Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (simple ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Five asses lifted in the air. Along with Jojo’s brother Kai, Diego had joined their morning workouts.

“Child’s pose.”

With a grateful moan, Eddie folded up and pressed his forehead to the mat.

River poked his shoulder. “No need to stress, man. Dawn wouldn’t ask you to step in if she didn’t think you could handle it.”

Eddie’s sigh emptied his lungs. “It’s not the job.”

“Aha,” Diego murmured from the mat next door. “Lady troubles.”

Jojo’s sharp ears didn’t miss that. “What up, little man? You and Rosie squabbling?”

Eddie rolled onto his back and hugged his knees to his chest like a dead bug. “To do that, we’d have to be on speaking terms.”

“Holy shit, Volkov. What did you do?”

“More like what I didn’t do. Or say.” He winced at the shrill whine of Kai’s blender. “When she told me she finally got a tattoo apprenticeship, I was all in my head about my new job responsibilities. Shoulda made a big fuss about her win, the way she made a big fuss about mine.”

River furrowed his brow. “What did you say, man?”

Eddie swiped a palm down his sweaty face. “Asked her if her new job would interfere with her shifts at Bangers.”

“Oh, shit.” River winced and clapped Eddie’s shoulder. “You got some groveling to do, my friend.”

The other guys nodded.

A moment later, a foot nudged his ribs. “Up, Eddie. Drink your spirulina shake and face your problems like a man.”

He let Kai haul him to his feet and accepted a tall glass of green sludge. Sucking down a gulp, he added brain freeze to his list of complaints. Because why should anything go right today?

Jojo perched on a weight bench. “What happened to taking things slow?”

Eddie shrugged. “Things got fast. Now she’s pissed at me, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Take some advice from the master,” River said, draping his arm over Eddie’s shoulders.

Kai snorted. “And so humble, too.”

“Master of fuck-ups, I mean. Back in December, I nearly lost Charlie because I was a stupid, selfish ass. It took a lot more than pretty words to make things right. It took hard proof.”

“What kind of proof?”

“Well, in our case I had to compromise with my Dad. The landlord for Bangers was gonna sell the place to a developer, and Dawn couldn’t afford to match his price. Dad offered the money she needed to buy the building, but I knew he’d turn it into one of those soulless hipster brewpubs.” River scritched his blond beard. “I mean, I was right, but so was Charlie—save the bar first, then fight Dad’s proposed changes. Anyway, Charlie was furious. Cut me off cold."

Jojo’s brow rumpled. “Your dad’s a partner?”

River shook his head. “Funny—I had this big, painful confrontation with Dad about how he’s always trying to control my life. Lots of drama, but he finally agreed not to remake the bar—and then Gus stepped in with his insurance money, so Dawn didn’t even need Dad’s help. Charlie forgave me once she saw I was willing to swallow my pride. And now, I’m the luckiest bastard in Tacoma. I got a beautiful, smart lady who calls me on my shit and lets me go fishing.”

Diego blotted his damp hair with a towel. “Ima give you a run for your money on that luckiest bastard title.”

River clapped the cook’s shoulder. “I feel better about leaving with you looking out for Anna and Charlie while I’m gone.”

Diego grinned. “Like you say, man, hard proof. Anna still doesn’t quite believe I’ll stick around after the baby comes, so I’ll just have to wait her out.”

Eddie shook his head. Weird that Diego set his sights on a pregnant woman in the throes of a contentious divorce, but the chef knew what he wanted.

And so did Eddie. How to convince Rosie, though? Presents? Love letters? Abject begging? If only she needed something from him, he could give it to her. But all she wanted from him now was distance.

****

“Have another cookie.” Lana shoved the tray toward Rosie. She’d lured her out for breakfast before her shift at the tattoo parlor. Turns out that “breakfast” meant a mountain of pastries, an ocean of caffeine, and the wisdom of their girl posse, including Charlie and her sister Anna. While some singer-songwriter murmured breathy, ironic lyrics and the coffee machine hissed, the three of them tried to jolly Rosie out of her lovesick funk.

Rosie slumped forward, head in her hands. “Cookies don’t help.”

“The hell you say.” Anna chomped an oatmeal raisin bar.

Lana rubbed soothing circles on Rosie’s back. “It’s been nearly a week now. You should talk to him.”

“And tell him what?”

Charlie scooted her chair closer. “Just be honest. Tell him how you feel.”

“That’s the problem—I don’t know how I feel!” A headache poked the back of her eyeballs. Since last Thursday night, she must’ve shed a gallon of pointless tears, and for what? She deserved a boyfriend who cheered her victories, not a manager who put his job first—his temporary job, for Chrissakes—and put her feelings second. Eddie wasn’t the guy she thought he was. Too bad she hadn’t noticed that red flag before opening her heart like a damn barn door.

“Look,” Anna said, “He definitely should’ve reacted better to your good news, but maybe you should cut him some slack. Not all guys are good with words. Just last week, Diego called me gordita.”

Lana’s jaw dropped.

“What did you do?” Rosie asked.

“Clobbered him with a pillow, called him a clueless motherfucker, cried a little, then calmly explained that certain words are off-limits and why.” Her eyes twinkled. “He groveled real nice.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “I swear, you two are going to break that bed.”

“The point is,” Lana said, “you’re miserable, Eddie’s miserable, and you could fix this if you’d just talk to him.”

“He’s no good at talking about feelings. Neither am I.”

“And how do we get better?” Lana sing-songed. “Say it with me, boys and girls. We praaaactice.”

Charlie crossed her arms. “I’m with Rosie. Words don’t mean shit. Actions do. Eddie needs to prove