[Lockhart Brothers 01.0] Deep Down

by Brenda Rothert

  Things with me and Ivy were just getting started, but I knew she was someone special. Someone I wanted to stand up for. I’d never felt this way about a woman, and I wasn’t letting her slip away for any reason. She deserved the same respect Kim and Hannah got from my family—if not more.

  Dad walked into my office at work the next morning. “Got a minute?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I want to apologize for my comment about Ivy last night. It was rude and uncalled for.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “And about Kyle . . . your mother and I never expected anything like this to come up. We are concerned about the boys. But it’s tough when your sons are grown men, able to make their own decisions and mistakes.”

  I took off my reading glasses and set them on my desk. “It’s not my place to question your parenting. I apologize for that.”

  Dad shrugged. “No need, son. We’re all just doing the best we can. It means a lot to me that you care enough about Kyle and the boys to speak up.”

  After a few seconds of silence, he turned toward the door. “Lena’s headed out to get some fancy coffee,” he said. I smiled at his description of any coffee other than grocery store grounds brewed in the twenty-year old office coffee pot. “You want some?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  I buried myself in work that day and every one after that, catching up on public defender cases. I saw Ivy when I went to Gene’s for lunch and we exchanged a few texts. But those bits of interaction just made me hungry for more. Every morning in the shower I fantasized about the sweet berry taste of her mouth when I’d kissed her, and the feel of her body pressed against mine. It always ended in a hard climax that barely satisfied my urge for her.

  By Friday night, I was dying for time alone with her. She’d told me she was taking Noah to Margie and Gene’s for the night, so I was picking her up there for our date.

  When I knocked on the door of the neat little bungalow, Gene answered it. He wore his trademark gray t-shirt, jeans and baseball hat.

  “Reed,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. “You gonna take good care of our girl tonight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Come on in.”

  The house smelled like chocolate chip cookies. I followed the sound of Noah’s laughter into the kitchen. He was standing on a chair in front of the kitchen counter, his hands covered with cookie dough.

  “Hey, Noah,” I said. “You making me some cookies?”

  “Reed,” he said, trying to stir the thick dough. “I make cookies.”

  “I see. They smell really good.”

  Ivy walked into the kitchen, her hands in the air as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and wrapped an elastic band around it.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling.

  “Hi.” I wanted to kiss her, but it didn’t seem right with Noah watching. She wore black cotton pants that fit her lean legs just right. I got a quick look at her hips and a sliver of her bare stomach as she tied her hair back. When she dropped her hands, her white t-shirt covered her again.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “Why am I dressed like this?”

  “Fancy steakhouse,” I said. “I always wear sweats to those places.”

  She approached and gave me a mock punch to the shoulder. “Seriously, why did you tell me to wear workout clothes?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  I arched my brows and gave her a knowing smile. “You said that last time, and look how that turned out.”

  Her blue eyes were locked on mine and a smile played on her pink lips. I told my cock to keep his shit under control so I didn’t get a hard on for Ivy in Margie and Gene’s kitchen.

  “You kids have fun,” Margie said. “And Ivy, we’re not expecting you back here tonight. We’ll take Noah to the diner for pancakes tomorrow and then to run errands with us. We won’t be back ’til afternoon.”

  I suppressed a smile. It sounded like Margie was encouraging Ivy to spend the night with me.

  “Alright,” Ivy said. “Thanks so much.”

  She approached Noah and turned him around on the chair, picking him up in a hug. “I love you,” she said, squeezing him against her. “Be good, lovebug.”

  “He’s always good,” Margie said. “Noah’s an angel.”

  “No eating raw cookie dough,” Ivy said, setting her son back down on the chair.

  “Oh, that’s half the fun,” Margie said, waving a hand.

  “He shouldn’t eat raw eggs.”

  “Bah. I ate worse than that when I was a kid. I was drinking beer at age fifteen,” Margie added.

  “Well, humor me,” Ivy said. “Feed him all the cookies you want, as long as they’re cooked.”

  “You got it. Now you two go on, get out of here.”

  Margie handed Ivy her gym bag and shooed us out the door. Ivy looked up at me as we walked to my truck.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a really cute belly button?” I asked.

  She gave me a surprised look.

  “I saw it when you were pulling your hair up.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks reddened.

  “You know, you’ve got an innocence about you that’s incredibly sexy,” I said, backing her against the door of my pickup truck. “You blush over me seeing your stomach. What if I told you what I really want?”

  “Are you . . .” Her cheeks darkened another shade. “Do you like to . . . talk dirty?”

  “Not on the second date.”

  “But do you like it?”

  My cock was hard, and it was all I could do not to press my hips against her so she’d feel it. But we were in Gene and Margie’s driveway, so I maintained the inch of distance between us.

  “I like you. And something tells me that, yeah, I’d enjoy talking dirty to you if the time was right.”

  She bit her lower lip before speaking. “I’ve never . . . done that, but something tells me I’d enjoy it, too.”

  I forced myself to step back. “Let’s finish this conversation in the truck.”

  As I opened her door, I tried to come up with a thought that wasn’t sexy. I had to get rid of this boner. Thinking fast, I pictured my mom and my grandma sitting at church. It helped. By the time I stepped into the truck, my sweats weren’t tented anymore.

  “You know,” I said, turning to look out the back windshield as I put the truck in reverse, “you don’t seem all that experienced, sexually.”

  “That’s because I’m not.”

  “I find that very sexy.”

  Ivy laughed lightly. “My inexperience? What’s sexy about me not having a clue?”

  “I guess it’s a guy thing,” I said, shrugging.

  “Hmm.”

  “Would you be turned off if I was inexperienced?”

  “The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

  I cringed inside for being so forward so soon. “I apologize, Ivy. I’m moving way too fast here, suggesting that you’ve considered sex with me when we’re on our second date.”

  She laughed again. “Oh, I’ve definitely considered that. What I meant was that I haven’t considered you being inexperienced.”

  I let out an exhale of relief. “Well, I really like you a lot and I’m not in a hurry to get you into bed. I want you, but I want to do this right and let things happen like they should.”

  “And how is that?”

  The truth slipped out of my mouth unchecked. “I want you to be in love with me first.”

  She was silent, and when I glanced over I couldn’t read the look on her face.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

  “No. I’m just . . . That was really nice. What you just said.”

  Her tone wasn’t just flattered, but surprised. I couldn’t understand how this woman didn’t realize any man would be a lucky bastard to have her fall
in love with him.

  “So, when the time comes . . . you are experienced, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How experienced?”

  “Enough. No worries, Ivy.”

  “I’m not as much worried as curious,” she said. “How many women have you been with?”

  Well, shit. I’d started this line of conversation and now I was backed into a corner. I decided to try the dodge and deflect technique I’d learned in law school.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  When I chanced a glance at her, her face had crumpled. “Just one,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

  Something about the admission had been painfully difficult for her, but she’d done it. I wanted to be honest with her in return.

  “I’ve been with eleven women,” I said. “But when I was younger, sex was something different to me than it is now.”

  “How many of them were you in love with?”

  “Just one.”

  She nodded.

  “It’s different with you, Ivy, I swear it is. I only want to make love to you, and I’ve never wanted that before.”

  “Me either,” she said, her voice small.

  I pulled into the parking lot of the gym. “We’re here. Now let me put the smile back on your face. I’ll be right around to get your door.”

  I took her hand to help her down to the ground and kept hold of it as we walked into the Lovely YMCA. I’d been coming here since I was a kid, and the front desk clerk nodded me past the front desk.

  When we walked into the weight room, the heads of all dozen men inside turned to Ivy. I had a momentary urge to throw her over my shoulder and pound on my chest to stake my claim.

  “What are we doing here, Reed? Tell me we aren’t lifting weights.” She turned to me with a small smile.

  “I’m gonna teach you how to box,” I said, leading the way to a punching bag in the corner.

  “Really?” Her smile widened. “That sounds like fun.”

  We started with the bag, where I showed her proper form. There was nothing proper about the way I felt when I put my hands on her waist, or stood behind her to guide her arm the right way. I had to make sure I stood far back enough that she wouldn’t feel the wood this was giving me.

  Once she had the hang of it, I laced her hands into gloves so she could practice on me. We used the mat in the weight room, and I still noticed men staring openly at Ivy. She was too beautiful not to draw attention.

  “Is that right?” she asked, punching the open palm I was holding in front of her.

  “Elbow down a little,” I said, easing it closer to her body. “Good, that’s better.”

  Ivy was intent, working up a sweat quickly. The fiery determination in her eyes made me want to scrap the boxing lesson and make out with her instead.

  “My arms feel heavy,” she said after nearly an hour, stopping to rest.

  “This is a real workout and I think we should call it quits. I’m planning dinner at my place, are you ready to go?”

  She nodded and grinned. “But I love boxing. I want to do it again.”

  “We will. You want to shower here or at my place?”

  Her horrified glance came as a surprise.

  “I’m not trying to get you to shower with me on the second date,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No, I was thinking about the open showers in the locker room here. I can’t shower there.”

  “My place then.”

  I drove the short distance to my apartment above the law office. When we walked in, Ivy looked around my loft apartment, her eyes drawn up to the exposed beams and tall windows overlooking downtown Lovely. It wasn’t big, but the hardwood floors and gourmet kitchen made it just right for me.

  “This is such a nice place,” she said, sliding out of her coat.

  “Thanks. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

  But before I could, Snoop came bounding out of the bedroom, tail wagging. He went right to Ivy, his tongue hanging out happily as she petted him.

  “Aw, you must be Snoop,” she said. “You’re a good boy.”

  He was as taken with her as I was. She gave his ears a good scratching before he walked away satisfied. After I led her to the bathroom and left her to shower, he laid outside the bathroom door, waiting for her.

  I turned on some music and got started on the steak, mashed potatoes and asparagus I was making for dinner.

  I was so absorbed in cooking that I didn’t see Ivy come into the kitchen. A warm coconut scent made me look up from the counter and I realized it was her soap.

  “You smell really damn good,” I said, bending to kiss her neck. My hands were messy from peeling potatoes so I was forced to keep them to myself.

  “I’ll finish this while you get a shower,” she said.

  “You don’t like a sweaty guy kissing your neck while he’s making you dinner?”

  I felt the vibrations of a low laugh in her throat. “I like it very much. I just figured you wanted to take a shower.”

  “I should.” I wiped my hands off on the dishtowel I’d left on the counter. “Be careful, this knife’s really sharp.”

  “I work at a diner,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning as I walked to the bathroom, pulling my t-shirt off and tossing it to the floor. When I turned the water on, it was already hot from Ivy’s shower. I lathered my hair and body, rinsing off when I heard a dull pounding sound.

  “Reed!” Ivy called through the door. She was knocking at the same time and her voice sounded panicked. I switched off the water, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist. As soon as I threw the door open, I saw Ivy holding a red stained paper towel around one of her fingers.

  “Oh, shit,” I said in a rush. “Come here.”

  I grabbed a towel from the sink and wrapped it around her bleeding thumb. There was so much blood I couldn’t even see the cut.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Lightheaded?”

  She shook her head. “It hurts, but I’m okay. It just won’t stop bleeding.”

  “I’ll keep pressure on it.”

  I squeezed both of my hands around the towel and raised her hand up in the air.

  “I think we’re supposed to keep the wound higher than your heart,” I said. “I remember something like that from first aid training.”

  I hadn’t dried off before opening the door, and now my wet chest was soaking through to her breasts. I stepped back to keep from getting her wet and felt the towel around my waist start to slide.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Can you grab my towel? It’s falling off.”

  She gasped and reached for my hip with her free hand. “This side? I can’t see past our arms.”

  “No, other side.”

  I backed against the sink to hold the towel up. Ivy grabbed one corner and held it in front of me. We were a tangled mess of arms and wet body parts.

  Both of us were silently avoiding eye contact until Ivy giggled and broke the tension.

  “Only I, the queen of all klutzes, could pull this one off,” she said.

  “If you wanted to see the goods, you could’ve just told me. You didn’t need to cut yourself to get in here.”

  “Funny.”

  “Have you got my towel?”

  “As long as you don’t move.”

  I lowered her hand and unwrapped it, able to see the gash in her thumb. Blood started to pour out of the cut again, so I wrapped the towel tightly around it again.

  “You hold onto your towel for a few seconds so I can fix mine,” I said. “Then we’ll go into the kitchen and I’ll wrap this cut up with gauze and bandages.”

  “I bled on the potatoes,” she said apologetically.

  “That’s okay. I’m part vampire.” I lowered her hand and met her eyes. “You ready?”

  She nodded and I let go of her towel. I reached for t
he one around my waist and secured it tightly in a couple of seconds.

  “Alright,” I said, returning my hand to her towel. “To the kitchen.”

  I put my other hand on her back and led her there, where I washed the cut, dried it and put antibiotic on it before wrapping it with a thick layer of gauze, then securing it with tape.

  “Tell me if it bleeds through, okay?” I said. “Just relax and let me finish dinner.”

  She watched me finish peeling the potatoes and add them to the boiling water on the stove, still wearing nothing but the towel around my waist. I’d sautéed the asparagus and put the steaks under the broiler before she finally spoke.

  “You aren’t the kind of person who says I told you so.”

  I made a face. “The world’s got enough of those people, don’t you think?”

  “I do. But still, thanks.”

  “I’m gonna go throw some clothes on,” I said. “We’ll be eating in ten minutes.”

  I put on boxers, jeans and a t-shirt and ran a towel over my hair to dry it. When I got back to the kitchen, Ivy was leaning against the counter. Her bandaged thumb and expression of measured happiness made her look vulnerable. I wanted her to feel completely safe with me, but it I knew would take time.

  “Hungry?” I asked, filling two glasses with water.

  “Yes. Boxing works up an appetite. I had fun, though. I’d love to do it again.”

  “Anytime.”

  We sat down to eat and even though I was starving, I watched Ivy, waiting for her to taste the first bite. I was eager to see if she liked it.

  She held the fork awkwardly due to her heavily-bandaged thumb. After a couple unsuccessful attempts to gracefully get a bite of potatoes to her mouth, she set the fork down and sighed.

  “Want some help?” I asked, trying not to smile.

  “Can you make me left-handed?”

  “No, but I can feed you.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “That’s okay, it’ll just take me a little longer.”

  She ate slowly and we talked about work and Noah while we sat there. After we were done, I stacked the dishes in the sink, saving them for later.

  Ivy was playing with Snoop, but she stood up from scratching his back when I approached. I cupped her cheeks in my hands and went in for the kiss I’d been waiting for all week.