Zenith Fulfilled (Zenith Trilogy, #3) Page 9

  “You’re a sober drunk, Rob.”

  “For right now, sweetheart, and that’s as far as I ever know.”

  She sighed. “Quit it. That’s not helping things along. Why you don’t you tell me about your childhood? Start there.”

  “No.”

  She blinked.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “No. You’ll use it as the reason why I became a drunk. Poor me, alcoholic parents. Whatever. No, thank you. I didn’t sign on for my entire life story. I’ll tell you about being drunk. And what I did. How I got sober. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. We’ll start with today. How do you stay sober today?”

  He stared at her. He really didn’t like this. She could tell by the tightening of his mouth and the wrinkle of his forehead. She ordered her nerves to calm down. The money she was paying Rob justified a little discomfort on his part. She wasn’t taking advantage of him; they were simply proceeding with a business proposition. Now, she just had to get her overly sentimental heart to remember the business circumstances, and ignore the bad feelings she was experiencing for prying into Rob’s pain. His pain was exactly what their business proposal was all about.

  Rob tapped his fingers along his arm before finally, answering her question. She asked another question, and again, he waited, but answered her. As time went on, she became less nervous, and started getting into the groove, until things really started to flow, and they eased into spontaneous conversation. A conversation that was guided, steered, and clarified by her, but still, it was a conversation.

  Rob was pretty cut and dried. He answered whatever she asked without embellishment, or describing any of his own emotions. Still, she got it. What he said, and what he felt. And she found herself liking him more. He was honest, self-aware, and even funny. She was surprised at how charming he could be when he chose to. He could also be inhospitable whenever he wanted.

  “Why don’t you sing anymore?”

  He stopped speaking at her question. His leg came off the other and he stood up.

  “I think we’re done for tonight. I gotta be somewhere.”

  “Oh. Sure. Of course,” Rebecca stood up and glanced at the clock. By the time he got anywhere else it would be nearly eleven-thirty. “So late?”

  His lips lifted with amusement. “It’s not that late, Rebecca.”

  “I guess not. I’m used to eight o’clock in the evening being done, with the kids in bed, and feeling exhausted, but glad for the quiet. The last thing I’d think about is going out.”

  Rob smiled. “Funny. Right now is about the time when I usually feel like going out.”

  “Where? Where do you go to?”

  “More data for your book?”

  “No. Just curious.”

  “Friend’s house. Tonight. Just a friend’s.”

  “Oh,” she looked away because he was looking much too deeply into her eyes. It wasn’t just a friend’s, as in Spencer. It was a friend’s, as in sex. She didn’t know why that made her uncomfortable. Who did Rob see? A girlfriend? A booty call? Was that even the term nowadays? God, she was so out of it! She had no idea of coolness, or any kind of fun and dating, and she blushed just thinking about it.

  “So, sweetheart, what’s next?”

  She smiled. “Kayla has a softball game on Sunday. I could drop the girls by my mom’s for a few hours and come out your way. I assume Sunday won’t be a going out as much day?”

  “Fine. What time?”

  “Four o’clock?”

  “All right, sweetheart,” he said saluting her with two fingers at his forehead. “It’s a date.” He turned on his heel and strode out her front door. She heard his bike start, and the headlights arced across her lawn. Spitting gravel, he took off and drove away from her. Away from her small, country abode. Away from her kids, and her ordinary life that he could never understand, towards his usual life of a night owl, seeking comfort and amusement at all hours of the night. A life she could never imagine living, much less, wanting. She suspected Rob felt exactly the same towards her, and what he witnessed tonight as her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Rebecca ignored the churning of her stomach muscles as she drove her van towards Rob Williams’ neighborhood. She ignored her mother’s chiding that was still fresh in her head. Debbie Lassiter thought her daughter’s adorable hobby of writing had suddenly gone way too far to be interviewing “that vile man,” which was what she called Rob, as if he were a famous serial killer. Debbie knew about Rob from Joelle, Nick, and even Trina, but not from Rebecca. Rebecca tried to explain what she was doing to her mother, and that her writing wasn’t a vapid, adorable hobby. She tried to convey that hers was a real project, and the importance of what she was trying to accomplish. Rebecca even mentioned that Nick believed in her wholeheartedly. Nick knew what she was doing with Rob, yet he still supported her. But her mom refused to believe it. Rebecca could tell her mother thought Nick was simply sponsoring Rebecca out of his kindness, and not from any belief in her career as an author.

  It pissed her off and she had to clench her teeth to keep from telling her mother so. Still, she was free, and finally had a few hours without the kids to spend with Rob.

  She swung her van into his driveway, but stayed put for a moment. There he was. In his garage, lying under his bike, another bandanna in his hair, grubby jeans, with loud music pounding from the garage. That was probably why he didn’t hear her pulling in. He was using a wrench to do something.

  She felt a pulling from deep in her stomach. It was much more than just nerves. Was it sexual attraction? She blinked at the thought. Where did that come from? Was is for Rob? Or just for the sight of a man working on a bike? Doug used to do that, but not on a bike. He worked on their vehicles every weekend, be it changing the oil, puttering with their ride-on mower, or using the array of tools that now only gathered dust in the garage. She felt a stab of pain from her forgotten memories.

  Then she squared her nerves in her mind and dragged herself out of the van. She straightened her jeans, adjusted her light jacket, and flipped her hair back. She pretended that she didn’t take extra time to get ready today. She combed her hair down flatter, and put on more than her usual makeup. For a softball game? Yeah, sure. That’s right. For her daughter’s softball game.

  She came into the garage where it felt cooler. It smelled of gas, oil, metallic tools, and the usual garage stuff. He didn’t notice her because he was working intently, while tapping along to The Eagles song, “Desperado.” Rebecca loved that song and she wondered why he didn’t use his voice to sing along instead.

  “Rob?”

  He shifted from under the bike and glanced her way while turning his wrist to check his watch. He squirmed out from under the bike, and was instantly on his feet in a graceful leap. He walked over to the radio attached to the workbench and turned the knob down. He had grease on his face and still needed a shave. His arms were bare and the myriad colors swirling together were as one under her eyes. Again, her stomach churned.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey. Didn’t realize it was four already.”

  “It’s okay. You look busy.”

  “Just messing around. Changing the oil. Nothing much. Come in.”

  He seemed so affable today. Nothing like the surly Rob of last week. Or the mean Rob from when she kept badgering him. She followed him into his laundry room.

  “So, did you win?” he asked, as they entered the kitchen.

  “Win what?”

  “The softball game? Isn’t that where you were today?”

  “Oh, Kayla. Yes. Yes, her team won.” She flushed. She’d been staring at his sinewy legs, encased in the tight jeans and didn’t immediately register what he was saying.

  “You okay?”

  She jerked her gaze to his face. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem so different. Perhaps, distracted.”

  “Oh nothing.” She blushed, and the damn heat rose instantly
from below her chin up to her hair. She was very distracted at seeing him walk in tight jeans. But instead, she said, “I had a little argument with my mother.”

  “About?”

  “You,” she said truthfully. “About me coming here to see you.”

  He crossed his arms. “Most mothers don’t approve of their daughters coming to see me. Except Joelle. Her mother was in prison. Never even met her.”

  Rebecca didn’t know that about Joelle either. “That’s sad.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what Spencer, me, and Joelle all had in common, Nick’s little sister. We all were pretty sad.”

  “Were. You were pretty sad. Things are better now. For Joelle, for Spencer, and for you.”

  “Yeah, sure; for me, too. So tell me, why does your mother care if you come here? Because of your writing or because of me?”

  “Both. I guess. You, because you frighten her, and my writing because she thinks I’m wasting the time I should be putting towards my kids, or getting a better job. She doesn’t get the part that I really think this could be my better job.”

  “What job? Doesn’t Nick support you anymore?”

  “He does. Whatever I can’t provide is supplemented by him. Which turns out to be a lot. I work too, though. I wouldn’t just sit on my hands and let Nick do everything for us.”

  “Taking care of three kids alone, I imagine, you would be doing anything but sitting on your hands. What job do you work at?”

  “Oh, at the cafeteria at one of the elementary schools. It’s the only way I get the same days off that the girls do.”

  “You’re a lunch lady?”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to make it sound like I just told you I worked the streets.”

  “Does Nick know?”

  She laughed. “Of course, Nick knows.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe he lets you work as a lunch lady, when he’s sitting over there in his little empire.”

  “Nick doesn’t let me do anything. And there’s nothing wrong with what I do. For now. I took the job last year, after Dou-–, after my husband left. I had no skills, no schooling, nothing. I’d been staying at home for a decade. But since I knew a lot of people at the school district from PTA stuff, I managed to get hired on there. Seemed logical.”

  Rob’s brows lifted and he was frowning, as though he really didn’t like her job. Why would Rob judge that? It wasn’t like he was glowing with success over his career choices either.

  Rebecca glanced around, taking in his house, as he had hers. It was nice. Surprisingly so for the rough, wild persona that Rob continually projected. It was homey, and the kitchen looked like it had recently been updated. Everything matched, from the gleaming appliances to the granite counters.

  “It’s nice in here.”

  Rob shrugged and looked at her. “Erica did it all.”

  “Erica? She really likes you, doesn’t she?”

  He nodded. “It’s not that incredible, you know, for someone like her to like me. She is, after all, married to my best friend.”

  Rebecca flushed, of course, he wasn’t hard to like. Especially, to people who weren’t trying to probe his private sins and shameful past. He was quite pleasant as long as you didn’t try to make him relive his life. Problem was, she had to know all about his past.

  Her gaze wandered back to him when he spoke. “Look, I meant to clean up before you arrived. Why don’t you wait right here, while I shower, then we’ll grab something to eat? How much time you got?”

  “Uh, until seven or so.”

  “I’ll hurry.”

  Then he was down the hallway, and she heard him going upstairs. She was alone. She heard the pipes groaning, and water rushing from upstairs.

  Something to eat? Like going out together? Like on a date? Rebecca’s nerves became skittish. No. That was not what he meant. Couldn’t have been. He didn’t even particularly like her. She had to persuade him and pay him for any time spent with her. Not exactly the start of... anything. Nothing at all. Why then, was she so nervous?

  She turned from the sliding door through which she was staring when she heard Rob running down the stairs. His steps were quick and concise as he came around the banister and down the hallway. He was putting a watch on his wrist as he walked, and wearing a navy blue, hooded sweatshirt with jeans. His tattoos were all covered up, his hair was still damp, and his face smoothly shaven. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him shaved clean. She stared unapologetically: at his face, his jeans, and him. Rob was an indisputably attractive man now walking towards her.

  The overly masculine appeal of him shocked her senses. He looked so much more normal, right then, at that moment, than usual. No longer wild and dangerous. He looked almost normal enough that she could be attracted to him. The only things that didn’t jive with his normal look were the piercings on his face. He still had those. Did they tug and pull when he smiled or frowned? And why… suddenly, did they not seem so repulsive? He looked up just then and met her gaze that was fastened on him. His eyes scrutinized her, studying him. She looked away after the charged moment and the sudden awareness that they were all alone in his quiet house.

  Doug, her husband, worked as a manager for an import/export firm, based in Seattle. The company had satellite offices all over the world, and currently, her husband was working for one of them in Japan. Doug had to wear a suit and tie, and was no more than a glorified paper-pusher. Tall and thin, Doug’s physique was on the slight side. He had blond hair, with fair skin, and wore glasses. He was handsome too, and well put together.

  Rob was almost the complete opposite of Doug. He was short for a guy, although he carried himself well. He was in good shape, with strong muscles, and powerful legs. He wasn’t big and broad, but narrow and more compact. He usually appeared haphazardly put together. He always looked like he was in a hurry and forgot to comb his hair, or shave his face, or tuck in his clothes. And most of the time, his loud, conspicuous tattoos were glaring at her. He seemed like he was always trying to appear and be abrasive.

  But just then, he wasn’t. He seemed normal looking, and her kind of attractive. The idea that she found him suddenly handsome disturbed her. She didn’t know where her unexpected reactions to him were coming from. She’d found him interesting before, and thought he was hot in a bad kind of way. But it was okay because he wasn’t someone she would ever look twice at, or feel emotional about. Suddenly, she seemed interested in a man with whom she had no chemistry.

  And all at once, just then, she did.

  Rob walked over to his kitchen counter, and grabbed his wallet, which he tucked into his back pocket. She watched, utterly fascinated. How long had it been since she got to watch the daily, ordinary movements of a man? So different and so ridiculously intriguing. He was nearly mesmerizing her just by getting ready to leave his house.

  “Rebecca?”

  She glanced up when she found him again watching her. She was staring at his hands. Tan, strong, compact, and oh so masculine. Naturally, they were inked. Yet… it was kind of sexy. “Yes?”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  No. Apparently, she was becoming a crazy, old lady who lived too long alone out in the woods. She was suddenly captivated by every part of the male anatomy. She couldn’t remember ever staring at Doug’s hands, or even noticing he had hands!

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re usually chatty. Opinionated. Not quiet and allowing me to take charge.”

  She was usually the one taking charge? Rob thought that of her? The truth was: she’d never been in charge of anything during her entire life. She married Doug at barely twenty years old. He was ten years her senior, and already set up, with a house and all the accouterments. He was also quite successful, and well versed with the ways of the world. He was paying a mortgage, and did his own taxes. She’d hardly even written a check before she married him. Doug acted like he knew about everything, and she knew nothing. So she had a baby, because it was the only thin
g she felt she could do. And Rob thought she was opinionated? Or that she knew how to direct a situation? It almost made her laugh out loud. How could she come on so strong, and so sure to Rob Williams, when no one else in the world thought that of her? Everybody assumed she was laid back, submissive, helpful, but never a leader, always a follower.

  “I’m fine. I’m just beginning to realize how I pushed you into this. And I’m seeing how selfish I’ve been. I wanted to do this book so badly, I could have almost sold my heart. I thought it would make things feel better for me; and make me better. But, maybe I was totally wrong. You shouldn’t have to talk about some things if you prefer not to, and maybe I shouldn’t print them either.”

  Rob paused and lowered his hands to the counter, leaning on them as he looked into her eyes. “Where’s this coming from? The Rebecca I’ve known so far would kick this Rebecca’s ass.”

  She laughed because it was so not true. And so nice to hear he thought that of her.

  “No, really, Rebecca, what the hell? You care so much about my feelings now? You sure didn’t last week. What changed? Your mother? Screw her! She should have faith in you, and not plant her doubts on you.”

  “She doubts me because I’m not really a writer, Rob. And last week, I didn’t want to see you as a person. And now…”

  “You do? Why? What’s the sudden change?”

  “You’re different from what I imagined.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re nice. Far nicer than I thought. I shouldn’t have pushed you to do this. I shouldn’t have even thought I could do this. I work in a cafeteria and I only do that because my husband left me. I’m pathetic. And I thought, I wanted this to change that for me. But it won’t. And I did it at the cost of other people. You. Joelle. Nick. I shouldn’t have done any of this.”

  “But you did start this, and now you’re going to back out? Why do you want to change things now?”

  She shrugged listlessly and Rob watched her before he suddenly straightened. “You bring a jacket with you?”