Hold (Gentry Boys, #5)(19)
“Living room end table.”
I stayed in the kitchen while Stephanie bustled around, gathering keys and phone and purse. I’d have to hustle to get ready as soon as she stepped out the door but for the moment I watched her while she didn’t realize she was being watched. She was distracted, preoccupied. She’d been that way often lately and it wasn’t like her. Steph was sharp and intense, not dreamy and vague.
“Bye. Love you.” She blew a kiss my way and opened the door.
“Hey Steph!”
The girl I loved turned around and cocked her head as she waited for me to say something.
Marry me.
“Have a good day.”
She gave me a half smile. “You too.”
Why the hell couldn’t I just say it? Whenever I got the idea into my head the mood always seemed to be off or the timing wasn’t ideal or the planets weren’t aligned in the proper astronomical sequence. There wasn’t another girl anywhere I would ever want to spend my life with. I’d known that early on with Stephanie. I was never unsure about her. And I knew she loved me to the f*cking moon and back or else she wouldn’t still be here. So why couldn’t either of us seem to take the leap over the hill? Cord had hooked up with Saylor and gone right to work with rings and babies. Creed put a diamond claim on Truly within a year and just a few months ago I stood on a hill in Sedona, watching my brooding, inscrutable brother shine with happiness as he vowed to forever keep the woman of his dreams.
The clock reminded me there really wasn’t time for angst-filled contemplation. I wasn’t going anywhere. Stephanie wasn’t going anywhere. Well, actually we were both going somewhere because we’d be moving into our new place in a few weeks. But we were solid. We loved each other, we liked each other and we still f*cked with fanatical fervor.
Yet somehow I wanted more. I want it all with her.
After downing my coffee and shoving a handful of over-sugared cereal in my face I hosed off in the shower and threw on some clothes. Rush hour was still in full swing so it took a lot of stop and go traffic before I reached downtown. Just before I ducked into the library I glanced over at the cluster of high rises on Central Avenue and thought about Stephanie in there, enduring one miserable, pointless meeting after another. Maybe she was sitting at some conference table and slipping her heels off while some dickhead droned on about spreadsheets and profit margins. Maybe her mind was wandering back to our little role playing exercise last night and she was pressing her knees together to squash the sudden ache at her core while she licked her lips and recalled the taste of my cock…
Hooray! Just in case there was any doubt that I was still ruled by my dick he made it clear that dissent was intolerable. One quick flashback to Stephanie’s sexy body and he was ready to roll.
I lingered outside for a few minutes and focused on unsexy things like the mound of bird shit by the door and the homeless fellow cheerfully eating an entire red velvet cake on a nearby bench. Once I was the master of my own domain again I pulled a ten dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to the guy before heading inside.
The camp was just a daytime program designed for local kids who were looking for something to do this summer besides hang out in the industrial hellholes of Phoenix and melt in the heat. These were my kind of kids; a little rough around the edges but eager to learn. Being among them made me excited for the chance to stand in front of my own classroom and tell them what I knew. They were the kind of kids I couldn’t wait to get invested in.
“Hey, Chase.” Bastian Bordeaux, the program’s chief coordinator, greeted me on my way in. He never tried to hide the gang tattoos that decorated his neck or the needle scars on his arms. Once a teenage runaway, drug addict and hell raiser, he was now a middle-aged father of three and was responsible for a number of community youth outreach programs. He told me once there was nothing to be gained by smothering the echoes of the past. They’ll just choke you. I’ve come by a few scars myself, both inside and out, so I know what he means.
“Hey,” I said, shaking his hand smoothly.
Bastian motioned down the hall. “Get your group assignment. We’ll head down to the light rail in about fifteen minutes.”
There were six of them in my charge for the trip we were taking up the road to the art museum. They were all around thirteen to fifteen years old, a rowdy bunch who took up space and made a lot of noise because they were trying to figure out where they stood in the world.
“Mr. Gentry,” sang out one of the girls as the light rail lurched slowly through downtown Phoenix, “where’s the bathroom?”
“You’ll have to wait until we reach the museum, Inez.”
“Hey, Mr. Gentry,” called out another voice. “I need a drink of water.”
“Arun, they’ll have water at the museum.”
“I’m thirsty now.”
“You can wait ten minutes.”
“Naw, I can’t. It’s dangerous to get dehydrated in the desert. You told us that.”
“We’re not in the desert. We’re in an air conditioned train on Central Avenue.”
The kid hammed it up, sprawling across the seats right into the lap of Inez, who squealed and shoved him away. He closed his eyes. “I might get heat stroke.”
My mouth tipped into a smile. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Hey kids, listen up. Remember the rules in there. No cell phones, stay with me and keep the noise to a minimum.”