And not puppy or kitten cute—he’d been reprimanded by his mother enough times over the years to not call women cute. But Lydia really was cute. She was adorable, in fact. Honest and bright-eyed. Expressive and quirky. A refreshing change from some of the women he’d dated recently—all from a hookup app. Great body, no substance. They rarely got past the second date.
“Ever thought maybe you’re only meeting a certain caliber of women because of the app you’re using?” his mother had chided on more than one occasion. “Why not try an app not actually called Huukup? It’s in the name, for goodness’ sakes, you buffoon.”
“You want to go on a date with me?” Lydia practically squeaked, pressing her hand to her chest like she’d just won an Oscar and was surprised they’d picked her over Meryl Streep and Kate Winslet.
Rex nodded. “Yeah, is there something weird about that?”
“Well …” Her hazel eyes raked his body from loafers to bald head and back, growing wider as she casually slid her gaze over the V of his sweat pants, his stomach, chest and arms. Color filled her cheeks, and her pink tongue darted out and slid across her lips.
See? Cute. She was fucking cute.
Hot too, of course.
Smoking hot, actually. Like set your sheets on fire hot. But she was also fucking cute. Though he could tell she had a little wicked side too. The day-drinking out of a paper bag like some train-track hobo, propositioning a stranger for sex—those weren’t the actions of a virtuous girl next door.
Plus, the more time he spent in her apartment and glanced around the room, the more he noticed. Before he left earlier, he’d spied a photo of her dressed up for a burlesque show on the bookcase in the corner of the living room. It was a small frame, but he was trained in surveillance and observing his surroundings and all the threats that lurked nearby. Not that Lydia in a black bustier was a threat—well, maybe to the front of his sweatpants remaining flat. But she looked comfortable in the outfit, and something told him this woman had a wild side that only the closest people to her got to see.
“Let’s grab breakfast tomorrow,” he said, letting his gaze wander back to the woman sitting in front of him. He’d allowed his eyes to take in her burlesque attire one more time, committing that image to memory for later. The way her eyes had clung to his body and she questioned him so surprised-like made him wonder if she thought he was out of her league.
Au contraire, Miss Lydia, it is you who is way out of my league.
“Breakfast?” she asked, like she had never heard the word before and was trying it out for the first time on her tongue.
He pressed his lips together to stifle his amusement. “Yeah, you know, the first meal of the day? Usually consists of a big cup of coffee, maybe some eggs and bacon, or granola or cereal. And if you’re my little brother—all of the above, plus more. You do eat breakfast, right?”
She nodded. “I do, yeah.”
“Then let’s go grab some together. My treat. I don’t have any jobs tomorrow, and you, well …” He twisted his lips.
“Don’t have a job,” she finished, her shoulders slumping and face falling.
“I didn’t want to say it out loud.” He felt bad for her. He didn’t know much about her, but what he did know, he liked. And to be fired from a job you loved—well, that just sucked no matter who you were.
“You didn’t have to,” she said with a deep sigh. “It’s the truth whether we verbalize it or not. I’m jobless. It’s the first time I’ve ever been fired from anything. I’ve been employee of the month at other jobs, received nothing but glowing references and recommendations. I was named teacher of the year at the first preschool I ever worked at. I’m not somebody who gets fired. I’m just not.”
“We’ll find you another job. Trust me.”
“I don’t even know you.”
That was true, but she’d invited him into her home twice, propositioned him for sex, and he couldn’t forget her flinging herself into his arms down in the lobby and crying against his chest. As much as he hated to hear her cry and know that she was hurting, it did feel good to be that place of comfort for someone, to be needed. He always liked being needed.
He flashed her a grin that he knew made his dimples dig deep into his cheeks. “Then let’s change that. What do you want to know?”
She eyed him suspiciously for a moment but then seemed to relax and speared a piece of sweet and sour pork onto a fork and popped it into her mouth. “What do you do for work?”
“A few things. I’m a plumber when I’m not doing my other job.”
“Which is …?”
This was always where it got a bit tricky. Some women were either super attracted to a man with his “talents” or they were super turned off and ran for the hills. But he was all about transparency, and he’d dated women from every facet of life and the career world with no judgment, so he expected the same. If they didn’t like what he did, then they weren’t for him.
He wasn’t going to change who he was or the jobs he loved to make someone else feel comfortable. If a woman was going to love him, she was going to love all of him, just like he would love all of her.
Lydia lifted a brow and tilted her head in waiting.
Rex took a deep breath. “I was in the Navy for a while. Then my brothers and I were all recruited by Joint Task Force 2, which is basically like the Navy SEALs in the States, but in Canada. We were then recruited by a covert special ops team—off the record, ghosts in the night, doing the tough shit that nobody else wanted to do—and I did that for a while.”
Her hazel eyes went wide. Her chewing stopped too.
But as much as he was good at reading a situation and his surroundings, he still wasn’t the best at reading women. And Lydia was no different.
Was she turned on? Turned off? Intrigued? Terrified?
He swallowed. “After we all retired from that, we did work for a surveillance and security company—my brothers and I—for a few years based out of Victoria. But we were sent all over the place. Wherever the job was needed. But then Brock—my oldest brother—bought the company and now he runs it. Chase is our tech specialist, and Heath and I are kind of the grunts, though we all do a bit of everything. Heath is also our language specialist. He speaks six languages, including American Sign Language. I’m kind of the explosives specialist, too, you could say. I’ve done a lot of bomb-tech training.”
“And you’re a plumber?” she asked slowly, her eyes once again traveling the length of his body at the speed of a sloth on Valium. She spent a considerable amount of time studying the front of his sweatpants. A very considerable amount of time.
Rex lifted a shoulder. “Need something to fall back on. Won’t always be able to do this, won’t always want to do the hard, dangerous stuff. So when I wasn’t on a job, I was apprenticing with a plumber. Did the schooling when I could. Got my ticket when I was thirty-two, and I work on-call when I’m available for a guy here in town.”
“So you’re like”—she swallowed and licked her lips—“a real badass then?”
That made him snort, smile and turn away. The look she was giving him was one he’d seen before. She was turned on—big-time.
“We—I—get the job done,” he said, intentionally adding that innuendo, which caused her to suck in a sharp breath. “Got all the right tools.”
Eyes squinted at him, and lips curled into a sassy smile. “I bet you do.”
That had him grinning. She had a wicked side to her, he just knew it. “So breakfast?”
“Still don’t know enough about you, Rexington.” She stabbed a piece of broccoli with her fork and pulled it off provocatively with her teeth. “Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite food?”
“You’re eating it.”
“Favorite animal?”
“Pit bull. Rescued one late last year. He’s upstairs. Fucking adorable.”
“Favorite—”
“Let me help you out here, hmm? Blue, Chinese food, pit bull—or dogs, I guess you could say—chocolate chip mint, July ninth, Barbados, nothing, cinnamon gum.”
“Cinnamon gum?”
“Can’t stand it. Makes my tongue go numb and feel weird.”
“And nothing?”
“I’m not allergic to anything.” He pointed at her. “Your turn.”
“Barbados?”
“Favorite vacation spot.”
She smiled and pushed her plate away, making a face like she was full.
“I hope you’ll eat that later,” he said. “Letting Chinese food that good go to waste is sacrilege.”
Lydia nodded and yawned. “I will. And thank you. It was perfect.”
He stepped away from the counter, grabbed the foil from the island and wrapped it back over the Chinese food before opening her fridge and stashing it inside. “Grab your water, go sit on the couch, and let’s learn all we can about each other.”
Who was this bald man with thick thighs and dimples for days?
A man fresh out of her fantasies, that’s who.
Normally, Lydia wasn’t a big fan of being told what to do by a man, but the way Rex did it, so casually and almost gently, she found herself obeying without even a second thought.
He took up purchase in the chair opposite her couch, cocked one ankle on his knee and studied her.
She squirmed under his scrutiny. Did she have sauce on her cheek?
A booger on her upper lip?
“So, what’s Lydia’s story?” Rex asked, leaning back in the chair and causing it to creak.
Damn, he was big.
And not fat big.
Hellllll no.
The man was pure muscle. And those arms and the way they were squeezing out of his T-shirt like sausage from a casing—she had a vague feeling she’d felt those arms around her at some point but wasn’t sure how that could be.
“Hmm?” he probed, giving her another smile that had her saying goodbye to her dry panties.
Oh, where to begin … there were parts of her life—a lot of them, actually—that she would rather forget, so to dredge those up now, particularly with a person she just met, wouldn’t be wise for either of them.
Keep it simple, stupid.
“Favorite color: aqua-blue. Favorite food: Thai. Favorite ice cream: butterscotch ripple. Favorite animal: turtle. Favorite vacation spot … I haven’t really been too many places, so I guess Mexico? My mum took me when I graduated high school for a girls’ trip. I have no allergies, and I do not like yams.” She did a quick checklist in her head. “Oh, yeah, and May tenth.”
He nodded, still smiling. “Coming up then.”
“Not too far away. But I’m not big into birthdays.” Not anymore, anyway. Not since the last one.
His eyes fell back on the picture in her corner-style bookcase. She’d noticed him looking at it earlier but hadn’t said anything. “Looks like you have a hobby.” He bobbed his brows. “Do you do that here?”
Her smile spread slowly, pulling the corners of her lips upward. “You mean the burlesque dancing?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Not here in Victoria. But I know they have a burlesque club. But what I do is more burlesque aerobics. It’s a workout. I’ve also done pole dancing as a workout too. When I lived in Vancouver, I did it like four or five nights a week.” It had not only been an incredible workout, but she’d never felt sexier or more in tune and confident in her body. She missed the workout and the friends she made a great deal.
But she needed to get away from that life. He was in Vancouver, and even though she knew he wasn’t himself and didn’t want to hurt her, he was still there, and if he knew where she lived or saw her across the street, there was no telling what he might do.
Victoria seemed like a safe bet. Still close enough to her mom, who lived in Hope, but far enough away from Dierks that he might not think to look on the island.
The twinkle of interest in Rex’s dark blue eyes set her body to tropical temperatures. “Pole dancing, eh?”
She nodded. “Yep. It’s a great workout.”
If she ever owned her own home, she planned on installing a pole of her very own. Ah, life goals.
“Should we consider this our first date?” he asked, all sexy smiles and salacious, penetrating glances.
“First date?” She reared her head back in surprise. “What makes you think this is a date?”
There went those manly shoulders again. Bobbing and drawing her attention to his muscles and the cords in his neck and those lick-worthy traps. “I bought you dinner. We’re getting to know each other. Why can’t this be a first date?”
She was enjoying herself as much, if not more than her last several first dates—not that she’d had many—but she also wanted to tease him a bit. “I dunno … seems like a bit of a lazy first date, if you ask me. I mean, you brought me your leftovers and we’re just sitting in my living room. I’m in my pajamas.”
“Are you wanting to be wined and dined? Because I don’t think you need any more booze, but the night is young, so if you’d like to continue this date, why don’t we throw on some jackets and shoes. I can run upstairs and grab Diesel, and we can go for a nice walk. It’s not raining outside, and I’m sure your drunk little butt could use the fresh air.”
What was it about Rex that made her feel so at ease? Like she’d known him way longer than the few hours since she’d wandered into the apartment lobby drunk and crying. For a man who could probably snap a redwood in half over his knee, he had a very gentle way about him. A genuineness to him that she struggled to see in people these days. It was refreshing, and if she was being honest with herself, she was trying to figure out a way to spend more time with him tonight. She didn’t want to be alone. She hated being alone.
“Hmm? Fresh air? Walk? You can meet Diesel.”
“I’m in my pajamas,” she said, glancing down at her avo-cat-o PJs.
He shrugged. “So? Either go for a walk in them and not give a shit, or change into another pair of pants. Both choices seem pretty damn simple to me. Nothing like the choice poor Sophie had to make.” He grinned, and she nearly fainted from the effect of his dimples. Then she found herself mesmerized by his bunching muscles as he pried himself out of her chair and slapped the side of her knee playfully. “Get some jeans on and meet me in the lobby in five. I’m going to go grab D.” Then before she could argue or say no—not that she had any intention of saying no—he headed to her door and was gone.
And she was smiling more than she had in God only knows how long.
She was on a date, and it felt great.