this year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the fact that he was still holding her wrist. Gently, he slipped her hand into his. Rough and strong, so completely opposite of Julian’s hands, Tate’s skin was surprisingly comforting to the touch. “Is there something else? You seem more upset than just about a missed birthday.”
She paused, wondering if it was smart to start sharing their lives. But she wanted Tate to know some things about her. “About ten years ago, when I was fifteen, my mother and aunt got deported back to Mexico. They had overstayed their visas. It hit me hard, but instead of being sad I just started rebelling and acting like a little shit. It brought my father and me closer once I came around, but now since my dad’s gone I’ve sort of felt lost and missing them more than ever.”
Lexy hadn’t noticed Tate rubbing her hand until she stopped talking, but she didn’t pull away. What she really wanted was to have him wrap his capable arms around her and to sink into his embrace. Julian had never been the comforting type. His solution was always to throw money at any problem. Could she really fault him for that, though, since that’s exactly what he was doing for her now? Maybe not, but was it so wrong to want someone to help make her feel better? Friends should be allowed to comfort each other.
“Wow, I had no idea. I’m sorry, Kitten.” His words rang soft in her ear as Tate, reading her mind, slipped a hand behind her, landing smoothly on her back.
For about five seconds, Lexy melted into his consoling touch before guilt yanked her ass back to reality. Don’t be so weak . She sat up straight, dislodged her hand from his before turning her attention toward the kitchen and smelling smoke. “Shit! My cupcakes.” She bolted from the couch, ran to the oven, and yanked the door open. “I’ve never done this! Jeez, Tate!”
“What the hell?” he said, getting up to follow her. “What did I do?”
Black crusty mounds smoked in the pan she now held. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.” She dumped the burnt cakes in the trash, then dropped the pan in the sink. “Can you open that window? It’s starting to stink in here.”
“This thing is jammed,” he said, yanking on the metal edge.
Lexy collapsed in a chair. “That sucks,” she said, staring at the still open oven, which hadn’t cleared of smoke yet. “You’ve got to bang that window to loosen it. Then, it’ll open.”
Once he pulled the window open, he said, “What the hell is with your place?”
“It’s an old building, Tate.”
“Yeah, well according to my Dad’s maintenance records, your place gets most of the repair requests.”
His look lit her defensive fires. “Hey, I’m the one fixing the stuff, not breaking it. But I don’t remember it being this bad when my dad lived here, so I guess it’s gotten worse over time.”
“This was his apartment?”
“Yeah, I took over his lease when he died.”
Tate closed the distance between them. “I guess it makes you feel close to him.”
“It does. Julian hates that I keep living here, but I’m doing my best to make it work until the lease is up.”
“Your dad would be proud of you. But, I think he’d understand if you left.” Tate leaned over, took hold of the oven door, and pulled it closed. A metal creak rang out as the handle came loose then fell to the floor with a clank. “Shit!”
Chapter 7
Cool air slammed Lexy in the face as she let herself in to Julian’s condo. She didn’t dare adjust the system, so she went right to his closet and slipped on one of his sweatshirts. A sweatshirt. During a heat wave! Compromise, Lexy . She reminded herself that was part of any good marriage. He was due to arrive late that night from another business trip and wanted Lexy waiting in his bed.
For the most part, he kept his place neat and organized, but Lexy put her own touch on the kitchen. That was her domain, and she often baked
Learning to Kill: Stories