I nod. She’s got that right.
“I’ve been hanging out with a new girl at school. She’s friends with Killian. Her number’s on the fridge.” She points to the pink Post-it note stuck to the freezer door. “Her name is Cara, and her mom’s name is Suzanne. I put her mom’s cell number up there too.”
I swing my gaze from the Post-it to Elle. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
She leans back in her chair. “Call her. Call her mom. They’ll tell you.”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I lean in and point my peanut butter spoon in her face. “If you’re not lying, then tell me what your plans are. I’ll call Suzanne and cross-reference your story with hers. If it checks out, you’re free to go.”
“We’re going to the school play and then to have pizza with some friends in the drama department. Killian will be there. And if it’s cool with you, Cara said I could stay the night.”
I hop up and dial Suzanne’s number into my cell phone. After a very pleasant conversation with Cara’s mom, I decide that Elle is telling the truth.
“Okay, your story checks out. You can go, but you have to promise to call me before you go to bed.”
Elle claps her hands and jumps up from her seat. “I will, I promise.” She moves over to me and wraps me in a bear hug.
I hug her back as hard as I can and hope it communicates how much I love her and how proud I am that she was honest with me. “I love you, Axelle.”
She pulls back and studies me, her eyebrows pinched together. “You never call me that. I mean, unless you’re pissed.”
I shrug and twirl a piece of her silky hair between my fingers. “I know, but it’s your name. I should call you that.”
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she gives me one last hug. Cara shows up a few minutes later to pick her up. She seems like a nice girl, clean cut without a hint of rebellion. After waving the girls off, I go to my room and pull on tube socks that go up to my knees, a cozy pair of shorty-shorts, and a long-sleeved tee. I move into the living room and flop on the couch with the remote.
Seven at night on a Saturday and I’m channel surfing. Alone. Fabulous.
A couple of really bad reality television shows later, I’m wide awake and staring at the clock. What’s a girl to do on a Saturday night all alone? My eyes drift to the clock again. I’d go see if Mac was at The Blackout but don’t feel like getting ready.
Orrrr… One side of my mouth lifts into a grin. I could drive over to Blake’s and surprise him. I’d just check on him and see how he’s feeling. Maybe make him something to eat. My belly cartwheels at the thought of cuddling up with Blake. Holding his head in my lap while we channel surf.
In a hurry, before I talk myself out of it, I slip on some shoes and race out the door. Giddy, I jump into the Bronco and drive toward Blake’s house.
This is so impulsive, and on my terms. I blast the classic rock station that’s playing “Hotel California” by The Eagles. Before long, I’m parked and racing up the stairs to Blake’s condo.
I pound on the door and ring the bell, smiling and bouncing on my toes. There’s music, faint, but loud enough to be heard through the solid wood door. He won’t be able to hear my knock over the blaring beat.
Sticking my ear to the door, I wait for a break in the track. The drum solo throbs against my ears, and I try to identify the song. When the vibration of the bass dies, I ring the doorbell, this time louder and longer. I press my ear to the door again. The music shuts off. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. I lick my lips, so excited to see him and jump into his arms.
By the time I hear the lock click, I’m practically squealing with excitement. The door opens and… my smile dissolves along with my enthusiasm.
Blake stands in the doorway, a scowl etched into his face. His shirtless torso shimmers with sweat down to his jeans, and the top button of his fly hangs open.
And he’s barefoot. What in the hell did I just interrupt?
His narrow glare moves from my tube-socked feet, up my legs, over my belly, and to my eyes. I shake my head, as if my body is speaking the word my lips won’t voice. No.
I take a step back, and for the first time I see something flare in his eyes, but I can’t read it.
“Mouse? What the hell are you doing here?”
“You’re, um… busy.” I can’t take my eyes off the open buttons of his jeans. “I’m gonna go.” But I can’t move.
How could he do this? He had sex with me this afternoon, and now he’s with someone else. The little voice inside my head says I saw this coming all along. It shouts that I should’ve known after he didn’t walk me to my door. This is what bad boys do, and to expect anything else is naive. The voice reminds me I can’t get my heart broken. It’s impossible. But damn, why does it feel like it’s breaking now?
Act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.
Shut up!
Best thing you have to offer is what’s between your legs.
“Stop it,” I say, and grip my ears, praying it’ll help force back his taunts.
I turn to make my escape, but I’m pushed up against the wall outside Blake’s doorway.
“What’s going on in your head?” he growls against my neck.
His huge, sweaty body pressing in close makes me dizzy.
“Nothing. I get it. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Fuck.” His hands move over my h*ps and waist to cup my bottom. “Who said I wanted you to leave me alone?”
My treacherous body responds to his touch, and I lean into his hold. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.” I can’t believe he thinks he can grab me like this when he has another woman in his bed. Asshole.
He pins me with his h*ps and moves his hands to my face. “You are not dumb or stupid. You hear me?”
“Blake, you have a girl in your room and you’re out here arguing with me about—”
Abruptly, he steps away, leaving me swaying on my feet. I’m grateful to have the wall at my back to keep me from falling.
His eyes form tight slits. “What the f**k did you say?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.” I point to the open door of his condo. “You have a woman in there.”
He looks around then aims his daggered glare back at me. “You think I’ve got a chick in my bed?” Propping his hands low on his hips, he drops his head. “Un-f**king-believable.”
I push off from the wall. “What am I supposed to think, Blake? I show up and you’re…” My arms motion from his fly to his face. “All sweaty and shirtless, looking like warm sex and orgasms.”
His gaze shoots to mine, this time wide. “Sex and orgasms?”
I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. “You heard me.”
His lips twitch and a look simmers in his eyes, so dark and arousing that I have to lean back against the wall. “Come here, Mouse.”
“Ha. No way.” But hell if my feet aren’t burning to run to him.
Holding one hand out, he tilts his head with that same look. “Come.”
Damn him. I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
“Rebel,” he mumbles, and drops his hand. “You show up at my place looking sexy as hell in your high socks, short ass shorts, and no bra—”
Shit. I forgot to put on a bra. I cross my arms over my chest.
“—I’ll come after you, sweetheart. But considering the way you acted after we had sex, I need you to come to me.”
“How I acted?” I think back to this afternoon. “You’re the one who freaked out, probably nervous your number two would show up and catch me in your bed.”
“Here you go again.” He shakes his head, takes a deep breath in, and exhales hard. “Every time I start to prove you wrong about me, you defense-up and throw that shit in my face.”
He’s right. That’s exactly what I do. But why?
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.” He moves one step toward me. “Something bigger than us f**king happened in my bed this afternoon, Mouse.” He closes in. “Had a few single-serving sex sessions in my life, and those don’t bring you back around. Yet, here you are.”
Here I am.
“Why’d you come back?” There’s hopefulness in his voice.
“I don’t know, I—”
“Answer the f**king question, Mouse. Why are you here?”
“I just… wanted to see if you’d watch TV with me.”
His lips pull into a spectacular smile that makes my heart drop into my stomach. I swallow hard at the gleam in his eye.
“Good answer.” He erases the space between us. “You win.” His fingers sift through my hair, and he studies my face.
I lock my hands behind his neck. He leans in to bring his lips to mine, but an unresolved issue turns my face away.
He groans and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “Fuck, what now?”
“Why are you half nak*d and sweaty?”
He gives me some space but won’t meet my eyes.
“And why are your jeans unbuttoned?”
A grimace twists his expression into one of shame.
He never denied there being a woman in his house with him. Nausea rolls my stomach. “Is there or is there not a woman in your house?”
Rolling his head back, he gazes at the sky before locking eyes with me. “You don’t understand.”
My heart races, blood pumping so hard I can hear it in my ears. “Don’t understand? Then explain it, Blake.” I’m yelling and probably getting the attention of his neighbors, but I couldn’t care less. “You make it seem like I’m the one who treated you badly this afternoon, but how long did it take you to fill your bed? An hour? Two?”
“Mouse—”
“Don’t.” I turn and head to my car. He doesn’t stop me. Not when I’m past the condo wall, not when I get to the top of the stairs to the parking lot, and not when I’m halfway to my car. My eyes start to burn. What just happened? I thought he wanted me there, but… I squeeze my eyes shut and refuse to let the tears fall.
Emotional and shaky, I fumble my keys at the Bronco door. They slip from my fingers. “Dammit.” I bend over to pick them up and move to shove the key in the door when two strong arms wrap tight around my waist from behind.
“Shit!”
He buries his face in my hair. “Don’t go. Please, sweetheart.” His arms grip tighter, clinging to me as if his life depends on my answer. “I’ll tell you anything. Just please… stay.”
My heart clenches at the defenseless sound in his voice. I smooth my hand over his forearms, willing him to loosen his hold. “I’ll stay, Blake.”
“It’s not a girl. I promise. I’d never do that to you. You have to believe me.” His words are rushed. The desperation in his voice makes him sound like a boy rather than the capable fighter, the man, I know him to be.
“I believe you. Let’s go inside so we can talk.”
He nods into my hair and releases his hold. Tugging my hand, he leads me back to his place. Once inside, he stops me in the foyer. His eyes dart around the room. Why is he so nervous?