Heroic Heart_A Brother’s Best Friend Rebel Romance Page 2

  “Four years? Is that right?” He knew damn well that it was, but didn’t want to make it obvious.

  “I think so. What was it? Jay’s graduation?”

  “Yes. I was a year behind him. I couldn’t focus like he did and he left me in the dust. Serves me right. Anyway, we work together now, so I guess I caught up.”

  “He mentioned that.” Two delicate pink spots formed on Heather’s cheeks as she looked up at him. He was a good foot taller than she was, but she’d always been so tiny. Even as a grown woman she barely topped five feet. “I mean, that you worked together. I haven’t talked to him in a while. I don’t go home much anymore, but we meet up for dinner and stuff once in a while.”

  “Good, good.” Rone glanced around the place. He felt awkward, out of his element. Seeing Heather again sent him on a real trip and he didn’t quite know how to get himself together. Finally the mushy particles of his brain realigned and he remembered why he was there in the first place. “I- I wanted to come talk to someone about getting a- some work done. A back piece.” He pulled out his reference photos from the back pocket of his jeans and handed them over. He was extra careful not to touch Heather’s hand or skin in any way. The last thing he needed was to get any damn harder than he already was. He was already paranoid it was noticeable and hoped like hell Heather didn’t glance down.

  “Oh. Cool.” Grey eyes swept over the few papers, print outs from the computer at work. “I think that Mike would definitely be able to do this for you. He’s more into doing realism than the other guys are, if that’s okay?”

  “Whatever you think is best.” The words were forced out and strained even to his own ears, but Heather never looked at him funny.

  “I definitely think Mike is your guy. Have you looked at his portfolio at all?”

  Rone nodded. His neck still hurt from the way he’d cranked his head up when he’d first heard Heather’s voice. “Yeah. Took a look before I came in. Online.”

  Heather’s radiant smile was back. Her lips were red, a bright red that somehow suited her in a way it wouldn’t have suited most women he met. Most women aren’t like Heather. She had enough spirit packed into her tiny frame to pull off whatever shade of lip color she chose. And to entice half the male population in the city.

  Rone turned slightly, so that Heather couldn’t see him wince. He had no business thinking things like that. He’d managed to steer clear of her for most of his life. Before she started looking like she did now, he didn’t even notice her. He’d had ten years of practice. He could get through this meeting.

  “Excellent. Mike’s wait list is pretty long. I think it’s around eight months right now, but since you’re my brother’s best friend and I’ve known you my whole life, we’ll see what we can do. Maybe I can get you in early.”

  That was exactly what he was hoping would not happen. “I’m good with waiting.”

  “That’s silly. Let me take a look here.” Heather buzzed over to the other side of the desk and Rone watched helplessly as she deftly sifted through a huge appointment book. The thing was probably bigger than she was. “Right here! I can get you in two weeks from now. He had a day booked off, but I’ll ask him to come in. He won’t mind, just to get you started. He’ll probably want to do it in chunks. He’ll either start somewhere and do a complete part of the work or maybe do an outline of your whole back. He can tell you though. He’ll email you ahead of time with a drawing and confirm everything, if that’s alright?”

  “Sure,” Rone mumbled. His insides clenched into a tight mess of knots. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t want the damn tattoo in the first place, not really, and the fact that Heather was standing there, smiling up at him, tore him up. His tongue felt like it had been glued into his mouth.

  “Okay. I’ll give you a card here. Do you have a deposit? Although, I could just wave it. I know who you are and everything and that you won’t stand Mike up.”

  It would be easier to not like Heather if she wasn’t so nice. She was always friendly with him, easy going, cool in a way that most of his friend’s little brothers or sisters weren’t. Certainly it would be easier for him to get a grip if she wasn’t so damn perfect and tempting. She was the kind of woman who was instantly captivating, the kind of person who took ages to figure out exactly what or who she was.

  “No. No I won’t stand him up.” Rone pulled out his wallet. The thing was ancient, beat up and worn with the passage of time. Heather’s eyes widened.

  “Oh my god. Do you still have that wallet?” She stepped back over to him, reached out and gripped the black leather bifold. “I gave this to Jay for Christmas when he was in grade eleven. He hated it. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but when he asked if he could give it to you a year later I knew that he just wanted to get rid of it. He liked those horrible ones, the kind you can loop a chain through. You know, because there were that many people trying to steal his wallet.”

  Rone actually laughed. He didn’t mind handing over the wallet, but it was the graze of Heather’s fingers against his that caused a hot tide of heat to rise up in his chest. “He felt bad about giving it to me, but my other one went through the wash and it pretty much just shredded. He’d never used it once.”

  “Well I’m glad that someone got some use out of it.”

  “Yes.” He reached over and carefully took the wallet back. He pulled out a couple hundreds and passed them over. “Is this good? For a deposit?”

  “Sure.” Heather beamed. She shuffled over to the edge of the desk and grabbed a white card. She wrote down something, he assumed the time and date and probably the amount of money he’d given her. She passed it over. When he took it, he imagined the heat of her fingers still lingering on the card, though he couldn’t actually feel it. For a second he was entirely self-conscious of his beat up gray t-shirt with the faded logo and the holes peppering it. His jeans were old and work stained, his steel toed boots beat up and probably oily. His hands were battle scarred and the blackness of oil and shop grime never quite washed out.

  Embarrassingly enough, he found Heather studying his hands. He tucked the card in his wallet and she quickly looked away, blushing again to have been caught staring. She recovered a second later and smiled at him just as charmingly as she had when he walked in.

  “That’s all you need. Thanks for coming in. It was good to see you again.”

  Because Rone couldn’t stop himself, because he couldn’t quite force himself to turn around and walk harmlessly out the door, he found himself blurting words he wished he could take back. “I’m having a- uh- some friends over at my place this weekend. I have a pool in the backyard. It’s supposed to be hot. I don’t know- would you- want to come?”

  Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Is Jay going to be there?”

  Rone knew what she was really asking. It wouldn’t be right for her to go if her brother was there. Jay watched her like a hawk and he would know what Rone’s true intentions were in inviting her, that there was some ulterior motive. It had been four years since he last saw her and then to just have her over… it wouldn’t look right.

  “No. He already told me he’s taking the day to work on his car. He bought this classic thing. It needs a lot of restoring. He’s all into it.”

  Heather nodded slowly. “Ahh, yes. My brother. He never really had a girlfriend or a date in his life unless you counted all the cars. The metal mistresses.”

  Rone laughed softly. “Metal mistresses. I like that. I’ll have to use it on him.” He didn’t fill Heather in on all the one night stands he knew Jay had. She was technically right. Jay technically didn’t date or have girlfriends.

  Heather’s smile faded. “Don’t. Not unless you want him to know you walked into me here.”

  “Would that really hurt? If he knew?”

  She seemed to consider that for a minute. “No. Not really. I just… prefer to keep my life pretty private now. My brother and I talk, but it’s just that. He stays out of my life and I stay out of his
. At least, on a deeper level. It’s not like how it was growing up. I can’t stand any more smothering. He doesn’t like the tattoos any more than my mom does. Or the fact that I work here.”

  Ironic considering he has his whole damn back done. “At some point, Jay is going to realize you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions.”

  “I’m still waiting for the day.” Heather rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll come, as long as Jay isn’t going to be there. If he shows up, it will be a bad scene.”

  “Great. Uh… I mean, that’s not great. Just great that you’ll come.”

  Heather nodded again. Her eyes burned into Rone and he felt entirely transparent. He snatched up a paper and a pen off the desk, scrawled his address and the time down and left it there, right next to the open laptop.

  He made himself turn around and walk out before he could do any further damage. Heather turned him completely inside out. He didn’t know what to feel, what to think or what the hell he’d just done.

  Chapter 3

  Dress to Impress

  Heather

  What exactly did one wear when they wanted to subtly dress to impress? She hadn’t had any experience with either in a long time. Subtlety or wanting to make a mark. If she went unnoticed half the time, it was just fine with her. She was used to blending in.

  Heather stared in dismay at the mountain of clothes on her bedroom floor. She wasn’t exactly a clothes whore, but she shopped thrift and she made a decent salary at the shop, so she had a few too many. She now understood why the minimalist movement was taking hold. If you only had one thing in your closet to wear, it wouldn’t make the decision so damn difficult.

  A red dress that fit tight on top and flared out at the waist seemed like the perfect choice. It was a little sexy without being too modest. Best of all, it hid none of her ink. If she was going out, she was going out in style. As herself. No more hiding.

  Heather couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been on a date. Not that this counts. A causal invite to a pool party which was probably going to be comatose, boring, super obnoxious and filled with too many swear words, crass stories and beer, didn’t exactly count. Do other people feel this jaded at twenty-four? She didn’t really have an answer for that either. Most of her friends, aside from the people she worked with at the shop, were older than her.

  She’d never really fit in. Doing all that stuff that normal teenagers did wasn’t for her. She didn’t sleep around, didn’t drink, didn’t even party. The only reason she agreed to go over to Rone’s was because… well… because she couldn’t stand thinking about not going.

  If only Rone knew what a crush she had on him growing up. Of course, she never could have let it show, or Jay would have stopped hanging out with Rone and probably laid the beat down on him to top things off. She didn’t want to be responsible for the death of her brother’s closest friendship. The fact that Jay and Rone were still friends and even worked together made her glad that she’d stuffed her attraction back down, bottled up her feelings, and walked through her crush in silence.

  It’s not a crush. That term might have applied when she was young, in her teens, but now… it had been years since she last saw Rone and she still felt the same. I’m in love with him. As long as she could remember, Rone had been around. She couldn’t say quite when she realized that her feelings had changed. At some point she’d stopped tagging along with Jay and Rone because it was the cool thing to do and just did it to be around Rone.

  Heather was fully aware of the fact that she might be a little weird, even creepy, and definitely not like most other people. Loving a guy she’d pretty much let go of, certainly qualified her in the creep category. It wasn’t like she was obsessed with Rone. She’d let him go. She’d dated people on and off over the years. It just wasn’t the same. She never got that feeling that she got when she was around Rone.

  So even as she stood in front of her full length mirror, checking her little red dress for unseen deficiencies or hidden flaws, turning this way and that, studying her makeup, trying to decide whether to put her hair up or to change again, she was soaring. Flying on the inside. Her heart had never beat so hard as it did the minute she looked up and found Rone standing in the shop like a ghost from the past.

  “Do I want to come to your place?” Heather turned around and examined the hem of the dress from behind, trying to decide if it moved up too high when she walked. “I’ve been waiting my entire life for you to ask me that.” Okay, even creepier, I’m talking to myself now.

  Finally deciding that the red dress was good enough, Heather grabbed her phone off her bed and checked the time. She didn’t have any more time to fuss. Her hair down was going to have to do and her current makeup was as good as it was going to get. She was going to be late if she didn’t leave soon and she hated being late. Not that a pool party had a set start time exactly, but she wanted to make a good impression.

  That and the thought of Rone in a pair of shorts without a shirt on had done a number on her for the past three days. She’d been able to think of nothing else. Her excitement turned into anxiety which turned into apprehension which cycled back into outright excitement on a purely physical level. Her body should have felt wrung out with the crazy amounts of desire ripping through her bloodstream, but it didn’t. She felt almost high, completely giddy, on top of the world.

  Pathetic. Maybe I am too far gone, like mom always says.

  For once thinking about those words didn’t bother her. Maybe being too far gone wasn’t a bad thing. She’d been in the exact right spot at the exact right time. Rone wanted her at his house as she was and that made her feel pretty damn good.

  By the time Heather finally left her apartment and made her way to the bus stop, she was actually whistling. Whistling. Not even the prospect of a hot, airless, overcrowded city bus could dampen her mood. Yes, maybe being beyond redemption was just fine.

  ***

  Heather wasn’t quite sure what to expect when it came to Rone. She’d never been to his house. Obviously.

  Two bus rides later, she walked up on a sprawling bungalow in a nice neighborhood. It wasn’t the kind of place that screamed money, but it was far better than she was ever going to be able to do for herself. The place was new, had probably been built in the late nineties like the rest of the houses on the block, but looked like it had undergone a complete transformation. The new gray stucco, white trim and new windows, immaculate concrete driveway, manicured lawn and gleaming terracotta tiles on the roof gave the impression of a new build.

  Her legs turned to jelly as she walked up the driveway, devoid of cars, and rang the doorbell. There weren’t any vehicles parked in front of the house either. It was weird, given that she was supposed to be showing up to a pool party. Rone’s words, not hers.

  Rone opened the door a few minutes later. She nearly took a step back, gaping. There were a few terms that ran through her head. Sight for sore eyes. Feast your eyes… That’s what she wanted to do. Feast. She knew she could have stared at Rone for the rest of her life and been perfectly happy.

  She managed to collect herself and slam her fly gathering mouth shut. That’s what her mother had always told her growing up. If you leave your mouth open like that it’s going to collect flies. Rone grinned at her and took a step back.

  “Come on in.”

  The door shut behind Heather, trapping her inside the small entrance way. There was a double door closet off to the right and to the left, the house opened up into the living room. Everything was glistening hardwood and light gray walls, leather furniture, modern angles and minimalist design. She would have noticed more, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her.

  Who just happened to be shirtless.

  Lord, Rone could be lethal. He was no less dangerous than a viper, ready to strike, though he stood innocently back, his hands at his sides. He had on black swim trunks and that was it. His body, his half naked body, literally stole Heather’s breath. He w
as made of granite, or iron, maybe titanium. Diamonds? Gold? Whatever was hardest and rawest, that was Rone.

  His grin grew as Heather openly assessed the broad shoulders and a chest that was wide enough to support a damn house, abs that could have been chiseled by some tool and lower, a trim waist where his shorts hung dangerously low. Legs that were equally as muscular and every bit as carved as the rest of him were showcased when the shorts ended. His arms… they were so huge, every muscle lumped up and defined, they didn’t even look like they were human. Maybe he was half bionic or something. Did that even make sense? He looked like he worked out. A lot. Hard too. God, he could probably lift an entire truck. That’s probably how he parked the black beast that had to be in his garage.

  “So- uh- unfortunately I only invited a couple people. A few friends from work and their girlfriends, but they canceled on me. Shane says he’s sick, but he’s probably just hungover. Sam had to go do some emergency plumbing for his mother and Howie got called into work. Better him than me though.” A slow, bad boy grin spread over Rone’s face, as though he was perfectly aware of what his little bit of information had just done to her.

  Turned her into a pile of jelly. God, he couldn’t have planned this better if he tried.

  Heather slowly looked up into Rone’s face. He had a beautiful face, which was at odds with the hard, chiseled planes of his body. Dark, soulful eyes the color of the softest velvet stared back at her. He had the longest, darkest lashes she had ever seen on a man. His nose was fine, straight, not large or too small. His cheekbones were high for a man, his lips strong, his jawline angular. A thick growth of black stubble covered his chin, probably just his five o’clock shadow showing up early. In high school, Rone had lost most of his hair. She didn’t know if it was genetics or what was happening, but he’d started shaving his head at sixteen. He was the only man Heather had ever met who looked good like that, without any hair at all. It somehow suited his face, gave him a tougher, harder look to match the rest of him.