Spending a day as the guest of Llantano County wasn't his idea of big fun. Neither was getting released and realizing that it was, somehow, the tenth day. The Big Ten. A number that had absolutely nothing to do with Michigan football.
His loan payments were due. As much as Evangeline Williamson was a whiz of a lawyer, RJ wasn't about to let him off on this. Not even if Evangeline wielded her girlfriendly wiles. This was it. Zero hour.
And losing his club and his dreams of a restaurant were the last things on Rex's mind. Instead, he couldn't stop thinking about...about her. He got accused, constantly, of not being over Jen and he could testify to the fact that he was definitely past his ex-wife now. Because every time he took a breath, it was Adriana. Every time he blinked, it was Adriana.
Everywhere he turned, it was Adriana.
There was something wrong with him.
As he'd scrubbed away the feel of scratchy coveralls and phantom prison grime, he'd even pictured her with him there...in the shower...which made him only scrub harder, exfoliating two layers of skin.
Very. Very. Wrong.
And now here he was, doing the books, knowing this was probably the last time he'd ever check the liquor inventory--because there was no way he was sticking around to be RJ's general manager--and the only thing he could think about was across town in her fancy mansion probably cursing his name.
"Rex..."
Great. He was hallucinating her again. "Well, they say prison changes a man," he reminded himself, lightly, looking up and expecting to see empty space. Only...it wasn't empty. It was full of her. The real her...her chin-length hair all black and silky, her jeans riding low and her t-shirt cut high. She looked different. Older.
It had barely been two days. How was that even possible?
Him. It was his fault. He'd added those years to her. And that cynicism he'd seen in lock-up.
She watched his fingers clench around the pen, his face growing pale, and he almost seemed to sway on the bar stool. She wanted to reach out and steady him... no, she wanted to reach out and do more than that...so she clenched her fists, too, digging them into her thighs. "I let myself in," she murmured, calmly.
She'd shed all her tears, David rubbing her back until she was limp and exhausted. He'd felt so sorry for her that he'd just marched straight into the kitchen for a tub of Rocky Road instead of resuming the lecture. Overdosed on marshmallows and nuts, they'd sat together and talked about nothing and everything.
And she'd come to a decision.
Several, actually.
"Figures," Rex mumbled, finally finding the strength to stop acting like Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel. "I fired the door guys. Of course, RJ could just re-hire them."
"Actually, I'll re-hire them." Adriana said the words with a surprising amount of confidence. Not even channeling Dorian. Simply being herself. She had never known her capacity for strength until Rex had shown it to her.
"What?" His jaw dropped again. He couldn't have heard her right...
"Ultra-Violet...it's mine," she informed, just the barest hint of a tremor in her voice, the urge to touch Rex making her fingers itch. "So is the new property. David helped me make the arrangements this morning and RJ was all too happy to accept the payment."
"Y-you...you paid off RJ? You own my club?" Rex rubbed his temple. This could not be happening. He was still having some sort of delusional episode.
"Well, technically, David owns it. He co-signed on the contracts since I'm not of age," she admitted, sheepishly. It had given David a perverse thrill, actually, to take over Rex's properties. He saw it as fitting punishment for someone trying to play games with her. "You're lucky I didn't take a page out of Todd Manning's book and have him sent to a Turkish prison." Thankfully, he'd given her his word that any and all handling of Rex was her department, that he was only around to serve as her advisor. "And your dad, of course."
So, she was going to handle Rex.
Which brought her to decision two.
"I...I don't know anything about running a restaurant and neither does David, really, so...so, I'd actually like you to stay on." She rubbed her palms down her jeans, and then shoved her traitorous hands into her pockets. She could get through this. She had to. "RJ...RJ said you'd rather live on food stamps than work for him...is that...is that true for me, too?"
He glanced down at the ledgers by his elbow. The liquor inventory. They were running out of Blue Curacao. Who the Hell drank Blue Curacao? Whoever they were, the next time he saw a frou-frou blue girly drink, they were out.
It was a simple thought that told him he'd all ready made his choice. Probably halfway through her offer. Maybe even before that.
Hell. He'd been a sucker for her since day one.
"I'll stay." He slid off the stool. "Thank you," he whispered, with manners Roxy never taught him, trying to be the man Adriana thought he was. "Thanks for giving me my place back even though I totally don't deserve it."
"That's just it...you do." She met him half-way...and then all the way, finally allowing herself to hug him. He held himself back for only a moment...and then he was slipping his arms around her. "Rex...you thought you had nothing to learn from me. But you're wrong."
"Third thing?" he asked, quietly, lips brushing her hair, hands finding and clinging to the curves of her hips.
"Third thing," she confirmed.
"You know...I think I'm starting to get the hang of it." He laughed, shakily, leaning his forehead against hers. "And I have no idea how I'm going to wait two years to see it through." After all, there was nothing quite like actually going ahead and committing the crime you were accused of, right?
Adriana giggled. "River didn't do his Internet research. Pennsylvania's age of consent is sixteen. They wouldn't have had a case." She stretched up on her toes, her mouth just a millimeter from his. "You don't have to wait."
"You'd be worth it," he said, raggedly, wondering just how long he could hold out.
"I know." Her smile deepened, reached all the way to her eyes and beyond.
Yeah. He was a goner.
"Antonio's not gonna bust in and hit me again, is he?"
"He might."
"I guess I'll take the risk."
"Te amo," she whispered. "It means 'I love you.'"
"I know." And the admission was as soft as the way he kissed her. "Thanks for teaching me."
"Thanks for learning." She pressed her palm to his cheek, kissing him back so fiercely that it stole what sense he had left.
And replaced it.
With wonder.
June 15, 2004.