“Jesus,” Brannon exhaled. “I feel kind of like a dick for going through her stuff, but how in the fuck did none of us know she had a kid?”
“She doesn’t share much. This would explain why she didn’t want either of us to give her a ride home last night.”
“Why didn’t she tell anyone? It doesn’t make sense.”
“She’s scared of something.”
“What if it’s not her kid? What if she’s kidnapped someone else’s kid?”
“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t believe that… not Ilsa. It’s gotta be hers, but… shit, this raises more questions than it answers.”
“Man, you said it. Who knows what else she’s dealing with. Seems like the last thing she needed was expensive car repairs,” Brannon murmured.
“I’ll pay for the alternator,” I said without hesitation. “The labor, too.”
“Cody,” Brannon said, “I know you've got a little crush on her, but I don’t think—”
“It’s more than a crush, Brannon,” I replied. “Things have gone a lot farther than anything so innocent.”
“Seriously?” Brannon asked, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
I gave a curt nod.
“Like how much farther?”
I clenched my teeth.
“Jesus, did you fuck her?”
I slanted a murderous glare over at him.
“Holy shit… dude, she barely even talks to anyone.”
“Yeah, well she didn’t do a whole lot of talking with me either.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah… so just do me a favor and let me pay for the expensive shit.”
“What do we tell her?”
“Tell her it was just the belt,” I replied, looking at the soft little baby T-shirt in my large, grubby hand. “That’s a cheap thing to fix, and we had to replace it anyway. We can write the bill separate for that, but keep it low. I’ll pay the bulk of the repair cost.”
“I dunno, Cody,” he hedged, “maybe—”
“She’s got a kid, dude,” I interrupted, sweeping my hand over the contents of her trunk. “She’s a barmaid. She hasn’t been here long, seems to pretty much be living out of her car, and, as far as I know, she doesn’t know anybody. She can’t afford a bunch of fucking repairs, so don’t tell her it’s that much. Even say you had the belt lying around and don’t charge her for that either. Something. But I’m paying for the damn parts.”
Brandon looked a little surprised by the adamant demand I was making.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he asked.
“Nope,” I replied, “but I’m taking her car back tonight… and we’re going to have a little talk.”
My stalkeriness went into overdrive. I told myself it was a necessary evil. I needed some answers and had to do some drastic shit to get them.
Knowing she was working that night, I called the Copperline to ask Doug to give her a message for me, to let her know I wouldn’t have her car done until the next morning. It was complete shit since Brannon and I had already fixed it before I even called, but I didn’t want her expecting me that night.
I was setting the stage for an intervention of sorts.
Then I drove her car to the Copperline after it got dark, parked way in the back corner of the lot where she wouldn’t notice me, but I could still see the door.
And I waited.
The Sunday night crowd was sparse. At a little after ten, I saw her come out of the building and head for my pickup. As she left the Copperline, I followed.
Towards Butte, on the outskirts of town, she pulled into the driveway of a small square house. There were a couple cars parked in front of the garage, making me wonder if she lived here, but not alone. Not that it was a fancy place, but maybe she wasn’t as destitute as I’d thought.
After she went inside, a middle-aged man came out of the house, went to a sedan parked near the front steps, and opened the back driver-side door.
I bristled the moment he’d appeared.
I wondered how he was related to her… if he was related to her. He was old enough to be her father, but I was trying so hard to consider all the angles. For all I knew, he could have been her man, and that thought made me ill to no end. Even more so than when I thought Doug was hot for her. This was worse, though. If this was where she lived, and it seemed like it was where he lived…
Had she cheated on him with me?
But then Ilsa came back out of the house… and she was carrying a small child with light blonde hair. The kid’s head was tucked against her shoulder and little legs hung limp when she walked. The man reappeared from reaching into the sedan with a child safety seat that he buckled into the passenger side of my pickup, then stood back and allowed her to set the child down in it.
After a moment, she turned to him and gave a tiny wave, which he returned with a kind and thankfully not leering grin. No hugs or kisses or fondling. Thank God. Ilsa climbed up behind the wheel and started back down the short drive to the highway.
Okay, thank fuck. It didn’t seem like there was anything there… but, then I really started to worry.
Was she homeless? With all the stuff in her trunk, was she living out of her car?
I followed her into Butte, keeping at least one vehicle between us at all times, and she drove through the quiet streets, heading uptown. In a fairly desolate part of town, she parked in front of a small, run-down apartment building, gathered up the sleeping kid, and headed inside.
I waited for a minute, watching for movement or light. Something to indicate that she lived here and, if so, which apartment might be hers. After a few moments, light came on in an upstairs room, and I breathed an immense sigh of relief, exhaling air I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
I’d really started to think she was homeless.
The curtains were drawn, but they were thin, and I could see the faint outline of her crossing into another room. I waited a few minutes, looking for a sign of another adult. A roommate or the kid’s dad.
After a bit, not seeing anyone else but her, I counted windows over from the main entrance, trying to estimate how far in her place was. When I thought I had a good handle on it, I climbed out of her car and trekked up the stairs to her door.
It seemed crazy, a little bit obsessive, that I was here. I hoped to God that I had the right door when I knocked lightly, considering it was almost midnight by this point. Most people would be a little put out having someone waking them up looking for someone else.
I started wondering if I had the wrong door, so I stood back and kind of looked up and down the hallway to reassess. Thinking once again that I did, I knocked again. This time, I also leaned into the door and quietly called her name.
“Ilsa?”
Then it was like I could almost feel her on the other side. I knew she was standing there. I looked down to see the faint shadows from her feet, breaking the warm light that escaped underneath the door.
“Ils,” I called out again, just loud enough for her to hear, but not so loud as to bother the other people living in the building. “It’s Cody, open the door.”
Silence, but then a little click of the lock, a rattle of the door chain, and she was standing there before me.
She looked terrified.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you even know where I live?”
This was so going to make me sound like a stalker.
“It’s not as creepy as it seems,” I began, “but I followed you.”
“Why? I thought I was just meeting up with you tomorrow.”
“We got your car done a little faster than we figured we would.”
“Oh, well, okay. I’ll grab the keys to your truck.” She started to turn away, but I placed my hand on her arm to stop her.
“That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m also here because we need to have a chat.”
A wary shadow flitted through her eyes. “Cody, I really ap
preciate everything you’re doing for me, and please, don’t think I regret… that time I was with you. I just—”
Her voice cut off abruptly when I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little T-shirt from her trunk.
“You have a kid?” My question was really more of a statement.
She stared at the little garment in my hand, then glanced up at me. Caught. Trapped. Distrustful.
Finally, with no alternative, she nodded.
“A son. Max. He’s almost a year and a half.”
“How about a man?” I asked with my heart in my throat. Thinking back to my own parents and their essentially perfect relationship. Role models who had instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in the game of love.
Marriage meant fidelity. They made me hope I could have something like that someday.
Her answer now had the potential to really fuck with that goal.
If she was married…
Fuck, I couldn’t think that way. I couldn’t jump to conclusions.
She took the little shirt and held it to her heart. “It’s just me and Max,” she whispered, then turned and walked into the apartment. “I haven’t always been the good girl I’m trying to be now.”
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The main room itself was practically bare, only a couch and an old easy chair separated by a shabby side table that held a lamp. There was a small coffee table with a few scattered baby toys and a book spread open to mark a place. The bag she’d brought out of the house on her way home was on the floor beside it.
A tiny kitchenette was tucked into a corner of the room with economy-sized appliances and a little table with two chairs, one of which had a booster seat strapped onto it.
She wasn’t living in her car, but it didn’t really look like she was living here either.
“So are you just moving in?” I asked. “I could help carry some stuff up from your car.”
“Um, no… I’m not sure how long we’ll be here.”
“You got another place lined up?”
She bit her lip and turned her face to the side, evading my question.
Okay, so that’s not something she wants to share.
“Where is your son?” I asked, trying a different tactic.
“In the bedroom,” she said nervously, motioning towards a closed door, “asleep. I was just reading, getting in a little quiet time.” An accusatory expression swept over her face as she held up the small shirt. “Wait, so you went through my car?”
I still kind of felt shitty about that and nodded with a chagrined twist to my mouth. “We didn’t really mean to.”
She was a little flushed, her eyes sparkling with indignation. “How do you not mean to go through my car?”
“We were putting a set of jumper cables in the trunk for you.”
She thought about that for a minute, then pursed her lips. “Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to be mad at you for being nosey when you were doing something nice like making sure I had jumper cables.”
I shrugged and gave her a slight smile. “Everyone should have some, especially if your car does shit like it did last night. We happened to have an extra set in the tow truck, so Brannon figured he’d just give them to you.”
She looked up at me again in concern. “So Brannon knows, too, then?”
I nodded, watching her closely as she fought for control of some deep-set fear.
“Can I trust you guys to keep it a secret?” Her words belied the emotion emanating from her.
She didn’t trust us at all.
“Brannon probably told Sophie. Not sure if he’s told anyone else, but I’ll tell the Mofos not to share beyond our little group. I don’t know what your rationale is, but you have kept this a secret for a reason. I don’t want to fuck that up for you.” I watched as she exhaled, a thankful expression washing over her face. “That said, you and I need to get some stuff straight.”
Her pensive look returned, and she shook her head slowly. “Cody, there can’t be a you and I.”
“Fuck that,” I replied, quiet and firm. “There already is.”
“I have a child.”
“And?”
She studied me as though I’d grown two heads. “Well, that’s just weird,” she finally murmured.
“What’s weird?”
“Finding out something like that would send most guys running, not turn them into stalkers.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not like most guys.” I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “So… Max, right?” I paused, and then continued after she gave a quick nod. “Is Max why you think you can’t be with me?”
She looked away, biting her lip. I wondered for a second if she’d actually give me something to go on this time. If she’d maybe clue me in a little.
“I’m not really in the market for a boyfriend,” she finally said. “I have a little guy in my life already, and he needs to be number one.”
“That doesn’t really explain why you didn’t tell me before. It doesn’t explain why you haven’t told anybody at the bar, either, except maybe Doug.”
“Doug doesn’t know either.”
“Well, if you were trying to keep dudes away, and you thought having a kid would do it, why weren’t you singing it from the rooftops?” I stepped closer and leaned into her, feeling as though some sort of magnetism was pulling me into her space. I felt her body tremble, felt her yearning to reach out to me in spite of her mild panic. “And, you slept with me anyway.” Her breath caught. “Why?”
She raised her eyes up to meet mine, and her gaze was conflicted. For a minute, she focused on my lips, licking her own. “Because I wanted you,” she finally whispered. “I have for a while, ever since I first met you when you muttered something about Casablanca.” Her words were so quiet that I could barely hear them, even in the quiet room.
“Your name… it made me think of the movie.”
“And,” she continued nervously, “in the stockroom when you almost kissed me. Being so close to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What it might be like. Then you came to see if I was okay, and you did kiss me. The way it felt to be in your arms… I wanted to be held by you again. It was selfish of me because I know this can’t continue. I have other responsibilities, and I can’t do this.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But I wanted a little more of you, just for a little while longer.”
I stepped towards her, slowly, afraid that she’d bolt again like she did so many times before.
She stood her ground, though, in spite of her obvious trepidation. Her breathing became choppy, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew soft with emotion and arousal.
I took another step, and she spoke, breathy and low.
“You shouldn’t be here, though.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, my voice rough with want as I took another step. Close enough to touch her. Close enough that I could have traced my fingers down her cheek or set my hands lightly at her waist if I wanted to. I totally wanted to. God, it was almost painful to not touch her. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but I am.”
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, feel the blood pulsing through my veins. Ilsa’s lips parted and trembled, and her body swayed the faintest bit.
“I thought it might get you out of my system,” she breathed. “Then maybe I wouldn’t want you anymore.”
“Is that how it works for you? You start feeling an attraction, act on it, and then it goes away?”
“Or,” she shrugged, “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me… that it was all about the chase, and you’d lose interest. Then it wouldn’t matter what I wanted.”
“That’s kind of the opposite of how I feel.”
All this time, I was moving closer, invading the little personal bubble of space around her. The warm scent of sunshine filled my nostrils, and my mouth watered at the memory of her sweet arousal on my taste buds.
Her eyes closed and she appeared to be drawing u
p her resolve, taking a few bracing breaths before she opened her eyes. But her gaze was liquid, glossed over with desire.
“I don’t ever remember feeling this way… about anyone. I shouldn’t feel this way, Cody. You should go.”
“Do you really want me to?”
Say no. God, say no.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said hoarsely.
“If you really want me to leave, I will. I’ll turn around and walk out the door. All you have to do is tell me that’s what you really want.” I reached up to barely skim my fingers through her hair, grazing her cheek, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Just tell me you want me to go.”
“I… can’t…” she stammered.
“You can’t what, Ils?” I asked, dipping my lips close to hers, but still not really touching her. “You can’t want me? Or you can’t tell me to go?”
“Cody…”
My name on her lips, that frantic whisper that caressed my skin.
Fuck, don’t say no. Tell me to stay.
“Tell me to kiss you,” I demanded in a low tone.
Her gaze, hazy and hot, focused on my mouth. Her lips moved at first with no sound. She swallowed again and shook her head.
“Tell me,” I repeated, and then I waited.
“Kiss me,” she finally breathed, and she touched her lips to mine.
In the beat of a heart, she was in my arms, her arms tightly wound around my neck, our mouths fused together. I swept my tongue deep, brushing it against hers until she moaned down my throat. My hands swept over her body, tingling with the sensation of touching her again. They slid down over her ass, cupped it and lifted her up against me, pinning her to the wall.
Every movement she made fueled the fire inside me. Every swipe of her tongue and clench of her nails. Her desperate little whimper as I pressed my hips into hers, and the increased fervency of her kiss had me feeling almost weak in the knees.
One minute, I had her up against the wall with her legs around my waist, the next I was carrying her, wrapped around me, to the couch. I fell into the soft cushions along the back with her straddling my hips as she threw herself into the kiss.
Everything about her was so passionate, so raw and feral. Like the last thread had snapped and she was tumbling down in reckless abandon, uncontrolled and wild.
Easy Little Lick (Copperline #3) Page 9