Kiss in the Dark (3 page)

“Then we’ll stick with a Viking,” Halle said cheerfully. Boston was ever astonished at the way Halle seemed to let Steph’s cruelty just slide away, like water off a duck. “Vance the Viking,” Halle giggled. “Can Vikings have dark hair though?”

Everyone laughed. Halle’s questions were often so simply—yet so entirely—amusing.

Even Steph laughed, though Boston was certain her roommate was still silently planning her wedding to Danielle’s brother, the black-haired Viking.

“So Boston, tell us about Logan,” Kara said then, entirely changing the subject, thankfully. “Are you totally stoked or what?”

“I am,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to settle down. I mean…I never in a million years thought he’d give me a second thought!”

“Everyone gives you at least a second thought, Boston,” Halle giggled. “Those green eyes, that gold-streaked auburn hair, that perfect complexion.”

“Whatever,” Boston said, rolling her eyes. Halle was always trying to build Boston’s self-esteem where her appearance was concerned. “But the question is, did you get the job, Halle?”

“I did!” Halle exclaimed. “I start Monday!”

Everyone squealed congratulations and took turns hugging Halle. Boston glanced to Kara’s left hand—no ring on her finger. Max was so in love with Kara—so intimidated by her beauty and self-confidence—and Kara loved Max desperately. She determined she was going to have to give Max a little talking-to—a little more ego boosting. After all, Max already had the ring; he’d shown it to Danielle and Boston only two days before. What the heck was he waiting for?

“Everything’s ready for dinner, you guys,” Danielle said. “Let’s eat…’cause I skipped lunch today!”

At that moment, the apartment door opened, and Vance stepped back in. “I forgot a towel,” he mumbled. Boston noted the way he seemed to avoid looking at any one of them directly in the eye. As he strode through the room, her eyes fell to his right leg—to the large, deep scars marring his calf. They literally looked as if something had torn chunks of meat out of him. It was obvious the wounds had been skin grafted. Even though the scars appeared to be very old, the thought of the pain that must’ve accompanied the injuries that caused them made Boston’s stomach flip-flop with sympathy. She wondered what had happened to Danielle’s brother to leave such scarring.

Vance winked at her and said, “Nothing.” Holding the towel with both hands lengthwise out at his side, he stomped one foot and quickly spun the towel around itself, whipping one end out and hitting Danielle on the behind. “Olé!” he chuckled as he left the apartment once more.

“Well, I’m starving,” Boston said, picking up a paper plate from the counter. “I skipped lunch today too. I didn’t want to be late.”

“Me too!” Kara said. “I want extra cheese, by the way.”

Boston giggled as she and her friends nearly dove into the buns, boiled hot dogs, slow cooker of chili, and condiments. She loved Friday nights. And she was going to love golfing on Saturday even more!

“Mr. Mercer grabbed my butt again today,” Boston said as she sat at the table eating her chili dog.

Danielle put an extra scoop of chocolate milk mix in her glass. “That guy’s a jerk,” she grumbled. “I don’t know how you put up with his behavior, Boston. You should go straight to HR.”

“I don’t know
why
you put up with it,” Steph said.

“Well, Boston’s going to be making out on the golf course,” Halle giggled, “but I can come if you need me. That reminds me—what brand of bra do you wear, Kara? I need to go bra shopping. That’s always such a nightmare!”

“Oh, I hate shopping for bras,” Danielle whined. “It’s torture!”

“It totally is!” Steph added. “I’d rather clean bathrooms than shop for bras.”

Boston giggled, enjoying the lighthearted conversation of her friends. She opened the fridge and took out the gallon of milk, closing the door with her knee. Her eye was drawn to a photograph on Danielle’s fridge. A magnet that read,
Eat Beef—The West wasn’t won on salad
, secured a picture of Danielle and her brother Vance to the freezing compartment door.

Both Vance and Danielle were smiling, standing in front of a hotel signboard announcing,
Sam Elliott slept here!
Boston gazed at the photo for a moment. Vance’s smile was broad—dazzling. Both he and Danielle were much younger in the photo—teenagers—and Boston noted the sparkle in Vance’s eyes, a sparkle that had been absent when she’d met him a short time before.

She shook her head, glanced down at her second chili dog, and wondered. Did her mouth water in anticipation of the chili dog on her plate or because a vision of Logan West had just leapt into her mind?

Chapter Two

“You know, it’s interesting to think about how couples have met…or how they might meet,” Steph said as she sat in the passenger’s seat of Boston’s car. “I mean, some people tell the most random stories of how they got together with their mate. Wouldn’t it be interesting if this became my story—that I just dropped by my best friend’s house one night and met her brother…and the rest was history? I mean, you do hear the most random ‘how we met’ stories. I think this might be the beginning of mine!”

Boston gritted her teeth and tried to keep her level of inward irritation from increasing. Steph had talked about nothing but Danielle’s brother since the moment they’d left Danielle’s apartment. Sure, he was incredibly hot, but he was a complete stranger! Still, it never ceased to astonish Boston the way Steph would obsess over men, whether or not she knew them. The first time Steph had set eyes on Dempsey, she’d nearly fainted. She’d been certain she was going to marry him, she’d once confessed to Boston. But, in the end, Dempsey just had too many faults that couldn’t be tolerated. Boston knew the truth, however—that Dempsey Mattice just hadn’t been interested in Steph, not one breath of interest. Therefore, Steph decided he just wasn’t worthy of her heart. Boston couldn’t begin to count the times Steph had dogged men who didn’t immediately fall at her feet and confess their undying love. It was routine—Boston knew it was—but for some reason, she just didn’t want to go through the same routine for the billionth time.

“Maybe he already has a girlfriend, Steph,” Boston said as she drove toward home. “Have you thought of that?”

Steph shook her head with indifference. “Oh, I can remedy that easy enough,” she said.

Boston felt her mouth gape open; the chocolate Tootsie Pop propped in it almost fell out into her lap. “Stephanie! You cannot just plan on breaking up a relationship! You can’t just plan on dating someone without his consent,” Boston exclaimed. She was feigning a jovial demeanor, but she felt anything but jovial. Steph had set her sights on Danielle’s brother. Boston knew she’d settled on him the moment Steph had stepped into Danielle’s apartment and seen him. Yet how could she settle on someone that way—after just one look—without any consideration for the guy or the other woman that might be in his life?

“Sure I can!” Steph argued. “He’s not married, that’s obvious. So he’s free prey…and I’ll get him. You just watch me, Boston.” Steph looked to Boston, her eyes narrow and threatening. “And in case you’ve got any bright ideas of your own…stay out of my way.”

That was it! Absolutely it! Not because Boston had any designs on Danielle’s brother herself but simply because she could no longer align herself with the likes of Stephanie Crittendon—she didn’t care how pitiful a friendless creature she was. She bit hard into her Tootsie Pop with her molars, crunched up the remains as quickly as possible, plopped the naked lollipop stick into the cupholder of the console, and tried to breathe calmly for a moment—tried to gather her thoughts. She and Steph were almost home, and she was grateful. Yet in the next moment, she realized she’s be trapped with Steph, isolated in their apartment with no reprieve. Boston felt her shoulders begin to droop at the thought. It was too much—she couldn’t endure it any longer—she wouldn’t!

“I don’t have any bright ideas where Vance Nathaniel is concerned…but I do have something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Boston said.

“What’s that?” Stephanie asked.

Boston glanced to Steph. It was obvious her soon-to-be ex-roommate was unaffected. Steph was probably so relieved to hear Boston couldn’t care less about Danielle’s brother that she failed to think anything else could be of consequence.

“I’m moving out,” Boston said. There—she’d said it! There was a time when Boston would’ve hum-hawed around about saying something she thought might not be well received. But rooming with Steph had hardened her up just enough that she was able to say what she meant to Steph, rather than beating around the bush the way she would normally do with anybody else.

“Moving out?” Steph screeched.

Boston frowned—began to tremble with anxiety—immediately knew regret for having spoken so bluntly. She shouldn’t have been so harsh; she should’ve eased Steph into the revelation. After all, what had Stephanie ever done to deserve such vile treatment at Boston’s hand?

“You can’t move out!” Steph continued to screech. “What will I do? I need you to pay half of the rent! I need you in the apartment! Who’s going to do the dishes and stuff?”

Some of Boston’s guilt subsided. Was that all Steph cared about—the dishes? Boston knew Steph would quickly figure out that if Boston moved out, then Steph might not always be invited to do things with the group of retired elves from Santa’s Workshop and North Pole. Deep inside, Boston had always known there were three reasons Steph clung so desperately to her: to feed off Boston’s once-elf friends, to feed off Boston financially, and to feed off her cheery disposition—not so unlike some slimy, bottom-dwelling parasite. These were harsh thoughts—Boston knew they were—and she didn’t like them. In fact, she scolded herself for even having them. Yet this was another reason she felt she needed to find some space—so she could purge her soul and mind of the unkind, frustrated sort of feelings and thoughts Steph always seemed to provoke within her.

“I just…I just want to try things on my own for a while,” Boston said. “It has nothing to do with you, Steph,” she lied. “I just want to see if I can be entirely self-reliant when it comes to finances and stuff.”

“I had no idea you were so incredibly selfish, Boston!” Steph growled. She glared at Boston and added, “Actually, I did. You don’t think about anybody but you! You don’t care that I’ll have to find a way to make the rent…or find another roommate. What about the car? How do you expect me to get anywhere if you move and take the car?”

“It’s my car, Steph,” Boston reminded, as gently as her vexation would allow. “And this isn’t unusual. I’m just moving into my own place. People do it all the time.”

Steph’s chest rose and fell with the labored breathing of fury. Thus, Boston quickly countered, “You’ve always wanted your own place anyway, Steph. You’re constantly telling me.”

“I only say that when I’m frustrated with your stuff being everywhere,” Steph said.

“My stuff. You mean like my pictures on the wall, the lounge chair that my dad gave me last Christmas that I never get to sit in?” Boston said. She’d lost her cool—and she knew she’d pay for it.

“The lease is up in a month,” Steph growled. “I want you out in two weeks!”

“Steph…look…” Boston began—not because she wanted to stay in the apartment longer than two weeks but because she loathed contention and hard feelings.

“Shut up, Boston!” Steph shouted as Boston pulled into their apartment parking lot. “Shut up and leave me alone for a while! Go find something to do for an hour or two so I can have time to think!”

Furious, Steph got out of the car, slammed the door behind her, and marched off toward the apartment.

Boston sighed—felt nauseated and worn out. She’d been through this drill before. Stephanie would get mad or in a fit of self-pity over something, and Boston would end up at Danielle’s or Halle’s for an hour or two until her psycho roommate calmed down. It was a ridiculous, high-school nightmare she kept reliving every three months or so. At first, Boston felt anxious, worried, and tired. But then she began to feel lighter, as if a huge stone had been hung around her neck and was gradually being lifted. She could endure one more of Stephanie’s fits; she could hang out with Danielle for one more hour. It would certainly be more pleasant than having to deal with Steph.

Shaking her head, unable to fully believe she had such a wound-up nut bag for a roommate, Boston turned the car around and headed back toward Danielle’s. She should’ve had the guts to stand up to Stephanie the month before when Danielle had moved into her bigger apartment. Danielle had tried to get Boston to move in with her, but Boston had still felt too sorry for Stephanie to do it.

As she drove back to Danielle’s, Boston wondered what had finally pushed her over the edge. Why had she finally found the nerve to tell Steph she was moving out? Yet, after several moments of reflection, she decided she’d just reached her limit—finally. She didn’t even know which straw had broken the camel’s back—but whatever the straw had been, she was thankful for it!