Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  At the end of the day, what does one date matter? Cruz is charming in an inexperienced kind of way and he doesn’t know my brothers, which is a huge plus. Although, him hesitating about my roommates was a major turn-off, among other things like taking food off my plate without asking. And while he is cute, I find him to be lacking. There’s nothing that stands out about him. His build, although he appears to be in good shape, is average. His clothes, stylish but void of any real personality, are average. And his height…his height is so incredibly average. What is he? Only six feet tall?

  When did I start thinking of six feet as average?

  Beckett appears out of nowhere, handing Cruz a couple of bills that look like hundreds then leans in to tell him something too quiet for my ears to pick up. What the hell?

  Cruz nods slowly, looking slightly confused, as he studies the grassy area around his truck that was just covered in water toys and life jackets but is now cleaned up.

  Beckett grabs my hand, saying, “Let’s go.”

  I stay rooted to my spot, pulling with all my strength.

  “Where?”

  Over his shoulder, he points to one of the jet skis and says, “I’m hot,” like it’s obvious. His shirt is up and over his head in the next instant allowing me to soak up the well-defined abs I didn’t get to fully worship this morning. Take me to church… “And you looked like you were about to fall asleep.”

  He shoots Cruz a nasty glare and I cock my head. So what if I was a little on the bored side? Beckett isn’t always entertaining either.

  Lie.

  His eyes dare me to argue.

  Glancing toward the little girl again, my stomach drops when she’s not where I saw her last and I start forward in a panic, already scanning the water in front of the dock.

  “Hey.” Beckett wraps an arm around my waist. “Don’t worry. It’s taken care of.”

  I swing my frantic gaze to him. What’s taken care of?

  “Look.” He points to the bit of water between the dock and the shore where the strong current is blocked. Marc’s standing there, knee deep in the still water, fastening a life jacket on the little curly haired girl, his flame tattoos covering his forearms on full display as he works quickly to get her properly fitted. Some of the smaller kids are already in the water, floating around in life jackets that they most definitely didn’t have before as they all watch someone in the middle of their little circle demonstrate how to doggy paddle.

  I squint.

  Not just someone. The woman who was just sitting next to Beckett, chatting him up.

  I eye him again and he sighs, explaining as he pulls me along behind him, “Staci and I know each other from high school. She’s one of the only people that didn’t make fun of my…appearance, probably because she resented hers just as much.”

  Appearance? What the hell is he talking about? Beckett’s gorgeous on a bad day and I have yet to see one of those. Maybe he means his height? It figures kids would tease him about that. Kids can be such assholes.

  And the woman? Is that why she got plastic surgery? To change the way she felt about herself?

  A sadness for the two young kids they used to be takes over and I feel terrible for judging her for just wanting better. Isn’t that what we’re all after?

  “When her husband lost his job, she called to see if we were hiring.” I didn’t even think to look for a ring. Oops. “He’s been with us for a few months now while she works at that new rec center,” he stops and spins to look at me, not exactly meeting my eye, “as a swim instructor.” He steps closer, dropping his voice and our eyes finally connect. “If something’s bothering you, all you gotta do is say it. We got you now.”

  I suck in a short breath. Why does it hurt to hear that?

  I already have a family. One that needs me. All of me. Beckett’s a package deal, as am I, and neither of us is looking for that kind of commitment. I’m still working on fixing my own. I can’t risk taking on anyone else’s. Not right now.

  I’ve been saying that all along and it’s starting to feel like nobody’s listening—not even me.

  Ignoring his claim and how it makes me feel, I ask, “Did you really buy all that gear for those kids?”

  And Marc? Since when is he kid-friendly? I’d assume kids would be scared of him, but that little girl looks almost smitten with my mysterious roommate as he tightens the strap around her back.

  Beckett doesn’t say anything at first as he guides one of the jet skis closer to the sand he left me standing on. With his strong back stretched tight, he shrugs, muttering, “They needed it anyway.”

  That’s it? They needed it, so he provided it. He saw me upset about something and he took care of it. Just like my motorcycle.

  Beckett grew up without the love of his original caretaker yet he’s constantly trying to take care of those around him. When he doesn’t even have to. When he probably shouldn’t. What have I done to earn his consideration so far?

  Once he’s situated on top, he holds a hand out to me and it’s like he’s asking me for so much more than a ride on a jet ski.

  I shake my head, trying in vain to get my heartbeat under control, then remove my clothes and toss them onto a nearby rock.

  Down to my bikini, I pull myself on behind him, letting his hand fall away.

  This is the most skin-to-skin contact we’ve had besides the brief interaction this morning and we both sit motionless for a minute, letting our bodies become acquainted again. It’s then I realize how different today could’ve gone had our talking not gotten in the way. Beckett’s mouth, as talented as it may be at times, is still the one thing that can ruin the mood like a stomach bug on a cruise ship—fast and without mercy. Except, I don’t think that’s what he meant for this morning in his bed.

  It doesn’t matter though. It’s for the best. It has to be. Things were getting heavy between us, even if it felt like the exact opposite at the time.

  “So, what do you think? Can I take you out or what?”

  Cruz.

  Again, Beckett made me forget about everything else.

  “What’s he talking about?” Beckett presses, looking over at Cruz approaching the shoreline.

  “A date.”

  His entire body goes rigid as he cranks his head to face me. “You’re not actually going to go out with him, are you?”

  My eyes search his before dropping.

  “Maybe.” It comes out as a whisper but feels like a scream. A scream for help. What do I do?

  Coty, oblivious to the tension, wades out to us, handing over life jackets.

  Cruz is waiting for an answer but I can’t make the words come out. I know I should just accept and get it out of the way. There’s no risk of anything between Cruz and I turning serious, so why can’t I just say yes? Now that it’s out in the open it should be easier to take Cruz up on his offer but why does the thought of going through with it make me feel sick? That alone is enough to go out on the date. I need to break out of this bubble forming around me. The bubble that won’t let anybody in or out, except for Beckett. Whether the bubble is my doing or his is irrelevant, it just needs to pop sooner rather than later.

  Angela, watching Coty with a smile pulling at her lips, takes glances over at Marc still helping to get the kids situated. How has she adjusted to the protective cocoon those three have her in? From what I’ve seen she’s made it work to her advantage, benefitting from the tight-knit family they offer, and flourishing into a complete boss babe in her own right despite her tragic upbringing. She, at least, was able to find love within the walls they reconstructed to include her.

  But she helps them. She’s a part of their group. An important part that makes them stronger. I’m just this. This disaster of a girl who has no idea where she’s going or how the fuck she’s getting there. My real family is in utter shambles, arguably at my own hands. Who’s to say I won’t do the exact same to theirs?

  Closing my eyes tight, I ask, “Does Thursday work?”

 
If the friend zone had a designated day and time, it’d be Thursday afternoon. Nobody falls in love on a Thursday afternoon. Hopefully my forehead will be completely healed by then, too. I’m ready to get back to my regularly scheduled programming. To my reality full of dead ends and crushed dreams. Away from the false hope of what this weekend showed glimpses of.

  This is all too much. They are all too much. Beckett is too much.

  “Perfect.”

  Pop.

  I open my eyes again to see Cruz beaming and I almost call it off. He’s an innocent bystander in this attachment drive-by I’m preparing to commit and he doesn’t deserve the stray bullet that’s about to clip him.

  “I just have to run it by my boss,” he jokes, oblivious.

  The ensuing silence is deafening.

  Life jackets on board, Beckett makes a show of putting mine on first. Restless fingers, jerky movements, and a gruff expression lining his face don’t match the gentle giant I’ve come to know the last few days. Once the vest is attached, his hands drop to my bare thighs and run the length of my legs with an intimacy anyone with half a working eye could see before twisting back around and securing his own.

  To keep from checking the reactions at the water’s edge, I pull some seaweed off my ankle, tossing it back into the water. There’s no way Cruz didn’t see Beckett’s lame attempt at dominance. The entire park saw it.

  “Yo, Bailer’s coming into town later. Make sure you’re ready!” Coty yells over the engine starting up.

  Great. More men. Just what I need.

  Beckett turns his scowl to Coty.

  He repeats, “Bailer…remember him?”

  My roommate only jerks his chin in response.

  Why do I feel like they’re talking in code?

  He lays on the gas next causing me to grip his waist tightly, nervous laughter bubbling up.

  Countless jumps in, a nasty wave encroaches as Beckett rips the jet ski hard to the side, sending us both sailing off and into the cold water.

  Out of breath, I break the surface to find him already floating with barely contained laughter wracking his body.

  “What?” I snap.

  The water is fucking freezing and my swimsuit may or may not have survived impact. I’ll have to check once we’re on the jet ski and I regain feeling in my limbs because as it stands now, I’m struggling just to tread water.

  “Bail-er. Bail her. Get it?”

  Through chattering teeth, I attempt to scoff. Beckett pulls me to him as we paddle our way back to the watercraft together—him using one arm, me using exactly none. They might be flopping about but they’re definitely not contributing in propelling us forward. Even if they are, I’ve lost my ability to tell at this point. Seriously, this water never warms up. Must be a side effect from all the rumored chemical waste a nearby nuclear plant allegedly dumps into it. Fuck with Mother Nature and see what she does. Hell hath no fury like a woman being mistreated.

  “What was all that about back there?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sir Gropes-A-Lot, I think you do.”

  Beckett sneers. “Fuckface is lucky I didn’t kick his teeth in.”

  I feel his hand graze my ass and I’m thankful to see my swimsuit did stay on through the fall.

  “Take it easy, Chuck Norris. I’m going on a date with a respectable guy, not bringing him home from a bar after too many shots. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  His only reply is a stiff head shake as he slows his one-armed stride.

  Tomorrow I’m returning to work which means things will go back to how they were before my stupid injury. The sleepovers, the constant babying, him going down on me, it’s all over. Although, truth be told that last one will be the hardest to say goodbye to. I’m not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth and Beckett’s mouth is a gift—when it’s used for something other than pissing me off.

  Regardless, he had to know this little respite from real life would be short lived, right?

  “I mean, Cruz works for you.” If he’s good enough for Beckett to employ, he’s good enough for a platonic lunch date.

  “Not for long he doesn’t,” he mumbles.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Louder, he barks, “He knows the rules, Paige.”

  Reaching the jet ski, he helps heft my water-logged ass onto the back.

  “What rules are those?”

  “It’s not rocket science. Dude is just trying to piss me off.”

  We work together to get him on board, too, before situating ourselves back on the seat but with me in the front this time.

  “And why would that piss you off? Unless you don’t let your employees date any of your roommates?”

  My stomach churns as sensation returns to my body and I bend to look at Beckett. Eyebrows creased, he stares at a pontoon boat full of passengers flying past, ignoring my questioning stare.

  With a huff, I face forward and start the jet ski up again.

  My turn.

  It’s a while before either of us relaxes enough to actually enjoy ourselves but when we do, it’s like nothing else even matters. Instead of focusing on the tension from the morning and Cruz’s proposition, we choose to live in the moment, helpless to think about anything other than the here and now. After all, if we take our eyes off the present, we’ll miss what’s right in front of us—obstacles constantly threatening to break our progress.

  We spend the rest of the day in the water, taking turns and switching out partners whenever we return to shore. Angela proves to be just as fearless as the boys and we spend the most time together, getting to know each other better between the monster waves we chase away from the guys’ watchful eyes.

  Cruz doesn’t even try to ride with me, and for whatever reason, I’m thankful.

  CHAPTER 21

  Paige

  Back at the apartment, soaked to the bone and drenched in river stink, I move straight for the bathroom but a hand shoots out just as I turn to close the door, stopping me.

  “I thought I could wash your hair for you.” His tone is calm while the pulsing vein in Beckett’s throat is anything but. “So you don’t get any chemicals in your scratches.”

  Chemicals? What kind of shampoo does he think I use?

  I’m about to decline his seemingly altruistic offer when he says quietly, “Just…let me in.”

  My eyes study his and just like before when he uttered that same plea, I do. I open the door wider and let him in.

  The bubble I thought I just popped hovers dangerously close in the peripheral. We won’t be able to keep this up after tonight. He has to know that. I need to remember that.

  Before I can change my mind, I busy myself testing the temperature then undress and climb in, facing the wall the entire time. I’m clenching and unclenching my fists as I hear him close the curtain after he gets in behind me.

  “Get your hair wet.” His husky voice warms the small space even more.

  “I, uh-” Yep, that’s my eloquent contribution before I plunge my head under the spray of water to save myself from further embarrassment.

  Why did I agree to this?

  All of a sudden I feel Beckett’s hands on my scalp, dragging his fingers through my hair to get every strand wet, ratcheting the heat up another couple notches. This is such a bad idea.

  Determining it’s wet enough—little does he know—I turn around to watch as he squeezes my shampoo into his palm before coming at me with what can only be described as a Rapunzel-sized amount dripping from his hand.

  I manage to block the gooey assault by capturing his hand in mine and wipe most of the heap into the running water.

  “Just because you have big hands doesn’t mean you have to fill them completely,” I say, chuckling. At his blank stare, I explain, “You mainly use shampoo to clean the scalp. Conditioner is for the ends. You don’t need a lot of either.”

  “Conditioner? Isn’t this all in one?”

  His
wide eyes make me laugh again.

  “No, that’s for kids.” I glance over to the shelf, remembering he uses a 2-in-1 combo. “And men, I guess.”

  “Shit, I didn’t realize this was a whole process.”

  “Why do you think I don’t wash my hair every day?”

  Now we both laugh, splintering some of the tension.

  “You don’t have to finish. I can do it myself.”

  Reaching to swipe the rest of the dribbling puddle from his palm, he jerks it away with a frown. “I want to try. I’ve never done this before but I’ll stay in here ‘til I get it right, damn it. Now turn around.”

  During his mistake with the shampoo, we didn’t even acknowledge the dick shaped elephant in the room but with his hand to the side, it comes into focus. And then some. Beckett totally lives up to that old saying of big hands, big feet, big everything. This morning with him in his underwear was as close as I’ve been to seeing him fully naked and that sight alone was enough to render me speechless. Now, words fail me entirely.

  I’m half expecting it to poke my back when I finally turn back around but it never does and I don’t know if I’m disappointed by that or not.

  Cautiously, Beckett starts spreading the shampoo evenly then goes about massaging my head with the sudsy lather.

  It. Is. Everything.

  The fingertips circling the skin on my scalp might as well be circling my clit, it feels indistinguishable honestly, and I have to work to keep my moans locked deep inside where they’re safe. Once they’re out, he’ll know. He’ll know how much I want him. How much I crave him. And he’ll have the upper hand because I’d give anything to let him satisfy the ache he’s creating.

  He grips my shoulders softly, turning me to him so he can get the front as well. His face darkens as he kneads my scalp with his fingers, deep in concentration. With his attention diverted, I soak in every detail of his naked body my curious eyes can reach. This is the most of his fit body I’ve seen and I’m using what’s probably my only chance to stare openly to my advantage.