Trouble

Jordan’s eyes haven’t moved from me. I see them flare the moment my tongue touches the salt.



I may or may not make the most of the moment, taking my time licking the salt from my hand.



I kind of like the affect it has on him.



When the salt is safely in my mouth, dissolving away, Jordan says in a really hoarse voice, “Now, drink the shot.”



I pick one of the shot glasses up. Glass to my lips, I down the tequila.



“Holy crap!” I’m breathing fire. I place the back of my hand to my damp lips, my eyes watering from the burn.



Jordan laughs. “Chase it with the beer, it’ll take the edge off. I forgot to bring the lime over.”



I take a big mouthful of beer.



My eyes are still watering, so I run my fingers under them catching the leaks.



“Not a tequila drinker?” He grins.



I shake my head. “This is the first time I’ve had it.”



“And what do you think?”



“Tastes like crap.” I grin. “But it does the job. Am I drinking alone?” I nod at his untouched drinks.



He shakes his head, then makes quick work of his own salt licking. He throws back his shot with far more ease than I just did.



Glass down, his eyes smile brightly at me.



I lean back in my chair, taking my beer bottle with me, and start picking at the label. “You look like a seasoned pro at that.”



“The tequila?”



“Hmm.” I nod.



“I’m a hard liquor man. What can I say.” He grins and picks the salt shaker up. “You want another hit?”



I flinch. He notices.



“I meant the salt, Mia. Do you want another hit of salt for your next shot?”



I shift, embarrassed. My face burns with my shame. “Uh … yes.” Biting my lip, I hold my hand out to him.



Instead of pouring the salt, Jordan encases my hand in his. Normally I would feel intimidated by this, but with Jordan, I don’t. His hold feels safe, gentle … kind.



For the first time in my life, I’m with a man who literally has me in his hand, and I don’t feel fear.



Instead, I find myself feeling connected to another human being in a way I never thought possible.



Releasing his hold a little, he turns my hand over and runs his thumb over my palm. It leaves a delicious trail of sensation in its wake.



My emotions start to tilt on their axis, and straight in his direction.



Lifting my eyes, Jordan’s gaze instantly captures mine. Without moving his eyes from me, he runs his fingers to my wrist, guiding my hand to the side.



He slides his hand back along mine. Palm to palm. His fingers gently rest against my pulse point.



I can only hope he can’t feel that it’s practically beating the blood out of my body.



Tilting the salt shaker over our joined hands, he runs two lines of salt. One on mine. One on his.



“Do you mind if I…?” He tilts his head in the direction of our connected hands.



Unsure of the question, I raise a questioning brow.



“The salt?”



Still lost, I just nod my head, not wanting to come across as stupid. Hoping that by agreeing, I don’t end up looking stupid.



Then Jordan does something that I will forever remember as the most insanely intimate moment of my life.



And his question makes perfect sense when he leans forward and licks the salt from my hand. Slowly.



Holy. Crap.



Head still lowered, he looks up at me through long dark lashes with a look that turns me to mush.



“Your turn.”



What? He wants me to lick the salt from his hand?



Holy Jesus.



This is a really sexy thing to do. I’m not sexy. I have no clue how to do sexy.



No, come on, I can do this. New Mia here. I can lick salt from Jordan’s hand. No big deal.



Taking in a breath, I lean forward and sticking the tip of my tongue out, I lick the salt up onto my tongue.



All I can taste is him. The salt doesn’t even register. And now I’m begrudged to drink the tequila and take away his taste in my mouth.



“Drink,” he says, his voice sounding husky.



Glass to my lips, I tip the shot back at exactly the same time as he does.



His hand leaves mine.



I’m left feeling bereft without his touch, dizzy from the alcohol, and wondering if that just actually happened.



My hands start to fidget of their own accord. I reach for my beer.



“Second time easier?” Jordan asks, sounding completely normal as though we haven’t just licked salt of one another’s hands. Or maybe this is just what normal people do. What do I know?



Clearing my throat, I force a casualness I don’t feel. “Much easier.”



He smiles.



I start in on my beer label again.



“So…” he says.



“So…”



“I guess I should explain about earlier, what happened in the coffee shop.”



“Only if you want to.”



He gives a tight-lipped smile. “You remember I told you I used to gamble?”



I nod.



His eyes lower. “After my mom had died, I went off the rails. I’d always liked to play cards … but this went further. I was playing, gambling way more than I ever had. I was winning for a while, then the losing streak kicked in. I kept trying to make back what I lost, but before I knew it, I’d run up a massive debt that I had no way of paying back.”



“You owed the money to Donnie?”



He laughs a humorless sound. “No, Donnie’s just the hired monkey. I owed money to the guy he works for – Max. I used to regular a few places in Farmington to play, then I got involved in a poker ring that Max ran. There’s not much in the way here for card players like me. Like I was,” he corrects. “But over in Farmington … there’s plenty for a seasoned player.” He leans close, elbows on the table as he scrubs his hands over his face.



He folds his arms on the table, looking down. “I’m just real sorry that you got pulled in it back there, Mia.”



That’s why he didn’t want me to tell Donnie my name. He didn’t want those horrible people knowing who I am. He was trying to protect me.



Something about that touches me.



“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re okay now.” I put my beer down. “Do you still owe the money? Is that why he was trying to pick a fight with you?”



If he does, I’ll pay his debt. It’s not like I can’t afford it. He’s been so good to me, helping me with the Anna stuff, and I can finally do something good with Oliver’s money. Helping Jordan would count as something good to me.



“No, my debt was paid.” He scrubs his hand over his face again. “My dad. He used the money from my mom’s life insurance.”



Oh. Right.



Now I know where his guilt comes from.



I try to conjure up something worthy to say, something to make him feel better, but I come up with nothing. So I say the only thing I can, “I’m so sorry, Jordan.”



He takes a long drink of his beer. Drying off his mouth with the back of his hand, he shakes his head. “Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t deserve your kindness.” His eyes close on a long blink. “Do you remember I told you that my dad used to be a cop?”



I nod and take a drink of beer.



“Before the debt was paid, before my dad knew about any of it, the gambling and how deep in I was, I was out one night in town. Not in this bar,” he adds like that would have some bearing on his story. “I was out drinking with some buddies of mine, and later on in the night I was … uh, leaving the bar with … a girl.” He scratches his cheek, looking uncomfortable.



I ignore the unpleasant twist in my stomach brought on by the knowledge of Jordan leaving a bar with a girl he more than likely wanted to have sex with.



“We were headed to get a cab, when I was jumped by Donnie and a couple of his guys. It was meant to a warning beating because I hadn’t paid up, but I made the mistake of fighting back, instead of just taking it – I’m not one to take a beating.” He shrugs. “And I … mid-fight, to antagonize him … kind of told Donnie that I’d had sex with his girlfriend.”



“Had you?”



“Yes.”



Stomach twist. “Oh.”



“It was a one-time thing. A mistake.” He sighs. “But after telling him … well, that was when Donnie pulled out a baseball bat.”



“Dear god.” I wince, closing my eyes, feeling his pain as if was my own. I know how bad beatings can be. Especially when a weapon is involved.



“Anyway.” He drags his hand through his hair. “The girl ran back to the bar while it was happening, got my friends out to help me, called the cops…”



I see the rest in his eyes. “Your dad?”



“Yeah. He lost his shit when he saw the state they had left me in. The bastards had fucked off the second they heard sirens, but my dad didn’t let up. He eventually found Donnie a couple of blocks over, and…” He lets out a long sigh. “…he beat the shit out of Donnie—who was unarmed by this point. He’d dropped the bat running. My dad hurt him. Really hurt him. Left him in a bad way.”



Jordan’s eyes search out mine. “You gotta understand, Mia … my dad … he’s not violent by nature. It’s just not who is. He’s a great guy – really great. The best. And he deserves a kid better than me. It was just … well, Mom hadn’t long since passed, and I’m his only child. I guess he just lost it when he saw me.”



I nod, letting him know I understand. I only wish I’d had a dad as caring and protective as Jordan’s.



“Dad was suspended pending investigation.” He leans back in his chair and rubs his eye. “After the investigation, he was found guilty and stripped of his badge and gun. He can’t ever work in law enforcement again – courtesy of my fuck-up.” He lifts his bottle in mock-cheers, then presses it to his lips and tips his head back.



“Did anything happen to Donnie for what he did to you?”



Jordan lets out a hollow laugh. “He got a twelve month suspended sentence.”



“And you still had to pay off the debt you owed?”



“Yep. Just because Donnie and his boys kicked my ass, didn’t make the debt with Max go away. So dad lost out again. Bailed me out plus ‘interest’. I started attending Gamblers Anonymous and got clean. I still attend the meetings now.” His eyes seek mine out as though it really matters to him that I know this. “And now we’re flat broke, trying to keep a failing hotel afloat, and Donnie is still out for my blood for what my dad did to him. And because I screwed his now ex-girlfriend.” He gives a weak smile as he puts his bottle down.



Ignoring the third ache of pain I feel at Jordan’s crass words over his past sexual activity, I lean forward, placing my arms on the table. “I really am sorry this happened to you.”



“It didn’t happen to me. Everything that happened was my own fault. I fucked up my life and took my dad down with me.”



“Your life is not fucked up, and you definitely didn’t take your dad down with you.”



“It is. And I did. I’m not a good person, Mia.” He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat.