Love Until It Hurts (Crazy Love Book 2)

by Carmen DeSousa

  He shook his head. “Why don’t we just go? I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  “Nope!” Not too disappointed, I pulled the door closed behind me and trotted down the steps toward his truck. I really wanted our first time to be at his house, where there wasn’t a chance that my mother or father might come home early. Then again, Brock’s house hadn’t been so private. At least Brock’s ex-wife didn’t have a key, or at least I hoped she didn’t. I shook the thoughts from my head. I was just going out with Brock to have fun, nothing else. Why would I even care if he still had feelings for his ex-wife? I didn’t intend to fall in love; Brock would be my rebound, I decided, then I’d get on with my college life.

  Like the previous evening, Brock walked past me to the passenger side and opened the door.

  Since I hadn’t known that he drove a truck, I’d chosen one of the shortest skirts I owned. Not that he could see anything. I knew how to sit — or climb — in a micro skirt. But it looked like you could see something, and that was more than enough for some guys. As I pulled myself up, I glanced over my shoulder to see that Brock’s gaze was averted. The perfect gentleman — or maybe he was just nervous that he couldn’t control his thoughts around me. I rather liked that. Our kiss — kisses — on the dock, and then in his apartment had been hot.

  After I settled myself into the seat, he peered up at me from beneath those thick dark lashes and smiled, but then closed the door.

  He strolled around the front of the truck and, with one swift move, opened the door and pulled himself up onto his seat. He cranked the engine, but then turned to me before throwing the truck into drive. “Do you have any particular food requirements, or are you okay if I choose?”

  I chuckled. “As in … am I a vampire or something?”

  His lips pulled up only slightly, as though he were trying to hold back a smile. “I was thinking more like a vegetarian or carb-control freak, but vampire works. Is there a place you like to feed?”

  “No …” I laughed at his willingness to play along. “I pretty much eat whatever I find. There’s not a lot of food in my house. I tend to eat a lot of Taco Bell.”

  “You … like Taco Bell?”

  I folded my arms and gave Brock my best I’m offended pout. “Why are you so quick to think that I’m a spoiled rich girl? I happen to like a lot of simple things.”

  His eyes trailed from my face to my outfit, all the way to my Jimmy Choo boots. “It doesn’t look like you like simple things.”

  “Just because I can afford nice clothes doesn’t mean I don’t like Taco Bell.” I shook my head. We weren’t even out of the driveway, and we were already bickering. “Why don’t you just turn around if that’s all you think I am?”

  “Sorry …” Brock shook his head. “You’re right. That was uncalled for. And besides, I didn’t intend to take you to Taco Bell anyway. I get enough fast food during the week. If you’ll forgive my ill-mannered comment, I would like to take you to Tampa.”

  I released a long breath and sank back into the seat a little deeper, deciding that I didn’t have to jump out of a moving vehicle just yet.

  “Tampa sounds like fun. Lead the way.” Again, I had hoped that maybe we’d bump into a few of my friends if we stayed local. But maybe this would be better; we could actually get to know each other.

  Brock took Alternate 19 all the way to Drew Street instead of cutting over to Highway 19. It was slower, but it was definitely more scenic. I gazed longingly at the dock where we’d sat last night. Maybe that had been his plan. Truly, I could have just sat on that dock again, allowing the cool breezes drifting off the inland waterway — along with Brock’s fingers — to brush across my skin.

  He took the Gulf to Bay Causeway from Clearwater to Tampa, speaking only occasionally about the weather and how much he had enjoyed talking with my family last night. I listened intently, wanting to turn the conversation back to us, but more curious about where he was taking me, I kept my eyes and mind mostly on the road. In Tampa, he continued down Kennedy, passing the University of Tampa, then turned onto a side street. The truck vibrated as he pulled onto Grand Central Avenue, a street that was still paved with the red bricks of yesteryear. I looked up to see a boxing gym.

  “We gonna box over who pays this time?” I asked.

  Thankfully, he laughed. “No. I’m paying for today.” He pointed to an attached building, an older brick construction that had a fresh coat of pure white paint. The sign, if you could call it a sign, was on the third story and consisted of only two letters, O and E. “Have you been here?”

  “No,” I said hesitantly, wondering where he was taking me. We weren’t in Ybor, but even downtown Tampa had some unusual and quirky places, and here I was, as always, out where nobody knew I was. With a man I barely knew.

  “Don’t look so nervous. You’ll love it.”

  Had I looked nervous? I’d always thought I did a good job of hiding my thoughts. No other man had ever been able to detect what I was thinking.

  Brock hopped down from the truck and made his way to my side. Content to enjoy him being a gentleman while it lasted, I waited. It had been my experience that the door-opening and politeness almost always stopped after a couple of dates. He opened the door, and I slid out of the seat, covering my front with my purse.

  He took my hand with one swift move, not clumsily at all. I liked that, too. One of the things I’d appreciated about his kiss the previous evening, he hadn’t hem-hawed around or even hesitated. When he decided he was ready, he led the way.

  “The Oxford Exchange,” he said as he opened the glass entry door.

  A black-and-white marble floor greeted us, opening up to what looked like a small bookstore. Other than books, the black shelves and antique dark wood tables held interesting home décor pieces and unique trinkets, creating a homey atmosphere.

  Brock led me through a long hallway with black-stained wainscoting. “This building was originally built in 1891 as a stable for the famous Plant Hotel, which is now part of the University of Tampa.”

  The hallway opened up to an impressive two-story room with a black-and-gold staircase leading to a balcony. To the right, opposite two separate counters for coffee and tea, sat a two-story atrium, completely encircled by the same white brick as the exterior walls. Tables sat around a fountain in the middle of the room, and a massive skylight-style roof allowed the natural light from the sun to cast over lush green potted plants and palm trees.

  I inhaled the scent of coffee and baked goods, worried my stomach would start growling any second.

  Brock pointed to the café. “You want coffee and snacks, or lunch?”

  “Lunch would be great. I’m starving.”

  “Lunch it is,” he said, leading me out of the large room, through a gift shop, to a side door that led to the actual restaurant. “Two, please. On the patio, if possible.” He glanced down at me. “Outside okay for you?” he asked.

  “Great.”

  The hostess directed us to the atrium. Impressive. I was definitely pleased with Brock’s choice of restaurant.

  But then I stared at the menu the hostess handed me, second-guessing Brock’s choice for lunch when I saw one of the appetizers. “Brussels sprouts as an appetizer?”

  Brock chuckled. “Not a fan of Brussels sprouts? They’re actually really good, but I won’t make you eat your vegetables. I do recommend the sweet potato fries, though. They used to have an amazing burger, but they took it off the menu because they couldn’t keep the pork bellies in stock.”

  “Pork belly burger?” I cringed. I didn’t even know what a pork belly was, but it didn’t sound amazing, let alone healthy. “Eww …”

  “Don’t say eww before you try something.” He laughed. “You had to try it. It was on a pretzel bun, smothered in blue cheese and fried egg.”

  “I’ll try anything — well, most things — once, but I’ll take your word on the pork belly and Brussels sprouts. The chicken burger with avocado and jalapeños looks good.”


  “It is,” he assured me.

  After lunch, we strolled around the gift shop and bookstore. But finding nothing that I absolutely needed, I refused to pick up anything that even looked remotely interesting for fear that Brock would want to buy it. I wouldn’t have an unlimited credit card at my disposal forever; in fact, my father had made it clear that come January, if I wasn’t enrolled full time in college and working at least part time, he’d cut me off. Although I didn’t believe him for a second, I’d been looking for work … sort of. More like, asking my friends where they worked and if they liked it. But for the time being, my father made plenty of money to support me, so the last thing I wanted was Brock shelling out his hard-earned money.

  Brock glanced at his phone. “It’s early. We still have a few hours before I take you to where I really wanted to take you, so do you wanna hang out at Channelside for a while?”

  Channelside, I knew. My family and I had been on many cruises, and we’d come to The Florida Aquarium many times when I was a child. “Sounds great!” I stared up at Brock as he led me back to his truck. He’d only let go of my hand when we were seated to eat and when I had to excuse myself to use the restroom. It had felt strange in a way, but nice. Protective somehow, as though he thought someone on the street would try to run off with me. “This isn’t where you wanted to take me?”

  “Nope. That’s tonight. I guess I should have asked if you’re free this evening, too.”

  “I’ll have to check my schedule.” I pulled out my phone, and he glared at me. I turned it on, scanned the dozens of missed texts from Nathan and Morgan without reading them, then turned it off. “Looks like I’m free,” I chirped.

  Brock shook his head. “You enjoy messing with me, don’t you?”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I hooked my arm around his and pulled myself as close to his body as I could. “Yep!”

  He opened the door again, and I hopped up, not as carefully as the first time. I was so bad, and I knew it, but I really did enjoy messing with him. Not because I was a tease, though. I wasn’t even close to being a tease. I really liked Brock, I realized. My heart raced as I watched him walk around the front of the truck, his eyes sweeping the street. Again, he looked as though he were searching for a threat.

  “Nervous?” I asked when he hopped up.

  He glanced at me, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You keep looking around as though someone might attack us at any second.”

  He released a short puff of air. “Oh, that … That’s just a product of my youth,” he said with finality, then threw the truck into gear and backed out of the parking spot.

  I made a mental note to file away that conversation for later.

  Chapter 6 – Charity

  At Channelside, we sipped coffee and stared out over the bay. The weather was exactly what I expected from Florida in the fall. Seventy, sunny, and slightly less humid than normal.

  Kids and adults alike sent up claps and cheers and bon voyage wishes to passengers on a cruise liner as it made its way toward the bay. Scores of jubilant vacationers raised fruity concoctions in curvy plastic glasses as they danced to the sounds of a steel band. As though they were celebrities, the passengers who weren’t dancing leaned over the railings, waving at the strangers on the ground. I remembered that feeling. How good it felt to be sailing away from all the distractions in my world. Of course, I always had to hide some rum in my suitcase, since I couldn’t order any onboard.

  Brock nodded to the Big Red Ship. “Ever been?”

  “Yeah …”

  “Of course you have.”

  “You’re doing it again,” I hissed.

  “Sorry … You know, though. I’ll say it again, as I did on the dock. Well, maybe I didn’t say all of it.” He paused and looked down at a pigeon that had decided to scavenge the area around our table. “I like you, Charity. I enjoyed talking with you last night — when we weren’t arguing — and I’ve had fun today. Not that I’m looking to settle down tomorrow, but I know myself … if I like you, I’ll want to keep you.”

  His words caused me to choke on the sip of coffee I’d just taken. “Keep me?”

  “Jeez, Char. Not in a creepy, lock-you-in-a-basement way. I just meant that I don’t sleep around. Hell, I don’t even date around. I don’t like it. But … as much as I like you, I know your money will always be a stumbling block for us.”

  The sun felt good, so I raised my face to it, leaning back so my head was resting on the chair before I pointed out the obvious. “I don’t have any money, Brock.”

  “But your daddy the doctor does. And he keeps you in a lifestyle I’d never be able to afford.”

  I raised my head, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “If I threaten you so much, why did you ask me out again?”

  Brock ran his hand that wasn’t wrapped around his mug through his hair, something I’d wanted to do all day. His bronzed strands looked so darn tousled and soft. “Like I said, I like you, and I hate to date. I’ve had a few dates in the last two months, and it reminded me how much I hate being single.”

  “Now that’s something you don’t hear from most guys.” I scanned the patio as people started to make their way back to their tables.

  Brock leaned back in his chair. “I’m not most guys, and of course, you’re too young to know what you want.”

  Irritated, I shoved my coffee to the side and lowered my head so only he could hear me growl my response. “Dammit, Brock, if you tell me what I am or what I’m thinking one more time, I’m going to demand that you take me home. I’m not that young. I’m quite capable of making reasonable decisions. Plus, I dated one guy for a long time. Heck, almost as long as you were married. So I have a clue, you know. Just because your ex-wife was immature and cheated on you, doesn’t mean I would — I mean …” What did I mean? I wasn’t ready to be exclusive again, but in the same instance, I liked Brock, and I wasn’t willing to throw away a good man in hopes of finding a better one. Kayla had definitely taught me that lesson. “What I mean is … just because she did, that doesn’t mean all women are like her.”

  “Did you really never cheat on your ex? Even in high school?”

  “Never.” Even though I didn’t want to continue with this discussion, I said, “I guess I’ve never understood cheating … or the person who’d be willing to cheat with a married man or woman.” I realized I’d just thought this last night. “I mean … how could you ever trust someone who cheated on his partner with you? And why cheat? If you want someone else, why wouldn’t you just say so?”

  “I guess that’s easier if you’re not married.”

  Not that I knew what it was like to be married, but I waved my hand, dismissing that reasoning. It just didn’t make sense to me. “Whatever. Maybe I’m too straightforward. If I think something, it usually just comes out. I don’t have much of a filter between my head and mouth.”

  With that, Brock laughed, and I felt the weight on my chest lift again. I loved his laugh. I’d always envied people who had a good sense of humor. Rarely did people get my dry sense of humor, and few people were able to make me laugh aloud. Brock had laughed so easily over Thanksgiving dinner, making me feel all bubbly inside just by listening to him.

  Comforted by his laugh, I inched my fingers beneath his hand. I liked when he held my hand. “Let’s not worry about any of this stuff this weekend. Let’s just have fun. We can decide Monday if we want to go further.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Four days. I’d read somewhere that you could know if you liked someone in three days, which was the reason many women ended up sleeping with a man on the third date. I liked Brock, and I definitely didn’t want to wait three days, let alone four, but something told me I needed to be smart about going further with Brock.

  After a stroll along the dock and a few hours of window-shopping and people watching, Brock led me back to his truck. It was late in the day, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet, an
d Brock had mentioned that he had something else planned.

  “So …” Brock started as soon as he jumped into the driver’s side of the cab. “Where I’m taking you has light snacks, but not really a full menu. Are you hungry for dinner? If you want, we can eat beforehand?”

  “Nah, I’m still full from lunch and coffee. A snack would be perfect. Where’re we going?”

  “You’ll see. It’s not so much the place as it is the venue.”

  I smiled. I liked the sound of that.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Brock pulled into the parking lot of the mall. The International Mall was great and all, but it wasn’t my idea of a venue. I resisted commenting, in the event he knew something I didn’t. Nope. A couple minutes later he pulled up to the valet parking outside The Cheesecake Factory.

  “The mall?” I couldn’t help but ask, scrunching up my nose as he extended his hand to me. “Did you want to shop for an outfit before we go out?”

  He laughed. “I wasn’t planning to shop unless you want to. I was hoping to get a good table, though, which means we have to be early.” He leaned in close to my ear. “Not that I think you’ll need it, but you have your ID, right?” He’d emphasized the word ID, so I was pretty sure he was referring to the fake ID I’d told him about.

  I narrowed my eyes as I hopped out of the truck. “Yes …”

  Brock wrapped his arm around my waist as he exchanged the truck keys for a valet ticket. “Good.”

  A couple yards into the alley that led through scores of restaurants and storefronts with patio areas overflowing with umbrella-covered tables, Brock turned left into a place I’d seen but never bothered to check out. Blue Martini.

  Two stocky men dressed in dark suits stood sentry on either side of open double doors. The one on the right, a tall blond with shoulders that probably wouldn’t fit through most doorways, nodded. “Hey, Brock.”

  “Hey, Dan.” Brock lifted his chin in recognition, but didn’t slow his pace as he entered the establishment, probably hoping that they didn’t card me to enter. What I didn’t bother telling him was that I never got carded. Not by men, anyway.