Only Trick Read online

  “You sound like a real handful.”

  “Sexy, I think you know from experience that I’m way more than just a handful.”

  “Jeez, here we go again. Don’t flatter yourself. I have small hands.”

  He snickers. I can just see his lips twisting into a devilish smirk. “Think you’re pretty brave when you’re two thousand miles away from me, huh?”

  “I’d say the same thing if you were here. What would you do about it anyway? Fuck me into the elevator gate until I have welts on my back?”

  The devil laughs again. “I saw those this morning.”

  Whoosh!

  He just stole my gusto. “You did? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t see the need to get you all worked up.”

  “I have marks all over my back! My nurse walked in this morning while I was changing and thought I’d been mugged!”

  “And your point is?”

  My jaw drops but no words escape. How can he ask me that?

  “As I recall … let me think … Oh yes, your words were ‘fuck me until the only thing I feel is how hard you’re fucking me.’ Does that sound familiar?”

  I raise and lower my jaw like a damn puppet, but still no words.

  “Well, this morning when I saw your back, it looked like you must have felt how hard I was fucking you. Like a … a stamp or seal of approval.”

  “Wh—a—are—are you serious?” The shock in my voice reaches opera pitch.

  “Were you not?”

  “Yes … no … I don’t know.”

  “You could have told me to stop. Did you want me to stop?” That voice … my God it cracks with iciness then drips confidence from his smoldering ego.

  “Trick …” I sigh with frustration.

  “Darby …” He goads me.

  “So what type of movie are they shooting?”

  He breathes out a small snickering. “Pornographic, BDSM … nothing too exciting. Just a bunch of naked people grinding on each other.”

  I set my box of noodles on the coffee table and sit up straight, taking a deep swallow. “Oh, that’s … well, does that require a lot of makeup.”

  “Darby?”

  “Hmm?” I hum past the nerves of insecurity.

  “I’m just bullshitting you. It’s a paranormal film based on a book.”

  I grab my takeout container like I’m going to throw it at him. Damn! I wish I could beam him in the head with it or knee him in the gut. “I hate you!”

  He chuckles. “You don’t, but my God you’re so gullible. I can just see you biting your lips together until they turn white. I bet your hands are fisted like you want to beat the shit out of me.”

  I’m nearly crushing the box of noodles and my hand holding the phone is white-knuckled. Ass!

  “You’re just mean.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Melt …

  He manipulates my emotions with mastery.

  “I do miss you.” I submit to his hold on me—the hold he has, two thousand miles away.

  “I gotta go. Grady’s rolling his eyes and tapping his foot.”

  “Hi, sweetie! I’m taking our guy out tonight. Kiss. Kiss. Love you!” Grady yells from the background.

  “Okay, well … bye.”

  “Darby?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  *

  After two more long days of work and only a short “Good morning, sexy,” and a “Goodnight, sexy,” text from Trick, I decide to invite Nana over for dinner and cards. She likes Bridge and I like Go Fish so we settle for Cribbage and a bottle of wine with the box of truffles she brought.

  “Rachel visited me the other day.”

  Nana looks up from her cards. “Lucky you.”

  I sip my wine. “Yeah, lucky me. She basically told me to end things with Trick.”

  Her brows pull together. “Why would she do that?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. Some crap about skeletons in his closet and rogue family members ending political careers.”

  She snorts with laughter. “You saw her the other night at dinner. She’s bat-shit crazy.”

  I glance up from my cards, attempting a poker face. “I’m sure she thinks the same thing about you.”

  Nana pops a truffle into her mouth, eyes rolling back in her head. I think she’s of the belief that chocolate is better than sex. I love chocolate, but if Trick came in bite-sized portions wrapped in fancy foil, he’d bankrupt the chocolate industry.

  “I am bat-shit crazy, but since I’ve acknowledged it I’m no longer a danger.” She winks. “But Rachel is oblivious to her craziness, which makes her a liability to everyone around her.”

  “Well her craziness was in overdrive the other day. Before she left she let me know that she’s not asking. My love life is none of her damn business.”

  Nana refills our wine glasses. “Is it?”

  “Her business?” I squint.

  “Love. Is Trick love?”

  I sigh with a dreamy grin that appears at just the mention of his name. “Did I tell you he bought me my own helmet and jacket for riding on the back of his motorcycle?”

  Nana’s posture inflates at least six inches until her whole body beams with pride.

  My cheeks heat and I feel like a thirteen-year-old girl with my first crush—captain of the football team type crush. The one where all the other girls are catty-bitch jealous that the most popular guy in school only has eyes for the shy girl with pale skin and unruly red hair.

  I sip more wine, fading back into my chair, allowing myself to really think about Trick with unguarded feelings and nonjudgemental eyes. “He was the guy I never imagined myself with … now he’s the guy I can’t imagine myself without.”

  Nana’s expression softens. “I’m happy for you, dear.”

  I nod and smile with a few tears in my eyes. “I love him; I’m not even sure it’s a choice anymore.” I laugh and shake my head. “The truth is he may have a closet full of skeletons, but I wouldn’t know and … I’m not sure he does either.”

  Nana tilts her head to the side.

  “He was in an accident, hit by a car. Now he has partial memory loss, about five years of his life just … gone.”

  “Oh, Darby …”

  I give her a sad smile. “He has trust issues and I think a lot of it stems from the memory loss … well that and the fact he grew up homeless.”

  Her face contorts into a sad grimace.

  “He was homeless at five and orphaned by fifteen. Can you image? A fifteen year old coming home…” I shake my head “…wherever ‘home’ is when you’re homeless, to discover his parents have just vanished. He assumes they’re dead and maybe they are, but what if they’re not?” I sip my wine. “I don’t know what to think, but I do know I love him, even the part he can’t share with me. Can you believe he owns a gun?”

  Nana shakes her head. “Doesn’t mean he’s done anything bad with it. A lot of people own guns for protection. I have one in my bedside stand.”

  WTF?

  “Close your mouth, dear. It’s not very ladylike.”

  “Nana—I-I don’t know what to say. You have a gun?”

  She sorts her cards like we’re really going to finish this game. “Of course, Bridge club is Tuesday Thursday, Wednesday Friday I go to lunch and shopping with friends, but on Mondays Mary and I go to the shooting range. How’d you think I’ve managed to keep such muscle definition in these old lady arms?”

  “Pilates, Nana. You go to Pilates, not the shooting range.”

  She snaps her wrist at me with a dismissive pfft. “I haven’t done Pilates in almost six months, not since Mary had surgery on her knee.”

  Resting my elbows on the table, I rub my temples, but it doesn’t help. This conversation is happening. It’s not a dream or nightmare.

  “My point is that Trick is a smart guy. He didn’t grow up under the same circumstances that you did, and he
doesn’t live in the best neighborhood. You should have him teach you how to use a gun.”

  I shake my head. “No way. The night he pistol whipped my attacker I was reminded of the violence I clean up after every day and—”

  “Darby! You were attacked?”

  I grimace. “Sorry, no that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t attacked. There were these two thugs trying to scare me one night when I left Trick’s place. But he came out with a gun and … it was fine. I’m fine.”

  She leans forward and rests her hand on my arm. “You should have told me, and you’re fine because Trick had a gun with him.”

  “I don’t think the gun mattered. They would have left me alone even if he wouldn’t have had a gun.” I speak the words, but I have yet to one hundred percent convince myself.

  “I think I love him too.” She pats my arm, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “Steven wouldn’t have known what to do in that same situation. He might have run them over with his canary mobile, but even that wouldn’t be too likely. The impact would leave a dent.”

  “Oh, Nana! Steven’s not a bad guy.”

  “I know, but the more your father liked him the less I did. We have to be suspicious of anyone your father likes too much.”

  “You know it was Steven’s dad, not really Steven.”

  She tips the wine bottle toward her glass only to discover that it’s empty. “Humpf. Well you know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  I sigh. “Then what does that say about me?”

  “It says you’re your mother’s daughter, and believe it or not when she met your father he was a better man. Lucy had impeccable taste in everything. Calvin didn’t deserve her, but she made him a better man, until …” She swallows back uncharacteristic emotion. Nana is a rock, but my mother, Lucille, is an unprotected part of her heart that always elicits a flicker of raw emotion in her eyes.

  “Until me,” I whisper.

  Nana reaches across the table, and grabbing both of my hands she squeezes them tightly. “She chose you, Darby … we all did.”

  I let a tear escape. “Is it crazy to miss someone you never knew?”

  She reaches up, catching my tear with her thumb. “You know her. I swear she gave you her soul when she died. You’re so kind, loving, and forgiving. It’s why despite the million reasons your father’s given you to disown him, you still love him. That’s Lucy in you. I adore you, Darby, and I think it’s beautiful the way you love my Lucy, because she sure loved you. For nine months, you owned her heart.”

  And then she gave me her last heartbeat as I took my first breath.

  I blink back more tears. “Thank you, Nana, for giving me a mother’s love.”

  She stands, walks around the table, and hugs me to her chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There must be a set amount of time that justifies my missing Trick—desperately missing him. It’s probably longer than five days, and if I’m honest with myself, I started to feel it within twenty-four hours of his departure. Pathetic? Yes, but so what.

  “Miss me, sexy?”

  I sneak into an empty exam room and lean against the door, pressing my phone to my ear, eyes closed. Just for a few moments, I need to be seduced by his voice. “I’m a basket case, and don’t you dare gloat. Just tell me you miss me even half as much as I miss you.”

  He chuckles and my nipples wake up and scream to my vagina, “Trick’s on the phone!” My vagina blushes, a slow drool flows across her lips. “Missing you is worse than rehab. I’ve got the shakes; I need my Darby fix so fucking bad.”

  A knock at the door shakes me from my dreamy state. I crack it open.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know this room was occupied.” Jade looks askance at me. “What patient do you have?”

  “Nobody, I’m on the phone … with a … pharmacist.”

  “Sorry, I need the room and you have sutures waiting in room two.”

  I smile against gritted teeth. “One minute, give me one minute.”

  Jade rolls her eyes. “Fine. One minute.”

  Bringing the phone back to my ear, I sigh.

  “You have to go,” Trick says.

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “I need to get back to work anyway. The porn stars are coming back to the set.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m a little funny.”

  “Bye.”

  “Later.”

  I open the door and Jade stumbles toward my feet. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  She rights her step with a quick recovery. “No, I was just getting ready to open the door and tell you your minute’s up just as you opened it.”

  I look at my watch. “I still have thirty seconds.” I scowl at her. “You … were eavesdropping.”

  “Was that Patrick?” She follows me out the door and to the nurses’ station like a yippie little dog.

  “I told you I was talking to a pharmacist.” I grab the chart and start to read over it.

  She sidles next to me, nudging me with her shoulder. “I know what you told me; now I’m asking for the truth.”

  Keeping my head down, I grin. “Oh, Jade, Jade, Jade … if only it were any of your business.”

  “Oh come on, Darby! Throw me a bone.”

  I slide the chart over to her. “Okay, Mr. Howard, room four. Possible fractured pelvis … if I remember correctly that’s a bone. Why don’t you get me an X-ray?”

  She sticks out her tongue. A couple of the other nurses snicker. “You’re no fun.”

  I head toward sutures in two. “Oh, I’m a barrel of fun; you’ve just never taken the time to get to know my fun side.”

  This amazing thing has happened since I met Trick. My neediness for acceptance—inclusion—has started to vanish. I don’t mean it in a gruff or snobby way; I’d love to be friends with Jade outside of work, but I don’t crave it like I did every day of my life before I met him. Trick … he’s my best friend. He gave me that before he stole my heart. Then again, I don’t think he really stole my heart. I think I gave it to him when I still thought he was Grady’s. It’s a testament of what his friendship means to me—everything.

  *

  Day one million without trick. Aka day 10. My heart keeps different time. The good news: I survived the political fundraiser tonight alone. It helped that Rachel’s back in New York and my father was too busy to chat about my personal life. The bad news: I have the day off tomorrow and little to take my mind off Trick.

  I flip through the channels, read a few chapters in my book, and call it a night. No need to stay awake any longer when Trick awaits in my dreams. In the darkness of night I see him with such vividness—intense blazing eyes and a strong jaw covered in a thick stubble. I rub my hands over it and his lips twitch, my twitch. It’s the smallest smirk; the one that says he knows how much I love everything about him. I smell him; it’s soap, a rugged sandalwood and pine cologne and those pheromones I could recognize in a room full of men with my eyes closed. My nose nuzzles into his neck; his hands thread through my hair, clenching, bringing me to him. God, I love the way he always fists my hair like I’m his lifeline.

  “Trick …”

  “I need my Darby fix.”

  My heart leaps into my throat capturing my breath while I open my eyes because that voice … it’s not in my dream.

  He’s here!

  I put my palms on that sexy stubble with slow apprehension, like he could vanish under my touch. The street light filtering through my sheer curtains illuminates life in those amazing eyes. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here.” He kisses me and it’s a breath of air filling my lungs, feeding my heart, and awakening every cell in my body.

  That taste, it’s a quenching drink of water with a splash of mint. A warm inviting tongue greets mine with slow but firm strokes—a controlled desperation. Releasing my lips he kisses my cheek while cradling my face. I pull back, just to stare at him. My eyes blink in a rapid flutter.


  He gives me what he doesn’t give anyone else … that roguish grin with perfect white teeth while he shrugs off his shirt. The beautiful terrain of muscles and tattoos indulge my eyes. Then he pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs, grin growing as I pull my eyes away from him to his eyes … Dear God, he’s his own finest masterpiece. I don’t care, he can wear that cocky grin all he wants. After ten days I’m going to unabashedly gawk at every inch of him.

  A statue, he stands at the edge of my bed. I drag my drunken gaze back to his eyes again. “Miss me, sexy?”

  I dig my teeth into my lower lip to contain my exuberance while I give him a slow nod. He reaches down and pulls my T-shirt over my head. I lie back. He pulls off my panties and kisses a slow trail up my body; my eyelids leaden from his touch.

  “Darby …” he whispers over my lips.

  I open my eyes and press my palms to his face.

  “I love you.” He takes my right leg and pulls it up as he sinks into me.

  I fight to keep my eyes open as my breath catches. “I love you too … so damn much.” I breathe out, pulling his face to mine, bending my other knee, and allowing his body to completely claim mine.

  *

  Brrr …

  I haven’t even thought about turning on the furnace yet because summer is not over. However, fall has made a hail mary and landed two surprisingly cold days into the end of summer. Last night it fell into the forties with rain and gusty winds and now my place is freezing! Trick’s passed out, and as much as it kills me to leave his warm, naked body, I have to get the heat going in this place just to take the chill off.

  “Eek!” The icy floor shocks my toasty toes. Making a mad dash for the thermostat in the hall, I wrap a chenille throw around my naked body. Flipping on the heat, I scurry on the balls of my feet back to the bedroom. An amused face propped up on a tattooed arm greets me.

  “What are you doing?” He lifts the covers as I sprint the rest of the way, tossing the throw to the floor and leaping into bed.

  I bear hug his warm body, cold nose nuzzled in his neck. “I can’t believe I have to turn on my furnace, but it’s a cool sixty degrees in here.”