Chapter Seventeen
AUSTIN
Wine with Thatch. Everything between us had started with wine. Wine and then pizza and then a silly little line where he asked if I wanted to see his comic-book collection. I knew he’d been full of shit, but his personality had been magnetic. I was helpless, caught in his delicious web of sex.
And I’d been a willing victim.
But the guy I’d stumbled into bed with—and the guy I was currently having a nice adult glass of wine with?
Two totally different people.
Gone was the heart-stopping smile he usually chose to hide behind, and in its place, he looked stripped bare. As if he were finally about to lay all the joking aside and reveal some sort of truth.
“So, you wanna talk about it?” I asked, swirling the wine in my glass a few times before taking a slow sip.
“About?” He didn’t make eye contact.
“Tits.”
He spit out his wine in his glass and glared at me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
“Try.” His eyes narrowed.
With a laugh, I nodded my head toward the door. “All boobs aside . . .”
He snorted.
“What’s up with this whole bike thing? You looked ready to shit yourself out there, and the Thatch I know is more badass than that, so what gives?”
“I wouldn’t say badass,” he grumbled.
“You’ve swum with sharks—twice—and somehow managed to find a nice loving home for Charlie.”
He burst out laughing. I missed his laugh. It was deep, infectious, just like his smile and the crinkles by his icy-blue eyes. “What makes you think I didn’t just kill him?”
“You save lives, you don’t take them.” I jabbed a finger at him. “Surgeon.”
“Hah.” He set down his wine, and a piece of hair fell out of his sexy-as-hell man bun, kissing his cheek. I was jealous of that strand, actually wanted to rip it from his head and stash it under my pillow and have a good cry.
Okay, no more wine for me.
I scooted my glass far, far away from my body so I wouldn’t give in to temptation.
“Let’s just say bike riding is attached to some really shitty memories, and every time I touch a bike, Dora or not, the memories come back, and I’d really like to keep them locked down, you know?”
Well, that was more information than I had expected.
“That makes sense,” I finally said.
He was quiet.
“So . . .” I just had to fill the silence with my voice, didn’t I? “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Ass implants? Penile enlargement? More boobs?”
“How is it that you make my job sound so exciting?” A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “And sorry to disappoint, but the last penile enlargement I did was a good month ago—we don’t get those often. Most of the guys who come in don’t fully understand the potential side effects.”
“Like ED?”
“How about total impotence? Infection? Losing all sensation and the inability to get a full erection?” He shook his head. “Yeah, not worth it.”
“Well, that just ruins my day,” I said jokingly.
“Tomorrow I have a rhinoplasty,” he said cheerfully. “And the office does pro bono work for kids with cleft palates. I’m seeing a potential patient tomorrow.”
There went my heart again, thudding to the rhythm of Thatch’s name.
I reached for my wine. Bad Austin.
“That’s really nice of you.”
“It’s not their fault, you know?” he said, talking mainly to himself. He’d already finished his wine and was standing up.
I panicked.
I wanted him to stay.
But I didn’t know what else to do to get him to stay other than take off my top and flash him boobs and hope he’d jump at the chance to touch them again.
Sighing, I stood right along with him, grabbed the wineglasses, and managed to somehow trip over my own feet and land facedown on the ground, broken glass sticking out of my cheek.
“Austin!” Thatch was on his knees in front of me, while I was attempting to not freak the hell out over the blood gushing down my cheek.
I reached for the glass.
“Stop.” He shoved my hand away from the wound and proceeded to slowly pull out a piece of glass that was about an inch thick.
“That hurt!” I yelled, holding my hand to my face.
“Shit.” He jumped to his feet, I heard water running, and I was already feeling woozy over the chunk of glass that had just been joined with my skin.
When Thatch came back, he had a wet paper towel and was dabbing my face. It stung like crazy.
“You won’t need stitches.” His face was so close, I could almost taste him.
Tears filled my eyes as I nodded.
Tears of embarrassment.
Tears of rejection.
Great, I was just full of tears where he was concerned.
His soft hands brushed across my cheek again, and then he was back on his feet.
I stayed put on the floor, not trusting myself to get up.
He returned a few minutes later and knelt in front of me. Something cold hit my cheek, stinging a bit, and then he spread a small Band-Aid across my cheek.
“Ariel?” I asked.
“I figured Iron Man would look more badass.”
I smiled, then groaned. It hurt to even smile.
His clear blue eyes professionally examined my face again, and then he turned away—like he was afraid to look at me directly in the eyes. “It’s just a cut. Take some ibuprofen tonight, and if you have any trouble, call me tonight, alright?”
“Trouble?” I repeated. My cheek stung, and the Band-Aid tugged the skin near my mouth, making my face feel tight.
“Just call me if it hurts.” He stood and held out his hand.
Call him if it hurt.
It always hurt.
Always.
But what to do when the man offering his help was the one who caused the hurt in the first place? I refused to tell him yet again how he broke my heart—that he’d broken us. That I was still upset and dealt with my tumultuous feelings on a nightly basis when I slept alone in my childhood bed.
“Thanks for this,” I said lamely, pointing to my cheek. “I guess I should get working on my assignment, right?”
“Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels. Silence stretched between us. “What time are you coming tomorrow?”
I licked my lips as he finally stared me down, his face emotionless.
“After class,” I finally said. “Possibly in time to take some really interesting notes on a rhinoplasty.”
The corners of his mouth tugged into a playful smile. “Sounds exciting.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Tomorrow.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss me and then froze. I was afraid to move.
Finally, he leaned over and kissed my forehead, then walked out of my house basically the same way he walked into my life, with a slow, confident swagger that left me aching in all the wrong places.
Mainly. My heart.