Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

Kai grinned and nudged his brother. “Which one of us is the meathead?”

“S’a matter, Eddie?” River emptied his glass. “All is not well in the dry-cleaning business?”

He curled his lip. “A lifetime of chemicals and wire hangers isn’t my idea of paradise.”

River squeezed him in a sweaty side-hug. “You gotta tell ’em, man. Take a stand. You’ll feel better once you do. Took me too long to finally tell my parents no way was I joining their real estate firm.”

“How’d they take it?”

River’s laugh held an edge. “Not great at first. But they accepted it eventually, and now they’re scouting properties for my future bar.” He snorted. “With their taste, I’d end up with one of those cookie-cutter gastro-pubs.”

Eddie knew just the kind of place he was talking about. Edison bulbs, uncomfortable metal chairs, metro tiles on the walls—all that clichéd, trendy shit. His place would have a dark, old-school vibe, with a cool name like Dacha. Russian bar food, a huge selection of vodka, Soviet-era posters…

“River’s right, ya know.” Jojo sat on a weight bench which creaked dangerously. “Keeping secrets from family? Bad idea. They know you better than anyone. They’ll figure it out.”

So far, they hadn’t, maybe because they assumed Eddie wanted what they wanted for him. He’d tell them eventually, after he had all his action steps lined up, his degree completed, a small business loan secured, a year or two managing a bar…

“Speaking of keeping secrets from family,” River waggled his eyebrows. “How long you been hooking up with our Rosie?”

Kai’s jaw dropped. “That hot fat chick with the tattoos?”

Eddie punched his arm. “She’s not fat, meathead.”

Kai scowled and rubbed the sore spot. “No disrespect. Like I said, she’s hot. She’s with you now?” He whistled. “I’m impressed.”

“So’s Rosie, I bet.” Jojo knuckled the top of Eddie’s head. “Little muscle man’s got stamina.”

Eddie extricated himself and raised his palms. “Look, Rosie and I, we’re just—”

“Just friends, right?” River looked at the other two guys, and they all burst into guffaws.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie waited them out. “I was gonna say we’re taking it slow. So I’d appreciate it if you don’t give us shit about it at work.” His strategy: keep as close to the truth as possible. Since Saturday’s momapalooza, he’d dodged his parents’ pointed questions, offering excuses about busy schedules and reassuring them he saw Rosie plenty at work—and after. That last part was a lie. Lately, their only physical contact was a quick hand squeeze when he gave her his cousin’s ostentatious wedding invitation. God, there was so much more he wanted to squeeze, but that was his problem, not Rosie’s. She was being fuckin’ generous to help him cover for his stupidity. He couldn’t ask for more, no matter how much he wanted to.

Besides, she was right. These guys’ friendship was too important to risk over a stupid crush. Bad enough to limp through this pretend dating bullshit for his parents’ sake. He had to keep things light and breezy, so when they stopped pretending, their friends wouldn’t feel moved to take sides. He’d need to lean on his work family during the real family drama to come.

“Rosie’s good for you,” Jojo said with a sage nod of his shaved head. “You’re coming out of your shell.”

I am? He hadn’t noticed. Probably just their imagination.

Jojo clapped his ginormous hands. “Okay, boys and girls, Bulgarian death squats.”

Gritting his teeth, Eddie attacked the one-legged torture. He welcomed the pain because it gave him a reprieve from obsessing over Rosie. Well, mostly. Okay, a little. “Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”

An hour later, he climbed the steps to his apartment on limp-noodle legs. He had just enough time to squeeze in a hot shower and an hour of study for his Psychology of Marketing class before reporting to duty at his parents’ dry-cleaning shop. This hectic pace was getting to him lately, along with the winter darkness, the constant icy rain, and—who was he kidding? He’d handled his responsibilities just fine before New Year’s Eve. Rosie’s rejection sucked all the energy from his routine. Before that damn mistletoe sent him into a tailspin, he’d kept his head above water by sticking to his daily to-do list, his affirmations, and a nightly meditation on his vision board. Now, he marched like an automaton through his days, joyless and glum.

“Quit being such a wuss,” he grumbled as he peeled off his sodden workout clothes. “Everyone gets dumped. You’ll survive.”

He cranked up the hot water and stepped into the shower stall he’d installed with his grandfather’s help when they renovated this attic space. “It’s the little joys in life, lapochka,” Dedka told him with a clap on the shoulder. “Good water pressure, good vodka, and a good woman.”

“Well, shit.” Too early for vodka, and even though he still craved her with every cell in his exhausted body, Rosie was clearly not the right woman for him. What was he thinking, lusting after someone so fuckin’ hot and bohemian when he was this boring, workaday schlub?

He filled his palm with shampoo and dumped it over his head, then dug into his scalp while bubbles made their tickling way down his torso.

Just like Rosie’s hair had tickled—soft, thrilling, like the brush of her lips over his skin. He glopped shower gel onto a washcloth and scrubbed it across his tired shoulders. If he turned his back to the mirror, would he still see the purple half-moons she’d left there when she came, her soft thighs gripping his hips?

His cock stiffened at the memory. Just a few feet away, he’d taken her. And she begged him for more, sobbing his name as her sweet pussy clenched on his shaft. Powerless to resist, he took himself in hand and stroked, head thrown back against the cool tiles, sunk in memory and want and pain.

****

Freshly cleared by her doc, Dawn stood on the low stage, mic in hand. “Welcome to Bangers’ Trivia Madness!