by Tessa Bailey
“River, I—” How could his attitude go from aroused to frustrated so fast? “You should be off with your friends. Drinking…milkshakes or something. Studying. Every day can’t be about me finding the most convenient place to lift your skirt up and fuck you.”
Just hearing the forbidden word on his mouth was enough to cause the now-familiar dampness to spread between her thighs, her lips popping open on a puff of breath. “If you didn’t want to….t-take me, you wouldn’t be here,” River whispered. “And it’s more than that. I’m here for what happens after, too. The talking…and holding. Us.” She swallowed hard. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he hissed, before attacking her mouth with a kiss full of fury. “Don’t ever ask me that again.”
“Yo, De Matteo,” a male voice called behind Vaughn. A voice River recognized as one of Vaughn’s ex-classmates who now worked as an assistant varsity football coach. “Hands off the students.”
Lines formed around Vaughn’s mouth, his hands turning to fists and pounding against the truck. River knew from experience what was coming, so she wrapped her arms tight around his vibrating form and held fast. “Just ignore him. Just—”
When the coach spoke again, he was close enough that only River and Vaughn heard. “How long before she’s a pregnant dropout, De Matteo?” He clucked his tongue. “Misery loves company, right?”
She saw the bolt of shame shoot across Vaughn’s expression, but it gave way to rage almost immediately. It took two security guards and three senior students to pull Vaughn off the coach that afternoon, while River wept on the sidewalk. When he walked out of jail a week later, once the charges were dropped, he looked disappointed to see River waiting for him, almost as though he wanted to turn around and walk back into jail. Sometimes she still dreamed about that look.
Having an unexpected two weeks off sounded amazing on the surface, but River had been moving without ceasing for so long, the inactivity left her staring off into space…a lot. It certainly was not because of the earth-shaking orgasm she’d been delivered from her long lost, heartbreaker ex-boyfriend’s tongue the night before. Or the growly sentiments he’d issued straight to her vagina. Remember me?
Oh, heck yeah. Both River and her vagina remembered Vaughn’s skill set very well. But there had been a difference in him last night…a maturity so different from the brooding young man with the hair trigger temper. Back when they were essentially kids transitioning into adulthood, Vaughn had been a closed book. Last night, he’d shown her, at least, that maybe he was capable of sharing the first couple of chapters. Whereas he’d once been given to occasional bouts of intensity before returning to quiet, frustrating watchfulness, in the heat of the moment last night, he’d been honest with her. That was…new, even if his exact thoughts remained mysterious. Elusive.
Perhaps she was wrong to feel encouraged by what seemed like a changing tide. Maybe the new honesty in Vaughn had begun their final night together when he’d walked out. Left town. She’d forced him to be honest with himself and admit she wasn’t what he wanted.
It was possible he’d returned to town solely because the man he’d become didn’t shirk his responsibilities—meaning Marcy. And if that was the case, she needed to follow his example and be mature enough to allow it. Starting tonight, when she would invite him over to dinner.
When Marcy nudged River’s elbow, she realized she’d been staring into space, leaving her daughter to color the entire Sesame Street scene alone. “Mommy, color with me.”
Mother’s guilt poking her in the gut, River selected a yellow crayon and began to color in Big Bird. They were killing time until mid-morning, when the other kids would start showing up at the local park. Their breakfast dishes were still on the table, which was unusual, since the morning rush had become the household norm. When she’d told Marcy she would be home for two weeks, her daughter’s face had lit up enough to make River realize how much she’d been missed. She was looking forward to spending two weeks smothering Marcy with love. “Hey, kiddo. We’re having a friend over for dinner tonight.”
Marcy looked up from her task, face hopeful. “Jasmine and Uncle Sarge?”
“No.” River threaded her fingers through Marcy’s blonde hair. “But I miss them, too. They’ll come for a visit as soon as the band gets a break.”
Her daughter hummed an acknowledgment and resumed coloring, only to stop again. “What friend is coming?”
Lord, it felt like she’d swallowed a beanbag. She hadn’t rehearsed an explanation, never having expected to make one. “His name is Vaughn. He went to school with mommy. Back when we were young.”
Which was true. Vaughn had attended Hook High until the beginning of his senior year, when River had been a sophomore. She often wondered if they’d started dating before he’d dropped out, if maybe their relationship would have prevented him from making that decision. No way of knowing. No way of being sure of anything concerning Vaughn, which is what had her hedging her bet now. “He’s just coming for a little while, Marcy. Okay? Not a long time.”
“Okay.” Marcy’s nose wrinkled, already disregarding the subtle warning, but hopefully retaining it somewhere. “When can I go to the big school, Mommy?”
“Soon.” She smiled, knowing her daughter referred to the big, brick structure that housed Hook High, which they passed frequently in the car. “You’ll love it, just like I did.”
The words from her own mouth made River’s smile fade. She had enjoyed school, even night school at the junior college—loved the challenge, the twinkle in her belly when something finally made sense, or she read a particularly relatable piece of literature. She wouldn’t trade a college experience for Marcy—not a chance—but she could admit to a tiny background wish to go back someday.
The phone rang in the kitchen, and River stood to go answer. “Hello?”
“Riv.”
Her father’s curt voice never failed to make her stand up straighter, but love shot an arrow to her heart at the same time. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Not too much. Your mother and I just came back from our walk.” His heaved breath echoed down the line. “Retirement is boring as shit.”
Laughing, River leaned back against the kitchen wall. “Only if you let it be. Maybe you should finally give in and go to salsa dancing lessons with Mom.”
“Why? Is it snowing in hell?”
Their mutual laughter faded into a silent stretch that made River frown. “Is everything else okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah…” Familiar footsteps paced in the background. “Heard from a buddy yesterday who said De Matteo was back in Hook.”
A wrench fell down her windpipe. “Wow. I guess distance doesn’t get you free of the gossip mill.” She lifted a hand to circle her throat. “Yes, Vaughn is back.”
Another stretch of unnerving quiet. “I assume he knows Marcy is his?” Her father scoffed. “I hope he doesn’t expect some tearful reunion. Not after what he did.”
Not for the first time in her life, River was polarized by the unfair hostility her father exhibited toward Vaughn. Sure, he’d been a troubled young man, but until their final evening together, he’d never done anything to harm her. Quite the opposite. A majority of the time, he’d been sweet and protective, making sure she didn’t skip school, bringing her home before her curfew, no matter how much she protested. Whatever animosity had existed between Vaughn’s father and her own, it had no bearing on the here and now. She refused to give it credence by asking for the details and creating a forum for her dad to tear down Vaughn. For better or worse, he was the father of her child. “I…don’t know what he expects.” Okay, not entirely true. His exact intentions weren’t clear yet, although he’d been adamant about remaining in Jersey. “But it’ll be up to me if he gets what he came for. Okay?”
Since childhood, whenever she showed any kind of backbone to her father, he shut down and didn’t revisit the issue until he’d worked out an entirely new tactic, a memory that had River narrowing her eyes.
“I have to go, Dad. Maybe call me over the weekend?”
He cleared his throat. “Sure, Riv. Talk soon.”
When she hung up the phone, she stared at the receiver for a full minute, trying to decipher the odd note of…apprehension in her father’s voice.
“Mommy!”
River’s sigh slipped into a smile. No time to think about it now. She had a play date with her daughter to attend.
Chapter Nine
Vaughn had almost reached the factory door when his cell phone went off in his back pocket. The display showed a number with a Hook area code, so it had to be either River or Duke calling him, both of whom he’d given his number the night before. And damn, the way his blood started pumping told him exactly who he needed it to be. River. No damn contest.
Jesus Christ, he’d been a walking hard-on since last night. Not since those two years of abstaining until River reached womanhood had he been this hot to fuck. River. Always, only River. He’d woken up in agony, jerking his hips up and back against a scratchy motel pillow, like an animal during mating season. His hand hadn’t even been required to relieve the worst of his arousal. Oh no, he’d simply gripped the hollow wooden headboard and accelerated his lewd thrusts, picturing River with her legs spread…and he’d popped right off, shouting down at the mattress. Yeah, considering the state in which he’d left the bed sheets, he probably wouldn’t be making friends with the motel maids any time soon.
He’d spent his drive to the factory reminding himself—around ninety-eight times—that anything physical between him and River would be on her terms. No climbing in through her bedroom window when he needed to feel her beneath him naked, to take her down like a starved predator. No. Remaining focused on his goal was more important now than ever. Helping River. Making up for leaving her a single mother. If she allowed him into her life as a co-parent, it would be more than he deserved.
It took several calming breaths before he trusted himself to answer the phone, but the simple hope she’d be on the other end made him sound like a goddamn sexual deviant. “Riv?”
He heard a slow breath that he swore feathered his ear. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Warm syrup coated his insides, sliding down nice and easy. “Hiya, doll,” he murmured. “Been a while since you called me.”
“Been a while since I had a reason.”
Ouch. Apparently going down on River hadn’t been the remedy to all of their problems. Fair enough. Just meant he needed to work harder, which was what put him at Hook’s main source of employment so early in the morning. Vaughn gave a low whistle. “De Matteo takes one on the chin.”
He thought he heard a muffled laugh on the opposite end of the line, followed by a slow breath. “I’m calling to invite you to dinner tonight.”
Vaughn slapped the phone to his chest and mouthed a hallelujah up toward the gray New Jersey sky. When he finally returned the phone to his mouth, River was issuing a warning about putting too many Cheerios in his mouth at once. “Wha—”
“One at a time, Marcy,” she repeated twice.
“—kay, I am,” said a voice he could only describe as pipsqueak-esqe. And just about everything inside Vaughn seized up, rendering him immobile on the sidewalk outside the factory. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of a spoon hitting a bowl, a giggle following fast on its heels, and River’s warm laugh. The sounds of home. Amazing that he could recognize them at all, considering he’d never had one. Crashing on an uncle’s couch, waiting for his parents to return while knowing full well, even at age ten, they were long gone? Yeah, that wasn’t home. That was hell. Everything now drifting down the line, curling into his ear, was a heaven he’d never had the balls to wish for. Funny how a man’s perspective could change after realizing there were worse places than hell. There was living without River.
On cue, her voice found him. “Vaughn, are you there?”
“I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “What time tonight?”
“Marcy eats early, so around five, five-thirty,” she responded, her voice getting lighter, elusive like smoke.
Vaughn could practically feel River second-guessing herself, so he rushed to end the call before that could happen, even though he could have spent the entire day listening to the nuances in her tone. “I’ll be there,” he said gruffly. “Thanks, Riv.”
“Wait.” Time suspended itself as he waited for River to continue. “Last night…we got carried away. This…if we’re going to do this right, it needs to be about Marcy, okay? Not us.”
“You’re telling me to keep my hands off you.”
A beat passed, giving him hope, despite her answer. “Yes.”
It was no less than he’d expected, but being cast into purgatory smarted nonetheless. But no way would he argue. Not with his family at stake. “See you tonight.”
Vaughn hung up before River could hammer home her new, unfortunate dictate, and stomped toward the factory entrance, his boots kicking up work dust thanks to the surrounding construction vehicles. Shit. It appeared the factory’s new owner wasn’t wasting any time making changes. The graffiti-stained, cinderblock wall that had surrounded the factory since Vaughn’s earliest memory had been bulldozed, a tasteful waist-level brick barrier already being constructed. New pathways had already been marked, waiting for concrete to fill them. The place already looked less like a prison and more like an office building.
Nodding with approval, Vaughn continued toward the entrance, fairly certain he would find the fancy new owner inside, being that a sleek 2016 Mercedes was parked along the curb. Definitely not a vehicle that belonged within Hook town limits, let alone to any of its residents. Turned out he was right. Just inside the door, a man whose three-piece suit was more appropriate for a corporate board meeting than a construction site stood conversing with a guy sporting a hard hat, going over plans.
Without pausing his stern instructions, three-piece suit gave Vaughn a bored glance over his shoulder—like some kind of overindulged king—and went back to his low conversation, giving Vaughn a moment to size the other man up. Built like a hockey player, but with none of the loose, easy-going energy, the new factory owner wasn’t what Vaughn imagined someone might find approachable. Kind of reminded Vaughn of a pissed off lion, actually. And yeah, his observations of the man’s appearance were influenced by River eventually being in the man’s orbit.
Three Piece didn’t address him until a full minute later, once he’d finished issuing dictates to Hard Hat. “Can I assist you with something?” He swept Vaughn with a cool glance. “Perhaps directions to the local watering hole?”
Once upon a time, Vaughn would have already stuffed that expensive tie down the asshole’s throat, but he had too much at stake. He only fought for things that mattered now, and this potential job was one of them. “The bar doesn’t open this early.” Vaughn crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall with a grin. “And trust me, I already know right where it is.”
Three Piece rolled up the plans he’d been perusing with precise twists of his cuff-linked wrists. “I find this news unsurprising.”
“Why?” Vaughn tilted his head, posing the question out of curiosity more than anything else. “Because I’m dressed to work, instead of ordering other people to do it for me?”
Hard Hat took that cue to leave, slipping out through the entrance, muttering about getting an early start. “Why are you here?” Three Piece asked, voice laced with impatience. “I’ve guaranteed everyone that their jobs are safe, which I assure you was not a condition of the sale.”
“Purely out of the goodness of your heart, huh?”
Three Piece spread his hands in the form of an answer. “I’m due at a meeting.”
Vaughn nodded and pushed off the wall. “Sounds good.” He turned in a circle, making note of the shiny new machinery, still wrapped with industrial plastic and cardboard. “I’ll just be here, determining the street value of all this sweet new gear.”
“Excuse me?”
> Vaughn dipped his chin toward the entrance. “Who’s guarding this place? I just waltzed right in. I get the accessible vibe you’re going for—this place has looked like a death trap for too long—but there was a good reason for that cinderblock wall, man.”
Three Piece tapped the rolled up plan against his thigh. Tap, tap, tap. “I’ve thoroughly researched the town of Hook. It’s low income, yes, but there’s not a high rate of crime.”
“Sure, but what about one town over. And two towns past that?” Vaughn rapped his knuckles on one of the new massive steel machines. “These renovations won’t go unnoticed. You’re clearly upgrading technology, too, which means computers—”
“Sounds to me like you’re the one I should keep an eye on.”
Vaughn shrugged. “Maybe once upon a time. Not now.” The back of his neck tightened. “One of your employees means everything to me, and I’d like the opportunity to make sure her livelihood—and she—are protected.”
Three Piece narrowed his eyes at that, finally showing a spark of humanity, and easing the pressure in Vaughn’s chest. Jesus, job interviews were not his thing, and this one was beyond unconventional. “What credentials do you have?”
“A two-year tour with the Army.” Vaughn tugged his wallet out of his back pocket, holding out his Army-issued identification. “I’ve been working in Baltimore since then, doing private security for visiting business partners and their families. Even upgraded a few local industrial plants—ones like this—to keep the owner’s assets protected.”
After a small hesitation, Three Piece took the offered identification card, scanning it from beneath heavy eyelids. “If one of my employees means everything to you, what were you doing in Baltimore?”
None of your fucking business, sat right on the tip of Vaughn’s tongue, but he swallowed his natural defensiveness, forcing a smile onto his face. “Haven’t you ever tried to do the right thing and found out it was wrong?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Three Piece answered briskly. “I assume you had some type of plan beyond walking in here and insulting my lack of security?”