Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

by A. Marie

Beckett shoots off the bed in a flash, saying, “No, please, continue your pity party.”

  Pillow in hand, I sit up and cock my arm back. I launch it across the room but Beckett’s freakishly long body is already at the door and, quicker than I thought someone his size capable, he opens and closes it, barely making a sound. The pillow, however, smacks against the wall with a soft thump before landing unceremoniously to the floor. Okay, so my timing and aim were both a little off.

  Next thing I know, Beckett’s obnoxious laughter wakes the rest of Creekwood.

  Like I said, worst Saturday morning ever.

  * * *

  Hot Spots being slammed all day worked out well for several reasons. For one thing, I barely had enough time to catch my breath, never mind fixate on Beckett’s early morning admission. Another reason being I only saw Joe once today and it was when I pulled in for my shift. Luckily, he was helping a customer so I was able to skirt by without notice. I had to take the long way around the building for breaks but the extra exercise was worth avoiding my handsy boss.

  Just getting home from grocery shopping, my phone rings, cutting off the song “Won’t Go Down Easy” by Jaxson Gamble. When I see UNKNOWN light up the screen, I yank it off the cord and answer it.

  “What are you doing?” a male voice asks.

  “Who is this?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Angela.” Something about the voice seems familiar. Fucking rude, but familiar. “Where are you?”

  The shrill ringing of warning bells fills my ears.

  “Joe? I already left for the day.”

  He just laughs. What’d I miss?

  “I know. Do you think you could meet me?”

  The bells are now screeching full volume.

  “Can it wait ‘til my next shift? I have a bunch of food I need to get inside.” A bunch is a bit of an overstatement but sounds better—more responsible. Unlike Joe’s callous behavior the other night.

  Out of habit, I glance around to see if the boys are home. They’re not. Their bikes are gone.

  The lampposts lighting the dim parking lot buzz with swarms of bugs surrounding the bulbs.

  It’s quiet. Too quiet. The sudden urge to get upstairs is overwhelming.

  “I can meet with you when I come in tomorrow.”

  “That won’t work. I can’t talk about this there. It’s about Amity.”

  Amity? “I don’t really know her. Not sure how I’d be any help.”

  “I think she’s stealing.”

  I pause, my hands full of my two reusable grocery bags. I’d already suspected Amity was the one to lift those tips that day we shared a shift but I didn’t have enough proof to say anything. At the time though, it had seemed like Joe was captain of Team Amity, so now I’m wondering what happened to make him bow out of her corner. And more importantly, why is he bringing this up to me?

  “That’s why I need you to take over her shifts. We need to discuss the change. Privately.”

  Leaning against my Jeep, I kick a pebble with my shoe, sending it skidding across the deserted asphalt.

  “I already said I would talk to you about that after I graduate. I can’t take over Amity’s shifts while I’m still in school. I’m not sure what else we would need to talk about.”

  “I could come to you.”

  What? Why the hell is he pushing this? There’s no plausible explanation for us to meet after hours. Plus, he has to know I don’t trust him after the shit he pulled. Right?

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll talk to you at work.”

  “You know I could just get your address from the office, don’t you?”

  My heart stops. My address. The day he insisted I write down my apartment number comes to mind. Fuuuuck.

  I scan my surroundings again. I’ve been so busy wondering about those nosey neighbors of mine that I didn’t even think to look for anyone else. Straightening, I hurry over to the building, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “Actually, I need to let you go. Some friends are stopping over so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I don’t wait for his response before hanging up. Hopefully the thought of a crowd will scare him off. Although he seems to be growing bolder, I can only hope he doesn’t get reckless. Regardless, Joe threatening to use my address has my stomach in knots. I’m not sure what I’d do if he followed through and I don’t plan on finding out.

  CHAPTER 20

  Angela

  As it turns out, Joe’s dilemma wasn’t all that pressing. Imagine my surprise when I found out Little Miss Thievery herself would be working alongside me today. Then to confuse matters more, Joe treated Amity much the same as he did the last time the three of us shared a shift. Flirtatious. Familiar. Baffling. Downright disgusting. All further proving that the crap Joe tried selling me last night was just that—shit.

  The only saving grace was that with the object of his affections—and suspicions—present, it kept Joe away from me. The three of us worked well together, meaning they worked and flirted while I kept to myself in the front drying cars, washing and folding towels, scrubbing invisible stains off my shoes, pretending to tan in full view of witnesses—I mean customers—during lulls, and any other menial task I could think of.

  Sadly, during one of those faux chores some tips magically went missing. It’s not hard to pinpoint exactly who the thief was—their name rhymes with calamity—but I would like to know whether or not Joe knows. If he does, what’s he going to do about it? And if not, am I willing to risk my job by throwing her stealing ass under the already unprofessional bus? I don’t know the answers yet, but that money was earned by my hands which is where it should’ve stayed, damn it.

  * * *

  Less tips means eating in, so after a measly dinner of frozen tortellini—ketchup doubles as tomato sauce, right?—I’m on my bed scrolling through new music when there’s a round of four knocks at the door.

  Louder than necessary, I yell, “Who is it?” Truthfully, I could’ve spoken normally and they would’ve heard me, but I want whoever is on the other side to know I can, and will, be loud. Also, I wait for an answer before opening it this time.

  “Your incredibly sexy neighbor ready to take you for the ride of your life.”

  Despite the cheesiness, I grin and pull the door open to a drop-dead gorgeous Coty. He wasn’t joking about the incredibly sexy part. I’m almost positive he wasn’t kidding about the ride either.

  On the verge of blushing from images his statement creates, I cross my arms, throwing on my best scowl.

  “Damn, I was hoping it was Beckett.”

  Coty’s eyebrows snap together. His roommate’s earlier words about him being jealous more than ever come to mind.

  I drop my arms and the act.

  “I’m kidding.” I roll my eyes, smiling at his resistance to budge. God, what a beautiful mess. He said he could handle messy, didn’t he? I don’t think he knew just how messy things could get. “What’s this ride you’re offering?”

  “Funny girl. Are you ready?”

  “Let me change and I’ll meet you down there.”

  Coty rushes to stop me from closing the door though.

  Arching an eyebrow, I watch as he reaches behind his back, grabbing something from his back pocket. Next, he presents a black hoodie—his black hoodie.

  “Here. I grabbed this for you in case it gets cold.” Quieter, he says, “It doesn’t have the drawstring.”

  I snap my gaze back to him.

  “I, uh, took it out. Last time you said yours hurt your back?”

  A slow smile stretches my face. He’s always protecting me, almost on instinct at times. Standing before me now is a nervous Coty though. He’s giving me a glimpse of his soft heart and hoping I don’t throw it in his face. I want to show him how appreciative I am, how much this one small thing means to me, how nobody in my life has ever tried to prevent such a minor inconvenience for me—the inconvenience people usually try to avoid is me—but I don’t trust myself to speak.
Not right now. So, dropping my eyes from his, I take it, then close the door softly.

  On my bed, I bring Coty’s sweatshirt up to my face and inhale. His signature scent hits me and I’m done for. I’ve come to crave his smell and having it here in my apartment feels better than it should. It feels like it belongs. My fragrance and his—blended in perfect harmony, neither fighting for the spotlight, just happy to share the stage with one another.

  I debate whether I should invite him in or just ditch altogether. When I hear the roar of his engine outside, the decision becomes clear. I’m already in further than I originally wanted. Turns out there’s nothing light and easy about the boy next door. Some semblance of boundaries can still be set though. Establishing rules now will help if I need to push him away later—not if, when. When my hideous past resurfaces, it’ll be easier to walk away if neither of us gets too deep. I just hope wading in won’t take us both under in the meantime.

  With one last creeptastic whiff, I change into warmer clothes—black leggings paired with a white tunic covering my ass finished by my all-black Adidas sneakers. I throw on Coty’s oversized hoodie and look in the mirror. I am in so much trouble. Taking a deep breath and sending up a silent prayer, I need all the help I can get, I go down to meet my incredibly sexy neighbor ready to take me for the ride of my life.

  Beckett and Marc beat me out there but Coty is quick to explain they’re not joining us.

  “Nice hoodie, Angie.”

  The appreciation in Coty’s eyes matches Beckett’s words. I look down at my outfit feeling my body buzz.

  “Thanks. I love it.” My teeth catch like part of my recent pasta just slipped out. I chance a peek at the guys but nobody seems to realize the weight of what just happened. Everyone’s too lost in their own convoluted worlds to notice the turmoil in mine.

  Suited up and ready to go, the roommates call out their traditional motto.

  I tip my face to Coty.

  “You guys are always saying that. What does it mean anyway?”

  “Ride it? It means to ride life, don’t let it ride you. It’s a reminder that no matter what gets thrown at you, you still have the power to decide how you maneuver through it. Riding motorcycles is the truest testament to that since even a small pebble can send the strongest of riders reeling.”

  Already wearing his helmet, he helps me get mine on. In my Coty-induced haze I forgot to tie my hair back, so he helps to tuck it away from my face as I place the helmet over my head.

  Beckett catches my eye, nodding as he passes.

  “What was that?”

  Coty’s face has taken on a darkness that wasn’t there before.

  I tip a shoulder up. “Neighbor secret language. Didn’t you get the memo?”

  “Guess I didn’t. Is that the same one that states Beck gets to wake you up with breakfast?”

  Although playful, his words carry a tinge of hurt to them. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t hear from him about it sooner.

  “Jealous?”

  Head dropped, his answer’s immediate. “Extremely.”

  “Nobody gave Beckett permission to do that. And he just talked about you the whole time anyway, so you have nothing to be jealous of. Trust me.”

  He doesn’t look up so I grab the mouthpiece of his helmet and lift until our eyes meet.

  “Hey.”

  Lost in his thoughts, he remains quiet.

  I grip the hoodie and his eyes follow the movement. “This means a lot.” Finally, Coty’s gaze reaches mine. “Any asshole lacking manners can interrupt a good sleep. But this, this means so much more than any unwelcome wake-up call ever will.”

  I lean in, forgetting I have a helmet covering my face, and bump awkwardly against his. We both laugh at my mistake, breaking the tension from a moment ago. He bends until our helmets are pressed together, face-to-face, and pauses. Our eyes flit between each other’s as we hold the unconventional embrace.

  “Don’t be mad,” I whisper.

  “I’m not mad. I’m jealous as hell. I want mine to be the first face you see in the morning. Not Beckett’s. Not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

  Whoa. Coty didn’t even bother checking the temp of the water before diving straight in, did he?

  Unable to respond in an effective, or generally mature manner, I deflect. “You do not want to see me first thing when I wake up. You should be grateful, really. Your friend took one look at me and ran the other way. Seriously, he’ll never make that mistake again.”

  His eyes narrow but he smirks anyway. “I doubt that.”

  Coty steps back and holds out his hand. I stare at his long, outstretched fingers, debating.

  When I meet those chocolate eyes again, he repeats, “I’ll wait.”

  Coty is so much more than I could’ve anticipated. He pushes but also pulls. He gives while taking. He knows what I need and offers me what I didn’t realize I wanted. He’s the wild I thought was unattainable. He’s the stability I’ve craved for so long but gave up on. He’s the wrench thrown into my simple plan, but, oh, what a delicious diversion he’s been.

  Placing my hand in his, I decide to swim with the current instead of against it for once. Maybe that really is the best way to get back on shore safely.

  There’s only one way to find out though.

  CHAPTER 21

  Angela

  Coty’s body feels different. This entire situation feels different. More familiar. More comfortable. Our bodies being better acquainted, feel more at ease against each other. We bend and shift with one another in a private slow dance while driving at dangerous speeds.

  Coty’s skills prove impressive again, especially as he maneuvers around every dip and curve with full confidence. It’s erotic. Every now and then he reaches back to rest his hand on my thigh. Almost like he’s checking on me as much as he’s ensuring I’m really there. I relish the times he does.

  My body molded to his isn’t enough. I want more—of everything.

  Stretched around him has reignited the flame that he lit the other night. The patience I’ve been practicing has run out and in its place is want. Pure, unadulterated want.

  I keep my hands planted on the tank while Coty takes us further away from town. Miles off the lit highway, we weave through dark country roads. Just when I start to worry about where he might be taking me, Coty, of course, reaches back to hold my thigh reassuringly even as we fly down a straight path. His touch soothes me. While I haven’t known Coty all that long, I’ve picked up on more than he’s shared, too. I may not be able to trust him with my heart because of my own issues, but I know I can trust him with my body. His father’s unfaithful ways caused Coty to respect women in a way most guys his age can’t even grasp. Or care to. Anytime I’ve asked him to stop, he has. Without question. Without even a moment’s hesitation. I know he wouldn’t make me do anything I don’t want to do which I’ve used as my safety net thus far. Now though, I’m having a hard time caring about the consequences at all.

  Speeding through the night while wrapped in an intoxicating mixture of Coty and his motorcycle has me almost bursting out of my own skin. The combination is overstimulating in the best and worst of ways. The next time Coty squeezes my taut thigh, I groan and rest my forehead against his back, pulling in deep breaths. Coty’s warm hoodie does nothing to counteract the goose bumps that’ve broken out across my body. There’s a goddamn current buzzing beneath my skin and Coty’s the one with the switch in his adept hands.

  I feel like a caged animal.

  “Wrong” by ZAYN filters through the Bluetooth speakers so I try to lose myself in the lyrics instead of my dirty thoughts. Coty’s body tenses but he continues driving with the same precision, clearly not as affected as I am. Thankfully, one of us still has a level head. I’m itching to run my hands all over him and his steadfast restraint. If we were in any other vehicle, I’d have tested his resolve ten times over by now. Maybe. Probably.

  We pass a half-open gate, slowing to a crawl, then turn onto a d
irt path on an incline. My sole focus on Coty turns to our surroundings. No street signs, no lights, no indication as to where we are, my heart keeps a pace more comparable to our previous speed. We haven’t passed another vehicle for miles and I couldn’t pick this place out on a map in broad daylight. Vast hills line the road on each side, effectively blocking out everything but me and Coty and the brap of his street bike as it effortlessly coasts along the less than desirable terrain.

  Minutes pass and suddenly thousands of tiny lights appear in the distance. Drawing closer to the ledge, my breath catches in my throat upon discovering it’s our entire town spread out beneath us like a tiny replica made for our personal enjoyment.

  Coty slows to a stop near the edge and kills both the engine and the only noise filling the sultry night air. Neither of us moves for a moment. Hypnotized, I dismount carefully, then spin in a complete circle while taking in the stars above, the looming mountains behind us, and the flat stretch of city below. Making it back to Coty, I find him looking at me with similar awe. He holds out his hands so he can help. I step forward and let him, keeping my eyes on his. Helmets taken care of, Coty looks back to me with an intensity that heats me from the inside out. I don’t step back even as he pulls my body flush with his. I don’t drop my eyes even as he brings his hands up to cup my face. I don’t pull away even as I feel him seducing me with everything he’s got.

  Coty hesitates, giving me the option to stop. Not even close to done though, I reach my hand around the back of his head and press my lips to his. Starting out sweet, almost exploratory, it quickly turns heated, passionate. It’s rough and desperate and long fucking overdue.

  Coty groans and the husky sound shoots straight to my core, making me grip his hair. My other hand rests on his neck nearly covered by his leather jacket. He pulls back abruptly, unzipping his coat entirely, only to dive back in again. It’s the only skin I can reach and I take full advantage. With a tilt of my head, I deepen the kiss I’ve been craving since he showed up at my front door offering me his modified hoodie. A hand to my ass, Coty yanks me up and over the bike, setting me on the gas tank, facing him.