? How bad do you want to see where this might go between us? A few nights of sex? A few dates? Anything. Something. When will you push yourself to think that it’s okay? ”
“I already told you, I know who I am, and I know what I want out of life.”
“You did...but that’s before you met someone who changed that.”
I spin around and glare at him. He’s thinking too much into this. “Down, boy. It’s sex. One time. That’s it.”
“Two times,” he counters and lifts his eyebrows.
“Two?”
“Sweetheart, we may not have been touching, but you can’t deny we fucked each other across this space.
” He points to his house and back, but his eyes never leave mine.
“You can call it semantics. You can say it didn’t happen, but I’ll fight you on that.
Watching you was hotter than hell. You came for me.
And next time you do, I’ll be buried in you. ”
His words evoke too many things I don’t want to think about but can’t seem to avoid thinking of late.
“That’s presumptuous,” I say simply, because I have nothing else to say.
His chuckle is back and so is that look in his eye that’s part challenge, part predator. “You’re only pushing me away because you know it’s good—we’re good—and you’re afraid you’re only going to like it more.”
“Why are you here, Reznor?” I shove my hands on my hips so I don’t reach out and touch him.
I can see him question which answer he should give. The one we both know—that he wants to sleep with me again—or the underlying reason. “You didn’t show up to class again.”
“And I called Bear ahead of time and let him know that something came up. That way you knew, he knew—”
“Why not walk across the yard and tell me?”
“Because I was...” avoiding you. Wanting you. Needing to keep my distance from you.
His smile is half-cocked. “That’s what I thought.” He takes a step toward me. “You want me as much as I want you…”
“I don’t—”
He holds his finger against my lips and says, “Shhh.” Our eyes hold as every part of my body vibrates from his touch. “I’m not a patient man, Desi...except when it comes to things I think are worth it.”
“Reznor—”
“Tell Jeff you’re off the market.” My spine stiffens at his order. “Because you’re worth it.”
And then, of course, the aftereffects of Reznor Mayne hit me—the flutter, the swoon, and the sag—as a smile slides across his lips and he dips his chin before walking out the back door without looking back.
The man is infuriating.