Caught Looking

by Holford, Jody;

  “I like you, too.”

  His hands gripped both of hers, his breath against her ear, her skin pulsing, his name on her lips. She closed her eyes, lost in sensation, in him.

  “Look at me. Look at me, Frankie,” he whispered. When she did, she wanted to tell him that she could do just that forever. But, there were no more words needed.

  Chapter 22

  She was quicksand. Frankie Vaughn had pulled him in and under before he had a chance to find solid ground. Her hand ran lazily over his chest as she nuzzled against him. Strands of her silky hair tickled his face and smelled faintly of vanilla. Their combined breathing was the only sound in the room, other than his heart, which was finally calming from its jackhammer pace. Her body was warm, soft, and like the rest of her, damn near perfect. Quicksand.

  “I have a present for you,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet.

  “Hmm. I thought that was my present,” she said, her tone light with amusement.

  “Ha. Well, then I got you more than one. Actually, I got you three. Four if you insist on counting this, which you can’t really.”

  She lifted her head, smiling at him with her whole face. He couldn’t close his eyes as she came closer and brushed those lips against his with a sweetness that untwisted some of the knots inside of him. The ones that consumed him. Her hand cupped his jaw and he put his own hand over hers.

  “Hmmm.” The sound was low and satisfied and his stomach tightened. His hand played at the small of her back, drawing circles on the smooth skin there. “It counts. A lot. But, since it really was more of a mutual gift, we’ll say it was shared. I can’t believe you got me presents,” she said, her eyes shining with happiness.

  That look sucked the air out of his lungs; he realized he liked being the one to put it there. He unwound his arm and pulled away from her, scooped his boxers off of the floor and told her he’d be back. A moment of uncertainty niggled in his chest. She’d like the gifts. He wasn’t an insecure guy and it pissed him off that he felt that way around Frankie. She’d given him no reason to. She wasn’t Victoria. Frankie was the antithesis of his ex-wife. She wasn’t impossible to please. Shit. Frankie was pretty much the easiest person to please that he’d ever met. The fact that he wanted to please her, so much, scared the hell out of him.

  When he came into the room, gift bags in hand, she was sitting up, blankets pulled around her and a small frown on her face. Her eyebrows were drawn together and she looked adorable. Jesus. He had it bad.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking, or wasn’t thinking, I guess.” She bit her lip, glancing at him then down at the blanket. Her fingers played with the fabric. “The boys, at least Travis and Carter, probably know why we wanted the night to ourselves.” She shot him another glance and traces of color brightened her cheeks.

  Ryan laughed. That right there. Frankie made him laugh. He’d been worrying like some nervous Nelly about her gifts and she’d been thinking about the teens knowing she’d gotten laid. She glared at him and he choked back the rest of his laughter. The boys had carried on a lively conversation while they’d assisted, or watched, Travis make Frankie’s birthday dinner.

  “Oh, Miles knows too. His brothers don’t keep much from him. He asked if we were going to make babies.” Ryan laughed again at the mortified groan Frankie gave as she buried her head in her bent knees. He sat down on the bed beside her, pushed strands of her hair away from her face, and kissed her just under her earlobe. He smiled when he felt her shiver. She peeked up, her face redder.

  “Not exactly the best example,” she said quietly.

  He wrapped his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged gently so she’d look up again. When she did, he kissed her and pulled her closer. “Trust me, honey, I think those boys have seen a hell of a lot worse. They know I care about you, Frankie. And that is a good example. Everything you do is a good example. You make them, and me, want to be better,” he said. His cheeks warmed at his admission and he was surprised by the thickness in his throat.

  “I don’t even know how you can say that, but I’m not going to try to talk you out of it,” she answered, affection brightening her eyes. His heart knocked against his chest. Shit. Complete quicksand. He was going to drown.

  “Open your gifts.” He leaned against her headboard while she smiled and kissed him after unwrapping the books. She laughed when she opened the lingerie he’d picked out and held it up for inspection.

  “Maybe you should have given me this first,” she said.

  “We did okay without it. But you should try it on, you know, just to make sure it fits.”

  He winked at her and pulled her in for another kiss. He could kiss her for days and not get enough of the way her lips felt, the way her mouth tasted. He pulled the small box out of the last bag himself, jaw clenched. What had seemed sweet and sentimental now felt cheesy and immature. Her hair was sexily mussed, falling over her bare shoulders, caressing that skin he’d had his mouth on. Wanted his mouth on again. She held out her hand and he laughed.

  She ripped off the paper, unlatched the hook on the front of the small case, and pushed open the lid. Her eyes widened and her face softened, her smile dreamy and so damn alluring it was hard to concentrate. Setting the box aside, she held the end of the chain with one hand and let the pendants sit in her palm. When her eyes met his, they were wet.

  “Not all those who wander are lost,” she whispered.

  “It’s not a cliché,” he said, watching for a hint that she didn’t like either the quote or the circular disk it was on, which looked like a silver baseball. Clichés were her kryptonite. He’d made sure the words he’d chosen weren’t trite.

  “No. It’s not. It’s one of my favorite quotes.”

  Pleasure filled his chest. “It suits you.”

  Her fingers played with the second, tinier circle pendant and pleasure surged in his chest when she grinned.

  “Was 32 your number?” Her eyes went playful when he nodded. He opened his mouth. Then shut it. She laughed and with the necklace in hand, moved to settle herself on his lap, her thighs snug against his waist. Everything else perfectly snug against the rest of him. He ran his palms up and down her legs.

  “I’ve never given anyone anything with my number on it. I just—” Just what? Wanted her wearing something that said she was his? Wanted to stake his claim? Wanted to give her a piece of himself he’d never given to anyone. Ever.

  “Ryan Walker, are you asking me to go steady?”

  The laughter that burst from his chest erased the rest of his tension. Her eyes were still shining, despite her playful tone. She got it. She got what it meant for him to give her that small piece of himself. Before meeting her, he hadn’t thought there was anything left to give. Of himself or of baseball. For months, there’d been nothing inside of him but anger and regret. Hell. There’d been regret and anger fueling him for his whole life. He’d let it drive him forward. It had hollowed him out. Until Frankie. She filled all of those empty spaces, pushing out the anger and replacing it with light and hope.

  “I guess I am. I’ve never met anyone like you, Frankie. I don’t know what’s next but I know I want you. I want to be with you. When I’m not with you, I can’t stop thinking about you. There’s only been one other thing in my life that has consumed my thoughts this way.” His voice was like sandpaper but saying the words smoothed him out.

  She held the chain out and when he took it, she lifted her hair with her hands. Any coherent thoughts he might have had, slipped away at the sight of her, straddling him, arms up in the air, hands tangled in her own gorgeous blond hair. Her creamy skin had soft patches of pink here and there were his stubble had grazed her. He unclasped the lock, not taking his eyes off of her. He trailed the necklace along her skin, from her navel up to the hollow of her neck, moving seductively slow, listening to her breathing deepen. Putting both hands behind her neck, he managed the clasp then let his fingers trail down, over the chain, ac
ross her skin, down to where the pendant hung between her breasts.

  She put her hands on his chest and slid her fingers down to the ridges of his stomach and then back up until she was cupping his jaw.

  “Ryan.” Her voice was a breathy whisper as she leaned her forehead against his. “I’m falling in love with you. I was teetering on the edge. But you just pushed me over. You see me in a way that no one else ever has. I like who you see. I like who you are. And I like who we are together. And even though I wasn’t lost, I was searching. I didn’t know for what. But I’m pretty sure it was for all of the things I feel when I’m with you.”

  Jesus, he was out of breath and in danger of doing something stupid to make her see how much she mattered to him. Falling in love. Quicksand. Was it the same thing? His heartbeat was on overdrive. He could feel his pulse, and Frankie, everywhere. He shouldn’t have given her the gifts so soon after having sex with her. He’d read something once about how guys spilled their guts or felt all sappy or some shit after they had sex. That’s all this was. It wasn’t absolute elation at hearing her say she was falling too.

  She kissed him then and he had more things he wanted to tell her but they got lost in the feel of her against him, over him, under him. She was devouring him, but instead of fighting to not sink, he let himself drown. And he pulled her under with him.

  Ryan woke to Frankie sitting up straight and smacking him in the stomach.

  “What the hell? What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes still closed. He felt her slip out of the bed and when he opened one eye, she was standing at the window in her tank top and panties, which practically glowed in the darkness.

  “Get up. Something is wrong,” she said. Her voice sliced through his tired state and he sat up suddenly.

  “What’s wrong, Frankie?” He got off the bed and saw red flashing lights playing against the blinds she was peeking through. He pulled on his jeans as she turned and began frantically searching for her pants. Finding them, yanking them on, balancing on one foot and then the other, she spoke with a shaky voice that couldn’t hide her fear.

  “The police are at your house.”

  Chapter 23

  There are moments in life that provide startling clarity. For Frankie, that lucidity always came after the fact. She’d realized she didn’t want to marry Robert after saying yes. She’d accepted that she didn’t want a journalism degree after she’d registered. She’d moved to Minnesota trying to find her purpose when she’d known from the minute she’d seen them hiding in her closet with their wide eyes and big attitudes that she’d found it. Them. And as Ryan pulled her forward, she swallowed down the lump in her throat that formed from not verbalizing her choice sooner. She wanted them. They weren’t strays, as Ryan had joked, but she wanted to keep them.

  She stumbled over her own feet. Ryan steadied her and continued to pull her forward, his hand wrapped tight around hers. A police cruiser and Cameron’s car were parked in Ryan’s circular driveway. Cam was speaking to one of the officers and saw them, stalked toward them, gesturing to the officers to follow.

  “Ryan. Frankie,” he said as he approached. One officer, the shorter of the two, held his hands on his hips and stopped in front of them.

  “You the owners of the house?” he asked. He was stocky, reminding Frankie of a tree trunk.

  “I am. Frankie lives next door. I’m Ryan Walker. What’s going on?”

  “Ryan Walker. The baseball player? No shit. I thought that was just a rumor,” the other cop, said, stepping closer. She felt Ryan’s hand twitch, tightening in frustration.

  “What’s going on officers? Cam?” Cam looked at Frankie and Ryan’s linked hands and frowned at her.

  “I came by to speak with Ryan. The lights were all on. I could hear the TV blaring but no one answered when I knocked. So I walked around back. You should consider window coverings. There are three people in your house. I called the police.” He shrugged like that hadn’t been an overreaction. Ryan’s grip on her hand became almost painful.

  “When we knocked, a young man came toward the door, but when he saw us, he turned around and went back toward the living area,” Officer Stocky continued. Frankie stopped herself from barreling up the steps and telling the boys to let her in. Ryan’s teeth were clenched and he stared at Cam with unveiled contempt.

  “I have three guests and you call the fucking cops?” He shook his head. “This is a misunderstanding. Really.” His voice was calm and even.

  “So you know the boys in your house?” The police officer that recognized Ryan looked doubtful.

  “I absolutely do. They have permission to be in my home. It seems our fine mayor here overreacted,” Ryan said. His voice was no longer smooth, but sharp. Pointed. Cam blustered and started to speak, but Frankie cut him off.

  “It seems a little dramatic to call the police because you don’t recognize Ryan’s houseguests,” she said, anger fraying her patience. It wasn’t Cameron’s fault, she reminded herself. They lived in a neighborhood where people watched out for others. Hadn’t Ryan come to her aid when he’d thought Carter was hurting her?

  “Actually, I did recognize one of them. Or think I do. It’s the boy who was in your garage that day, Ryan. Perhaps I overreacted but, as I told you, I know a lot of people around here. I’ve never seen him and all of a sudden he’s in your house and you’re nowhere to be found,” Cam answered. He held his shoulders stiff but Frankie could see he was looking for a way to come out of this and not look stupid. Or better, to come out looking like a hero.

  “Fact is, ma’am,” Officer Stocky said, a weak drawl in his tone, “there have been several break-ins in the last few months. We’re being overly cautious so the mayor was right to call in his suspicions. We’d like to speak to your guests.” Frankie swore Cam’s chest puffed out and she had the urge to deflate him like a balloon.

  “Why? Why do you need to talk to them? Good lord. People can’t have guests at their home in this part of the state without a police interrogation?” Frankie’s voice spiked and she tried to breathe through the panic gathering in her chest, in her ears. Ryan squeezed her hand again.

  “Is that really necessary?” Ryan asked.

  “It is. We came out here and since I’ll have to file the paperwork, I’d like to be thorough and dismiss any notion that these boys were somewhere they shouldn’t have been,” replied short and stocky. Frankie breathed through her nose and forced herself to calm down as they walked to the house, Cameron and the officers trailing behind them. Ryan unlocked the door and then looked at her, his eyes capturing hers and holding her still.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered. When they entered the foyer, Miles came running and then slid to a halt when he saw the police officers behind her and Ryan.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, looking back and forth between the adults. Carter and Travis hurried in behind him and also came to an abrupt stop. Ryan closed the door but pleased Frankie by not suggesting they go farther into the house. In and out.

  “It’s okay, Miles. This is our neighbor, Cameron. He’s a friend of mine and Ryan’s,” Frankie said, the word “friend” catching in her throat, nearly gagging her. “He thought you guys weren’t allowed to be here so he called the police. It’s just a misunderstanding.” She reached out and Miles stepped forward, yawned, and wrapped his arms around her middle. She felt the hug all the way through and that clarity slapped her in the face again. Her heart beat against her rib cage. Travis and Carter said nothing but they looked at Frankie and she could read them well enough to see their fear.

  “How you doing tonight, boys?” Officer Stocky asked. His voice was pleasant, but firm. The boys shrugged, but the cop didn’t seem deterred. “I’m Officer Mantez and this is Officer Barns. What movie did you guys watch?”

  Frankie appreciated his indirect approach at getting the boys to talk but her and Ryan still shared a worried glance.

  “We watched X-Men,” Miles volunteered, smiling up at all of them. Officer Mantez gave a chuckle
at his enthusiasm.

  “I haven’t seen that one yet. Was it good?” he asked. Miles nodded and Frankie saw that the cop knew he had found his talker. He leaned down a little.

  “You guys are friends with this guy?” He hooked a thumb at Ryan and then glanced at the older boys. Miles nodded again, his grin wide and innocent.

  “Yeah. Ryan is our friend. Frankie too. Carter says they needed time alone to make out and stuff but you guys missed a really good movie. Maybe we could watch it again, huh Trav?” Miles said quickly. He looked around at all of them for affirmation.

  Frankie closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them she’d find herself in her bed still, Ryan wrapped around her. Cam made a sound of disgust but shut up when Frankie sent him a furious glance, even as her neck flushed. Ryan smothered a half-groan, half-laugh. The officer squatted down so he was on Miles’s level.

  “Where do you live, bud?” he asked. Miles looked up at Frankie and then back at his brothers.

  Frankie’s heart stopped, just froze in her chest like a glacier. “They’re staying with me,” Frankie said. Ryan put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, and she bit her lip.

  “You their guardian?” Officer Barns asked. She wanted to lie. She wanted to yell at Cam, at the officers. They had no right to be here. The glacier cracked with the harsh, vibrating thump of her heart. Ice spread through her limbs. She had no rights to them. Hindsight; she should have taken care of the legalities. She should have done all the things she’d been meaning to do.

  “No. They just stay with me.” It sounded worse when she said it out loud but it made sense when she looked at them.

  Cam stepped forward, ignoring Ryan’s half-growl in his direction. “Okay. So who is their guardian?”

  “We ain’t got one. I’m almost eighteen and I can take care of my brothers. Frankie’s been letting us stay with her, that’s all,” Carter answered, stepping closer to Travis.