Fast & Loose Elizabeth Bevarly (bts book recommendations .txt) 📖

“You can just drop me here,” she said as he halted the truck for a stop sign, reaching for the seat belt and the door handle at the same time. “This time of night, you won’t find anyplace to park. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” he asked.

There was something in his voice that made her look up, and she saw a trio of young men standing in a shadow not ten feet from the side entrance of the building she had to use to get to her apartment over Deke’s. All of them were holding skateboards, one was smoking, two held bottles obscured by brown paper bags, and all were murmuring low. Bree’s neighborhood wasn’t a dangerous one, but episodes of mischief and petty crime weren’t unheard of. Episodes of worse crimes, though infrequent, weren’t unheard of, either. Probably, it was nothing but a few kids taking a break before going back to their shredding. Whatever the hell that was. Probably, they were talking about some new song one of them had downloaded off iTunes by a band Bree had never heard of. Probably, she’d be just fine if Rufus dropped her here at the corner and drove off the way she told him to.

Probably.

“I’ll find a place to park and walk you up,” he said.

“Rufus, it’s not necess—”

“It’s no trouble.”

“You can just watch from the car to make sure I get in all ri—”

But he’d already turned onto Bardstown Road and was cruising for a parking spot. Just as Bree had predicted, however, between the residences on the side streets and the bars on the main drag that were almost as busy on Thursday nights as they were on Fridays, he had to drive four blocks before finding a space big enough for his Wagoneer. She slung open her door and climbed out before he had a chance to make it around the truck and open it for her—a girl could only take so much courtesy and respect—but as they made their way down the sidewalk, Rufus moved to the outside, putting himself between her and the curb.

Jeez, the guy was too good to be true.

It was a balmy evening, with a breeze playful enough to dance in Bree’s hair, so a handful of revelers had spilled out of the bars and restaurants and coffee shops and onto the street. Music tumbled from nearly every establishment they passed, along with sultry laughter and snippets of incomplete conversation. Countless neon lights and illuminated storefront signs bathed them in first red, blue, then green as they went by, then the rainbow started all over again. Neither said a word as they walked, but somehow, the silence was in no way awkward. She and Rufus might as well have taken this walk every evening, so comfortable was his presence now.

She was even more grateful for it when they rounded the corner of her building and the three boys’ heads snapped up almost predatorily. When they saw Rufus, however, they only nodded, greeted him with varying versions of “Dude,” and continued with their chat. Bree wasn’t offended that the trio summarily ignored her, but something about their lack of acknowledgment also gave her the creeps.

Rufus must have felt a little uneasy himself, because although he nodded in response to the boys, he also opened his palm over the small of her back in a way that was clearly meant to look proprietary. She told herself it should feel proprietary, too, but what it actually felt was kind of comforting. And when he said resolutely, “I’ll walk you up,” instead of telling him it wasn’t necessary, she instead nodded and murmured a quiet “Thanks.”

He moved between her and the boys as she unlocked the exterior door, then he followed her up the stairs to a landing that opened onto two separate apartments. The one across from Bree’s was vacant at the moment, a fact that didn’t exactly lend itself to a feeling of safety. So after unlocking and opening her front door, she turned to Rufus and said, “You want to come in for a little while?” Hastily, lest he misunderstand—since why else would she prolong her time with Rufus unless it was because she felt unsafe with restless youth downstairs?—she added, “Just until the guys downstairs take off?”

He grinned, but there was nothing smug or triumphant in it. There was only good guy-ness in it. And suddenly, her stomach was filled with butterflies. And not the pastoral, pastel, prancing-about-the-meadow kind, either. These were the giant, ruthless, predatory kind that lived on the Amazon and carried off Yanomamo children. She’d seen them on the Discovery Channel and knew that was without question what had taken up residence in her midsection.

“Sure,” he told her. “No problem.”

“Or until Lulu gets home,” she said, recalling that her temporary roommate had been dragged to a gallery showing for one of her artsy friends—a showing that would doubtless run ’til dawn, knowing said artsy friend. Not that Lulu would stay for the whole thing. She never did. In fact, it was odd that she’d stayed out this late. “She should be back anytime now,” Bree added.

“Why is Lulu staying with you? Is she having problems at home with Mom and Dad?” he asked, his grin broadening. And just like that, the giant butterflies in Bree’s belly started doing a raucous mambo.

“No,” she said, trying to ignore the flutters. “She rented her house out for Derby and can’t go home until next Sunday, so she’s bunking here.”

“Ah. I’ve heard about people doing that. I can’t imagine letting some stranger live in my place, though.”

Not that any Derby visitor would want to rent Rufus’s place, Bree thought. Not that she had a clue what his place was like, other than it being in Crescent Hill. But she could imagine. Any guy whose life ambition was to tend bar probably wasn’t real big on amenities. Or luxuries. Or furniture. Or ownership, for that matter. Considering he had the same