by M. Leighton
“Hmmm,” is my only response.
“Be safe, man,” Finch says, holding up his fist. I bump it with my own. “I gotta roll. Big party tonight. Criminal ballroom blitz.”
“I’ll keep doing what I’m doing,” I say.
Finch nods and throws back over his shoulder, “Hey, seriously man, check your email before you go playing in that pond too much.” With that, he climbs in his car and drives away.
What did he see in that damn file?
I head back inside, closing and locking the door behind me. I’m anxious as hell to get back to my play date. I know, however, when I find Tommi perched nervously on the end of the bed, fully dressed and picking at her fingernails, that playtime is officially over.
I don’t even give her a chance to freak out over what almost happened. I walk right to her and scoop her up, plunking her back down on my lap. “It’s sunny and hot as Hades outside. Why don’t we go by your house and let you change into some shorts then we go get Travis? I have the perfect idea for how to spend the afternoon.”
“I probably shouldn’t,” she says, dodging my eyes, stiff as a board in my arms. “I told Lance I wasn’t feeling well. If he finds out…”
“How the hell would he manage that? I’d know if we were followed. Or did you forget that I’m his eyes on you?”
“No, but…”
“No buts. It’s either that or I hold you down until you’re feeling like you were five minutes ago and I take advantage of that.”
Her big, green eyes snap up to mine. There’s panic in them. Dammit. “That can’t happen. That shouldn’t have happened. Sig, when I came home today, I was going to try to figure out a way to get you out of my life.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you complicate things. You complicate things that are already incredibly complicated.”
“Then let me help you uncomplicate them.”
She pushes against my chest to get up. I let her go easily.
“I don’t need help. I already know what to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Stay away from you.”
“Don’t say that,” I say, rising to my feet and reaching for her hands. “If you try to tell me that we’re anything less than spectacular together, I’ll know you’re a damn liar.”
She sighs. “I told you I wouldn’t lie and I won’t. But this,” she says, taking one of her hands from mine to wave it between us, “us–we are the problem.”
“This can only be a problem if we let it. And we won’t. We’ll be careful.”
“It’s not just that. It’s everything. I think about you too much. I’d rather be with you than with Lance. You make me dread spending time with him and that’s not good. I can’t live like that.”
I can’t help smiling. “I don’t see how that’s a bad thing at all. Because I really want to spend more time with you.”
She growls, frustrated. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. This is all fun for you, but it’s not fun for me. It’s torture. It’s just making me miserable. And I can’t afford to be miserable. I can’t afford to screw this up.”
I stare down into her frantically beautiful face, reaching up to cup her flushed cheeks. “Why can’t you? What does he give you, what does he do for you that I can’t?”
She closes her eyes, shutting me out. “I told you I wouldn’t lie, but there are some things I can’t tell you.”
“Tommi, I’ve told you that you can trust me. When are you going to believe me?”
“And I’ve told you that I don’t trust anyone.”
“Not even Lance?”
“Especially not Lance.”
“Then why, Tommi? Why be with him?”
“I wish I could tell you.” Her expression is remorseful and I believe her. “I really do. But I can’t.”
“Then I’ll wait. Until you can.”
“That just won’t work, Sig. Not for me.”
“Well, staying away from you won’t work for me, so I say we compromise.” She starts to speak, but I cover her mouth with my hand. “Let me finish. My job is to keep eyes on you. I don’t want to lose my job. You don’t want to have someone you can’t trust take over for me, right? That would make it even harder on you. No matter what, we are both in the perfect situation, so why ruin it? This is what I say we do: I’ll keep my eyes on you, but my hands off. You let me spend time with you, under the guise of doing my job, and we’ll all be happy. I won’t make it any harder on you until you’re ready to trust me. Deal?”
“But it’s not that you try to make it harder on me. Just being with you makes it harder.”
I slide my hands around her waist and kiss her forehead then give her my most charming smile. “I can’t be held responsible for my irresistibleness. That can’t be helped. What I can do is teach you some deep breathing exercises that might make you less susceptible to my awesomeness.” I see her lips twitch. “Please don’t do something rash that we’ll both regret. Let’s just try to make this work. I’d hate for you to miss out on spending time with me.”
“God forbid! How would I survive?”
“I’m not sure. Lesser women have died from withdrawal symptoms. It’s not a nice way to go. Very lonely. Very…dry,” I explain with a wink.
She gives me the stink eye for that last bit. “You can’t say things like that, Sig!”
“I can’t even flirt? Dammit, you’re a hard woman. All I can say is that I’ll try not to be so charming, but I make no promises.”
“I’ll try to be strong, too,” she determines sarcastically.
I bend my head to nip the skin of her smooth throat. Before she can think to resist, she tilts her head and gives me better access to her neck, which, of course, I take.
“Mmmm. Can we maybe start this new deal in an hour?”
“Is that all it would take? An hour? How disappointing,” she murmurs playfully.
I jerk my head up. “See now, you keep saying shit like that and the gloves are comin’ off. And so are the panties.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “I didn’t realize insulting your manhood would result in the loss of clothing. I retract my previous comments.”
“Damn straight. Because I’d just feel the need to show you just how not disappointing I can be.”
“Oh, I think I can figure that out on my own, but thanks.”
I sigh, kissing her briefly, before she can pull away. “Now, since my cock is not yet in full agreement of this new situation,” I confess, rolling my hips against hers so she can feel my re-emerging hard-on, “how about we get you changed, pick up Travis and do something fun?”
She takes a deep breath. “If you insist.”
“Oh, I insist.”
Her face is more relaxed now. She still looks troubled, but not like she’s about to bolt. I consider that progress.
Crisis averted.
“Uh, since I’ve got my car, why don’t you just give me about ten minutes and come pick me up?”
I pause, but only for a second. I’m sure this might have something to do with the woman in the back room. I shrug nonchalantly. “Sure.”
We stand staring at each other for a few seconds before she clears her throat and makes a move to pass me. I let her by, giving her a wide berth. If this is the way she wants to go about it, I’ll give her what she wants. Until she begs me to give her more. And she will. It’s just a matter of time.
Already, I can see her eyes flickering to my mouth. She wants me to kiss her. She’s remembering what it felt like to be in my arms a few minutes ago, my body pressing hers down into the mattress. Her mind is telling her it has to be this way, but every other part of her disagrees. I’ll just have to make sure to play to those parts specifically.
I give her a crooked smile and walk her to the door. “See you in a few.”
I lean against the jamb and watch the way her jeans cup her ass as she walks to the curb. Damn she’s hot. Practically perfect in every way. Except for her ties to crimin
als. And her penchant for telling fibs. Luckily, she isn’t herself a criminal. That could be a problem. But this I can work with.
Almost hesitantly, like she knows she shouldn’t look back, she glances over her shoulder at me. I hold her eyes and then wink, loving the way she turns hurriedly away. It sucks to try to fight your own body, your own desires. That’s why, whenever possible, I try not to fight it. It’s usually a pointless battle.
“Dress to get dirty,” I call to her just before she ducks into her car. She nods and closes the door.
I wait until she’s pulling away from the curb before going back inside to change my own clothes. I choose an old blue tank top with some shorts and shitty tennis shoes, plopping a hat on my head at the last minute.
Fifteen minutes later when I pull up in Tommi’s driveway, I’m forced to rethink who’s actually going to be torturing whom in this plan. She’s wearing cut-off shorts again, similar to the ones she was wearing that first day, only these are shorter and have a whole at the bottom of her right ass cheek. Holy shit! Covering her upper half is a belly-baring blue and purple button-up shirt with the tails tied above her navel. The thick waves of her hair are in a ponytail that sits high on her head and swings when she walks.
This might be a bad idea, I think for a second, shifting in my seat to let my semi hard dick get some room to breathe. Not good.
I get out and open the door for Tommi, fully enjoying the way the muscles in her legs shift as she climbs into the cab of my truck. I resist the urge to palm her ass and give her a boost.
When she sits down, her lips are twisted in a little smirk. She knows precisely the effect she has on me. And she’s enjoying the shit out of it.
“You’re a damn vixen,” I accuse.
She gives me her most innocent expression. “What? You said to dress to get dirty. Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Depends on what kind of dirty you thought I was talking about.”
“You promised to be good,” she says, wagging a finger at me. “It shouldn’t matter what I wear. Hands off.”
“I didn’t actually promise about that, but I always keep my word, so you’re safe. And for today, it’ll be hard to keep my hands completely off just because of what we’ll be doing. But don’t worry. I won’t put my hands on you in any way that could be misconstrued as sexual. How about that?”
She narrows her eyes on me suspiciously for a few seconds before begrudgingly agreeing. “Okay, but you’d better behave.”
“Oh, I’ll behave. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
I slam the door before she can comment. She’s still wearing an indignant expression when I get in behind the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You act like it’ll be easy as pie for you to keep your hands off me. I’m thinking it’s gonna be pure hell for both of us. I mean, have you met me? I’m pretty damn irresistible.”
I give her my biggest, cheesiest smile and start the engine, cutting off any reply she might’ve made.
We’re both quiet on the way to get Travis. Just the sound of the radio playing softly between us. Damn, I enjoy the hell out of this woman.
When we arrive at the school, Travis hasn’t appeared yet. I shift into park just as he hits the double doors, head down as always, and starts down the steps. I see his head jerk up and he turns. A guy comes out after him. He’s carrying what looks like Travis’s backpack. He walks to the step above Travis and hands him his bag. He says something to him that looks to be in confidence. His lips barely move and his face is devoid of expression. Travis nods and the guy claps his shoulder congenially a couple of times and then turns back to the school.
“Who’s that?” I ask Tommi, still watching Travis. His posture is stiff. Stiffer than usual. I can’t see his face since his head is down again, hat pulled low, hood up.
“That’s Travis’s special needs teacher, Mr. Chaps. His home room and his last period of the day.”
As Travis approaches the curb, I yell from the window. “Over here, Travis.”
He raises his head only enough to spot me and then drops it again as he makes his way toward us. “Is he always like this?”
“For the most part. Some days are worse than others.”
Tommi gets out and opens the door for Travis. He hops in without a word, throwing his bag onto the seat beside him and slumping down until his chin nearly rests on his chest.
“How was your day?”
“Shitty.”
“Must’ve been. You never forget your backpack. You never let that thing out of your sight.”
Travis grunts. I glance at the backpack in question, noting the blue zippers.
“Is that even yours, Travis? I thought the zippers on your back pack were green.”
“What the hell do you know, joker? It’s mine. Do you think I’m too stupid to recognize my own shit?”
I raise my hands and turn back around. “No offense, man. Just trying to help.”
Travis looks sulkily out the window and I shift into drive as soon as Tommi is buckled in.
After we are away from the school, I try again. “Thought we’d go to a place I found a couple of weeks ago and play a game. You up for it?”
“I just wanna go home.”
“Come on, Travis. It’ll be fun,” Tommi adds enthusiastically.
“I said I just wanna go home. Damn!”
“Language,” Tommi chastises gently.
“It’s fine, Tommi. I doubt he’s in the mood to have his ass handed to him anyway.”
If he’s got a shred of teenage testosterone flowing through those veins, that’ll get him quicker than two hours of pleading and cajoling.
“What?” he snaps, his hateful eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“I’ve got a football and a muddy field lined up as an excuse for me to whip your ass. But if you’re not man enough to handle it…”
“I’m stronger than you think, dickhole.”
“Oh yeah? Care to prove it on the field?”
“Fine,” he says begrudgingly.
In my peripheral vision, I see Tommi turn to face forward, her chest rising and falling with a silent sigh. Probably of relief. “You can just wear your gym clothes, okay?”
Travis shrugs.
As I’m taking them to a place that my brothers and I used to go to play touch football as kids, my eyes fall on Travis’s backpack again. I’m absolutely sure the zippers were green this morning. I watched him play with one of them. But a few days ago, I saw them as blue. Plus, why get so defensive? And why doesn’t he let it out of his sight, like Tommi says?
My gut instincts, my internal antennae twitch with suspicion. What if the teacher is involved? What if Travis is involved? That might explain why Tommi stays with Tonin. And that would explain why it’s so hard to find out how Tonin moves a bulk that we can’t find. Maybe he’s not holding it.
My mind puts possible pieces of a plausible puzzle together. Plausible yes, but plausible doesn’t matter if it can’t be proven.
As soon as we arrive at the field, I cut the engine and turn to Tommi. “The ball’s in the back. I’m gonna text Barber real quick. Let him know you’re sleeping so he can pass that along to Tonin.”
She nods and gets out, letting Travis out before closing the door and heading around to the back of the truck. I eye the backpack again, wondering if there’s anything in it besides books and shit right now. Not that it matters. I can’t look without getting busted, but what I can do is text in to the department for a background check and maybe a tail on the teacher. So that’s exactly what I do.
********
Tommi and Travis wait by the front of the truck until I get out. I snatch the ball from her hands and nod to Travis. “You can change in the truck if you wanna.” I look to Tommi. “You did say he has gym clothes, right?”
She nods and Travis turns back to the truck, totally unenthusiastic.
“This’ll be good for him,” I tell Tommi, tossing the
ball in the air with a spin and catching it again.
“How is this even going to work? With three of us?”
“You two against me.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“You’re a girl. And he’s a kid.”
“And?”
“And I’m me.”
“Oh god!” she says with a roll of her eyes.
I laugh, doing my best to keep the mood light. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to tackle me.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Well, damn. ‘Cause that’s half the reason I’m doing this.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I smile down into her eyes, wishing I could kiss her right here, right now, and then carry her over into the mud and strip her clothes off. Pound her down into the wet dirt. Streak her body with my fingerprints. Mark her in a way that I can see. Shit!
Of course, her brother’s here. That’s a downer.
When he mopes back to us, dressed in shorts that hang past his knees and a shirt nearly that long, I throw the ball at his stomach. He fumbles to catch it.
“Not off to a very good start, but I’m willing to give you a chance,” I tease. “So, who’s played touch football?” Both of them just stare. “This ought to be interesting.”
I go over the basics, explaining how it will work and we head to the field. The drainage here sucks and the rain from last week left this place just the right amount of nasty. The grass is gone from years of kids playing here and the top inch or so of dirt is wet and soggy. Perfect surface for a game of mud touch football.
We face off on the field and Tommi takes off running around one side of me while Travis backs up to try and throw her the ball. I race toward him, giving his stomach a slap as I pass. “You’re sacked, quarterback,” I tell him.
“This game is stupid. And why the hell are we playing in mud?”
I reach down and grab a fistful of the gunk, smearing it on his face. “Is that answer enough?”
“What the hell did you do that for?” He wipes at his face.
“You’ll see soon enough, grouchy.”
A kid that doesn’t like to get dirty? I didn’t think such a creature existed. What the hell?