Built (Saints of Denver #1)(13)
“Fair enough. I kind of got the hint when you canceled on me for the second time.”
I smiled at him. “But I do like you in the normal way and I really do enjoy spending time with you. It’s nice to have someone who I can talk the law with.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Of course you normal like me, not naked like me. Like I said, all women like me one way or another.”
We shared a stilted laugh. I was terrible when it came to men. That was one thing that was all on me and I couldn’t blame on dear old Dad. I could never figure out how to be invested in them and still keep myself separated and safe. No one wanted to date or make love to an ice sculpture and pretty much that was all you got with me. It was the only way I survived growing up under my father’s critical eye. When you’re made to feel like the worst sort of idiot, the biggest kind of failure, for showing any type of emotion—even tears at your mother’s funeral—you learn pretty quickly that if you don’t have feelings then they can’t be destroyed. Quiet disapproval and endless disdain could land just as heavily as a balled-up fist when it was all that was given to a child.
And now Zeb Fuller was not only threatening to melt the icy shroud that made me feel safe, he was also making it impossible not to feel things. So many hot, bright, and addicting things. It was no wonder I was equally terrified of and obsessed with the man.
The rest of the evening passed with easy camaraderie and friendly banter about the legal system. I wasn’t lying. I really did like Quaid and I appreciated his quick wit and effortless flirting even though I didn’t return the interest, but it was when my phone buzzed with an incoming text message as I was walking in the front door that all the attraction and lure I wanted to feel for Quaid flared to life because Zeb’s name flashed on my phone.
He sent a message asking if I would be home on Saturday. I was so frazzled for a second I almost typed back YES in big, bold, shouty caps. When I calmed down I sent him back a reply that I had some work to do but he could swing by around lunch.
I didn’t even think to ask why he needed to see me and he didn’t elaborate, responding back with a brisk See you then.
At two in the morning the night before he was supposed to swing by, I gave up trying to sleep and went into my office to see if I could at least use my restlessness to get some work done, which really meant I sat at my desk and watched hours of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix without accomplishing much of anything besides wondering what Zeb could possibly want with me. It only took a few episodes before I decided that I was absolutely team Spike. I mean, hot, British bad boy, how could I not pull for him and Buffy to get over their obvious differences and find everlasting love?
I didn’t have high hopes for getting any kind of sleep, but when I finally dragged myself to bed around five, after some stern nudges from Poppy, as soon as my head hit the pillow my body gave out and my mind finally shut down on me. There were no visions of a handsome bearded man and no endless fantasies of all the things I wanted that man to do to me . . .
or fantasies of all the things I really, really wanted to do to him. There was just darkness and finally blissful, dense, consuming sleep. I had hit the wall and there was nothing left for my psyche or body to give.
When a soft hand landed on my shoulder sometime later I could have sworn that my eyes had just fallen shut. I jerked up in the bed and blinked at Poppy while I tried to figure out what was going on. I was confused for a second because the entire room was flooded with sunshine and she was dressed for the day. I was also surprised she was in my room and that she had voluntarily touched me.
“What time is it?” I pushed a messy handful of hair out of my face and stretched my arms up over my head. I groaned as every bone in my neck popped at the motion.
Poppy nervously fiddled with the end of her long braid and told me, “It’s twelve-oh-five. Zeb’s been downstairs for the last ten minutes waiting for you. I told him you haven’t been sleeping very well and he offered to leave and come back another day, but I didn’t think you’d want that, so I decided to come wake you up.”
At first I just stared at her like she was speaking Spanish, then I swore and threw the covers off of me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me? I finally fall asleep after months of sleepless hell and I almost miss the visit of the person keeping me up in the first place? Un-freaking-believable.” I never normally would have admitted that Zeb was the reason for my insomnia. That’s how unsettled I was. There went those pesky emotions again.
I scrambled out of bed and paused when I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror that was mounted on the closet door. My hair was a wild mess around my head. It looked like an entire family of squirrels had moved into the mess overnight. My face was scary pale and my eyes were way too big in my face, making me look startled and almost frightened. I had on the stretchy tank top and comfy yoga pants that I always wore to bed, but it was the last outfit I wanted Zeb to see me in. I didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer than I already had, so I decided the sleepwear was going to have to do even though the idea of appearing as anything other than perfectly groomed and put together in front of him made me want to vomit. It felt like I was going into battle without armor.
Frantically throwing on a loose T-shirt to cover up the points on my chest that were also apparently excited to see him, I dashed around until I found a brush in the bathroom and ripped it through my hair until the tangled heap was smooth enough to put up in a ponytail. I wrapped a bandanna around my head and hurriedly slapped on some blush so I didn’t look so much like an extra from The Walking Dead.