Even though she liked Josh better than she liked me, she still liked him best when he was out of sight, no matter how much she might claim otherwise in front of my Dad.
I needed comfort, big time. A call to Erika wouldn't solve my problems, but it would definitely make me feel better. And I'd been resisting long enough. I reached for my phone, and stopped short when I realized the phone wasn't on the passenger seat where I'd tossed it after talking to Loretta.
Confused, I looked toward the car floor and then searched the other usual spots. When it didn't turn up, I got out of my car, searched it, scanned the parking lot, dug through my purse, and went through the added humiliation of returning to the hiring manager's office to see if, by chance, I'd left it inside their building.
I don’t know why I bothered. I knew exactly where I'd left it, and it wasn't there. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…" I muttered when it became painfully obvious the phone was gone. Stolen, no doubt. It was several years old, ancient by today's standards. Why anyone would want the thing was beyond me.
But what did I expect? My car had a broken window, and I'd left the phone in plain sight. It had probably taken someone all of five seconds to reach in and grab it. But I couldn’t live without a phone, and besides, I had a service contract, which meant I'd be paying for cell phone coverage regardless.
By the time I pulled out of the parking lot, I was thoroughly overwhelmed. I cranked up the stereo, trying to drown out the sound of the icy wind, along with my thoughts, but it didn't help.
It especially didn't help when halfway home, the stereo crackled with static, then died a slow, pathetic death over the course of five miles in stop-and-go traffic.
I spent an hour at the cell phone store, reporting the theft and replacing the phone with money I didn't have. My old phone was so old that it had been discontinued, so I had a bright shiny new model. I should've been excited, but to me, it was an expense I didn't need and confusion I didn't want to deal with.
Sure, it had a whole bunch of new features, but at the moment, I had no energy to figure them out and no patience for the time it would take for me to get used to it.
I tried to dial Erika and ended up taking a picture of my dashboard.
That did it. Cursing, I pulled into the nearest party store. Shoving the new phone deep into my purse, I went inside and bought a bag of chips and a fifth of vodka. I'd never been one to drown my troubles, but I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to think. I wanted sweet oblivion, and if it meant I had to get it out of a bottle, so be it.
Sometimes, reality is just too damn depressing.
Chapter 38
Sitting at the Parkers' kitchen counter, I spent the first hour sulking. I started with sulking about the job thing and worked my way back, sulking about everything from the stupid Thanksgiving dessert that I couldn't bring to my lost cell phone.
No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't help but feel I'd done everything wrong in spite of my determination to do everything right.
How many things had I given up over the years because I was always working? How many parties? How many football games? I'd never kissed a stranger. I'd never danced until my feet blistered. I'd never had a one-night stand.
I'd taught myself to delay gratification too many times to count. Just until the end of this semester. Just until the end of the school year. Just until I graduated from college. Just until I got a good job. And for what? Did it even matter?
I'd never get those years back. Was I any further ahead than if I'd stopped to have a little more fun on the way?
Doubtful.
I stared at the bottle of vodka. Why had I even bought the thing? I wasn't much of a drinker. I'd seen way too many of my Mom's boyfriends shitfaced to find the whole idea appealing. Besides, what was I going to do? Sit in somebody else's living room, drowning my troubles because I wanted somebody else's life?
It was a Monday, the slowest night at the diner, which explained why I hadn't been scheduled to work that night. Probably, that was probably a good thing. I wasn't in the mood to be sassy, or even competent.
But I wanted to do something, something just once that was only for now, something that said to hell with the future and plans and obligations, and all that other stuff that had been weighing on me for as long as I could remember.
But did I even know how to live in the moment? To just let loose and experience something – anything – for the fleeting joy it might bring?
I lay my head on the kitchen counter and let my mind drift. If I could do something, right here, right now, for the sheer pleasure of it, what would I do?
And that's when it hit me. I'd visit Lawton Rastor alright, but not like any nice, sensible girl would. I'd march over there and knock on his door like all the other girls who wanted a taste of his hot body and dangerous reputation. I'd beg him – no, I'd demand of him – everything he'd give and receive from a willing partner.
If he wanted it rough, I'd do it rough. If he wanted it gentle, I'd do it gentle. I didn't care. Fire, ice, fast, slow, hard, easy – for once in my life, I'd ride the waves of whatever crashed over me and have a whole lot of fun doing it.
A minute later, I was pulling on my tennis shoes. Sure, I could've put on high heels. I could've dug through the closet for my best slinky dress. I could've done a thousand other things to force the perfect look or the perfect mood. But that was just another way I'd be planning ahead.
And tonight, there was no plan, unless you counted the one thing I was determined to do before the sun came up, and that was make Lawton Rastor moan my name the same way he had in my dreams.
So what if he didn't know my last name was Malinski? And so what if he assumed I somehow belonged here? Did it matter? From what his brother said, Lawton would forget me practically the minute he had me. But as for me, I'd have the memory to last a lifetime.
Chucky was lounging in his favorite basket. "Wish me luck," I told him as I shrugged into a white hoodie. He yipped, rolled over, and closed his eyes like I'd interrupted a nap of epic proportions. "Good dog," I said.
Stopping only to grab my keys and new cell phone, I plunged out of the house and made it only a few steps before I stopped, whirled around, dashed back into the house.
I headed straight for the kitchen counter, where the bottle of vodka remained unopened. With trembling hands, I twisted off the top and took a long swig straight from the bottle.
The liquid burned on the way down, and made me sputter and curse when I came up for air. But it was exactly what I needed. A couple of swigs later, I had enough liquid courage to send me out the door all over again. Except this time, I refused to look back.
Chapter 39
Although we shared a back fence, it was still a fifteen-minute walk to his house by sidewalk. The night was frigid with a bitter wind that would've made me run back inside if I weren't so flush with vodka-induced heat, and the knowledge of my own intentions.
Along the tree-lined street, my hair whipped around my face in an untamed fury as the wind came in gusts and bursts. Only a total nutcase would be out walking on a night like this.
I felt myself smile. I was acting crazy, and it felt good. No. It felt more than good. Liberating. I was nearly to Lawton's place when I heard it, the sound of keys jangling somewhere behind me, either as someone moved fast or indulged a nervous twitch.
I turned to look. I saw nothing, or at least nothing out of the ordinary. I listened intently. All I heard was the wind rustling the trees and scattering dried leaves on the pavement. I wasn't worried. I'd walked this route too many times to worry, especially in a neighborhood like this. But I was curious.
With a mental shrug, I turned back around and picked up the pace. The sooner I got to Lawton's place, the better, and not because of phantom noises or the wicked weather.
Before I knew it, I was running, the wind in my hair and warmth of my skin adding to the strange unearthly feeling that destiny was pushing me on, nudging me into the abyss of the unknown, where n
othing mattered except the here and now.
I wasn't me. This wasn't real. There'd be no regrets. And no worrying about tomorrow.
At Lawton's, the gate was open. A good sign. I'd just run up and knock on his door, and to hell with the consequences. What I'd say to him, I still didn't know. I'd deal with it. And if another girl was there? Well, I'd deal with that somehow too.
I stopped in my tracks. What if Brittney were there? Was I really ready to face her? And Amber? "Fuck it," I said, feeling an instant release as I spoke the words out loud.
I was tired of playing nice. If Brittney was there, who knows? There just might be a catfight after all, and I was a lot tougher than I looked.
Before I knew it, my feet were moving again, down his driveway, and toward his front door. This time, I vowed, I wouldn’t be stopping. Near his front entryway, I rounded a thick patch of shrubbery, feeling lighter than I had in forever, right up the moment I crashed into a brick wall.
And the brick wall had a name. Lawton Rastor.
I'd slammed into him with enough force to send me reeling backward. My ass would've hit the pavement a second later, if not for his strong arms snagging me lightning fast and crushing me back into him to keep me from topping in the other direction.
A whoosh of air left my body. His body was warm and rock hard, and I made no move to step away. He felt amazing. Even better than I remembered. And my memories were pretty darn good.
The top of my head was well below his chin, and I rested my bare cheek against the front of his shirt, feeling warm and safe and carefree in a way that made no sense, given the bitter wind and shitty day that had driven me to act so out of character.
"You okay?" he asked, extending his arms and taking a step backward to study my face. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I registered that he was dressed in all black – black running pants, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and black running shoes.
I nodded. My breaths were coming in shallow bursts – whether from the run, from the unexpected collision, from my own torrid thoughts, I had no idea. His eyebrows furrowed. He glanced past me, over my shoulder.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
How did I put this? What would that other girl – the more adventurous girl – say? I swallowed and met his gaze, willing him to understand without making me say it. "I was coming to see you. Like you asked. Remember?"
Something in his expression changed, like a coiled knot had been loosened, and then took hold of him in a different way. The corners of his mouth lifted. "Yeah?"
Oh come on. This couldn't be that big of a surprise. No doubt, girls threw themselves at him every day. And besides, I had been invited. Hadn't I?
I nodded. "Unless –" I cleared my throat. "– you don't have company, do you?"
His words were oddly quiet as he met my gaze head-on. "No," he said. "But I'd like to."
I grinned up at him, feeling the worst kind of tension leave my body, and another kind arrive in torrents. I screwed up the last bit of courage, and said what the other girl might say. "If you invited me in, I wouldn't say no." I reached out and ran a finger lightly up his chest. "To anything."
He suddenly grew very still. So did I, other than the wind whipping at my hair and clothes. My fingertips remained frozen in place as I waited to see what he did next. His gaze narrowed as he studied my face.
"Have you been drinking?" he asked.
"No." I withdrew my finger and stared up at him. "Well, not much anyway." Here, I was trying to seduce the guy, and he was asking about my drinking habits? I couldn't say for sure, but I'd have bet almost anything that Britney and friend were never stone-cold sober when they'd been in my shoes.
"Why?" I said. "Does it matter?"
He met my gaze. "Yes. With you, it does."
"Why?" I blurted out, briefly forgetting my role as seductress.
"I don't know," he said, "but it does."
I let out a long breath. This wasn't going the way I'd planned. A mortifying thought occurred to me. What if his drinking comment was just an excuse? What if he just didn't see me that way anymore?
I wasn't a Brittney, and I certainly wasn't anything like the other girls he'd been linked to in the news. I wasn't a siren or a starlet or a party girl in any conceivable way. What if the other night had been a fluke? Maybe I should've dressed up after all.
Oh shit.
I'd been so naïve. I thought just because I was a girl, and he was a guy who'd expressed some interest in me, that if I showed up and offered myself to him that he'd be willing. Okay, more than willing.
Screw it. I'd come this far, and my day couldn't get any more humiliating. Bracing myself, I laid my cards on the table. "So you're saying you don't want me?" I lifted my chin. Even if the situation was humiliating, I wasn't going to slink away like some whipped dog.
I'd leave, but I'd keep my dignity. Well, what dignity remained. I guess it wasn't much.
Something in his expression changed. He chuckled. "Chloe," he said. "If you knew how much I wanted you." He shook his head. "Well, let's just say you'd be smart to run back the way you came." He took a step closer until we were almost touching. "And you'd run right now. Before I show you exactly how much." His gaze smoldered into mine, and I swear, I felt my panties ignite.
"Yeah?" I said, feeling my earlier boldness return with a vengeance. "Prove it."
He gave me a wicked grin. "Is that a dare?"
Mutely, I nodded.
Before I knew it, he'd swooped me up in his arms, literally, carrying me the final steps to his the brick steps of his front entryway. I heard myself laugh, a joyful sound that had been sadly lacking lately. His steps were sure and steady, and his arms were rock hard under my knees, as he moved easily up the steps.
With me still in his arms, he pushed open his front door and carried me inside, turning to walk through a a set of large double doors.
When I'd come here the previous times, those doors had been closed.
But now, inside this strangely cozy room, I saw cream-colored walls, gleaming oak floors, a huge unlit fireplace with brown leather furniture arranged in a square pattern around a plush, gold-colored rug.
Still carrying me, he strode toward the leather sofa that sat opposite the huge fireplace. His chest was rock hard against my cheek as I nestled into him, soaking up the clean scent and masculine feel of him.
I couldn’t see his face, but I heard the smile in his voice as he said, "If I let you go, you're not gonna run off, are you?"
I shook my head, too caught up in the moment to be embarrassed at the fact I'd done exactly that on my last visit. But tonight, I was someone different. If I ran, it would be toward him, not the other way around. "Not a chance," I said.
"Good," he said, tossing me onto the couch, "because trust me, you wouldn't get far."
Chapter 40
I could only imagine how I looked. My hair had to be a wild mess, and I could tell by the feel of my clothes they were twisted around me in a way that was decidedly unfashionable. But as he stood by the sofa, looking down at me with an expression of unbridled desire, none of that mattered.
All I knew was that I wanted him. And he wanted me. And for just one night, that was more than enough.
"Don’t move," he said. "I'll be right back."
When he strode out of the room, I felt the loss of his presence in a way that was totally foreign to me. The room was gorgeous with gold-framed paintings and vases with flowers in all the right places. Obviously, the guy had a decorator.
He returned a minute later and strode to the fireplace. Crouching down with his back to me, he opened the glass doors, struck a match, and tossed the lit match onto a huge stack of wood and kindling, obviously staged for quick ignition.
"Wow, real wood," I said, thinking of the gas logs I'd seen in most of the homes I'd stayed in. "I haven't seen that in a while."
Slowly, he turned his head toward me and cocked a single eyebrow. The off-color implication of my words struck me. "I meant,
uh, with the fireplace." But my eyes had a mind of their own and flicked briefly to his groin area.
"Yeah?" he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
If I were that other girl, I'd make some remark about wanting to see his wood.
On second thought – I shook my head. That would be the stupidest thing on Earth to say, unless I was starring in a bad porn movie. Next thing, I'd be asking him to deliver my pizza with sausage.
Oh crap, had he asked me a question? "Um, excuse me?"
Something like amusement danced in his eyes, and I felt a warmth in my face that had nothing to do with the fire, or the vodka for that matter.
Slowly, like a panther stalking his prey," he approached the sofa. "Has anyone told you you're beautiful when you blush?"
"I don't blush," I said.
"Is that so?"
"Well, I don't normally blush," I said.
But the truth was, being around Lawton made me do a lot of things I didn't normally do. If I had my way, that list would be a lot longer before the night was through. "What I need to do now," I said, "is make you blush."
He laughed. "You can try."
I reached for his shirt, grabbing a handful and tugging him toward me. Before I knew it, our lips were crushed together in a ragged kiss, and we fell back together on the large sofa.
Soon, we lay side-by-side with our limbs intertwined as we began to explore each other’s body. I ran my hands over his back, marveling in the coiled mass of perfected muscle that danced underneath my fingertips every time he moved.
Slowly he ran his hands over my back. Even through my T-shirt, I felt his strength and the heat of his touch. They roamed to my waist, and then to the seat of my jeans.
With a feather-light touch, he ran his fingers over my ass, still covered in the denim. I found myself wiggling and twisting my hips in encouragement, grinding my pelvis into his while he teased me with the lightest of touches.
I heard his voice in my ear. "This isn't what I expected."
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