Brock drummed his fingers on the center console. “About a month.”
I slowed as we approached Morgan’s house. Morgan and I had gotten close in the last eight months, so she’d definitely want details about Brock, too. I’d only been using Morgan at first, looking for dirt on Jesse, but she and I had become friends over the last eight months. At least, I thought we were friends. I’d never really had any real girlfriends, so I wasn’t quite sure. Probably we just felt we had something in common because we both felt jilted by our ex-boyfriends. Plus, I was the only person who knew she’d had an abortion.
“Do you like being a plumber?” I asked as I slowed the car to a near crawl.
“Not really.”
Not sure where to go after that answer, since that had been the major discussion earlier in the evening, and I’d assumed he liked his job, I focused on finding a place to park.
Morgan’s front yard, which normally had a spectacular view of the inland waterway of the Gulf of Mexico, was packed with cars. Evidently, I wasn’t the only teenager who wanted to get out of the house on Thanksgiving after being cooped up with family all day. Morgan had said that her parents would be out of town until Sunday, so anyone who wanted to crash at the party should bring a sleeping bag. I’d stashed mine in the trunk of my car earlier in the day. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need it, though. All I wanted was an hour or so at the party, to see if Nathan showed up; then I’d be more than happy to take Brock home.
A Mercedes pulled out of a spot near the road so I darted into it. After shifting into park, I leaned over the center console and stared up at Brock, hoping he was in a better mood. “Ready?”
He released a short puff of air resembling a laugh, then reached into the door pocket. He sure huffed a lot, but maybe that was because I’d supposedly blindsided him. As much as I wanted to get him inside the house, I really wanted him to loosen up. I’d told myself that I only wanted to make Nathan and all my friends jealous, and that Brock was good enough for a few hours of fun, but now I wanted more. I had enjoyed laughing and talking — without being drunk. Something inside of me actually wanted more of that.
Brock held the cigar he’d evidently purchased with my money up to his nose and inhaled. “Thanks for the smoke, Char! I’ll be across the street while you’re partying with your friends. Come get me when you’re ready to take me home.”
“What?” I bolted upright. “You said you’d go.”
He smiled, but it still wasn’t the friendly smile from earlier, just a quick turn up of his lips that didn’t show his teeth. “No, I didn’t say I’d go. I asked you how far away the party was.” As if he didn’t possess a care in the world, he opened the door and strolled across the street, toward the dock that jutted out over the inland water of the Gulf.
I jumped out of the car, grabbed the plastic bag from the back, then charged after him as if my life depended on it. Why was I chasing down this guy? I’d wanted to look good. Now I looked like a fool. As always.
At the end of the dock, he plopped down and pulled a packet of matches out of his pocket. After taking a few puffs, he leaned back. “Ahh … it’s been a while.”
My eyes took in the gnarled and cracked slats of wood that were masquerading as a dock. Looked like a colony of termites had celebrated Thanksgiving by feasting on it. Just what I needed … for the heels of my Jimmy Choos to slip through one of the gaps. I stared at the back of Brock’s head, wondering if he was worth the trouble.
Rings of smoke swirled up in the breeze, sending the scent of the sweet-smelling cigar directly at me. I imagined the smoke materializing into a hand, its finger crooking, beckoning me forward, like one of those old cartoons Gramps used to watch. And to beat all, as if I were in some sort of trance, I found myself stepping out on the rickety dock, gingerly walking toward the man who was starting to get on my last nerve.
Brock patted the wood planks beside him. “Have a seat, Char.”
I glanced down at what could only be described as kindling, which was certainly covered in bird droppings, fish scales, and God only knows what else. I’d paid nearly two hundred dollars for this dress. I didn’t intend to sit on fish scum.
Brock cocked his head and smiled. One of those cute sideways smiles that lifted up his left cheek. I was certain guys learned about that flirtatious, non-threatening smile in men’s magazines, listed on the front as How to drive girls wild with just your smile. “Oh … sorry, princess.” He set down the cigar and pulled his shirt over his head, then spread the black T-shirt over the weathered wood next to him. He patted the boards again. “That work? Or are you too good to sit down on anything other than a leather seat?”
“Just because I don’t want to sit on bird feces and fish guts doesn’t mean I think I’m too good.” Irritated at his remark, I set the bag on the dock, then inched my way down, a difficult task in the form-fitting dress. He offered me his hand as he helped me situate my rear on his shirt. After I finally got comfortable, as comfortable as I could get sitting on a termite smorgasbord, I reached for one of the Mike’s. I definitely needed a drink to calm down.
Brock reached for the bottle in my hands, twisted off the cap, then handed it back, his tattooed chest and arms now open for inspection. He had a tattoo on both of his upper arms. The one closest to me was a sword with a thorny vine wrapped around it. My eyes followed the vine, noticing it branched over his shoulder, covering the uppermost part of his chest, then twisted around a shield. Armor, of some sort.
Interesting, but I didn’t want to ask. Not yet. He’d already demanded too much of my attention. Here I’d thought I’d gotten my way, and instead, he’d managed to get me to follow him like I was some lost puppy. Just like Nathan used to do to me. When would I learn?
He picked up the cigar, holding it up as if in question. “Do you mind?”
Childish, I knew, but I couldn’t resist rolling my eyes. “Would it matter if I did?”
He smiled, a genuine smile again. He really was to die for — when he stopped brooding. And truly, it was sweet of him to ask if I minded if he smoked. None of the other guys I’d gone out with had ever cared what I thought.
“Of course, it would matter,” Brock said. “If the smoke bothers you, I’ll put it out. But I don’t drink, so this is one of my favorite ways to unwind. Not that I do it often. This is the first one I’ve had in six months.”
I shrugged, letting him know I didn’t care. I didn’t smoke, but plenty of my friends did. I never saw the benefit. Might as well roll up dollar bills and smoke them. At least Brock was trying to unwind. Maybe I could talk him into going to the party after he finished his cigar. As much as I wanted to get this man alone somewhere, the first thing I wanted was to show him off.
Under the street lamp, I noticed his dark hair had subtle highlights. I doubted Brock was the type of man to sit in a hairdresser’s chair with foils on his head, so the wisps of blond and bronze had to be natural. His body was lean, but muscular. Just watching the way his forearms and biceps had flexed when he passed me the bowl of mashed potatoes earlier had me wiggling in my chair. His skin was tanned, too, something I could never manage. I was as pale as Snow White, with hair just as dark. If I had ruby-red lips, I could play the lead, I imagined, even though my body wasn’t anywhere near the Disney Princess type. I was tall, and I didn’t have an hourglass figure. Not that any man had ever complained, especially since I was well-enough endowed up top.
A spicy, woodsy smell from the cigar permeated my senses. As if I wasn’t already turned on enough, the aroma sent a wave of longing through me. I took a swig from the bottle, then licked my lips, catching his eyes watching me.
Without knowing why, I leaned forward, feeling a tickle in my stomach I couldn’t ignore. He’d yelled at me, thrown my money at me, stormed off from me, and yet, I ached for him to kiss me.
He set down his cigar again, then turned to me. He tilted his head slightly, but didn’t move in for the kiss he knew I wanted.
As if confused, he sho
ok his head. “What do you want from me, Charity? Why did you really bring me here?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
“I’m not your type. You know it, and I know it.”
“How do you know you’re not my type?”
He released a long breath. It didn’t sound like his earlier huffs, though. It sounded … sad. “I’d never be able to buy a woman a BMW.”
“I have a BMW.”
“I’d never be able to buy a house on the water.”
“I hate waterfront property. Too many bugs. Although, beachfront property is nice, but I already have one of those, too.”
“Why don’t we just call this what it is, and forget we ever met —”
“Brock?”
His eyes widened, as if shocked that I’d said his name. “Yes?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Without another word, his hand moved to the back of my neck, and he pulled me to him, almost roughly. He could deny all he wanted that we weren’t each other’s type; his actions said otherwise. His lips met mine, parting me, dipping inside. The spicy taste of the cigar was like burning incense, soothing me right into his embrace. I gulped in a breath. His mouth was hot, wet, demanding, exploring. My stomach flipped again as heat rushed downward, pulsing through me.
Forget the party. Maybe I should just take him home.
“Char?”
I jolted upright as the familiar voice ripped through me. “Nathan?”
“Uh … yeah! Morgan said you were coming … alone … to see me.” My ex shook his head and grunted. “Clearly, you’re the same spoiled bitch you’ve always been. The one who wants attention from everything in pants. I should have known better. I thought you’d changed.”
Chapter 2 – Brock
I watched as Charity charged after the boy who’d interrupted our kiss. They were out of hearing range now, but I caught enough of their comments to make out the gist of the conversation.
He’d broken up with her eight months ago, supposedly because she was a flirt.
What a fool, I thought, then wondered if I was talking about him or myself. I picked up my cigar and walked along the riverbank until I was far enough away from their lover’s quarrel that I couldn’t hear them. Why should I care that she’d taken off after him? Why should it bother me?
It didn’t bother me. I’d only known her for a few hours, and she’d already lied to me, insulted me, and chosen another man over me.
“What were you thinking? Another spoiled Daddy’s Girl!” I couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped my throat, even though the situation wasn’t even remotely funny. History liked to repeat itself, it seemed. When would I ever learn? Sadly, I was a sucker when it came to women, and Charity was one of the hottest women I’d ever seen. But that wasn’t what had attracted me to her. All night she’d been easy-going and sweet — or at least I thought she was — which was more important than looks. Eating Thanksgiving dinner with her family, watching how much in love Jesse and Kayla were, had obviously messed with my head, reminding me of what I’d lost in a few short months. Especially since my ex had tried to call me nearly a hundred times. I’d texted her a: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME NOW? But she hadn’t texted back, which was odd. She’d always preferred texting over a phone call. Then again, that’s when we were married. Back when she didn’t want to take the chance that her lover might make a sound I’d hear over the phone.
More than likely she’d found something of mine that she wanted me to get out of the house — her house. Whatever it was, if I hadn’t missed it in more than a month, I probably didn’t need it anyway. I certainly didn’t have any room to spare in my one-bedroom apartment.
An engine revved. I turned to see Charity’s red convertible. She lowered her window. “Brock, I’m sor —” She cut off her words and shook her head. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
I thought about my options. I didn’t have many. I could call a taxi, but that’d probably cost a hundred bucks, and I didn’t have money to burn. I didn’t have anyone to call either. My boss was with his new girlfriend’s family. Jesse was with his new wife. And I hadn’t hung out with any of my old friends in so long — because my ex hadn’t wanted to associate with them, then I’d been too busy working my butt off to connect with them after my marriage failed. It’d be wrong to call them on a holiday and ask for a ride. I could walk home. It probably wouldn’t take more than three hours. Three hours I could use to assess why I was so stupid when it came to women.
Charity pulled her car off the road, blocking me. I could walk around her. Run away from her, which I should do, but that would look ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that a dark-skinned man like myself, dressed all in black, nonetheless, shouldn’t be caught running in a swanky neighborhood like this. If I’d learned one thing from my youth, it was that I’d better not be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Innocent or not.
Instead, I just folded my arms and stared at her through the open window. “What happened to your friend?”
She shook her head. “Not my friend, or couldn’t you tell?”
“For not being a friend, you sure ran after him quickly enough.”
“His comment ticked me off. I never flirted with other guys when I was with him, unless Nathan asked me to. He broke up with me because he wanted to spend the rest of his senior year as a free agent.”
The comment she’d nonchalantly tucked in between two complaints confused me. I knelt down and stared at her through the window, wondering if I’d heard her correctly. “He asked you to flirt with other guys?”
Charity dropped her head, and I could tell she was telling the truth, maybe for the first time all night. “Yeah. He’d get off on the idea of other guys watching me, but not being able to have me. He’d make me —”
I raised my hand. “I don’t think I want to know.” I opened the door and slid back in. “Just take Alternate 19. I’ll lead you in as we get closer.”
Charity shifted the car into gear and headed south.
The girl was an enigma. At the house, she’d been sweet and shy, laughing at everything I said, but when she got into her car, it was as if she had turned into another person. Who had I been kissing when she said she didn’t need a BMW or a house on the water? I’d said the words to scare her, and she’d taken my challenge. I hadn’t been scared, though. I’d been enthralled, wanting to scoop her up in my arms and insist that she take me home.
Maybe it was because it was a holiday, because my life had felt over when my wife cheated on me. My life didn’t feel over anymore, though. I felt alive. Because one stupid girl who was too young to know what she wanted in life was driving me home.
As though it were a test, other than giving directions, neither of us said a word during the thirty-minute drive. I was good at the silent game. Dealing with my ex-wife’s lies, which made it pointless to respond, had made me an expert at keeping my thoughts to myself.
“Next right,” I said. “You can just drop me off up front. You don’t need to wind through all these roads. You might get lost getting out.”
“Give me a little credit, will ya? I’m great with finding my way. If not, I always have GPS on my iPhone.”
“Of course you do.” I laughed. “Even with Google Maps, though, my ex-wife couldn’t find her way out of a mall. God forbid when she went to the multi-level ones.”
Charity flashed me a scowl.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She stopped at the first intersection and glared at me again. “Where am I going?”
“All the way to the back of the complex, then take a right. My apartment’s in the last building at the end of the last road. I like the woods in the back, being away from the road.”
She nodded. “Looks like a cool place to live.”
“It is. Safe area. Inside is nice too. All new interiors, great balconies. It doesn’t feel like an apartment complex.” Why had I offered that information? It wasn’t as though I planned to ask her up, so what dif
ference did it make what the inside looked like?
“Hmm …” was all she said in response, which made me wonder what she was thinking, what she’d been thinking for the last half hour.
She weaved the car around the islands in the middle of the road, making her way to my place. I pointed to a guest parking spot beside my truck. She pulled in and turned off her car.
Even though I suddenly wanted to, I couldn’t ask her up. With everything that was inside of me, I wanted this beautiful woman in my arms tonight. I wanted to kiss her again. But that would be stupid. It would be more than stupid; it’d be moronic.
“You want me to come up?” Charity asked.
I released a long breath and closed my eyes. No, I don’t want you to come up, I tried to force myself to say, but the only word that escaped my mouth was, “Yes.”
Without hesitation, she opened her door, so I grabbed the plastic bag and jumped out of the car. Thankfully, I’d cleaned up my apartment this afternoon. It had only been my boss picking me up, but I didn’t want him to think I was a slob, which I wasn’t. Not really. But living on my own for the first time in my life had given me some liberties. I washed dishes when I wanted. Kept my shoes wherever I wanted. And ate all my meals at the coffee table, so that’s where all my books and magazines stayed, too.
Charity followed me to the third floor without a word. Only her perfume spoke to me. The soft scent I’d breathed in when we’d kissed. Somehow, she smelled like the beach. The feel of her skin and hair when I’d pulled her to me assaulted my senses. I could kill that guy for interrupting our first kiss.
After slipping the key into the lock and opening the door, I strolled to the glass doors and opened them, assuming she’d like to be in the open air.
Charity walked right to my sofa and plopped down. “Can you hand me one of those?”
“You want ice?”
“Nope.”
I popped off the cap, then set the bottle on the side table. “Can I ask you a favor?”
Love Until It Hurts (Crazy Love Book 2) Page 2