by Marie James
I’m not saying I want some sort of exclusive thing with Khloe, but I have to take what Emmalyn said yesterday to heart. Khloe is not a club whore, and if I have any less than noble intentions with her I need to walk away. It would be beyond fucked up to think I can fuck around with the club girls while waiting for Khloe to turn eighteen.
Since I can’t let go of the idea of Khloe, I know I have to do exactly what Kincaid ordered. I have to keep my dick in my pants; not just around Khloe, but any woman until I can figure out exactly what my end game with the beautiful, auburn-haired woman actually is.
I hit the shower and stroke it out even though I know it’s only a temporary fix for the ache in my balls.
Twenty-seven days. And that’s only if she’s interested in me. I remember the way she asked me to kiss her last night and smile. Seems like at this point, I’m a shoe-in.
Chapter 13
I’m so glad Kid offered to hang out today; it kept me from begging him not to disappear like he did the day before. I have no idea if he works, but it’s Tuesday and he doesn’t seem to have anywhere to be. It works in my favor, I guess.
I shower quickly and once again dress in the same clothes I’ve had on for days. It’s getting pretty disgusting. I hate to be needy, but I know I’m going to have to break down and ask him for something else to wear.
I’m pulling on my shoes when I hear him knock on the door.
“Come in,” I grunt out from my bent over position.
I look up and catch him adjusting himself in his jeans, realizing he could see down my shirt as it hung loose while I was bent over.
“Sorry,” I say straightening up and tugging my shirt up higher around my neck.
He laughs softly and shakes his head.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we make our way out of the clubhouse and down toward his bike.
“I figured we could grab breakfast since we missed it this morning with everyone else.”
I take the proffered helmet from his hands and slide it over my head. I’m thankful we missed breakfast. The last thing I want to deal with is seeing the redhead again. I wonder what she’s going to think of me when she finds out I’m hanging out with her boyfriend all day.
Kid straddles the bike and uses the heel of his boot to raise the kickstand. The action is second nature to him as if he’s been doing it all his life. I climb on behind him and wrap my arms all the way around his waist. He stiffens momentarily. I try to pull my arms back, knowing I’ve overstepped once again, but he places a hand over mine. I take it as an unspoken request to leave them there, so I do.
Farmington isn’t that big at all, so it’s only a matter of minutes before we’re pulling up outside of a small country diner. I expect nothing less from him. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy that would head for Denny’s or some other national franchise.
I climb off the bike and pull the helmet off my head. I hand it to him before running my fingers through my hair. I can see my shadow, so I know it’s flying all over the place. I normally have a hair tie with me but when I woke in the hospital the one in my hair was gone, and it wasn’t in my personal belongings bag.
“I need a hair tie,” I say dismissively as I try to tamp down my out of control hair.
“I like it wild,” Kid says leaning in close to my ear.
He places a warm hand on my back and guides me to the front door of the diner, reaching around me to tug it open before allowing me to walk in ahead of him. A biker and a gentleman? Beating all the stereotypes I see.
My body responds to his proximity like it’s never done before. I have to remind myself that he’s seeing the redhead, not interested in me, and this isn’t a date. The gentle kiss last night was nothing more than him giving me what I wanted in exchange for my promise not to hurt myself. Nothing more.
We sit down at a booth and the waitress immediately steps over to take our order. She directs her attention first to Kid, and then to me. I can tell the difference in attitude the second her eyes land on me. She’s probably closer to my age than Kid’s but she looks down on me before turning her head back to Kid without even asking me what I want.
“What is your kid sister having today?”
He cocks an angry eyebrow at her. “Wife,” he says without missing a beat.
My eyes go wide at his word.
He winks at me when the waitress shifts her head back and forth between us. I smirk back at him. Serves her ass right for assuming anything about the people who walk in here.
“She’s a little young, don’t you think?” Her tone is full of malice and contempt.
“She’s twenty-one,” he says reaching his hands across the table toward mine. Playing along I put my hands in his. “Not everyone ages as gracefully as she has.” He tilts his head toward her.
“I’ll have scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee,” I say never taking my eyes off of Kid. I do my best to hide my mirth as I add, “please.”
She huffs away clearly mad that Kid is taken and not too happy about his jab that she doesn’t look as young as I do, even though she probably actually is twenty-one.
“She’s going to spit in our food,” I say trying to pull my hands from his. He gives them a final squeeze and releases them.
He looks in the direction she walked. “I should shave my beard,” he mutters.
“I like your beard,” I counter.
“It makes me look older,” he says.
“You don’t look old; I’m just young. I’ll be eighteen in…”
“Twenty-seven days,” he says completing the math for me.
I grin at him. “You counting down? Planning on throwing me a birthday party?”
He cuts his eyes to his hands. “Yeah. Something like that.”
The mood shifts too quickly. The last thing I want is our easy talk and comradery to slip away.
“What’s your real name?”
“Dustin Andrews. What’s your last name?”
He seems like a Dustin. Laid back, not a care in the world. Suits him. “Devaro. Where were you born?”
He winks at me again. “Tennessee. Where were you born?”
“I knew I heard a little southern accent in your voice. I was born in Santa Fe.”
“Where are your parents?” This is the second time he’s asked me this. If I don’t give him something, I get the feeling he’ll never stop.
“My parents died when I was nine.” His face drops. Wait for it…
“I’m so sorry, Khlo.” Those are always the words always handed out when people hear about my family. And the next question…
He reaches his hands across the table for mine, but I pull them back and place them in my lap. “What happened?”
Without fail, the two questions go hand in hand. I guess people presume after almost a decade it’s easier to talk about. It’s not.
“I came home from a sleepover.” Truth. “I found them still in the bed.” Lie. “They died from carbon monoxide poisoning.” Lie.
I dart my eyes toward the kitchen hoping the mean waitress would come back. I’d rather have to deal with her snarky comments than have this conversation with him. I hated this conversation. I hated lying, but if the lie brings on so much pity then there’s no telling what the truth would bring.
He already thinks I’m some broken kid. The last thing I want is him walking on eggshells around me because he knows that my parents died a much more violent death than the peaceful one I portray when people ask. I do my best to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks, but it’s futile.
“Fuck,” Kid says softly.
I hang my head and look at my hands. I feel him shift his weight; then he’s beside me, wrapping his arms around me while I sob into his shirt.
My childhood was perfect. Until it wasn’t. Anger, selfishness, and betrayal took my family from me. Thoughtless actions of two people threw me into foster care. Senseless behavior ruined my life.
I wipe my nose with a napkin from the table and gently shove against
Kid’s chest. He slides out of the booth and I follow him.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I say as I hurry past him toward the restroom door.
I haven’t cried like that over my parents in a long time. I splash water on my face and try to calm down, certain that it’s my recent loss of Alec that is dredging all of this old stuff up. I clear my throat a hundred times until I can talk without my voice wavering. I wait a few minutes on top of that before heading out to the table. My eyes are red, puffy, and there’s no way to hide the fact that I’m still upset, but I hold my head high and walk back to the table as if I own the place.
Chapter 14
I watch Khloe’s back as she shuffles away from me toward the bathroom.
She lied to me about her parents. I could tell in the way her eyes darted, the way her breathing changed. To most people it would be a hard lie to catch. Clearly she’s told it more than a couple of times. The part I can’t figure out is why she felt the need to lie to me.
Is she ashamed of what really happened? The emotion over the loss was real, so I don’t doubt that they’re deceased, but the how is wrong.
Does she feel like she can’t trust me with the truth? That question bothers me more than the first. I have to keep in mind that she’s been in State care for what, at least eight years? People have pretended to care for her for a long time, when in fact, according to her, all they wanted was to collect the check the state provides.
She’s been conditioned over time not to trust anyone. Two things have to happen: I have to get her to trust me. She needs to know that there are people out there who can care about someone without having ulterior motives. Two: I have to get Shadow to look into her history. She may not want to tell me what really happened, but knowing may help me understand her better.
I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text to Shadow, but I see her coming back to the table. She sits across from me, and the waitress follows after her with our breakfast.
Her demeanor is a drastic contrast to the girl who walked into the diner with me. She’s sullen, closed off, and completely unapproachable.
We eat in near silence. I try to get her to open up with questions about school, and what she feels like her future will look like. She gives one word answers on a few, and just doesn’t answer some at all. She half-assed promised she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore, and last night and this morning, I’d believe that. This girl sitting in front of me, on the other hand, is a different story.
I leave cash on the table for the waitress before we even get a bill. I probably ended up tipping more than she deserved considering her rude, condescending attitude toward Khloe when we first got here. I don’t have the patience to wait for her to bring our ticket though and Khloe needs the open road. A long ride on the bike always helps me clear my head. It brings hope and clarity. I pray it has the same effect on her.
Wordlessly, she tugs the helmet on her head and climbs behind me on the bike. I notice her grip around my waist isn’t as tight this time around. I drive with one hand, using my other to caress her hand on my stomach. I hope she sees it as soothing, which is part of my intentions. The other part is a way to keep her around me. The last thing I need is for her to get lost so far in her head that she gets careless and accidentally falls off, or worse yet, releases me on purpose.
I drive down Main Street, passing the Sam’s Club, Wal-Mart, and Target all lined up in a row; big box retailers have become a necessary evil in a growing town like Farmington. Before long, the department stores and fast food joints fade out and more rural, peaceful landscape lines the road ahead of us.
The motorcycle knows where it’s going before the idea even registers in my head. This is perfect though. Just what she may need, serenity and a place to reflect. I just hope it doesn’t backfire.
I turn off the main road and follow the narrow lanes around Lake Luther. Driving all the way down until the road ends, I park the bike in the driveway of a home way too big for the man that owns it. He built out here for privacy, but his time deployed has rendered neighbors that are going to be closer than he’s going to be comfortable with. He’ll deal with it when he gets back in a few months.
I climb off the bike and help Khloe with her helmet.
I watch as she looks around in awe. The house is massive. It’s two stories, with God knows how many rooms. Built for a family he no longer has.
“Your house?” Khloe says with a shade more brightness to her face than when they left the diner.
I take her hand and lead her to the front door, only releasing it momentarily to find the right key for the lock.
“You met Kincaid?” She nods. “This is his brother Dominic’s house. He’s deployed right now. God willing, he should be home in a few months.”
“He lives here alone?” She asks in awe as she walks through the front door.
“Crazy right?” I tug her to the kitchen and look in the cabinets. He’s been gone for quite some time, but I know he has to have something in here.
“Bingo,” I say enthusiastically pulling an unopened box of crackers from the cabinet.
I grab her hand again and head out back.
“Holy shit,” she says clearing the back porch. This property backs up almost to the water on Lake Luther. The huge lots on either side of Dominic’s house remain empty, giving the back yard a sense of privacy.
We walk toward the water and down the short wooden dock. I sit on the end and begin unlacing my boots, making my intentions clear. Khloe sits beside me, tugs her shoes and socks off, and begins to roll her jeans up her calves.
“That’s a lot of house for an Army man,” she says placing her shoes behind her on the dock.
“He’s a Marine,” I correct.
She chuckles lightly and I love the sound of it, especially after such a dismal morning.
“Even stranger,” she says smiling at me.
“How so?” I know what most people would think. A Marine being able to afford a house like this is crazy, but they have no idea the type of side work he does when he’s on leave. She has no clue the type of money we make on the missions that are sent our way.
“Muscles Are Required; Intelligence Not-Expected.”
I laugh louder than she expected telling from the way she jerks her head back suddenly. I haven’t heard that acronym breakdown since I left Fallujah.
“That’s funny,” I say once my laughter dies down.
She shrugs playfully. “Not everyone can be in the Army I guess.”
“A shit-talkin’ civilian. I love it.” I tap my shoulder against hers and slide my feet into the cool water. “Ain’t Real Marines Yet.” I throw back at her.
She grins again. “Like I said, Intelligence Not-Expected. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re an ex-Marine, not still in the service.”
“Former Marine,” I correct.
“Same diff,” she says playfully.
“I assure you it’s not.” I open the box of crackers and hand her a sleeve. The sound of the rustling package must have alerted our afternoon friends. The ducks are surrounding our feet before I can get my sleeve of crackers open.
We feed the ducks silently for a few minutes. I can practically feel the stress breaking away from her as she watches them eat.
“I don’t have any other clothes,” she says from out of the blue.
“Where are your things?” I feel like complete shit for not even realizing until this moment that she’s wearing the same clothes I handed to her in the hospital.
“I left everything I had at Alec’s apartment.” She lowers her head shamefully. “I hadn’t planned on needing anything after that day.”
There it is. The proverbial elephant in the room.
“We can swing by later and get them.” That’s easy enough.
She shakes her head no. “His parents were cleaning the apartment out the day after the memorial. I’m sure they’ve trashed my things.”
“We’ll work it out,” I promise handing her another sl
eeve of crackers to replace her now empty pack.
She accepts it with a soft “thank you.”
“How did you know I wouldn’t just turn around and leave the clubhouse after I left the hospital? Or hang myself in the shower the second you left me in the room?”
I look at her, reaching up and tucking a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear before cupping her face in my hand.
“You flinched when I brought my knife up to your wrist in the hospital. If you were suicidal at that moment, you wouldn’t have pulled away from the blade. You would’ve welcomed it.”
I pull her against my chest, relishing the feel of her against me as she places her head on my shoulder. I knew she wasn’t suicidal then, but after the way she acted at the diner and how quickly she closed in on herself, I don’t have the same faith now.
Chapter 15
What is it about this man that is so incredibly soothing that I can just fall asleep so easily around him? What seemed like only minutes ago, we were talking, and now I find myself practically sprawled out on the end of the dock with my head resting in his lap. He’s stroking my hair, and I treasure the moment, the gentleness of his touch, the unrepentant way he touches me as if he has every right and makes no excuses for it.
It is so peaceful out here, like the rest of the world just fades away until nothing else exists but the two of us and the soft sounds of the water lapping away at the shore. Opening my eyes, I notice the sun has begun its downward arc, so I know it’s after noon. I’d been lying on him, sleeping for a while.
I shift my weight and lift my head from his lap.
“Hey,” I whisper hoarsely.
I’d love nothing more to stay in this moment, a small pinpoint in time when my heart isn’t shattered for Alec, where my parents are still alive, and where my life hasn’t been chaos for the last almost nine years. I know we can’t. I’m sure Kid has other things to do than babysit me.
He smiles back at me with a look of total contentment in his eyes.