Nine-tenths of the Law

Chapter Two

My heart was in my throat when I stepped out into the chilly evening air, standing in the same place where I’d waited for Jake just minutes before. I looked up the sidewalk, then down, then back up again, disappointment sinking deeper in my gut as I realized the stranger was long gone.

“Damn it,” I whispered. Somehow I doubted that Jake would give me a way to reach this guy, and I had no way to find him on my own. He was gone, as were my chances of getting a decent night’s sleep.

Turning to head back inside, I glanced up the street one last time, and my stomach flipped. There he was. His back was to me, each long stride taking him farther away, but it was him. I was sure of it. With blood pounding in my ears, I followed him.

“Hey!” I called after him.

He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t stop. In fact, he walked a little faster.

“Wait,” I said, resisting the urge to break into a run. He walked faster. I cursed under my breath, then said, “Fuck, would you just wait up a second?”

The irritation in my voice was probably what made him stop and turn. I didn’t blame him. After all, how dare I get annoyed with him for trying to get as far from me as possible?

He faced me, hands thrust into his jacket pockets, and I stopped a few feet short of him.

Before he could speak, I said, “I just want to talk to you.”

His lips once again thinned into that pale, almost snarling line. When he spoke, I wasn’t surprised at all when his lip curled into a sneer. “And if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Then you don’t have to talk,” I said.

He blinked. Shifted his weight. Set his jaw. Waited.

I swallowed. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two-” He started to speak, but I put up my hand and he stopped. Taking a breath, I continued. “I honestly had no idea. None. But,” I paused. “Obviously my being involved with him fucked up something you had. And for that, I’m sorry.”

His lips parted and his shoulders jumped slightly. He dropped his gaze. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he took a deep breath. “How long?”

“How long have I been seeing him?”

Nodding silently, he reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, guilt sank even deeper in my gut.

Cigarettes.

“Fuck,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

He looked up. “What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just-” I made a quick, dismissive gesture. “Nothing. Anyway, I’ve been seeing him for about six months. Give or take.”

He flinched, closing his eyes and shaking his head. I thought he cursed, but couldn’t be sure. He put the cigarette between his lips, stowed the rest of the pack, then pulled out a stainless Zippo lighter. With a quick flick of his thumb and the familiar metal clip-clap, the lighter was open and a flame illuminated his face in dancing orange light.

Then, just as quickly, the lighter snapped shut, severing the flame, and he looked at me as he took a drag.

I swallowed hard. “How long were-have you been with him?”

He lowered the cigarette and exhaled. The thin cloud of smoke obscured his features, but did nothing to dull the intensity in his gaze. “Four years.”

I sucked in a breath, and in so doing, tasted the smoke in the air. How many times had I smelled that on Jake? How many times had his kiss tasted faintly of smoke that I’d foolishly assumed was from being around his co-workers? Guilt rose like bile in my throat. You’re right. I did have something of yours.

“So is that everything you wanted to talk about?” he asked, lifting his cigarette again and taking a drag, as if the taste of the smoke would cover up the bitterness of speaking to me.

“Yeah.” I was suddenly breathless. Winded. What do you say to someone whose boyfriend you inadvertently stole? I had nothing left to say, but didn’t feel right walking away. Not yet. Something deep down told me there was more to say, whether I said it or he did.

“Well then,” he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. “Good night.” He turned to go, leaving me with the smoldering ashes.

“Wait,” I said.

He turned, exhaling sharply. His eyebrows rose in an annoyed expression of go on, out with it, I want to leave.

I hesitated. “Can I buy you a beer?”

A sudden laugh parted his lips, and the half-smile broke the angry rigidity of his features. The sound was one of amusement this time, not bitterness. The smile fell, then rose again. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

His eyes lost focus for a moment. Then something seemed to shake loose in his shoulders and his expression. “Hell, why not?”

I nodded past him. “There’s another place up that way. About a block and a half.” Gesturing over my shoulder, I said, “I assume you don’t want to go back in there.”

“No, definitely not.”

We walked in silence, facing straight ahead, hands in jacket pockets. There was a safely awkward distance between us-enough that a third person could have filled it with a little room to spare-just far enough to remind me of how uncomfortable we made each other, but close enough that to anyone passing by, we were obviously going somewhere together.

Still not saying a word, I opened the door to the bar and held it while he stepped inside. It was a crowded sports bar with football games on all of the numerous flat screens, but even the noise of drunk people and bad music didn’t pierce the hollow silence between us.

I flagged down a waitress and we took our seats at an empty booth that was as far from the heart of the noise as we could get. Once she came and took our orders, I looked at him. Now that we were at a table, facing each other, with no destination to preoccupy our minds as an excuse not to speak, I couldn’t think of what to say.

After a full minute had gone by, I finally said, “I don’t even know your name.”

He laughed, the sound barely registering over the noise in the bar. “I guess we haven’t really been introduced, have we?” He extended his hand across the table. “Nathan Forrester.”

I shook his hand. “Zach Owens.” I paused, my cheeks burning. “But I guess you already knew that.”

He released my hand, reaching for one of the two beers that materialized on our table. “Well, I didn’t know your last name, so…” He tilted the bottle in a half salute, then drank.

I took a sip, rolling it around on my tongue for a moment. Then, figuring this couldn’t get much more awkward than it already was, “How did you know my name, anyway?”

Nathan took a long drink. When he set the bottle down, he spun it with two fingers, watching the label instead of looking directly at me. “When I figured out he was cheating,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear, “I did a little digging. Looked at his cell phone when he was asleep or stepped away.” He gave a flippant shrug. “Devious, sure, but I can’t say I feel too guilty about it.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d have done the same.” I took another drink, if only to wet my parched mouth. “How long have you known?”

Another shrug. “A few weeks. Maybe two months, if that.” He watched his fingers tapping the side of his beer bottle. “I just didn’t want to confront him-either of you-until I was absolutely sure.”

I barely kept myself from shuddering. For two months, while I’d carried on with Jake in blissful ignorance, Nathan must have been agonizing over all of this.

Without looking at me, he said, “How did you meet him?”

“He was one of my regular customers.”

His fingers suddenly stopped and his head snapped up, eyebrows raised. “He-what?”

I cocked my head, then laughed. “I own a movie theatre.”

He laughed, too, and some of the hostility between us seemed to diminish. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…” He trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Given the circumstances…” I chewed my lip, inwardly cringing as the tension returned. Less hostile now, but awkward, nonetheless.

“Which theatre?”

“What?”

“You said you own a theatre.” He lifted his beer bottle, but paused just in front of his lips. “Which one?”

Whether he was genuinely curious or just wanted to change the subject, I wasn’t going to argue.

“The Epidauran,” I said.

His eyes widened and he swallowed his drink. “You own that place?”

I nodded. “Well, I co-own it. My partner and I-” Another flick of his eyebrows made me pause. “My business partner and I bought it a few years ago when the old owner was shutting it down. Back when it was still The Looking Glass.”

“You did a nice job with it,” he said with a nod of what I assume was approval. “Was a dump when it was still The Glass.”

“Thank you. It still has its problems, but we’ve tried to fix it up.” I paused. “I don’t think I’ve seen you there.”

“You probably see a lot of people.” He smiled. “And I haven’t been there in-” He cut himself off, his expression darkening and his gaze dropping.

“What?”

He swallowed hard, and when he looked at me, some of the bitterness had returned to his expression. “I probably haven’t been there in six months or so.” Through his teeth, he added, “About the time Jake suddenly lost interest in foreign and independent films.”

“Oh.” I went for my beer, letting the label hold my gaze. He didn’t need to know how often Jake had come to The Epidauran alone. Nor how many times he’d left with me.

Nathan cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s a nice place.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “So, um, what do you do?”

He shifted, picking up his beer bottle and visibly relaxing as we moved on to another topic. “I’m an attorney.”

As the conversation went on and fury no longer added its harsh edge to Nathan’s features, I couldn’t stop looking at him. Without the mask of anger, he was simply gorgeous. He had an infectious smile, the kind that was impossible not to return, especially when it crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. When he laughed-freely now, without the choked, bitter sound-there was music in his voice.

And that was just his face. I hadn’t had a chance to drink him in while he was standing, but what I could see above the table was anything but disappointing. His black shirt sat just right on broad shoulders, and the collar was casually unbuttoned, revealing a thin gold chain resting on his collarbones.

The sleeves were snug enough to show off his toned arms, and silver rings on his right ring and left index fingers drew my attention to his hands. Hands that could open and light a Zippo lighter in one fluid motion, something I’d never quite mastered in spite of trying time and again. I caught myself staring at his hands, watching the rings catch the light whenever his long, slender fingers drummed the table or played with the label on his beer bottle.

Those hands probably give a hell of a- I cut off that train of thought. Fucking hell, this guy just busted his boyfriend cheating with me, and I’m thinking about what he’s like in bed? I’m either a seriously insensitive bastard, or I really need to get laid.

When I realized I’d been staring, I looked up, and a hint of a smile told me it hadn’t escaped his notice. He didn’t seem offended by it or creeped out. Amused, if anything.

As I took another long drink, not tasting a single drop of it, I figured it was probably a little of both.

Jake, you pissed this away? What in the name of all that’s holy were you thinking? It occurred to me then that I’d all but forgotten about Jake as I lost myself in conversation with Nathan. This was supposed to hurt, but it didn’t. I was supposed to be angry, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to Nathan, but I was.

I took a sip of beer, wishing it was about forty degrees colder. As I swallowed it, I glanced at Nathan just in time to see him drop his gaze. His face might have colored, or it might have been the dim light from the lamp above the table encouraging my wishful thinking.

After another round and some more conversation, he looked at his watch. “Shit, it’s almost midnight. Listen, I appreciate the beer,” he said, indicating the empty bottle. “I should probably go.”

“No problem.” My own disappointment surprised me. I should have been relieved that this was over, but my heart sank as he started to stand. Here comes that parting handshake, then we can both get on with getting over Jake.

He pulled his jacket halfway onto his shoulders, then paused, looking at me. “Are you staying?” Something in his voice seemed…uncertain. Hesitant.

“I, um,” I said. “I didn’t really have a reason to, no.”

He continued the motion of putting on his jacket, but slower now. Deliberately so. Waiting.

I stood and picked up my own jacket. He waited while I put it on, then headed for the door, glancing back to see-maybe to make sure-if I was following.

Outside, he stopped. “Where are you parked?”

“Actually, I live about half a mile that way.” I gestured in the direction from which we’d come earlier.

“My car is a block or so that way.” He nodded in the same direction and started walking, and my feet accepted his implied invitation to walk with him.

We weren’t so far apart this time. Maybe half an arm’s length, if that. Still not close enough to touch, but the wall of ice had melted.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cigarettes, then hesitated. He glanced at the pack, and a moment later, it was back in his pocket.

“I don’t mind if you smoke,” I said.

“Nah, it’s not that,” he said. “I’m not a heavy smoker, honestly. I only need the nicotine when I’m nervous.” Again, he went for his pocket, but again his hand came away empty.

Conversation became steadily more awkward as we approached the second cross street where, I assumed, we’d be parting ways. He slowed his pace, as did I, and we walked like two people who wanted to draw this out even if we talked like two people who were too uncomfortable to stay another minute.

In spite of our best efforts, we eventually reached the cross street, and Nathan stopped.

“My car’s that way,” he said quietly, gesturing down the street. “I should probably let you go.”

I couldn’t think of any reason to keep him here. No reason that made sense, anyway. My attraction to him was probably just out of spite for whatever-his-name-was who I was with a lifetime ago.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about everything,” I said. “You know, with-” I paused. “Jake.” Right, that’s his name.

Nathan shrugged. “You didn’t know.” A cautious smirk tugged at his lips. “Sorry I fucked up your sure thing tonight.” We both laughed, but in the back of my mind, I wondered.

Did I dare? Hell, I had nothing to lose. Once we parted ways, we’d probably never see each other again.

Ignoring the fact that I had never, ever been this forward with someone in my life, I reached across the space between us and put my hand on his hip. “I don’t know, maybe you haven’t.”

His eyes darted to my hand, then to my face. The hand on his hip wanted to shake as I regretted making this move. He couldn’t possibly want me. Not after everything with Jake, after everything tonight, after-

He put his hands on my hips.

In unison, we both swallowed hard. Though our bodies were still the same distance apart, our arms now bridged that distance and seemed to diminish the gap between us. I couldn’t decide if he was too close or too far away.

His fingers hooked in my belt loops, and he pulled me to him. I slid my arms around his waist, as much for balance as closeness.

Our faces were inches apart now, close enough that I caught the all-too-familiar faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering under cologne. The faint scent of guilt. Of how we’d ended up here in the first place.

Like the end of a cigarette when a drag is taken, the dormant anger in my gut flared to life. That son of a bitch had played us both for idiots and screwed us both over.

Fuck you, Jake.

I pulled Nathan a little closer, catching my breath when his cock pressed against mine through our jeans. His lips thinned, some of the earlier anger returning to his expression, but his narrowed eyes still burned with arousal.

With lust.

With angry lust.

He tilted his head and leaned in a little more, his ragged breath warming my face, but he didn’t kiss me yet.

“Was this what you had in mind when you offered to buy me a beer?”

Yes, I just didn’t know it yet. I swallowed. “No.”

Laughing softly, he closed some of that minute remaining distance, but still he hesitated. Pulled back. He moved less than an inch or two away and it was entirely too far.

In a hoarse, growling whisper, he said, “I know I shouldn’t, but I really, really want to kiss you.”

I resisted the urge to moisten my lips. “I’m not pulling away.”

“I know,” he breathed, leaning in before drawing back again. “But if I do…”

Before I could stop myself, I moistened my lips, very nearly touching his in the process. He shivered, releasing a sharp breath.

When our eyes met, I understood.

Once we started, we weren’t stopping.

I took a breath. “My place isn’t far up the street.”

“I’ll drive.”