Relentless (Shattered Hearts) Read online

  “I’ll take you home,” she whispers back and I shake my head adamantly.

  “No! I’m just going to sleep. You don’t need to come home for that. I’ll walk.”

  Her eyebrows furrow and she nods. “Breaking all the rules tonight, huh?” She’s referring to the fact that I never walk the streets alone at night. “I know you’re sleeping in so I guess I’ll see you when I get back on Monday. Love you.”

  I kiss the top of her head as I rise from the sofa and scoot past her. I glare at Joanie from across the room as I leave, though she isn’t looking at me. She’s already engaged in a flirtation with a guy who’s at least ten years older than us. God, I wish I had a secret on her.

  I duck out of the house and pretend to adjust my bangs as I pass a couple making out next to a car in the driveway. The last thing I need is to be recognized as I’m leaving. As soon as I’m out of the couple’s line of sight, I pick up my pace. Our apartment is only two and a half blocks away. The only reason Senia drove here is because of her monstrous heels.

  I rush out into the crosswalk, eager to get away from the party—and the memories. I don’t see the headlights until it’s too late.

  Chapter Three

  Relentless Destiny

  The tires squeal, skidding across the asphalt as the truck plunges toward me. I’m frozen as I wait for the impact. I close my eyes and the first and only thought that crosses my mind is that this was inevitable. I’m finally being punished for my sins.

  The squealing stops and my nose fills with the stench of burnt rubber. I open my eyes as I feel the heat of the engine against my arm. The grille of the truck is inches away from me and a cloud of smoke surrounds the front of the truck. I hear a car door opening, but I can’t see anyone approaching through the smoke until he’s right in front of me, Jack Dawson.

  “Are you all right?” he asks. I’m shaking with adrenaline, but I don’t have a scratch on me. I nod and he grabs my arms. “You look like you’re in shock. I should take you to the hospital.”

  “No!” I shout as I shrug my arms out of his grasp. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “You almost killed me!”

  He lets out a sheepish chuckle and it infuriates me. “Which is why you should let me take you home, so you don’t step in front of any more moving vehicles.”

  “You think it’s funny that you almost murdered me?”

  “It would have been manslaughter. And, hey, I saved you from that ‘roid junkie this morning. I guess this balances that out. Now everything is right with the universe.” I curl my lip in disgust and he smiles as he nods toward the cabin of the truck. “Come on. I’ve already tried to manslaughter you once tonight. I promise I won’t try again for at least another twelve hours. You’re safe for now.”

  I roll my eyes as I walk toward the passenger door. He skips after me and opens the door for me to climb in. I step into the truck, using the handgrip to pull myself up, and bounce down into the seat. It smells like the coconut-scented sunblock I’ve had to purchase by the case since moving to Wrightsville Beach. He shuts the door and I flinch, still jumpy from nearly being mowed down by this monster.

  He slides into the driver’s seat, but his hands make no move for the ignition. “Why were you running across the street in the middle of the night without looking both ways?”

  “I was just walking home from a party. Can we go now?”

  “A party? Are you drunk?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  He cocks an eyebrow as he studies me, as if his gaze is the equivalent of a Breathalyzer test.

  “Hey, I’m not going to sue you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  Ugh. This guy is annoyingly cocky.

  “Let me take you to lunch today to make up for almost killing you.”

  I turn to look through the rear window of the truck. Where are all the cars? Not that this street is exactly buzzing past midnight, but I’m beginning to think I’m never going to get home if someone doesn’t come along and force him out of this intersection.

  “I’m sleeping in today.”

  He tilts his head inquisitively. “What do you mean by sleeping in?”

  “I mean curtains drawn, eye mask on, electronic devices switched off. Dead to the world sleeping in,” I say as I pull the house keys out of my purse and set the purse on the floor next to my feet.

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Sleep is serious.”

  “What are you some kind of health nut?”

  “I like getting my rest after a night of partying.”

  “You just said you weren’t drinking.”

  “Are you going to keep asking me questions or are you going to take me home? ‘Cause I can walk.”

  He smiles as he turns the key in the ignition and pulls the truck forward. “Cora was right about you,” he says, then reaches across the console and shakes my knee.

  I slap his hand away, accidentally jabbing him with the keys in my hand. “Hey, there’s this thing called personal space. And how do you know Cora?”

  “I don’t believe in personal space. Separateness is an illusion. We are all connected.” He turns to me and flashes me a cunning smile as he pulls into my apartment complex. “Welcome home.”

  There is only one way he would know where I live and also know Cora.

  “You’re the new tenant?”

  He continues to grin as he guides his truck into the parking space next to Senia’s empty space and kills the engine. A million sarcastic remarks about living underneath the person who nearly murdered me whiz through my brain, but I keep them to myself. If there’s one thing I hate it’s getting on bad terms with a neighbor. I never had neighbors growing up in the middle of nowhere with my mom. When I stayed with Senia for a few months after dropping out, I couldn’t believe how friendly her family was with their neighbors. They have parties almost every weekend together. Cora has practically become a surrogate grandmother to me. The least I can do is show her new tenant some courtesy.

  “Well, then, welcome home to you, too,” I say, determined not to let our neighborly relationship get any more awkward.

  He glances down at the steering wheel, unimpressed with my attempt at easing the tension. “Don’t you want to know what Cora said about you?”

  I open the car door and slide out of the truck, letting out a small grunt as I land on the pavement. “Nope. I think I’ll let Cora tell me herself. Goodnight….”

  “Adam,” he says. “I’ll tell you my last name at lunch.”

  I slam the truck door and stomp off toward my front door, which is less than a hundred feet away, right beneath Adam’s front door. I’m a few feet away from the door when I hear his truck door slam shut. He’s not chasing after me. For some reason I’m both relieved and disappointed by this.

  I turn the key in the lock and quickly slip inside before he can reach the staircase leading to his apartment. I slam the front door shut and let out a deep sigh as I lean back against the cool surface of the door. The apartment is stiflingly hot and smells like the day-old muffins I brought home from work this afternoon, but it feels safe.

  The knock on the door startles me and I immediately go into defensive-mode. Who the hell does this guy think he is, almost running me over, assuming we’re going on a lunch date, then knocking on my door at nearly one a.m.?

  I yank open the door, ready to rip him apart, when I see my purse dangling from his finger. I grab it and I’m about to slam the door before I remember Cora. She would be devastated if she knew her new tenant and I were already on bad terms.

  Cora’s husband died six years ago and her family lives almost three thousand miles away in Idaho. She never leaves the house and her caregiver is a bit standoffish, so her tenants are all she has. The single mom who lived upstairs got remarried and moved out right before I moved in. The upstairs apartment has been empty for four months. Cora must be ecstatic to h
ave a new tenant and some extra income. And I’m ecstatic I won’t have to catch her eating cat food straight from the can anymore.

  “Thanks,” I mutter as he grips the doorway and leans into my personal space, but I hold my ground even though he’s making me more uncomfortable than I felt at the party.

  “You’re welcome, Claire. Can I come in?”

  A gust of laughter escapes my lips as I take a step back. “Does that usually work for you?”

  He shrugs. “Usually, yes, it does.”

  “No, you can’t come in. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Adam.”

  I push the door closed and he sticks his foot on the threshold to stop it. “I’ll be back at two o’clock to take you to lunch. Is that late enough or do you plan on sleeping all afternoon?”

  “Goodnight, Adam.” You persistent, sexy little shit!

  I push the door closed and immediately lock the deadbolt. Snatching a bottle of cold water out of the fridge, I drink half of it before I change into an oversized t-shirt and slide under my comforter. I stare at the ceiling for a moment before another memory plays out in front of me like a home movie.

  Chris sets my backpack down on the floor in a plain bedroom with a teddy bear wallpaper border. I’m used to sleeping in bedrooms decorated like a toddler’s playroom so I don’t even flinch.

  “My mom wouldn’t let me take that stupid border down,” he says, lifting his chin toward the ceiling as he digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  That’s when I see the thin nose ring that dangles from his septum.

  “I don’t care about the wallpaper. I just want to go to sleep.”

  His lip quirks up in confusion. “It’s three o’clock.”

  “I haven’t slept. I got kicked out last night and I spent the night at the police station. I refuse to sleep in the presence of strangers.”

  “Afraid someone will shank you in your sleep?”

  He smiles and I notice another piercing in his tongue. This guy thinks he’s so fucking cool.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I declare.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I see the way you’re looking at me.”

  “Yeah, all right. I guess I’ll let you sleep and maybe when you wake up you’ll chill the fuck out and realize that just because someone’s nice to you it doesn’t mean they want to fuck you.”

  The shadows on the ceiling blur into darkness. I grab my cell phone and the eye mask from my nightstand, power off the phone, and slide the mask over my head so it rests on my forehead.

  I never set my alarm when I’m not working. I cherish the days I get to sleep in. If someone created a religion dedicated to celebrating sleep, I would be the first congregant.

  I groan as I turn over in my bed and set the alarm clock on my nightstand to noon. The things I do for Cora.

  Chapter Four

  Relentless Amusement

  When I wake up, Senia is gone. I never heard her come in while I was sleeping. She’s perfected her catlike prowl so as not to wake me up when she comes in late. I take a shower then dress into some skinny jeans and a T-shirt I bought at the surf shop next to the café. I slip on some rubber flip-flops and grab a bottle of water from the fridge just as the first knock comes at the door.

  “Coming!” I shout as I grab my purse then guzzle the entire bottle of water.

  I open the door and Adam is standing with his back to me, staring at Cora’s front door across from mine. Even the back of him is gorgeous. His T-shirt is stretched just a bit taut over his broad shoulders and his skin is so smooth and tanned.

  “Where we love is home,” he says, reading the wooden plaque with the chipped blue paint hanging on Cora’s front door.

  “It’s a quote,” I say as I step outside and pull the door closed. “I gave it to her for her birthday.”

  “Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,” he says, finishing the quote. “I knew you’d be awake.”

  My breath hitches as he turns around and flashes me a soft smile. He looks so good with his sandy-brown hair styled in a calculatedly messy faux-hawk and his lean muscular body towering over me. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his cargo shorts as he gazes at me waiting for my response.

  “Do you read poetry?” I ask, ignoring his infuriating certainty about me being awake and waiting for him.

  “When it was required in college, yes. Luckily, I graduated in May, so I’m no longer subject to such cultural annoyances.”

  “Poetry is a cultural annoyance?”

  He smiles because he thinks he’s aggravated me. “When do you graduate?” he asks, and it seems we’re both ignoring each other.

  It’s an innocent question, but the answer has the possibility of opening up the conversation to more difficult questions. I don’t need to tell this guy that I dropped out. He’s probably going to take me out to lunch, flirt a little, then try to get into my pants, after which I will tell him to get lost and we’ll continue being courteous neighbors who never really speak to each other. Or, maybe, just because he’s being nice it doesn’t mean he wants to fuck me.

  “I don’t go to school. I work,” I reply, and immediately begin walking to the carports.

  He’s glued to my side as we cross the driveway toward his truck. “You like poetry and work at a café, but you don’t go to school. Are you some kind of struggling artist?”

  “You’re a nosy little bastard.”

  He chuckles as he deactivates his car alarm. “It’s called getting to know each other. That’s what people do on a first date.”

  He opens the door for me and I look up into his gorgeous green eyes. “This isn’t a date. It’s a friendly lunch with a neighbor.”

  “The neighbor who almost killed you,” he reminds me. “A little masochistic, don’t you think?”

  Ugh! What a cocky little shit.

  I climb into the truck and look straight ahead, ignoring him until he finally closes the door. I need to meditate, but this guy doesn’t know anything about that yet and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Maybe I can just visualize him naked to ease the tension. No, that would definitely not work in this situation.

  He slides into the driver’s seat and stares at the steering wheel for a second as if he’s questioning his approach. “Okay, let’s start over. How about we just forget about what happened at the café and what almost happened on the street last night.”

  “And what you just said?”

  “And what I just said. What do you say? Can we start over?”

  His mouth hangs open a little as he awaits my answer and I have to keep myself from imagining what it would be like to suck on his lower lip.

  I take a deep breath to clear away this image. “Claire Nixon,” I say, holding out my hand.

  He takes my hand and immediately brings it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the back of my fingers. “Adam Parker, your new neighbor, at your service.”

  I attempt not to roll my eyes as I pull my hand back, trying to ignore the way my heart is thrumming in my ears. “That’s cute.”

  “I’m serious. Anything you need, I’m happy to help. Leaky faucet, burned out light bulb,” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows, “anything at all.”

  “Wow. You are not predictable at all,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “And I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  He throws himself across me and grabs my hand. “Wait! I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m being a total douche. I know. Just give me one more chance. I swear I won’t fuck it up.”

  His hand is on mine and his face is inches away as he leans across my lap. He smells a little minty and a little woodsy as his heat slams into me. I focus on breathing as I watch his eyes skim down my face and land on my mouth. There’s no fighting it as my gaze falls on his lips; those soft, kissable lips he pressed against my hand just a second ago.

  “What is your deal?” I ask, sliding my hand out from underneath his. “Why are you so intent on taking me to
lunch? I’m fine. You don’t need to keep apologizing for nearly running me over.”

  He sits up and ruffles his hair before he answers. “I actually went to the café yesterday to meet you. I saw you last week when I came to sign the rental agreement. When I asked Cora about you, what she said intrigued me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I thought you wanted to ask Cora yourself?”

  I glare at him and he smiles. “She said you were single.”

  “And?”

  “And she said you were the sweetest girl she’s ever known.”

  “And?”

  He sighs, looking uncomfortable for once and I’m glad I’m finally able to crack through that smug disposition of his.

  “What did she say?” I demand.

  “She said you might want to be my friend.”

  “Be your friend?”

  “I don’t know anybody around here and Cora was concerned that a quote ‘young man like you might get yourself into some trouble without a nice girl around.’”

  I can’t help but smile. That sounds exactly like something Cora would say. She grew up in Minnesota and is still very old-fashioned about some things. I’ve only been on one date since I moved into this apartment two and a half months ago. The instant my date brought me home, I glimpsed Cora peeking through her blinds to make sure I wasn’t inviting him into my apartment. I love Cora, but she can be a bit nosy and meddlesome.

  “So you’re just following Cora’s advice. Well, let me save you the trouble. I’ll go back inside and you can tell Cora that we went out to lunch and had a really nice time. And I’ll go back to sleep. Then we all get what we want.”

  “That’s not what I want.”

  He looks me in the eye and I can’t help but marvel at his features: his perfect lips, the straight slope of his nose, the intense glare. He could be on the cover of GQ magazine and thousands of girls and guys would drool in the checkout lane.

  “What do you want?” I ask, wishing I had brought a bottle of water because my mouth has suddenly gone dry.