Someone Like You

by Addison Moore

  “This is it.” Cruise drops off a stack of boxes he muscled down all on his own. Figures. Morgan here is proving himself useless already. Typical male—love ’em and leave ’em, then let someone else do all the heavy lifting. “You guys want to meet us down at Pete’s Fish and Chips tonight? My treat.”

  Kendall leans in and whispers something in his ear.

  “Okay”—Cruise looks uneasy—“how about the Della Argento restaurant, instead?”

  Kendall nudges him in the ribs. I can tell she’s gunning for this to be special for her big bro and me.

  “My treat,” he grits. Cruise gets that faraway look in his eyes as if he’s trying to mentally rework the mortgage on the B and B just to pay for our impending nosh-fest. Cruise wipes the sweat from his brow with his shoulder. Cruise is gorgeous and courteous, unlike Morgan here who only has the first half down; and seeing that genetics played a huge part in that, I’m back to finding him useless.

  “Sounds good to me.” Morgan pushes out a grin with the hint of a dare.

  “Sounds good to me too.” I bite the air with my response.

  Morgan ticks his head back with that cockier-than-hell smile spreading slow across his face. “Why don’t we get those boxes out of your car and we can ride to your new place together?” he offers, tipping his head back with those hooded eyes set to seduce as if he’s trolling for more of that bargain-basement affection.

  “That’s perfect.” Kendall is quick to motivate Cruise to evacuate the boxes from my Honda as if it were about to combust. “That way you can get to know one another right away.”

  I ride a quick glance up and down his body and the memory of him writhing over me reduces me to cinders.

  I wonder what Kendall would think if I told her that we got to “know” each other rather proficiently last night.

  I give a depleted smile as Kendall and Cruise take off.

  “Looks like it’s just me and you.” His dimples implode and so does my stomach.

  “Nice to see your deductive reasoning skills are intact. You’re a sharp one.”

  He huffs a quiet laugh. “And you’ve got a sharp tongue.” He steps into me with his lip curling on the side. “But I already knew that.”

  My body lights up like a flare. Morgan Jordan already knows far too much about my body. I wish I had never had slept with him.

  The only one deficient in reasoning skills around here is me.

  Morgan

  I swear to you, I never meant to leave that money. It must have fallen out of my wallet,” I say for the third time as we drive down the long stretch of highway.

  It’s gorgeous out here but Ally outshines anything Mother Nature is trying to impress us with. Every now and again you can see a touch of the ocean through the pines, and if I weren’t hauling a psychotic to her brother’s trailer park I’d offer to take her to the beach for a while.

  “Sure. Whatever.” She spits it out like a death threat. “It’s not like you’re going to admit it now that you know Kendall and I are friends. By the way, I’ll be a bridesmaid in her wedding come December. We’ll probably be forced to dance together. In case you’re wondering, my favorite bills are Benjamins.”

  I pump a smile in her direction.

  Smart ass.

  Her lips quiver as if the thought of throwing some moves on the dance floor with me makes her want to cry.

  She gives a hard sniff and the potential for waterworks has just been upgraded to DEFCON 1.

  “Look, I’m really sorry,” I start out slow. “If I knew you were that close to Kendall I would have never even caught you. I would have let you fall right there on the floor and watched your skull crack open to see if butterflies flew out.”

  She gives a little laugh.

  “Okay”—she flattens her hands in the air—“so you’re less of an ass for catching me, but could you please do me a huge favor? Don’t tell her about Pretty Girls, or all that stuff that happened after. I’d die if she found out.”

  All that “stuff” that happened after? And really? Dying of mortification? I could have sworn those moans she gave last night meant pleasure, not pain.

  I run my hand over the wheel before gripping it. I also happened to think that stuff was pretty damn spectacular, but then again, I was the only sober party present.

  “You got it,” I say as we pass a deer on the side of the road. It’s not like I was about to babble to Kendall anyway. “It’s nice out here.” I change the subject on the off chance tears are still a work in progress.

  Ally is pretty and, from what I can tell, sweet to anyone who’s not me. The last thing I’m in the business of doing is making a pretty girl cry.

  After an arduous drive that’s anything but close to campus, I pull off in the Shady Oak RV Park complete with enough children running wild to outfit an elementary school.

  “So why aren’t you living with your sister?” I’m guessing Fan-tessy pulls in quite a haul at the end of the month, not to mention she’s probably not camping out in the boondocks with the miniature punk posse running afoot.

  “Her boyfriend, Dell, is a freak.” She makes a face. “He’s the owner of Pretty Girls, and thinks that entitles him to every girl on the planet.” She shrugs. “Anyway, Tess didn’t exactly offer and Derek did.” She inspects the dismal rows of metallic structures and her pink polished nails glow off her tan skin. Ally looks sexy as hell without even trying. “So, I hear the bed-and-breakfast is full and you’re stuck with Kendall and Cruise.”

  “It’s Kenny,” I tease. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that nickname’s off limits to me.”

  She lets out a little laugh and her features soften. “We should have sickening nicknames for each other. You could be Midnight Morgan and I can be Angel Ally.”

  I laugh dryly. “How about I can be Mega Man and you can be Amazing Ally?”

  “Mega, huh?” She lowers her gaze to my crotch and when she looks up again, she’s got a dirty curve on her lips. “Amazing Ally sounds perfectly boring but I accept.”

  “No, it’s true. You were amazing and anything but boring. I’ve got the replay going off in my mind to prove it.”

  “You’re a perv.” She rolls her eyes.

  “I’m a realist.”

  My eyes stray to her long honeyed legs. The memory of tracking my tongue along the inside of her thighs perks my hard-on to life in my jeans.

  Shit. I’m pretty sure working myself up as we park in front of her brother’s place is not a great idea.

  I wonder if Ally would be interested in me? She was pretty tanked last night. I’m sure half the guys at the club could have scored the same home run. But damn, I’m glad I was there to knock it out of the park. Sure had fun running those bases.

  I press out a gentle smile and tap her on the knee.

  “Let’s do this,” I say, looking at the beat-up RV on cinder blocks. The back window is cracked, with aluminum foil added as a decorative touch. A row of dead plants hangs off a makeshift sill.

  We get out and she shouts hello through the murky screen.

  “Ally?” A female voice rises a few destructive octaves as she opens the door, revealing herself—a tall, disheveled woman with greying hair, her face as worn as shoe leather. Her arms are thin as rails with track marks etched from her wrist to her elbows. She’s sporting some serious raspberry welts, and I’m guessing that’s where the needle penetrated a few times too many. “This your boyfriend?” She smiles, exposing two rows of perfectly rotting teeth.

  “She wishes.” I wrap an arm around Ally’s shoulder and give a squeeze.

  “He wishes,” Ally says. “This is Morgan. Morgan, this is Raya.”

  “I cleared out three compartments for you.” She points to a series of small cubbyholes that line the bottom of the RV. “Derek’s asleep but you two can come in and have the place to yourself. I’ll be
in the back.” She whispers that last half before disappearing.

  “Shit,” I say under my breath as I take it all in. I can’t seem to look away from the wreckage. No offense, but I can spot a junkie a mile away and Raya here certainly meets the criteria. I’m betting good old Derek isn’t sleeping as much as he is passed out, or dead. “You sure you want to do this?” I squint at her. Something in me wants to pick her up and run her back to the truck.

  “Do I look like I have a choice?” Her gorgeous sea glass eyes widen, and suddenly I wish I had enough cash to give her an entire list of choices. “I’ll be fine,” she says, making her way back to the truck and retrieving a small box before heading inside. I follow her in, mostly to see what infestations they might be fostering. There’s no way in hell I’m going to off-load her stuff and leave her here like rat bait.

  It’s dark inside, smells like piss and beer, with something else much more lethal layered underneath. A threadbare carpet meets up with a square of laminate flooring in the kitchen and an odd assortment of beakers and bongs clutters up the tiny counter space.

  I nod over to the mess. “I’m guessing this doubles as a science lab.”

  Ally gives an easy smile and pulls a large square book out of the box while patting a seat beside her on the couch.

  “What does your brother do for a living?” I ask, falling into the seat next to her. The cushion depresses straight to plywood.

  And she’ll be sleeping on this? A casket would be more comfortable, and judging by the atmosphere, it might be an option if she’s not careful.

  “He…” She bites down on her finger and pulls it out of her mouth slowly, as if she were teasing me. Ally leans in tight and her cleavage moves in just under my face. Her sweet perfume grabs me by the balls and gives a gentle squeeze. Damn, she smells good—vanilla and strawberries, my favorite combo. “They rob liquor stores for a living.”

  “Very good.” I straighten. Ally just affirmed the fact there’s no way in hell I’m letting her stay. “So they spend a lot of time running—from the law. That would explain the fatigue.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” She rubs her hand over the book she’s cradling as if it were a pet.

  “I think you’re funny for wanting to stay.”

  She bites down over her cherry-stained lip and lets it out nice and slow by way of her teeth. Her entire person sags as she crosses her butter-smooth legs, and my dick feels the sudden urge to stretch to life.

  “What’s with the book?” I ask before my hormones start rooting for another home run.

  “It’s a scrapbook.” Her eyes glitter with tears as she blinks them away. “It’s of my daughter.”

  My stomach drops like a stone.

  Ally has a daughter. I don’t know why this makes her look different, feel different to be around, but it does. It makes me want to protect her twice as much from Derek’s pharmaceutical felony in the making.

  “Look,” I say, shaking my head, “if you’ve got a little girl, I can’t let you stay here. You said this guy is knocking down liquor stores? That means he’s got firearms and bullets and all kinds of safety hazards kids shouldn’t be around.” Honestly, I have to tell her this?

  “I don’t have her.” Ally’s voice stills to nothing. “I gave her up when I was seventeen. It’s an open adoption.” She nods as if she couldn’t push out another word. “The Christies are real nice people. Ruby is their middle girl.” She wipes a tear from the side of her face, and my heart breaks for her. “Anyway, I get to see her once a month. Ruby knows who I am, and she’s fine with everything. In fact, her fourth birthday is coming up this summer, and I’m saving up to get her something special like a bike. I’ve already cleared it with Janice, her mother.” She swallows the word mother down as if it hurts to say it.

  I brush the hair from her cheek and hook it behind her ear. My chest pounds like I just ran a marathon. Life usually isn’t fair, but it doesn’t have to be this hard either.

  She opens the book and a cherub-faced infant stares back at me. My stomach clenches. It makes me think of Paige back in Oregon, who might be carrying my child. Case in point why I’d sworn off one-night stands, or week-long flings as was the case with Paige. She was taking a break from her then-boyfriend, and I was just letting the general and two colonels I keep tucked in my boxers have a little fun. Of course Clint, her fiancé, wants her to have nothing to do with me—said he’d pay me to stay the fuck out of their lives. But I won’t. If those paternity tests point in the direction of a Jordan then I’m stepping up to the plate. There’s no way in hell I’ll do to my kid what my dad did to me.

  I offer up a quiet smile.

  I’d tell her all that, but I think one deep, dark confession is enough for now. Besides, I don’t want to turn this into something about me. This is about Ally and the little book she’s holding as if it were her baby.

  “And this is her now.” She brushes her thumb over an eight-by-ten photo of a beautiful little girl, blonde curls, big green eyes—she’s Ally’s doppelgänger in every way.

  Something in me galvanizes when I see Ruby’s picture, and suddenly I want to protect both her and Ally.

  “She’s gorgeous, just like her mom.” The words come out low, barely audible.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes lock over mine. Ally holds me hostage with her gaze, and I want to wrap my arms around her, tell her everything will work out.

  A quiet moment passes between us. Every cell in my body wants to lean in and kiss her, but it seems like the scrapbook has grown two sizes, and a part of me wonders if she’s using its girth as a barrier.

  What the hell.

  I lean in and she reciprocates. Her hot breath sweeps over my lips like an erotic sensation meant to torment rather than please. I open my mouth and dive in only to fall into the void she created by moving away.

  “I can’t kiss you,” she whispers.

  “Why not?” She didn’t seem to have a problem doing a whole lot more than kissing last night, but I don’t remind her.

  “You’re you.” She shrugs as if that alone is enough to qualify a rejection. “You know…you’ve got tattoos and probably a piercing I can’t see. You have one-night stands with dancers.” She says that last part as if it is the invisible line in the sand.

  My mouth falls open at the verbal massacre of my character with nothing more than a shallow assessment—not to mention the fact she was the dancer. And she knows damn well I don’t have a piercing.

  “You always so quick to judge?”

  “Don’t get testy,” she snips. “I waited twenty-four hours to judge you.”

  “To my face.” I give a wry smile. “But then again you were too loaded to argue about my tattoos last night. By the way, you gave your oral approval of the one on my chest for a half hour straight.”

  Her fingers fly to her mouth.

  “Okay.” She closes her eyes and tries to compose herself. “First, I’m not trying to insult you. I simply mean that you and I are both from the wrong side of the tracks, and two wrongs don’t usually make a right.”

  “Are you shitting me? What kind of math are they teaching at Garrison anyway?”

  “I just think we shouldn’t get involved any more than we did. You should find a nice girl, and I should find a nice guy. We need someone who’ll refine us. You know, show us there’s more to life than gentlemen’s clubs and an RV filled with rifles and hypodermic needles.”

  “Are you saying I’d drag you down?” I really didn’t need the clarification, but I want her to zero in on the insult.

  She averts her eyes while settling her hips from side to side, driving me wild in my Levi’s. Little does she know she’s ten times more enticing now that she’s put down my social standing as a means of playing impossible to get.

  “I’m saying it would be easier for someone else to raise us up. Face it, Morgan, we
’d just hold each other to the bottom.” She brings her scrapbook to her lips and presses in a kiss. “And believe me, nothing good ever happens down there.”

  I think I see what’s stung Ally so badly that she’s given up on finding love in her own backyard. Something tells me she’s been to the bottom and has no plans on diving back. Little does she know assholes come in all shapes and wallet sizes.

  Ally just needs the right person to show her a relationship can work on both sides of the tracks.

  I’m betting all Ally Monroe needs is someone like me.

  The sun sets in bands of pink and gold as Ally and I make our way to the Della Argento restaurant where Cruise and Kendall wait to meet us. I made it a point not to unload a single box, but Ally put in the elbow grease and had the back of my pickup empty faster than her brother could manage a ten-dollar heist.

  “You look nice,” I say as we make our way inside. Ally did a quick change into a short black dress. Her long blonde hair sweeps down her back, her legs rise to the sky, and my boner is in the midst of a revival just looking at her. Hate to break it to my dick but I have a feeling Ally’s girl parts don’t want to be held down by it tonight or any other night for that matter.

  Wrong side of the tracks. I shake my head as we hit the entrance. Who the hell says that?

  I open the door and let her in first. It’s nice inside, low lighting, enough candles to burn down an RV park and I’m wishing they would. A bouncy blonde takes us over to Kendall who’s waving like a lunatic. She’s wearing a tight dress like Ally’s that shows way too much of my baby sister to the world, and I don’t like it one bit. It’s one thing for Ally to wear it—she looks downright hotter than hell—but I want to throw a tablecloth over my sister. Cruise pops up next to her, looking like Mr. GQ with his hair slicked back, his matching suit and tie.

  “Oh my gosh!” Kendall jumps up and pulls Ally into a hug. “You guys are the cutest couple!” She jets her lower lip out like she used to do when we were kids and she wanted to get her way.