All Rhodes Lead Here Read Online Mariana Zapata

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Mariana Zapata Advertisement1

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To be fair, any time he got home early enough—with the exception of a night he’d gone over to Johnny’s to play poker—Rhodes invited me over.

And of course I went.

Sitting as close to him as possible on the two nights we’d watched a movie with Amos sprawled in a recliner. We’d smiled at each other from across the table on another day when, after dinner, we’d played an old version of Scrabble that no one knew where it had come from. But the most special part was how he walked me back to the garage apartment every night we spent time together and he gave me a long, lingering hug afterward. Once and only once, he kissed me on the forehead in a way that made my knees tingle.

I didn’t think I was imagining the sexual tension every time my breasts got pressed against his chest.

So all in all, I was happier than I’d been in forever, in so many different ways. The hope that I’d gotten so many glimpses of over the last few months had grown bigger and bigger in my heart with every passing day. A sense of family, of rightness, wrapped around just about every part of me.

But on the twenty-third of December, when Clara and I were closing up the shop, she turned to me, seriously, and said, “I don’t think you’re getting out of here tomorrow.”

Covered in a down jacket I’d had forever that didn’t have enough filling for the temperatures we were having, I shivered and raised my eyebrows at her. “You don’t think so?”

She shook her head at me as she turned the lock on the door; we’d already set the alarm right before heading out. “I saw the radar. It’s going to be a big storm. I bet they’ll cancel your flight.”

I shrugged but didn’t want to worry about it. It had been snowing a lot, and tourists were still coming into town. Plus, it wasn’t like I could do anything about it. My superpowers didn’t extend to controlling the weather.

Pulling down the security gate that went over the door, Clara still wasn’t looking at me as she said in a funky voice, “I forgot to tell you . . . someone . . . some . . . charity, I think . . . paid off my dad’s medical bills for Christmas.” One dark brown eye caught mine before she focused back on the gate. “Isn’t that a miracle?” she asked, sounding just a little funny.

“Wow, that is a miracle, Clara,” I answered her, trying to keep my voice even and steady. Normal. Totally normal. Even my face was blank and innocent.

“I thought so too,” she said, peeking at me again. “I wish I could thank them.”

I settled for nodding. “But maybe they don’t need any gratitude, you know?”

“No,” she agreed. “Maybe not, but it still really means a lot to me. To us.”

I just nodded again, averting my eyes until she wrapped me in a hug and wished me a safe trip and a Merry Christmas. We’d exchanged presents yesterday. I had sent Mr. Nez and Jackie a gift too.

But that evening, after driving slowly home, I was upstairs in the studio apartment, folding some clothes so I wouldn’t leave the place a disaster zone that would give neat-monster Rhodes a migraine, when there was a knock downstairs, a creaky door being opened, and an “Angel?”

I smiled. “Hi, Rhodes.”

The sound of him on the stairs kept the smile on my face, but when he cleared the top and stopped right at the landing, it went a little bigger, about as big as I could muster.

The corner of Rhodes’s mouth twisted. He was in his uniform, but he must have gone inside his house first, because instead of his winter work jacket, he had on a dark blue parka with a fleece hood. It was pretty chilly outside. “Couldn’t fit your clothes into the suitcase balled up so you’re folding them?”

I gave him a flat look. “I used to wonder if Amos got his sarcasm from his mom, but now I get where it came from, and actually, I was folding them so you wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest if you came up here while I was gone so . . .”

He walked over and stopped beside the table, his cold, bare hand settling on top of my head. He eyed my small stacks of clothes—underwear in one pile, bras in another, mismatched socks over there.

I tipped my chin up and earned myself a rare smile. I swore he was handing them out to me left and right lately, and not like the precious currency they’d once been.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re something else, Buddy,” he said.

I set the T-shirt I’d been in the middle of folding down and squinted. “Can I ask you something?”


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