He used to take me for a spin in an old 1970s Hellcat Challenger he fixed up, until one day he sold it to pay for three months of late mortgage payments.
I could tell selling that Hellcat hurt him a lot. He loved that car—hell, I loved that car. He’d take me and my brother out for ice cream in it on the warmer days, or even to the park. To this day, he still collects old cars, fixes them up, and sells them. It’s a hobby he does at one of his friend’s garages. When I got my car and named her Lady Monster, I took a picture of her and sent it to my dad first, and he was so proud. His exact words were, “You better not make the mistake I did by getting rid of the damn thing.”
When my Challenger comes to life and growls, it makes me feel powerful, because I’m in control of this beautiful machine.
I make it back home around four in the afternoon, much later than anticipated, but I got distracted. I found an outfit for tonight, a sleeveless navy-blue dress made of velvet material that fits like a glove, as well as a pair of black open-toed heels. On top of that, there was a hair salon near the mall. I decided to pop in, and luckily, one of the ladies had an opening. I was nervous to have a woman I’d never met do my hair, but she did a great job. She washed and blew my hair out. Now it’s board straight and sleek, resting on my shoulders and my upper back.
I check the time on my cell again, and as I do, a call comes through from Kyle. I ignore it. I’ll talk to him when he’s home. Phone calls are just a waste of my breath at this point. I put on a shower cap and jump into the shower, making sure to shave my legs and under my arms.
I haven’t gotten prepared for a night out like this in a long time. I used to go out every blue moon with Teagan whenever she came to visit me, and I remember the process was always tedious, so I despised it. I feel like that girl all over again, but this time I’m enjoying the process. Deep down, after all the moving and the stress of it, I know I need this.
I have three hours to get ready, so I take my time doing my makeup. I’ve always been good at that part. Call it the artist in me. By the time I’m finished with my makeup it’s now six o’ clock. I have one hour to get dressed, but I’m finished getting ready within the next thirty-five minutes.
I check the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my room, looking myself over way too many times to count. I don’t know who that woman is looking back at me. I’m so used to seeing myself in jeans and a paint-splattered T-shirt, but this is another version of myself. She looks sassy and sexy, perfect for tonight’s little shindig with Meredith and her friends.
I walk downstairs and shut off the lights, then grab my keys and wallet and tuck them into the clutch I also bought. My phone buzzes again as I get closer to the front door, but this time it’s a call from Dad.
“Hey, Dad!” I answer excitedly, and I really am excited. He hardly ever calls. He’s more of a one-sentence text kind of man. When I texted him to let him know I’d moved in, his exact words were, “Good. Love you. Be safe.”
“Gabby, I’m a little upset with you. Hope you know that.”
“What? Why?” I ask, but I can’t fight my smile. This is a thing he does, and he’s been doing it ever since I was a kid. He’ll tell me he’s mad at me, but he’ll have a smile on his face. Right now, I hear the smile in his voice.
“You haven’t called me since the move, monster!” When he laughs, I do, too.
“Oh my gosh, Dad!” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ears. “I sent you a text letting you know we made it safely.”
“A text isn’t the same as a call.”
“Well, my bad. I should have called. I’m sure Mamá filled you in though.”
“She did, but I missed your voice. It’s weird not having you around here every weekend.”
“Aw. I know. I miss you guys a lot.”
“Miss you too. Listen, I’m really calling because your mother wants to do a big Easter dinner. Wants the whole family here. Your brother will be here, and your Aunt Carolina and her husband are coming with the twins. You should come up, bring Kyle.”
“That sounds really fun, Dad. I’ll let him know.”
“Good. I miss my princess.”
“Keep me updated on the details.” I open the door and walk out of the house. “Kyle has been working a lot, but I’m sure he won’t be that weekend since it’s a holiday weekend.”
“Sure thing. Everything okay there? Sounds like you’re busy.”
I lock the door and walk down the stoop. “Everything is good. I’m actually going out for a few drinks with my neighbor.”
“Your neighbor?” He laughs at that. “How old is this neighbor?”
“Umm…I’m not sure, actually. But she looks like she’s in her late thirties.”
“That’s funny.”
“How is that funny?” I laugh.
“Because you’re going out, for starters. Isn’t like you. Two, because you’ve never really cared to hang out with your neighbors or make friends with them. Remember the little girl who stayed next door? You couldn’t stand her. I guess this new life of yours is changing you.”
“No, this neighbor of mine is actually really nice, unlike the girl who stayed next door. She invited me out, and since I’ve been cooped up in the house for the past two weeks unpacking and sculpting, I figured this will do me some good.”
“Kyle hasn’t been home as much, I bet. Is that why you’re going out?”
I slow my pace as I walk up Meredith’s driveway. “You know he works a lot, Dad. He’s not in town with me anymore, so I don’t get to see him as much as before.”
“Gotta make adjustments.” He sighs. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, too. Haven’t been able to reach him yet.”
“He’s probably busy.”
“Most likely. That kid is always working.” There’s a brief silence. “Well, can you tell him to give me a call when he’s around? Gotta catch up with the kid.”
“Sure dad. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m glad you’re doing other things besides staying trapped in the house with your art. It’s good to take a breather.”
The front door of Meredith’s house swings open, and she waves at me, then rolls her hand, gesturing for me to come inside. I hold up a finger and she nods, rushing back inside but leaving the door wide open.
“You know if I could live with only my art, I would.” I smile.
“Oh, I know it. Trust me. Well, have fun and be safe. And call me more! You’re not here, so I need to know you’re okay.”
“I will. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, monster.”
“Everything okay?” Meredith asks as I meet up to her at the door.
“Yeah, that was just my dad calling to check in.”
“Oh, how sweet.” She closes the door behind me and steps to the side, grabbing her heels off the coffee table and sitting down to slide into them.
As she does, I take a thorough look around. There are book cases in some of the walls, full of random books that I’m sure are for show. Picture frames hang on the walls, photos of Meredith and a much older man in each of them. I’m assuming he’s Mr. Aarons. He’s shorter than Meredith. I smile at it. The height is somewhat comical. Since all of the photos are of just the two of them, it answers my question about whether she has kids or not.
There is white furniture in the living room that looks like it’s hardly been used and furry gray rugs on the hardwood floor. A chandelier hangs in the hallway, elegant, shimmering like it’s made of diamonds. I’m dying to know what the kitchen looks like, but I’m sure I’ll get the chance to see it soon enough. This house screams Meredith.
“Wow. Your house is beautiful. Totally puts mine to shame,” I tell her with a laugh.
“Oh, please. It needs redesigning,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “Haven’t had the time to update things with my interior designer, but hopefully soon.” She’s back at the door after grabbing her keys and purse, twisting the doorknob. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, because tonight is about to be one of the best nights of your life!”
I smile on the way out the door, but deep down I can’t help wondering if I should be excited or worried about her statement.
TWENTY
MARCEL
I DON’T KNOW what made me think it was okay to let a client of mine convince me to come to a club, but here I am.
I’m working on a new clubhouse for him in the next few weeks, and we just closed the deal. He insisted that we celebrate over a drink, but he didn’t tell me he had an entire section reserved for himself, nor did he mention there would be a train of women, barely dressed, perched on his lap. He’s a smart business man, but judging by that ring on his finger, he’s a sleazy husband.
I finish off my beer, looking sideways as he cups the ass of the girl on his lap. I shake my head. Good thing I drove. Thirty more minutes, and I’m getting the fuck out of here.
I push to a stand, glancing at Oliver, my client.
“Where you going, man?” he calls after me as I walk past the velvet ropes.
“Grab another drink.”
“Oh, just ask the waitress!” He starts to flag the waitress down, but I hold a hand up.
“It’s all good. I need to stretch my legs a bit.”
“Suit yourself.” He looks away, his eyes dropping down to the rack of the girl on top of his right thigh. She giggles as he places a kiss on her cleavage. I roll my eyes and walk down the stairs.
The music is loud as I reach the dance floor, the bass pulsing through my boots. I have no idea what the song is that’s playing, but it’s clearly a favorite, because there are way more people on the dance floor now than there were ten minutes ago.
I spot the bar and notice an empty space in the middle. I don’t mind standing there for twenty minutes or so. I’m sure Oliver won’t notice that I’m gone. He’s occupied, after all. Not just with one woman on his lap, but two.
I reach the empty space, planting my elbows on the counter and waiting for the bartender to come my way.
Glass shatters behind me, and I hear someone yell, “Fuck my life!” The voice is way too familiar. I turn back and look down at the woman behind me. She’s in heels and a blue dress. Her head is down as she looks at the shattered cup she just dropped, with liquid all around it.
“I am so sorry!” a guy says, holding his hands in the air in front of her.
“Watch where you’re going next time!”
The guy shrugs and disappears within the crowd on the dance floor. The woman looks up toward the bar, in search of help, but when I see her eyes, I’m surprised.
Holy fucking shit. “Gabby?” I call, standing taller.
Her eyes stretch wide when they shift over to me. She blinks twice, like she doesn’t believe the person she’s seeing either
“Marcel? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with a smile.
“Here with a client, supposedly celebratin’. I’m sure the question is more what the hell are you doin’ here? This isn’t your kind of scene.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sure you can tell by the glass I just dropped on the floor that was full of fresh rum and coke.” She lets out an exasperated breath. I turn toward the bar and whistle for the bartender who is at the end of the counter, flirting with three girls. He hears me, and although he seems pretty annoyed, he comes rushing my way.
“Spilled drink over here, man, and there’s glass. Unless you want your boss gettin’ a lawsuit and havin’ him blame you for it, I suggest you call someone to clean it.”
The bartender gulps and nods, taking his job a little more seriously. He picks up a two-way radio behind him and says something. I grab several of the napkins on top of the counter and hand them to Gabby.
“Thanks.” She wipes her hands off.
When she’s done with them, she moves in the spot where a woman just left and dumps the crumpled towels on the counter.
“Who are you here with?” I look around, thinking maybe her asshole of a husband is going to pop up. Shit, I hope not.
“I came with my neighbor, Meredith. They have a table reserved over there.” She turns and points to an area behind her. I see several women at a large booth, drinking and laughing.
“Oh, so you’re makin’ friends? I knew you’d take my advice sooner rather than later.”
“Your advice sucks, okay? I don’t think they like me very much, hence the reason I’m at the bar getting my own drinks and not there right now.”
“How do you know they don’t like you?”
She shrugs, pretending not to care, but I can tell it’s bothering her. Her eyes drop down to a wet spot on her dress and she wipes it away. Her dress is way too fucking short. All I see are thighs and legs and, fuck me, if she doesn’t look fuck-able right now. “They’re older than me. Mid-to-late thirties. I think some of them are jealous, and it shows. It’s like some of them think I’d be a threat to them.”
“Hmm.” I turn around again, and this time the bartender is replacing glasses and doing his job. A cleanup guy comes and sweeps the glass and Gabby apologizes repeatedly to the man. He shrugs it off as just doing his job. While she explains what happened like she’s under interrogation, I request a rum and coke and a Modelo beer from the bartender. He whips them up and then slides them across the counter.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, picking up the rum and coke and handing it to her. She starts to reach for it, but I pull back a little, raising a brow.
She laughs. “What? Are you babysitting me now?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ve only had two.” She gives me a shit-eating grin. “Would be three if that dickhead hadn’t made me drop it.”
I chuckle, then hand her the drink. “Three is a good number.”
She wraps her glossed lips around the skinny straw. I look away before she can catch me staring at them, taking several gulps of beer.
“And speaking of the group I came with, they were doing coke in the parking lot before we came in. That’s not really my thing. I think they hate me even more because I didn’t want to try it.”
“So just stay where you are then.”
“Here? With you? Why are you even here? This doesn’t seem like your kind of scene either.”
“It’s not. I came with a client, but he’s a dick.”
She giggles. “Look at us. The pity party duo.” Placing her glass down on the counter, she climbs onto the stool in front of her to sit.
“I wouldn’t necessarily call it that. You just don’t like sniffin’ coke, and I don’t like watchin’ a married man act like a teenage boy with two girls on his dick.”
“Whoa.” She bursts out laughing. “That’s who you’re stuck with? But shouldn’t you love that? The girls, I mean? You aren’t married, are you?” She looks down at my hands. “No ring.”
“No, I’m not married. But that doesn’t mean I want two random girls on my dick either.”
She fights a smile, picking her drink up and sipping again. “That’s bullshit. It’s pretty much every man’s dream.”
“Okay…maybe. But not here at a club that reeks of sweat and horniness.”
She cracks another smile.
I smirk before taking a chug of my beer, and then look at the dance floor. It’s jam-packed now. Everyone is wearing green for St. Patrick’s Day. Some of them are even drinking green beer and paying seven bucks extra for it, just so they can post it on social media. Morons.
“Why aren’t you married, Mr. Ward?” Gabby asks, stealing my attention away again.
“Just haven’t found the one, I guess.”
“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”
“Nope. Not since I went back to school, and that only lasted a month.”
“Seriously?” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head.
I shrug and sip again. She sips too.
“Do you not like commitment?”
“I wouldn’t say that I don’t
like it. Just doesn’t fit me.”
“So, if you found this perfect woman, and she seemed like a match made in heaven, you wouldn’t try to make it work?”
“I would try, but nine times out of ten she’d be too good to be true. Nobody’s perfect, and people come and go.”
“Well, of course nobody’s perfect, but you learn to love the person for who they are, imperfections and all.”
“Is that how you love your husband?”
She narrows her eyes at me and her whole mood changes. Fuck. I couldn’t help myself. Why did I have to go there?
“Wow.” She grabs her drink and pulls her clutch from beneath her armpit. “You’re even more of a dick when you drink,” she snaps, hopping off the stool.
She flags the bartender down, but he’s hardly paying attention again.
“What are you doin’, Gabby?”
“Leaving this pity party.” She has her debit card out and yells for the bartender.
“Come on, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just giving you hell.”
“Yeah, when don’t you give me hell?” She glares up at me.
I don’t smile, even though I really want to. She’s cute when she’s upset. A damn firecracker.
“I ordered that drink for you, so let me pay for it.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need you to.” The bartender finally comes to where she’s standing. I have a feeling that if she weren’t so attractive, he’d have rolled his eyes before coming her way, but he did a double take and rushed right over.
“I got a rum and coke,” she says, sliding her card across the counter. I place my hand on top of her card and fish my wallet out with my free hand.
“Marcel, what are you doing?”
I ignore her, slapping a twenty on the counter. The bartender doesn’t hesitate to take it. I pick Gabby’s card up and hand it back to her. “I’m sure you don’t want your husband seein’ the charges from a bar on your card, do you? I’ve got a feelin’ he doesn’t even know you’re here.”
The Man I Can't Have (Ward #1) (Ward Duet) Page 13