Screw It Page 18

  He closes his eyes, and I feel it—his judgment. He knows that filth runs through me. I knew the judgment would come. It always comes.

  “Sweetheart.” His voice is hoarse.

  I lie back down, my eyes on the ceiling.

  He shifts so that I’m on my back, and he’s at my side, looking down at me. “You have these dreams a lot?”

  “Yeah.” I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, shout, and sneer. I knew this wouldn’t last. I’ve guarded my heart, but it still stings.

  “You talk to anyone?”

  “Yeah.” My eyebrows pull together.

  “And you’re still having them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me more than yeah, Becca.”

  “Why?”

  He’s silent for a moment, so I slide my eyes to his. He’s looking down at me, his face filled with pain.

  “I’ll call Matt.”

  He jerks. “What?”

  “I don’t want to wake you up with my dreams.”

  One eyebrow shoots up. “Babe.”

  “Babe what?” I ask, my body tenses.

  “No fucking way you’re going to Matt’s. How am I gonna help you through your nightmares when you’re there?”

  I slowly close my eyes, letting that beautiful feeling slide through me. He had no judgment and no disgust. He didn’t even flinch.

  Help you through your nightmares.

  I firmly deny that it’s precious to have someone at my back, helping me when the memories surface.

  Yes, I definitely bury that feeling.

  A Week and a Half Later—Friday Night

  I’m in the restroom at Hole, putting on my lip gloss.

  Things with Zach are going good—no, great. I’m getting laid regularly, and Zach’s a dick but a sweet dick. So, after a month of having him back in my life, I again decided to alter my plan. I’m not going to screw him over, per se. I’m going to treat our relationship like my arrangements. In this arrangement, I’m living with him for the time being. I’ll keep my heart guarded and just enjoy having a glorious thick cock to ride.

  Having the day off on Mondays and Tuesdays turned out to be a good thing even though I’m out the money. Replacing my shit was a hit, but it wasn’t big enough that I can’t still search for my food truck. The extra time meant I could make appointments and see trucks. I’ve seen four so far, but they’re not perfect. One was close—used but well kept with white walls and white tile and a stainless steel grill, fryolater, sink, oven, and it was affordable. I just didn’t like the window because it was so small. I wanted plenty of room to reach through and give my customers their food. I need my truck to be perfect.

  Next week, I’m planning on using those two days to get an apartment.

  “You won’t keep him.”

  Kim. Fucking Christ. The bitch needs to get a life and quit trolling bars.

  I pop my lip gloss into my purse and pull out my mascara.

  “Zach? He’s good. Has he done that thing with his tongue and fingers? The one where he’s sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue while his two fingers rub your G-spot?” Her voice turns light and fun, like she’s chatting with her girlfriends.

  My stomach burns because I know exactly what move she’s talking about. It’s a fucking glorious maneuver that has me detonating in seconds. Now, I’m not sure I want him doing it anymore, knowing he did it with such a raving bitch.

  “We’re on a break, you know. He asked me to marry him, but I wasn’t ready. Told me to call him when I was.”

  My mouth tastes sour, my jaw clenches, and my burning stomach churns. Normally, I wouldn’t believe a fucking word she says, but knowing Zach wants to settle and her intimate knowledge of his mad oral skills, I have my doubts.

  “I think I’m about ready.” Kim’s voice is high, musical, mocking. “He’ll be back in my bed by the end of the week.”

  My body tenses, my blood pumping. I jam my mascara in my purse, grab it, and storm by Kim. As I push through the door, she laughs loudly, cackling.

  Fucking bitch.

  Making my way behind the bar, I notice Zach sitting at the stool. I struggle to shut down the feelings pumping through me, eating me inside out, but I can’t. The thought of his hands on her, his mouth on her, his cock in her—her, of all people—makes me feel like fire ants are crawling on me.

  When he spots me, his face lights up, a huge white smile spreading across his lips. But when he catches my glare, his smile fades, and he crooks a finger at me. I ignore him, flash my killer smile at a customer, and take the guy’s order.

  I’m wearing my new red dress, and it fits like a glove. It’s jersey cotton and comes to mid-thigh, simple and cute, but not even close to fancy. This morning, Zach and I had a rip-roaring fight about it since he knew I’d be dancing on the bar.

  “Woman,” he said, “every guy’s dick already gets hard at the sight of you moving on the bar. Something, I gotta tell you, I don’t like too much already. You’re not doing it in a fucking dress, so men can see your goddamn panties. That’s for me and me only.”

  “I’m wearing shorts underneath!” I shot back.

  “Doesn’t make a fucking difference.”

  “You can’t tell me what to wear!”

  Eventually, he relented and did it with me bent over the couch for a quickie.

  Now, I’m thinking I’m gonna take my shorts off just to piss him off.

  “Sweets.”

  I ignore him.

  “Goddamn it, Becca. What did I do now?”

  After I hand the guy his drink, I put my tip in my jar, and I turn to Zach. I look him over, trying to bite my tongue and keep my control, but I can’t. The ants are biting me. The itching and burning make me open my mouth.

  “You know Kim Pierce?”

  His head jerks like I slapped him.

  Okay, there it is.

  Zach is in love with Kim, and he’s just using me as a filler. My stomach knots, and my heart hardens to ice, knowing I’ve been played by him again.

  Stupid. So fucking stupid.

  “How do you know Kim?”

  I avoid his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll call Matt. I’ll be out tomorrow.”

  Since I’m not looking at him, I can’t see his reaction.

  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Glancing up, I take in his seriously pissed off stony face.

  Fuck him.

  “Kim.” My word is clipped.

  “Who fucking gives a shit about her? She’s a fucking pest.”

  My eyebrows snap together. “What?”

  “Dated her for a few weeks a while back. Seemed nice, sweet, fun, but after she spread her legs, she showed her crazy, so I scraped her off.”

  I mash my lips together. “So, you don’t love her? Not planning on marrying her?”

  His eyes grow huge. “Jesus. Fuck no.”

  My shoulders sag in relief. Fuck, I should not be feeling relief. I ignore the relaxation in my body and put the relief firmly out of my mind.

  “She tell you that shit?”

  I nod.

  “Jesus. Fucking pain in my ass. Calls me every few days, and I ignore her. She used to show up at my place until I told her I’d arrest her for trespassing if she did it again. Thank Christ she listened ’cause I never want to touch her again even if it’s to arrest her sorry ass.”

  My lips twitch before the smile breaks free.

  “How do you know her?”

  My face blanks. Other than the morning after the fire, I haven’t shared much, except for snippets when my dreams wake me up. It’s ingrained in me to shut out my past. I’ve been doing it for so long. But I could give him this. It’s little, and in a way, I’m sticking it to her, so I share.

  “She’s hated me for as long as I can remember—elementary school, middle school, high school. After she went to college, she’d make it a point to be a bitch whenever she came home from wherever. Now, whenever she comes in here, she gives me a hard
time. Don’t know what her problem is. I never did, and she never shared. Just calls me a whore, like my mom.”

  Something flashes in his eyes. “You’re not your mom, sweets.”

  My eyes grow huge, and my heart thumps in my chest as I realize I said too much, way too much.

  He shakes his head. “That’s not for now. Later.”

  No way. No fucking way later. He doesn’t get that. No way.

  “Did she know where you lived?”

  My face scrunches. “What?”

  “Your apartment. Did she know where you lived?”

  The light bulb goes on. “I’m not sure.”

  “Right. Got work to do.”

  “Are you going to question her about the fire?”

  “Motive. Gotta check, and see if there was opportunity.”

  “Holy fuck. Seriously?”

  “She here tonight?”

  “Yeah, she cornered me in the restroom.”

  “Right. Gimme a kiss before I go.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “I’m working.”

  “Don’t give a fuck. Only reason I gave in about that goddamn dress was I knew I’d be able to plant my ass at the bar and keep the vultures at bay. Now, I’m not gonna be here, so I gotta stake my claim somehow.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s just an arrangement but an exclusive one, so whatever. I roll up on my tiptoes, intending to give him a quick peck, but he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me hard. Thrusting into my mouth, he stakes his claim for all to see—including Kim.

  Finding Kim near the restroom, I come to a stop in front of her. “I need you to come down to the station.”

  “Hey, baby.”

  She’s batting her eyelashes, and I stare down at her, fighting a lip curl.

  “I need you to come to the station.”

  She blinks rapidly. “Why?”

  “I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Her eyelids flutter again before she rearranges her face to look sexy. A few months ago, it would have looked hot, but now, it fucking doesn’t.

  “Why don’t we go to dinner? You can ask me questions, and we can go back to your place.” She dips her tone.

  “It’s against the law to proposition a member of the law when he’s doing his job.”

  Losing the bullshit sex-kitten look, her face pales. “Are you arresting me?”

  Keeping my tone calm and professional, I say, “No. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  Crossing my arms, I say, “You’ll find out at the station.”

  “But why can’t you ask them now?”

  Breathing deep to keep my cool, I say, “I don’t have the things I need to question you here.”

  Her face blanks. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “No. I’m not arresting you. I just have a few things to ask you.”

  Her face is still blank. Her eyes are guarded. “Okay.”

  “I’ll meet you at the station.”

  She nods.

  Twenty minutes later, Kim’s sitting in the seat next to my desk.

  “Where were you between six and midnight on June fifteenth?”

  I watch her face closely for any sign of deceit, and she blinks rapidly three times. I remember she did this at the bar. It could be a sign. It could be what she does when she’s surprised. Thinking back, I try to pull up anytime she did this when we were dating. She didn’t make enough of an impression for me to remember.

  Her hands are in her lap, her leg bouncing. “Don’t you have to read me my rights?”

  I sigh and lean back in my seat. “No. I’m working a case, and your name came up. I just need some information from you, and hopefully, we can act on the information you give us.”

  She bites her lip. “Um…”

  “Where were you between six and midnight on June fifteenth?”

  Matt knocks on the door to our office. I move my eyes to him.

  “Hey, just got here. Robert Pierce, the guy from the suicide case is here with his wife and—”

  “Matt—”

  His eyes slide to Kim. “Shit, sorry. Rookie mistake. Can I see you in the hall for a sec?”

  I look to Kim. “I’ll—”

  “Robert Pierce is my dad. I called him on the way here.”

  A muscle in my jaw jumps. “Why?”

  “I was nervous.”

  I exhale heavily. “I’m just asking you questions.”

  “Then, why are you asking me where I was? Like I’m a suspect!”

  “Kim—”

  “I was with my mom!” Her voice rises. “My dad is away on business, like all the time, and she gets lonely, so I’m with her a lot when he’s away. You can ask her! I was with her at her house!”

  “Kim, calm down.”

  She takes a few deep breaths, and I turn to Matt.

  “Can you go confirm?”

  “How did it go?” Becca asks the second I hit the bar.

  “She’s got an alibi, and it checked out. Dead end.”

  She pulls in a breath and then releases it, nodding. “Okay.”

  Okay.

  Sweet.

  “You just about ready?”

  “Yeah, gimme about ten.”

  She smiles, and I grin.

  On the way to my place, I grab her hand and interlace my fingers with hers. Bringing her hand up to my mouth, my heart warms, loving I can do this shit. I got my woman in my truck and in my bed, I’m holding her hand, and something good is growing between us. She’s not giving me everything. I can see it in her eyes. I’m not a fan of it, not even a little, but she’ll get there. She’s come this far, this fast. I’ll get in there and then sort her head out.

  I didn’t expect myself to fall for a ballbuster, but here it is. When she isn’t pissing me off, she’s turning me on, and most of the time, the arguments end with me inside that sweet pussy.

  My brother always says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But he’s wrong. The sweet—sweet face, sweet smile, sweet pussy, sweet banter, and sweet cooking—is the way to a man’s heart.

  I park and shut off the ignition. With her hand still in mine, I tug on it to get her attention. Her eyes shift to me.

  “My mom invited us over for dinner on Sunday night.”

  Her eyes widen, and her mouth pops open. “What?”

  “Parents want to meet you.”

  Her face scrunches. “You told them about me?”

  I grin. “Of course I did, seeing as you’re living with me. That, and Nick and Ashley jabber on about you.”

  She pulls her hand from mine. “I don’t live with you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Babe.”

  “I don’t!’

  I chuckle. “Close enough.”

  Her eyes blaze, and I feel it in my dick. Just this morning, our argument ended in a quickie, but now, we have more time.

  “I’m just staying with you until I find my own place. Then, I’m out.”

  My chuckle dies. “What does that mean?”

  Her eyes flash with something I don’t like, something that looks like fear.

  Her tone is soft when she says, “Just means I’ll be out of your place and into my new one.”

  My jaw clenches. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “Nothing!”

  My muscles tighten. “Bullshit.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Don’t whatever me, Becca. What does out mean?”

  She works her jaw. Her voice is low and controlled when she speaks, “I just said, out. Once I find my own place, I’ll be out of yours.”

  She said this without getting that flash, but I’m still not sure I believe her. Then, the thought of her not in my place, not in my bed, every night makes my gut churn.

  Before I can say anything, she continues, “And I can’t meet your mom.”

  My brow furrows. “Why not?”

  She crosses her arms and looks away. “I just can’t.”

  Stu
dying her, it dawns on me that she said mom, not family. Mom. Fuck, I feel that cutting into my gut.

  “Sweets, look at me,” I say, my tone gentle.

  She twists her head to me.

  “I want you to meet my family.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be there with you.”

  She shakes her head. “I—”

  “You’ll like them.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  “The kids will be there.”

  She snaps her mouth shut, working her jaw back and forth. Then, she slides her eyes down and away.

  The word kids seems to work, so I push. “My sister’s kids, too. They’re seven and four. Seeing as my mom has a huge yard, you can play tag, hide-and-seek, or whatever the fuck else until the parents worship the ground you walk on for tiring out their kids.”

  When I started talking, her eyes came back to mine, and by the end of my speech, her lips twitch.

  “Worship the ground I walk on?”

  I grin, feeling her lip twitch in my chest.

  Jesus, this woman is getting to me.

  “The kids wear her out, especially my sister-in-law, Anna, seeing as she got knocked up again.”

  She smiles big for a second, and then it slips and fades before she looks away.

  “Sweets.”

  When she turns back to me, her face is tight. “Don’t you think this is too soon?”

  I press my lips together, frustrated. Even as I push and make progress, she’s still pulling back.

  “No.” My tone is firm.

  “But—”

  “My sister was with her then boyfriend and now husband about two weeks before he came to dinner. My brother and his then girlfriend and now wife were about the same. We’ve been together for over a month. We’re going at a snail’s pace.”

  She leans back, her eyes big as saucers. “Wife?” she whispers.

  Oh fuck, that’s not what I meant. “Becca—”

  “Snail’s pace?”

  Shit.

  “Becca—”

  “Are you crazy?” she shrieks.

  “Fuck no! And you’d get it if you’d shut it.”

  Her wide eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me to shut it.”