I can’t put him in that position again. How could he ever trust me after what I did to him? And how could I ever trust him when I don’t trust anyone anymore? These thoughts are still at war in my mind when the bathroom door opens, and he walks out in full uniform. He looks just as hot as he did last night. There’s only one problem.
It’s Saturday.
And I know damned well that Justice only works on Saturday when he gets called in for something. Which leads me to one conclusion.
“I have to go into the station.”
He tells me this as he scrubs a towel over his wet hair, so he doesn’t have to meet my eyes. I don’t challenge him because this only serves to confirm that I was right for being scared. Last night was a mistake.
I get up with the sheet from the bed still wrapped around me and gather up my clothes while he watches.
“You can use the shower if you want,” he says. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
I look at him, and there’s nothing on his face. It’s probably the same speech he gives every girl that graces his bed.
I get dressed, and he lingers for reasons I can’t understand. He made it abundantly clear how this was going to go down. But when I’m tossing my hair up into a messy bun, he can’t seem to look away.
“Let me know if you have any more trouble out at Johnson’s place. You should be safe there.”
I nod, but he doesn’t stop there. The longer I remain silent, the more agitated he seems to get.
“You should probably do yourself a favor and stay out of the bar too, while you’re at it. It couldn’t hurt to lay low for a bit, so you don’t go attracting any more trouble in your direction.”
This time, the red head in me comes out to bite back.
“Why don’t you tell me what you really think, Gray?” I scoff. “I brought this on myself, huh? By dancing down at the bar with a few of the golden oldies? I’m so glad I had your fine detective work to figure that one out.”
His muscles tense when he steps closer. So close, I can smell the mint on his breath and the cologne on his neck. I want to slap him and kiss him all at once, and I hate that. I hate that he’s got me so mixed up inside.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you brought trouble on yourself, Ginger,” he bites. “I’m just stating facts.”
His words take aim at my heart, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me hurt.
“You know what, Gray? You’re right. I’m real good at that. Always have been. So why don’t you do me a favor and stay the hell out of my business from now on. I didn’t ask for your help, and I damned sure don’t want it.”
With those parting words, I walk down the hall and tear out of the door, leaving the screen flapping in the wind behind me.
I even make it all the way down the driveway before the tears start falling.
CHAPTER 11
Ginger
When I get back to Mr. Johnson’s place, the camper is as I left it. Except for Mabel’s grandson, Justin is sitting on the front stair. I would be alarmed if he weren’t all of sixteen. He blushes when he sees me coming up the driveway and rises to meet me.
“Hey there, Miss Duke,” he says.
“You can call me Ginger, Justin.”
He blushes again and smiles.
“What can I do for you?” I ask.
His eyes dart around, and suddenly he’s looking everywhere but at me. He’s scratching the back of his head and contemplating his words, and at this rate, we could be here all day.
“It’s alright,” I encourage. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
He nods and shifts from one foot to another.
“Well you see, the thing is… I heard about the stuff that was happening to the salon. And I know everyone in town thought it was kinda funny and all. But I didn’t.”
“Okay. Well, I appreciate that Justin, but it’s nothing really.”
I just want to get inside and curl up in a ball. I’m exhausted and emotionally drained, and Justin is sweet, but I don’t have the patience for this right now. He hems and haws and scratches his head again.
“I think I know who’s doing it though,” he says. “In fact, I know I do. And I have proof.”
Now he’s got my attention.
“What kind of proof?” I ask.
He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. When I swipe the screen, a video pops up. It’s grainy and dark at first, and all you can hear is some rustling around along with Justin’s narration of what he’s doing. Trying to catch that creeper up in the salon, in his words.
There is some muffled confusion when he sees the cruiser pull up. He observes that the Sheriff must be looking into it too. And I see him on screen. I see Justice in his uniform, walking around the salon with a can of spray paint in his hand.
Clear as day.
My stomach churns as the video goes on. Three minutes, it takes him. Three minutes to graffiti the back door. I know that’s what’s happening because I can see it on Justin’s face.
“Why would the Sheriff be doing that kind of stuff?” he asks. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Only it does to me. Because I’ve been an idiot this whole time, thinking Justice had forgotten the past between us. Thinking that time had changed things between us. But it’s plain to see that he still hates me just as much as he did that night. He was out for revenge, and it looks like he got it.
When I think of last night, it’s like being hit with a bucket of ice cold water. It was all just a game to him. Nothing more than a game. I switch off the video and hand the phone to Justin with a trembling hand.
“There’s more,” he says. “I have more videos.”
“You need to delete them,” I tell him. “Delete all of them.”
“But Miss Ginger,” he argues, “we can try to do something. We can…”
“Thank you for showing me this, Justin. I really do appreciate it. But I can promise you, I have it handled.”
Justin looks somewhat crestfallen because I think he really wanted to be the hero in this scenario. I give him a pat on the shoulder, and he flashes a shy smile.
“If you say so, I guess I’ll delete them.”
“Do it now, please,” I say.
He does. And when he’s finished, I send him on his way with another thank you.
The camper is cool and dark inside, and my bed is calling out to me. But first, I go inside the bathroom and wash Justice Grayson off of my body and out of my life.
For good.
CHAPTER 12
Justice
I haven’t heard a peep from Ginger Duke.
Can’t say that it surprises me, after the way we left things at my house that morning three weeks ago. Mr. Johnson fills me in with status reports I never asked for, and when I see her around town, she looks in the other direction.
Guilt is eating at me, but I don’t know why.
I drive by her salon and her camper to check on her, but it looks like the break-ins have stopped for the time being. I take that as a good thing and hope that it was just some local who finally moved on to other things. But it doesn’t feel that way. I can’t shake the notion that there’s something more going on. I can’t stop worrying about her.
I can’t stop remembering the way she felt when I was inside of her. The way her body curved against mine just right. Or the hurt on her face when I dismissed her so easily that day. I thought it would feel good to see her that way. That I’d feel better for knowing what goes around comes around. But it didn’t feel good.
It’s only made me feel worse.
And I’m in an unusual predicament. A situation I don’t quite know how to handle. Because I want to fix this, but I’m not sure how. I’m not sure of anything, except for at noon I find myself at her salon instead of at lunch. The lights are on inside, but the closed sign is up. And through the broken window in the front, I can see Ginger quietly crying in one of her chairs.
Someone is messing with he
r again. And it was stupid of me to let it go on for this long. Seeing her broken like this… it destroys me. That was never my intention. Or maybe it had been in the beginning, I don’t know. But I don’t like it. And I won’t stand for it. It’s time that we got a security system installed on this place.
But first things first.
It looks like Ginger is in need of a new window.
CHAPTER 13
Ginger
It’s pouring rain when I show up on Justice’s doorstep. But the look on his face is priceless when he opens the door and sees me standing there with the window he snuck in to install last night.
I don’t need his pity or his repentance, whatever the case may be.
I thrust the window back in his direction, along with the card he left about the security system and the appointment he set up to have it installed.
“You can keep your damn window,” I tell him. “And your security system too. I don’t need or want your help, Gray. I told you that already.”
When he doesn’t take the wood, I shove harder, and only then does he try to grab onto it. But it splinters his finger instead. I don’t want to feel bad for him. I’m still mad as a wet hornet, and I can’t let that hurt puppy dog expression of his change that.
“Just keep the damn window,” he tells me. “And the security system. If nothing else, for my own peace of mind. Or at least think of poor Mr. Johnson. You’ll give him a heart attack worrying about you the way he does.”
“Oh please,” I scoff. “Who in the hell do you think you’re fooling with that bullshit?”
His spine goes rigid.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I know, Justice.”
The words are filled with equal parts venom and hurt, and his face responds, shadowed with guilt.
“I know it was you. And really? Vandalizing my salon like you’re sixteen again? Grow the hell up, Gray.”
I turn to stomp off, but he catches me around the arm.
“Now that isn’t fair,” he says. “I know it was a stupid thing to do, but give me a chance to explain.”
“What is there to explain?” I ask. “You are still carrying around some childish grudge from something that happened ten years ago, and you couldn’t confront me head on about it, so you tried to ruin the only good thing I had going for me.”
“I guess it was childish,” he says. “Since it happened when we were kids, it shouldn’t mean anything, right?”
There’s an underlying current of hurt in his voice that he can’t hide this time.
“That isn’t what I said,” I tell him. “Of course it matters, Justice. But you’ve never given me the chance to explain.”
“What is there to explain?” he asks. “It seems to me you’ve been doing just about everything you can to avoid that conversation since you’ve come gallivanting back into town.”
My cheeks burn, and my hands lock into fists at my sides.
“If that’s what you think, then fine. Let’s do this. Right now.”
He blinks at me. And blinks again. The rain is running down his face and onto the white tee shirt that clings to his chest. I’m sopping wet, and so is he. The last thing he wants to do is invite me in, but at this point, I don’t give a damn what he wants.
I shove right past him and walk into the kitchen, straight to the liquor cupboard I saw before. He trails in behind me, watching silently as I pick out a bottle of Jack and two shot glasses.
“That isn’t for…”
His words are cut off abruptly when I take a swig straight from the bottle.
“Isn’t for what, Justice? We’re all grown up now. Isn’t it time we moved on from the cheap liquor?”
He doesn’t answer, and when I pour him a glass, he downs it too.
The silence is heavy between us. The tension is almost unbearable. And I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me right now. Like I’m the source of all his problems. Like he’d do just about anything to have me leave town, including vandalizing my shop.
“Go on,” I tell him. “Go on and say it. Say whatever it is you’ve been carrying around with you all these years. Get that poison out of you.”
This time he pours himself another shot and shakes his head.
“I wish you’d never come back,” he says. “Everything was going just fine, and you had to come back here and wreck it. Acting like everything was just peachy. Like we could take a walk down memory lane, and I’d just forget everything once you batted your eyelashes in my direction. It doesn’t work that way, Ginge. Not anymore.”
I roll my eyes and pour myself another drink.
“When did it ever, Gray? You only ever saw what I wanted you to see. You were blind. Blind just like everyone else.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he bites. “I saw you. I saw the real you, Ginger Duke. And she wasn’t pretty on the inside.”
His words burn, and so do my eyes.
I turn around and try to blink away the tears, but they just fall down my cheeks instead. The room goes silent and still, and I can’t stand it.
“You are such an idiot, Gray.”
My voice is shaky, and he doesn’t bite back this time. He doesn’t say a word, and I keep my back turned away from him so he can’t see the hurt written all over my face.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he asks. “Why am I an idiot, Ginger?”
The question isn’t a challenge this time. And this is the boy that I remember. The one who was rough on the outside, but soft on the inside.
“You did so much for me,” I whisper. “So much more than you’ll ever know. It might have seemed stupid and silly, the things we did. The trouble we got into. You held me when I cried over my pet hamsters. All eight of them.”
He clears his throat, and I can hear him moving behind me, but he doesn’t speak. And that’s okay. I don’t think I could go on if he did.
“The thing is, Gray, I never had any hamsters.”
“I know,” he answers. “I know that Ginger. I wasn’t stupid.”
“You knew, but you never asked.”
He’s quiet again. And I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t care. Because it feels good to unburden myself of these wounds I’ve carried for so long. It feels good to be honest, for at least once in my life.
“You believed me when I said I fell off the monkey bars and broke my arm, even though I was seventeen at the time. And you believed me when I told you I was just clumsy, and that’s how I ended up with bruises on my face and twisted ankles and skinned knees.”
“Ginger.”
His voice is choked up, and he’s closer now. So close I can smell him. So close I can feel his body heat behind mine.
“Maybe it was just what you wanted to believe,” I whisper. “Like everyone else.”
“I didn’t know,” he says, and I wonder if he gets it now.
“He’d have knocked me into next week if he found out about you,” I say, and more tears run down my face.
His arms wrap around me from behind and pull me into his chest.
“I didn’t know,” he whispers again as he buries his face into my hair. “Goddamn you, Ginger. Goddamn you for being such a good liar.”
“Sometimes a lie is the only way to survive.”
He squeezes me in his arms and buries his face in the space between my neck and shoulder.
“I would have helped you,” he tells me, and I believe him. “I would have taken care of it.”
“I know.” I swallow. “But I couldn’t do that to you, Gray. I couldn’t do that to the boy I loved.”
He turns me in his arms and forces my gaze to his. My eyes are watery, and the strong headed part of me hopes that he will somehow think it’s the rain.
But Justice isn’t a boy anymore. And there is no cloak that can hide the truth between us now.
Words fail us, but they aren’t important anymore. Not now. Not after everything. Not when Justice pulls me into his arms and devours my mouth. Ou
r hands are chaos together, stripping off each other’s wet clothing in a frenzy.
The floor is a minefield of wet clothing when he pushes me against the counter and hoists me up into his arms. He doesn’t need to ask if I’m ready for him because the evidence is sliding against him as he rocks back and forth. He slips his fingers inside of me while his lips capture my nipple. I jerk against him, but he takes no mercy.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmurs against me. “You’re like a goddamned disease in my brain, Ginge. I want you all the time. I want this all the time.”
“You have it,” I tell him because I can’t lie to him right now.
It’s true. I’m his. There is no resisting him. Not now.
He groans against me and tortures me with slow thrusts of his fingers and the stubble on his jaw. It isn’t hard like I need it, but it doesn’t matter. My body is giving in to him anyway. The orgasm is starting before I can stop it.
Until everything stops.
His fingers quit moving, and he leaves me cold when his mouth releases my breast. Gray grabs a handful of my hair and tilts my head back so that my face is directly in line with his.
“You don’t come until you are on my cock,” he orders.
Sparks of heat shoot through me at the possessive tone of his voice. The want and need in his eyes.
“Tell me what you want, Ginge,” he demands. “Tell me what you need.”
“I want you inside of me,” I breathe.
And it’s all I need to say.
His fingers grip my thighs, and he thrusts inside. Deep. So deep I cry out and cling to his neck. All I can do is hold on while he gives into his crazed need. It isn’t gentle at all. It is pure insanity that drives him in and out of me.
Pure, undiluted need.
It infects me too, that need. And it gives me what we both want. I come on his cock right before he releases himself inside of me with one last agonized thrust.
* * *
This morning is different than the last time I was here. When I wake up, Justice is still beside me, his arm wrapped around me protectively. And when he realizes I’m awake, he’s inside of me not long after.
Drawn to Him: A Romance Collection Page 41