"Of course," I continued, "it's none of my business what you wear, or don't wear around your own house. I mean, you could go naked, and it'd be no one's business, right?" Oh God. Shut up, Chloe. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I clamped my lips together and glanced away.
"Yeah?" he said with a crooked grin. "Good to know."
"So, uh, I'd better get going," I said.
"What about my purse?" the second blond said.
Lawton threw purse-girl half a glance. "Zip it, Bethany."
She frowned. "It's Brittney."
"Whatever."
This is when Chucky bounded in from somewhere near the back of the house, sliding on the marble floor as he took a corner at full-speed. When he saw me, he gave a yip of greeting and then dove for my legs, nearly toppling me over when he slammed into them.
I couldn't help but laugh as I choked out, "Bad dog." From the tone of my voice, he probably thought I was praising him. But I couldn't help it. Chucky was more soaked than I was, but I swear, I saw him smile.
No wonder he was happy. He'd had steak and a purse for dinner. Oh yeah, and some guy's shirt. It was a total doggie buffet.
A few feet away, Brittney edged toward Lawton and pouted in a way she probably thought was pretty. "But the purse," she persisted, "it was a Louis Vuitton."
I felt my smile fade. This was so not good.
"If you so say so," Lawton said.
She turned to glare at me. "You're gonna have to pay for it, you know."
I felt myself pale. I'd never owned a Louis Vuitton, not even secondhand. But I did know that even a basic one probably cost more than my car. Granted, my car was a piece of crap. It was old, ugly, and the heat didn't always work. But more to the point, I definitely didn't have nearly that kind of money lying around.
"Your ass," Lawton told her. "It was a knock-off, and you know it."
Her perfect face showed a hint of pink. "Well, it wasn't a cheap knock-off." She pursed her lips. "She's still gonna have to pay."
With something like a sigh, Lawton reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a black wallet and peeled off several hundreds. He held the money vaguely in her direction.
She hesitated just a moment before sauntering over and snatching it out of his hand. She gave me a dirty look as she stuffed it into her ample cleavage and then stood, possessively by Lawton's side.
"You're lucky he's such a gentleman," she said.
I was immensely grateful that Lawton had taken care of the purse, but the idea of him as a gentleman was beyond ridiculous. I'd seen one of his fights on the Internet. The guy was a brute, and from what I'd seen in the tabloids, there was nothing gentlemanly about him.
But I'd never say that out loud. I'd had years of suppressing my real thoughts and feelings behind a mask of civility, and this was no time to break that pattern.
"Yes," I said, summoning up my very best upper crust persona. "He's very kind."
At this, Lawton gave me a curious look, and for the briefest moment, I felt like he saw straight through me. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the look was gone. Or maybe I'd been imagining it all along.
Besides, I had more important things to think about. How much money had he tossed at her? I couldn't tell the exact amount, but it looked like a lot, at least by my budget-conscious standards. Given that the purse was a fake, she'd probably made a tidy profit from the deal.
Thinking about it, I realized something that made my mouth go dry. Now, I owed him money instead of her. This hadn't solved anything. Not really.
Swallowing, I turned to him and made myself say, "If you'd like to send me a bill, I'll make sure you're promptly reimbursed."
Oh God, I sounded like an accountant. No wonder, since that had been my major and all. Still, what the hell was I saying? Reimbursement would be anything but prompt. Unless – maybe I could ask the Parkers to pay for it.
They checked in about once a week, and I had their phone number in Costa Rica for emergencies. Was this an emergency? It was their dog, after all. But then I'd be forced to explain how I'd let Chucky get out in the first place.
No. This was my fault, and I'd need to pay for this fiasco myself.
Damn it. Whatever amount Lawton had thrown at her, it was too much. That chick's profit was going to come out of my hide, and I didn't have anything to spare. Lamely, I continued on, "I'd just need a receipt, uh, for my records."
Records? What records? Shit, I didn't know.
"Nah, I've got it," he told me with a half-shrug. He spared Brittany a glance. "Besides, that'll show Barbie for leaving her purse on the floor."
"It's Brittany," she corrected for the second time.
Ignoring her, he gave me a slow half-smile. "How about a compromise? You replace dinner, and I'll worry about Becky's purse."
I snuck a glance at Brittney. This time, she didn't bother correcting him. But her look said it all. She was so not amused.
His offer was tempting, but I hated the idea of being in his debt. Sure, the guy could afford it, but I hated owing people. Those debts always came due at the worst time, in the worst way.
Brittney was looking daggers at both of us. By now, I was fairly certain Lawton was a lot better with names than he let on. Was he just goading her? If so, she certainly wasn't enjoying it. With an exasperated sigh, she gave the other blonde a pleading look.
The girl took the hint. "Forget dinner," she practically purred. "Let's get straight to dessert."
Lawton gave her the briefest glance, and then returned his attention to me. "Is it a deal? I'll get the purse. You get dinner."
"A foursome, Lawton?" the second blonde said. "Really? Isn't that a bit much?"
This time, I did blush. A foursome? We were still talking about dinner?
I leaned over and scooped up Chucky. "I've got to go."
"You're not walking back," he said.
"Sure I am."
"In the rain?"
"I walked here, didn't I?" Outside, a crack of thunder sounded loud enough to rattle the windows. Chucky whined. I wanted to whine, too, but instead, I clamped my lips shut and glanced toward the front door.
"Wait here," Lawton said. "I'll pull up the car."
Maybe I should've argued, but why bother? Walking home in a raging thunderstorm was stupid by anyone's definition. And besides, refusing the offer just made everything more awkward. Things were awkward enough as it was.
Still, it wasn't exactly comfortable when Lawton headed out some side entrance to pull up a car.
Brittney and her friend looked at me with undisguised loathing.
"You're not his type, you know," Brittney said.
I grinned. "Whatever you say, Betty."
She scowled. "Ha ha."
Meanwhile, Chucky was looking at their shoes with more than casual interest. As I knew firsthand, Chucky loved to chew up footwear.
Too bad we were leaving. I'd love to give Chucky the chance.
Chapter 7
The car wasn't what I expected. I'd been expecting something late-model and definitely expensive. Maybe a Lamborghini, possibly a Porsche. But what pulled up in the circular driveway was something I couldn’t exactly place.
The car was at least double my age, and nothing I recognized. It was some vintage muscle car. Between the dark and the rain, I couldn't tell the exact color, but just looking at its sleek lines and listening to the roar of its engine, I could tell one thing flat-out. It was a lot like Lawton Rastor, all speed and muscle, not a lot of comfort.
As soon as the car skidded to a stop in the turnaround, I fled Lawton's house, plunging out of the open doorway and holding onto Chucky for dear life. No way the little monster was getting away this time.
By the time I reached the car, the passenger's side door was already open, with Lawton leaning across the seat, his tattooed arm stretched toward the door handle like he'd just shoved at it. Still clutching Chucky, I jumped into the vehicle and closed the door behind me, surprised by how heavy the door was. The thing h
ad to be all metal, compared to whatever they made car doors out of nowadays.
I glanced over at Lawton. His hair was still damp, but at least he'd put on a shirt, some basic black T-shirt with a miscellaneous logo on the front.
When he hit the accelerator, the car's roar briefly drowned out the sound of the rain, and the seats vibrated with the engine's power. When we neared the gate, it slid open automatically, probably on a motion-sensor. A moment later, he pulled out onto the street with barely a glance in my direction. Easy to see why, with two beautiful girls waiting in the wings.
He said nothing, and neither did I until we were just a couple houses away from the Parkers'.
"I'm up here on the left," I said, pointing toward their house.
"I know," he said.
"Really? How?"
"We share a fence. Remember?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." Of course, I knew that. Where was my brain tonight anyway?
"And I saw you before," he continued. "Walking your dog. Chucky, right?"
On my lap, Chucky gave a yap of affirmation.
Lawton chuckled, a low sound that blended nicely with the rumble of the engine.
Funny he could remember Chucky's name, but not the blonde's. Then again, I was still convinced most of that was an act. For whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy goading her. Maybe they had that kind of relationship, if you could call it that.
Soon, we were pulling into the Parkers' long, tree-lined driveway, the car rumbling to a stop. "Thanks for the ride," I said, reaching for the door.
"Hang on," he said. "You still owe me dinner."
I gave him a sideways glance. "The foursome? I think I'd better pass."
He gave me a wicked grin. "How about a twosome?"
My stomach did funny things at his smile, along with the image his words conjured up. But I paid no attention. I couldn’t afford to pay attention. A guy like him was the last thing I needed. Besides, what did he think? That I'd jump in his pants just because he drove me home?
"Are we still talking dinner?" I asked. "Or something else?" Because if it was something else, I wasn't interested. Okay, maybe I was interested. He was mouth-watering, plain and simple, and I'd been thinking about him far too much for my own good.
In my fantasies, half the time we were naked. The other half, we were naked on his yacht, assuming he owned one. Sometimes we were naked on his yacht and drinking dirty martinis or drinks I couldn’t pronounce.
In my fantasies, I didn't have too many responsibilities. Instead, I had more than enough time and plenty of money. Oh yeah, and I had parents who cared, not just about me, but for my kid brother too.
It was a pretty picture, even if it wasn't real. In my fantasies, I got to enjoy life for once, free and easy. That's where the yacht came in. I could just sail off into the sunset with a beautiful guy and no responsibilities except what came day-to-day.
But real life just wasn't like that, and even if it were, I'd never abandon my commitments. I was nothing like my parents, and I had too many things on my to-do list.
Besides, there was a fine line between fantasy and reality. The reality could never live up to anyone's imagination. I knew where that road ended. It didn’t end up on a yacht. It ended with a whole lot of wasted energy and some social disease I couldn't pronounce.
He cut the engine. "That's up to you."
"Huh?"
"Dinner – or something else – it's your choice." He gave me a slow smile. "Or hey, I'm up for both."
Yeah, I just bet he was. I glanced at the house. "Sorry, but I can't have guests over."
He leaned back in the seat. "Worried your folks wouldn't like it?" He lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret. "Let me guess, because I'm a bad influence, right?"
If he only knew. My parents wouldn't give a crap one way or another. But the Parkers certainly would. Again, I glanced at the house. It wasn't half as impressive as Lawton's, but it was still pretty spectacular. Did he think I actually lived here?
Of course he did. I'd been calling Chucky my dog, after all. And Lawton had just moved in a couple weeks earlier. Even if he was the type of guy to get to know his neighbors, it's not like he'd been in the neighborhood long enough to figure out the Parkers lived there alone.
"Actually, they're not here," I said. Technically, this was true, even if it was somewhat misleading.
"So what's the problem?" he asked. It wasn't a challenge so much as a question. He seemed genuinely curious.
I had to work in a few hours. House-sitting wasn't my only job. But that wasn't the most important reason to decline whatever he was offering. "You have guests, remember?"
He shrugged. "They know the way out."
Seriously? What a jerk. Sure, I didn't care much for Brittney and what's-her-name, but his cavalier attitude was beyond offensive. So how did he envision this going?
I played out the scenario in my head, trying to see things the way he saw it. I'd invite him inside. Dinner or not, we'd do the nasty, and then he'd be treating me in the same dismissive way come morning. I made a scoffing sound. Who was I kidding? No way he'd stick around 'til morning. He'd run out the door the second we were done.
"Something funny?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I've gotta go."
He gave me a crooked smile. "So dinner's a 'no' then?'
"What dinner?"
"The steak, remember?"
Oh, yeah. The steak Chucky ate.
Still, I didn't get it. He had plenty of money and two gorgeous women waiting for him. But here he was, badgering me about dinner and who-knows-what-else.
It was too ridiculous for words. Suddenly, I was very tired. I didn't have time for whatever game he was playing. My fantasies might be hollow, but they served their purpose.
"I don't have any steak," I said.
"Well, what do you have?"
I glanced at the house. "Uh, peanut butter and jelly."
"Sounds great," he said.
At this, I couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously?"
"Why not?" he said.
"Sorry," I said, "but you can't come in. I'll just have to owe you."
"Then I'll just have to collect." He grinned. "Lucky for you, patience is my middle name."
Liar. His middle name was Anthony.
Oh crap. I knew his middle name, for God's sake. What was I? Some kind of crazy stalker-chick?
The Internet – it was a dangerous thing for a girl in my condition. And what condition was that, exactly? Frustrated? Bored with my real life? Oddly aroused by the thought of his perfect pecs and glorious abs? I licked my lips. It was definitely time for me to stop reading about him.
He turned sideways in the seat to face me. "So, uh, tomorrow morning work for you? Steak and eggs?"
I probably had eggs somewhere in the fridge, but I definitely didn't have steak. I mentally slapped myself. Why was I even thinking about this? Obviously, he wasn't serious. And obviously, I wasn't going to have some stranger over for breakfast tomorrow. Especially a stranger like him in a house that wasn't my own.
The guy did funny things to my mind, and even funnier things to parts of my body that had been sadly neglected lately. Some might call it a dry spell. I called it holding out for something meaningful.
"So Chucky," he said in a conversational tone. "How's it goin'?"
Chucky gave a yap and squirmed in my lap.
Oh crap. I never answered him, did I? What was his question again? Had there been a question? At this point, I had two choices: try to prove I wasn't an idiot or make a break for it. Since the odds of the first choice were unlikely, I opted for the second.
"I've gotta go," I said. How many times had I said that?
Clutching Chucky, I shoved open the car door. The rain was still falling in torrents. If Lawton said anything afterwards, I didn't hear it, because a moment later, I was sprinting toward the Parkers' front door, with Chucky squirming the entire time.
After I closed the door behind me, I carefully set down Chuck
y and tiptoed to the front window. The shades were drawn, and the house was dark. Lawton couldn't see me, but I could still see the glare of his headlights through the blinds.
What was he waiting for? With a huff of annoyance, I stalked to the nearest lamp and turned it on. A moment later, I heard the rumble of his engine, and the headlights disappeared down the long driveway.
So he'd waited for me to get inside and turn on the lights? Was that good or bad? Either he was a gentleman, as Brittney had claimed, or he was the worst kind of opportunist. Probably, he was waiting for me to grill up a steak, rip off my clothes, and run outside to tell him I'd changed my mind.
It didn't matter. I was smart to run when I did, because if I were being completely honest, that whole twosome idea was sounding way too good.
Chapter 8
Chomping on my gum, I squeezed into the red vinyl booth that was already occupied by two couples about my own age. I grabbed the pencil from behind my ear and said, "So, what'd'ya want, make it snappy, will ya?"
Yeah, it wasn't the politest approach, but that was part of my job. The Two-Bit Diner was a retro burger and breakfast joint, complete with roller-skating delivery outside during the summer months, and inside-dining all year round.
But it wasn't your average diner, and it wasn't your average waitressing job. In a way, it was like a dinner show, with everyone playing a part. Along with a dozen or so other girls, I played a big-haired, big-mouthed waitress with attitude. I went through a bottle of hair spray a month.
The job was a lot trickier than it sounded. There's a fine line between rude and sassy, and finding that middle ground was a non-stop balancing act. Take the act too far, and people would get pissed off. Take it not far enough, and they'd complain they didn't get their money's worth.
The food might've been simple, but it wasn't cheap, so just because I was allowed to be louder and sassier than your average waitress, it didn't mean I was allowed to be slow or incompetent. Plus, you had to be a damn good waitress just to keep everything straight, especially the alcohol, which flowed freely in spite of the diner theme.
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