Broken, page 8
“What time?”
“Leaving at four.”
“Can we take the bike? And tickets are on you, deal?”
He nodded.
“Pick me up at the house. Now let me get back to work so I can pay my electric bill this month.”
****
At four, twenty-eight, I was waiting outside on the swing when Clay pulled into the drive.
Damn, he was smoking hot. I hadn’t been this turned on … well, ever, and couldn’t quite figure out if he was blessed or cursed with those looks. He had on those boots, skintight jeans, and a black Manuscript t-shirt. I later learned it was his third concert of theirs. Music was his favorite pastime. He was just too tone-deaf to perform any music on his own.
I had jumped on the bike before he had time to change his mind.
“Hold on tight, if you die tonight it’ll be a buzzkill,” he said and handed me a helmet.
We merged onto the interstate at a snail’s pace. Inconsistent with Clay’s normal death-defying speed, we never got over the speed limit. I almost wondered if he was purposely taking his time. I wouldn’t complain; I would enjoy being on the bike with him.
Thanks to a crowded highway and following every rule in the driver’s manual, we pulled into the parking space with only thirteen minutes to spare. I started to walk toward the will call when Clay pulled two tickets out of his wallet and held them up.
“I purchased them the day they went on sale. I wanted good seats.”
“Why did you tell Kate you were going alone when you had two tickets?”
“I don’t take girls I fuck to concerts. I prefer to enjoy them.”
“I’m glad I’m not one of your fuck buddies then.”
The show was a feast for the ears. I loved more of their songs than I realized and even drooled over a few I had never heard before. The energy that the band emitted was incredible and would stay with me for days. Nothing was as good as live music, and I understood why Clay enjoyed it that much.
Clay didn’t drink at all, and neither did I. A good buzz would have been a lousy idea driving home on the interstate, but the lack of one did nothing to keep us from acting like fools. I was pretty sure Clay sang along to every single song, and he was right — he couldn’t hold a tune if his life depended on it. Twice I had to quiet him before the people around us revolted.
By the final song, we had pushed ourselves right up against the stage. Clay held me next to him. I told myself it was to keep us from getting separated again, but it was more.
They ended the night with my favorite of theirs, “Ellen.” I stood there long after they finished watching the roadies tear down the stage. Clay never let me go and seemed to find solace in the night’s chaos.
When I finally peeked back up at Clay, he was looking at me with a child-like gleam in his eyes that would put any toddlers to shame. “This has been the best concert I’ve ever been to, and something tells me it’s because of you.”
“Of course, it is,” I said and paused. Clay stumbled and braced himself by gripping my shoulders. “I think we need to be heading home.”
Clay’s legs seemed to have lost the ability to walk on the way back to the bike. Perhaps, he had slipped a beer in when I wasn’t looking.
Due to the late hour, the interstate almost felt deserted, and we settled into a quiet peacefulness. The silence between us didn’t bother me, but it was awkward. Or at least for me, it was anyway. I placed my chin on his shoulder, and he squeezed my kneecap. It was all I needed to let go of the awkwardness. A good squeeze of my knee caused me to tighten the grip I had of him and smile for the next seventy-seven miles until he pulled onto my front yard.
“I need to get home. Thanks, it really was a great night,” Clay said.
I climbed off the bike without evoking a reaction or snide comment from Clay. I took in his face one last time. Clay appeared pained. “Are you okay?”
“Great, just tired.”
Something told me he was anything but okay, but it wasn’t my place to push.
****
My cell buzzed on the kitchen counter. It was a text from Clay. I hadn’t seen him in four days, but his texts were regular and flirtatious.
Clay: Stop
Annie: Stop what?
Clay: Stop thinking about me. Don’t lie; you’re doing it right now!!
Annie: Leave me alone, I’m working. Are you coming by to see me tonight?
Clay: Going to see someone who’s nicer. But I’ll be thinking of you.
Chapter 12
Annie López
The weather was oppressively hot for an April day, and I had the task of opening the Downtown Cafe. Even though I usually woke up in a cheery mood, I was in no mood for any smiles or giggles. I’d stayed up most of the night drawing and imagining how nice the person was that Clay had visited instead of me.
Thankful as I was to work, I would have rather slept the morning away.
The student body of Carterville High School had spent the night celebrating the basketball championship. I could still smell the faint scent of milkshakes and fries. The place had been jumping, a stark contrast with the morning. The joint was empty as I switched on all the overhead lights, so the knock on the door rather startled me.
Clay had his hands cupped around his eyes and his face pressed against the window. He motioned to the door handle and said, “Please.” He looked tired and had his hair pulled back into a messy knot, but one side still fell around his face. A few strands even swept across his forehead as if he had rolled out of bed and never took the time to look in the mirror. The thick stubble surrounding his jaw couldn’t have come from one night’s growth. That would have taken some powerful testosterone to achieve that feat. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but they were no less striking. They even matched the blue in the very wrinkled cowboy shirt he was wearing. Despite the lack of grooming, he was still the most attractive man I’d ever laid my eyes on.
I forced myself to smile. There was no way I would let him know that just the sight of him sent my heart into a funny tap dance.
I unlocked the door and let him in. “Can I help you, Clay?” I couldn’t miss the jubilance I had in my voice at the sound of his name.
“Annie, I didn’t think I would find you here.”
I guess he no longer needed a friend.
He didn’t even try to hide the grimace of his face. I let him in; he could have at least faked one of those smiles. I would settle for one that didn’t even show his dimples. Anything was better than the way he was staring into my eyes. What he was hoping to find was beyond me.
“Oh, here’s the paper. Bob will look for it when he gets here.” Clay handed me a newspaper, walked right past me, and went behind the counter. He flipped on the coffee maker and spooned out the correct amount of coffee grounds for the commercial unit. I still had to read the directions to work the machine. Clay had it down pat. When he finished filling the unit with water, he leaned over the counter and supported himself with his elbows. He finally flashed the smile I’d become addicted to. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He pointed back at the coffee maker. “Bob lets me make some coffee before I head home and face the parents.”
I stood there, speechless. Bob knew more about Clay than I wanted to let myself believe.
“You do this often?” I waved my hands in the air, still confused.
“Nah, not really. Only when I stayed out all night. Bob understands I need the caffeine to tolerate the old man. Shit, he’s the only person in this town who hates my dad more than I do.”
I gathered that.
Clay narrowed his eyes and did that hot little staring thing he does. The thing that made me feel exposed. “What’s wrong? You seem out of it,” he asked, and let out a breath before re-securing his man-bun.
Does he already know me enough to tell when I am out-of-whack? Do I want him knowing me that well? Shouldn’t I be more scared of … well, him? I started to walk toward the kitchen, praying he couldn’t read my thoughts.
“I’m great, just didn’t expect to see you this early.”
“Not buying it. Talk. I have all day.” Clay crouched over the counter and looked up at me under those long lashes. It was unfair for a guy to have lashes like that. Even being brown, mine needed a fair amount of mascara to stand out.
I yawned. “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”
I stayed up late thinking about you, and I don’t want to imagine what you were doing.
Clay leaned across the counter to place a twenty in the tip jar. The coffee maker signaled it had finished brewing. “You look sexy. I kind of like that sleepy look you have going on,” Clay said, as he bent over to get a cup and lid out from under the counter. “I take it that mornings are not your thing.” Clay popped up and smiled.
No, you are, I thought.
“Not really,” I said, as I started to switch on the machines in the kitchen. “But I needed some overtime.”
Clay laid down the cup and started to pour fresh grease into the deep fryer. “If you need some extra money, tell Bob to let you work for his catering company. They are always looking for servers for some party.”
I’d bent over to turn on the dishwasher someone had forgotten to start when I caught Clay checking out my behind. The sound of water and a grinding engine filled the room as I rose and pulled my t-shirt down.
“I promise you’ll make a killing in tips alone at one of those posh parties,” he added. “My dad and his friends like to tip the pretty ones big. I think they hope to stand a chance of getting in their pants.”
I tossed a metal spoon and listened to the loud clang as it hit the sink. The stare I threw at Clay must have worked because he said nothing else, but he spent the next thirty minutes in silence helping me open the place.
He grabbed the cup of coffee and raised it in his hand as if he was saluting me. “Thanks for the coffee,” he called back over his shoulder. “And don’t forget what I said about serving for Bob’s catering company,” he added, just as the door shut behind him.
Two minutes later, my cell phone dinged.
Clay: Thanks for the coffee. The only thing is now that I’ve seen you, my day can only go downhill. Because you’re always the best part of my day.
****
Clay Carter
Whether it was the steroid shot or Annie, I could lift mountains.
I didn’t mind the overnights. However, it seemed they were putting a kink in the stay-pain-free plan. Coffee was all I had on the brain before I headed home, but once again, God blessed me more than he should. Annie was just the sight I needed to forget it all. I’d helped Bob more than a few times open his place when I needed to get away, but never once did I enjoy it. But I didn’t want to be anywhere else, being near Annie muted the thoughts in my head. Even when she didn’t speak, the sound of her breathing was as soothing as any song. I was screwed and didn’t like it.
Damn you, Annie.
I’d purposely stayed away, trying to figure out my next move. I had nothing, except some flirty text messages and even they seemed wrong.
Annie was such a mystery. The way she carried herself with assurance and dignity was baffling to me and only proved that I needed to draw a line with her. I didn’t deserve a friendship with a girl like Annie, much less what my body was craving. That was when it hit me. If I ever planned to keep whatever was going on between Annie and me platonic, I didn’t need to forget what I did to get through the day. I would find a hot little piece who wanted a fun time with no strings.
Just as I hopped on my bike, I saw a girl with a micro-mini leaning over the back of a car at Gus’s service station. Her shiny, black hair bounced against her shoulders. She twisted her head, and I caught a glimpse of her face. It was Margo Presley. She was always up for a good time. No pressure. Just fun. Not the least bit clingy. And would offer me the release I needed.
Twisting the handlebars, I climbed off the bike and walked over to Margo. I plastered on my game face with the smile that always got me any girl I put my mind on, came up behind her, and placed a hand in my pocket. “Didn’t think your fine ass would greet me this early in the morning. What did I do for this privilege?”
Giggle. When would girls learn that the only thing a giggle gave a guy was a headache? Margo placed the nozzle back into the gas pump. Her smile pulled to one side. “Heading to class. What are you doing out this early in the morning?”
Running from life. I waved the coffee cup I was holding. “Needed a cup of Bob’s mud.”
“Kate wouldn’t make you any?”
I hated the idea everyone assumed I was with Kate. I don’t think I’d ever stated I wanted a relationship with her. More than anyone else, Annie thought we were some kind of couple.
Crap, I had to stop always thinking about Annie.
“Kate can never make it like I want it. If I remember right, you always know how I like it.”
“We do know how to mix it up.” Margo’s tone was flirtatious, and her smile grew even bigger.
My mom was in Austin on one of her many girls’ getaways, and my dad had to leave in the middle of the night for one of his emergencies. I could take her back to my house. Not that any of that mattered. They had often found random girls wandering my house in the morning but as long as I showed up at the right places with an appropriate date, no one said a word.
Margo stroked a finger over my breastplate. My muscles usually jerked in response, but they didn’t care what she offered. The only thing my body craved was working at the Downtown Cafe.
Quit thinking about Annie! But how? She had set the bar so high; no other girl could ever come close.
I couldn’t go through the mass of conflicting emotions swimming around inside of me. I would make this work even if I had to give my body a pep talk, something that had never happened before.
“I’ve learned some new recipes since the last time we cooked up anything together,” Margo said.
The top three buttons of Margo’s shirt were undone, showing off the soft curve of her breast and about twenty-five percent of the lacy bra she had on.
“I have a perfectly good kitchen that is not being used at the moment.” I smiled, flashing her both of my dimples. Girls always responded to them.
Margo would have crawled in the back seat of her car if I’d asked her to. However, there was no way in hell I was taking the chance of Annie seeing what a jerk I really was.
Margo grabbed the handle of her car door. “Let me park my car, and I’ll meet you at your bike.”
Damn, I hadn’t even thought about her wanting to ride on my bike. What if Annie saw us leave together? Hell, Annie was the only other person who had ridden on my bike. My stomach twisted at someone other than her ever riding on it, too. “Follow me to the house. Gus might have the thing towed if you leave it around here.”
Margo was a good girl as usual and didn’t argue.
****
Margo had her tongue down my throat before I even had time to get off my bike and had my shirt unbuttoned before we even reached the front door. We were less than graceful, but it was just what I needed to make me forget. We always left the front door unlocked, and I made quick work of shoving her through the door and pinning her to the wall.
I kicked the door closed as she wrapped her long legs around my waist. Her dark-brown hair brushed against my face and scent of strawberries, reminding me of Annie. Margo bit down on my lip, and I dug it and wondered how kinky Annie was willing to get. I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking about Annie, but every time her face crossed my mind, the swelling in my jeans pushed harder against the denim. I took a step back and crashed into the entry table, sending various items to the floor.
“Shit,” I whispered in Margo’s mouth, but continued to invade her lips with my tongue. The maid could pick it up later.
She made that bullshit girly laugh again. I hated that sound and was relieved Annie never made it. I let Margo slip from my grasp. She smiled, having no idea who I was thinking about, and walked over to the table in the formal dining room. Margo leaned over showcasing her perfectly round ass. Hell, she didn’t have any panties on under that small, tight skirt.
Was I wrong to take something she was so willing to give? If not, then why did I feel guilty? She arched her back, whipping her long, brown hair against her ass.
Hell, she wanted to use me as much as I wanted to use somebody.
My zipper could no longer contain what was underneath it. I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down.
Hell, I could regret all this later.
Margo turned to look up at me, and it elated me to notice she had green eyes, too. A perfect stand-in for the one I truly wanted.
Quit thinking about Annie, damn it.
I planted my lips on hers. “Are you ready?”
“Just wondering what you’re waiting for?”
She moaned the second my fingertips touched her tender flesh, giving me the green light to go for it. And I did, making sure she enjoyed every inch.
Chapter 13
Annie López
The sun streaming through the large picture window signaled I’d slept late. It was my first day off in two weeks, and I was exhausted. I pressed my elbows onto the pillow as I sat up.
Then I heard what probably woke me in the first place: the doorbell.
It was a doorbell. It shouldn’t cause any warning bells to go off. Burglars I was sure didn’t use one often to gain entrance.
Or, did they?
I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a pair of pajamas I’d pulled out of the laundry hamper the night before, and I had piled my hair on top of my head. The guise I had going on was deadlier than any weapon. I sat up and tossed the blanket to the floor.
Burglars beware.
The doorbell buzzed throughout the house again. Whoever it was, they weren’t giving up. I shifted the bun on my head and rubbed over my eyes, wiping the crust away.
I knocked a sketchpad and some drawing pencils onto the floor as I got up and slipped on a pair of flip-flops.
