Finding Storm

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Finding Storm Page 12

by Samantha Towle


  I glance around the room. “I’m at a B&B.”

  “A B&B?”

  “Yep. The owners of the garage, it’s their B&B. Their daughter runs it with her gran.”

  “Daughter, huh? She hot?”

  I find myself not wanting to say anything. I don’t want to share Stevie with anyone back home for some weird reason. “She’s … nice.”

  “Fuck off!” He laughs. “She’s either hot or not. Which is it?”

  “Fine. She’s hot. The hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Shit. Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence hangs between us for a few seconds.

  “So, you gonna tap that then?” Raze asks.

  “Hmm. Not sure. She’s not like the women we’re used to.”

  “You mean, easy.”

  “Pretty much.” I laugh.

  “Gonna make you work for it, this one.”

  Hopefully. “Yeah.” I chuckle.

  “So, how long you think you’ll be in Arizona for?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  My cell starts to beep in my ear. Call waiting. I pull my cell from my ear and check the screen. It’s Belle. Can’t say I’m up to talking to any of my family at the moment, but I’ll never ignore a call from one of my siblings.

  “I’ve got another call,” I tell Raze. “It’s Belle. I’d better take it.”

  “All right, man. Check in soon. And relax, okay? Take a few days, get your head straight, and then come home.”

  “Will do. Let Cash and Levi know what’s up, will ya?” I’m sure they’re wondering what the fuck’s going on as well.

  “Will do.”

  Hanging up with Raze, I answer Belle’s call.

  “About damn time!” she huffs in my ear. “I’ve only been calling you forever!”

  “Hi to you too.”

  “Where are you? You’re not home. Mom’s already been there to check. We’ve been worried sick!”

  “I’m … somewhere.”

  “Where?” she pushes.

  That’s Belle all over. Doesn’t take no for an answer. Gets it from Jake.

  “I’m out of LA. I just need some space.”

  Silence.

  “But you’re okay, yeah?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I tell her.

  “Mom and Dad are worried about you.”

  “Tell Tru and Jake I’m fine.”

  “Why do you do that? Say their names like that? It’s like you’re trying to tell yourself that we’re not really your family. We are. So, suck it up.”

  She’s so fucking smart sometimes. She knows when I’m doing shit before I even realize.

  “I know you’re my family, Belle.”

  “So, start acting like it then. Family doesn’t up and run when shit gets hard.”

  “Family doesn’t lie to each other either,” I snap.

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

  “Dad told us,” she says quietly into the phone. “Me, Billy, and JJ. He told us what happened. He feels real bad, Storm.”

  I drop my hand from my face. “I’m sure he does.”

  “They all do. Dad, Uncle Tom, and Uncle Denny. They made a mistake, not telling you about your dad. But ignoring them isn’t going to help either.”

  I sigh. “It’s not that easy, Belle. When you’re older, you’ll—”

  “Don’t give me that crap. I’m not a kid.”

  “You’re fourteen.”

  “I might be fourteen, but I’m more mature than you are.”

  Can’t argue that. It’s true.

  “I’m just not ready to talk to them, okay? I just need a bit of time to sort my head out. Tell them not to worry. I’m fine. And I’ll be in touch at some point.”

  There’s a pause.

  “Okay,” she acquiesces. “And don’t worry about that journalist. Dad’s handling it.”

  Of course he is. That’s Jake. Always fixing things.

  I clench my teeth, grinding them.

  “Storm?” Belle says when I don’t speak.

  “What?” I grit out.

  “He only does it because he cares.”

  I relax my jaw a little. “I know.”

  Another silence and then, “Did you really pick that guy up off the floor by his throat?” Her voice has lowered to a whisper, and I wonder where in the house she is.

  I’m not sure how to answer that, but it’ll be all over the internet anyway, so it’s not like she won’t be able to see the video.

  “Yeah.” I sigh.

  “Not that I condone violence in any way … but that’s totally badass.”

  I can’t hold in my smile. “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Call Dad soon,” she says quickly.

  “Belle …” My voice has a warning tone.

  “I know he messed up, but he’s hurting. He loves you, you know. We all do.”

  Another sigh. “I know. I’ll speak to you later.”

  I hang up before she can say any more.

  I stare at my phone in my hand for a moment.

  Then, I turn it off. Standing up, I leave my cell in the room and head downstairs in search of Stevie.

  I’m placing the cutlery on the table when Nick appears in the dining room.

  “Hey.” I smile at him. My mouth all of a sudden dry.

  He looks … amazing. I mean, there’s nothing different about him from the first time I saw him—well, except for he’s wearing a shirt.

  He’s all freshly showered, hair still damp from it. Boots on his feet, blue jeans covering his ass, and a white T-shirt that shows off the ink covering both arms.

  He has so many tattoos. I’ve never dated a guy who has tattoos before.

  You’re not dating this one, doofus.

  Only in your head.

  “Need a hand?”

  He moves closer to me. My heartbeat kicks up a notch.

  Just his nearness has my body going into overdrive.

  “Nah. I got it. Dinner’s nearly ready. Gran’s just finishing up. We all usually eat in our kitchen. But we’re going to eat in here with you, if that’s okay? Gran has this thing about people eating alone.”

  He smiles. “It’s fine with me.”

  “Cool.”

  I’m just awkwardly standing here, gazing at him like a teenager standing in front of her first crush.

  I am totally crushing on him.

  I even made more of an effort tonight in my appearance. Not too much so it’s noticeable. If I did, Beck would catch it straightaway, figure out it’s because of Nick, and tease me mercilessly.

  And I really don’t want to go to prison for murdering my brother.

  I just put my hair in a sleek ponytail instead of my usual messy bun. A little mascara and lip balm. And I have on pale blue jeans with no rips and my white ruffle-sleeved, baby-doll top.

  I realize we actually match. Both wearing blue jeans and white tops.

  Except his jeans are a darker blue and his top is a T-shirt and—

  Christ, shut up, Stevie.

  “You look really nice,” he says like, once again, he just read my mind. “Pretty,” he adds, and my stomach riots along with my chest.

  “Oh, uh”—I touch a hand to my hair—“thanks. You too. Okay, so why don’t you take a seat? And I’ll go grab some drinks.” I gesture to the table.

  He’s still smiling at me, and it’s making me even more flustered and heated.

  “Any specific seat?” he asks. “Or …”

  “Sit anywhere. We’re not precious.”

  I watch Nick take a seat at the six-seater table, leaving the heads of the table open, probably for Dad and Gran.

  I don’t know why, but I really like his respectful ways.

  I was raised to always treat others with respect.

  Gran always said to me, growing up, “Treat people the way you want to be treated, Stevie. You give kindness; you’ll get it back.”

  Although that didn’t actually
work out that way for me with my ex. I treated him like a king. And he shit all over me.

  Still, I won’t ever change my ways because of a narcissistic asshole like him.

  “Right, well, what can I get you to drink? There’s beer, wine … Dad and Beck usually have a beer with dinner.”

  “What do you usually have?”

  “Beer.” I smile, and so does he. “Gran’s the wine drinker in this house.”

  “Then, I’ll have a beer too.”

  And why him wanting to have the same drink as me does funny things to my heart, I’ll never know.

  I turn on my heel, heading back into the kitchen, my heart pounding.

  “Nick’s here,” I tell her.

  “Good. It’s ready. Can you call your brother and dad for me?”

  I slide my cell from my pocket and call Dad. I’m not walking clear across the B&B to get him when I have the power to tell him right there in my back pocket.

  “Dinner ready?” Dad says on the answer.

  “Yep.”

  “Coming now.”

  I slide my phone back in my pocket and open the refrigerator. I get out four beers and the wine. Grab a glass and pour Gran’s drink. She only ever has one glass a night. Two if it’s a special occasion. I pop the caps on the beer. Tucking two of them under my arm, two in one hand, and the glass of wine in the other, I carry them through to the dining room.

  Nick looks up as I walk through the door. Our eyes seem to crash into each other’s. It makes me falter a step.

  I walk toward the table. Putting down the glass first, I place three bottles on the coasters set around the table, and then I hand Nick’s bottle to him.

  Our fingers touch, the barest hint. And I feel that touch everywhere. Like he just ran his hands all over my body.

  “Thanks,” he says. His voice sounding lower, deeper, gruffer.

  Does he feel it too? The way I feel when we touch?

  I can’t be the only one feeling this way.

  It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.

  It’s confusing and exhilarating. And absolutely fucking terrifying.

  “I’m just gonna go help Gran with the food.” I thumb over my shoulder, taking a few steps back, unable to break eye contact with him.

  In the end, I have to force myself to turn; otherwise, I’d have been walking backward the whole way to the kitchen, and that would have looked weird or obvious that I couldn’t take my eyes off the man.

  Food is on plates when I go back in the kitchen, so I collect three plates, leaving Gran to carry two—mine and hers.

  Gran opens the door with her hip, and I follow her into the dining room.

  When we appear, Dad and Beck are seated at the table, chatting with Nick.

  I walk over to the table, balancing the plates like a pro. The only problem when you’re carrying three plates is that it’s not easy to put them down gracefully.

  When I’m near the table, Dad reaches out and takes one from my hand, putting it down on the table in front of him.

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  I put Nick’s plate down in front of him, hand Beck’s over, and then take the only available seat next to Nick.

  “This looks amazing,” Nick says to Gran.

  She cooked them roast lamb. She’d already checked with Nick earlier to make sure he wasn’t vegetarian like me or had any dietary requirements.

  “You’re not having the same?” Nick asks me, nodding down at my plate.

  I’ve got a cranberry, feta, and quinoa–stuffed butternut squash instead of lamb.

  “I’m vegetarian,” I tell him.

  “Ah. So, the cigarette butt lecture makes more sense to me now.”

  “Oh Christ. She’s lectured you about that as well?” Beck says, laughing. “After she read that damn article, we all got the lecture. She’s been tryna get me to go to a beach cleanup with her. But if I’m going to the beach, I’m chilling, not cleaning it up.”

  “Have fun, lying on a beach surrounded by butts.”

  I hear the words back right before Beck laughs and says, “Sounds like a perfect vacation to me, being surrounded by butts.”

  Even Gran and Dad laugh. Nick too.

  Ugh.

  “You’re gross.”

  “I’m fucking hilarious,” Beck says.

  “Language at the dinner table,” Gran chides. “We have a guest.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Nick says, forking food into his mouth. “I’ve heard worse. And I’ll go to a beach cleanup with you,” Nick adds, glancing my way, shocking the hell out of me.

  “You will?” I know my eyes are bugging and have just lit up like the Fourth of July.

  “Sure. You let me know when the next one is, and I’ll be there.”

  The possibility of spending more time with Nick in the future …

  Wow. Just wow.

  Though he probably doesn’t mean it. He’s probably just saying it to be kind.

  And if that thought doesn’t make me deflate like a balloon.

  So, I do what I always do when I feel like this. I throw out a jokey comment.

  “And you’ll stop smoking as well?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “I’ll promise to dispose of them responsibly.”

  I teasingly roll my eyes. “Suppose it’ll do.”

  “So, I had a quick look at your car before I left the garage,” Beck says to Nick, changing the subject.

  I find my muscles locking up tight, bracing in anticipation of what Beck is going to say.

  Because when Nick’s car is fixed, he’ll be leaving. He has no other reason to stay.

  I’m not even going to address why that makes me feel like I’ve just accidentally squished a ladybug.

  Yes, that actually happened. I was seven. I was on the trampoline we used to have in the garden. I was bouncing, having fun. I saw the ladybug but couldn’t stop myself from landing on her.

  It was death by my butt.

  I cried for a whole day. Dad even did a funeral for her for me. The cross Dad made out of Popsicle sticks is still there, next to Gran’s rose bushes.

  “What’s the damage?” Nick takes a swig of beer.

  “Still too early to tell. Diesel cars have stronger ancillary equipment because diesel is so much thicker and corrosive than gas. If I’d have been looking at gas in a diesel, piece of cake. Saying that, worse we’re looking at is a new fuel pump, possibly a new catalytic convertor. But I’ll go in early and flush out the diesel, change the filter, and run her through, see how she holds up.”

  Is it bad that I’m praying for a new fuel pump and catalytic convertor?

  “Just to give you a heads-up,” Beck continues, “if you need new parts, I’ll have to order them in. None of our local suppliers have Maserati parts. Could take a few days to get, a day to fit.”

  “That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

  I glance at Nick, unable not to, and his eyes are on me.

  I feel a jolt in my chest and heat between my legs.

  Dragging my eyes from his, I grab my beer and take a swig.

  Dad launches into a conversation about our local high school baseball team and their upcoming game. Beck used to play for them when he was in high school. Which then moves on to the Diamondbacks and their chances this season and Dad asking Nick which baseball team he supports.

  I tune them out and talk to Gran instead about her day, and she fills me in on the gossip she picked up today while at the hairdresser.

  Soon enough, dinner is over.

  “That was amazing. Thank you, Stella,” Nick says, resting back in his chair.

  “Awesome as always, Gran.” Beck gets up out of his seat.

  “Um … where are you disappearing off to?” I frown at him.

  Beck pauses, resting his hands on the back of the chair he just vacated. “I’ve got a hot date.”

  I snort. “Since when do you date?”

  My brother is notorious for his noncommittal ways.

  “I don�
��t. But I didn’t want to say in front of Gran that I’m going to hook up with this hot college chick I met earlier.”

  The mention of college girls even now makes me bristle a little.

  “Ugh.” I pull a disgusted face.

  “Well, you asked.”

  “I didn’t,” Gran says, a look of mild distaste on her face.

  “Sorry, Gran.” Beck grins at her.

  “Well, before you disappear, you’re helping clean up,” I tell him.

  “Ah, come on!” he complains, glancing at the time on his Apple Watch. “You’re gonna make me late.”

  “Aw, poor Beck. Gonna be late for some random hook-up. My heart bleeds.”

  “Oh, let him go.” Gran waves him off.

  “You’re the best.” Beck slaps a kiss on her cheek. Then, he gives me a winner’s smirk.

  I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Later,” he calls, running out of here like his ass is on fire.

  Well, as gross as it is, at least one of the Cavallis is getting some.

  Nick pushes his chair back, taking his plate with him. “Let me help clean up.”

  “No way.” Gran waves him back down. “You’re a paying guest. You’ll take that plate into the kitchen over my dead body. Bryan, Stevie, and I have got this. You go relax.”

  “Uh … well,” Dad pipes up, “I did say I’d go meet Pete at the pub for a beer.”

  Gran shoots Dad an annoyed look. I guess grandkids get off easier than kids do.

  Honestly, I don’t know why either of us is surprised. This is a regular occurrence around here. Gran and I are usually left to clear up after dinner.

  “Go on then. Off with you,” Gran chides him.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Dad kisses her cheek. Then, he comes around and kisses the top of my head. “Later, baby girl.”

  “Have fun, Daddy.”

  “You too.”

  Yep, I’m going to be having all the fun, washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen down.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, Stevie,” Gran says after Dad’s left the room.

  “Like always.” I give a jokey eye roll.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” Nick says again. “It’s really no biggie.”

  “Dead body,” Gran reiterates, getting to her feet, and Nick chuckles.

  I love the sound of his laughter. It does crazy things to my insides.

  “Okay, well, I’m just gonna head outside for some fresh air.” Nick pushes his chair back, getting to his feet.

 

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