Dearly Beloved, page 11
Bobby led the way across the room, opened the door.
Renée gazed inside. It wasn’t an enormous room. Ugly pea-green sheets adorned a twin-size bed pushed against the far wall. A tall, antique oak dresser sat to the left of it. Next to the bed sat a nightstand with a lamp, phone, and alarm clock atop it. The room wasn’t luxurious by any means, yet it was… perfect. She’d had nothing that was indeed hers until now.
“I thought you would like this room best,” Bobby said. When she didn’t react, she continued, “You can see the fireplace from your room and the living room.”
“No, I like it,” Renée assured her. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never had my own room. It’s the first time I’ve had my own… house. Thank you.”
As sudden as a jack-n-the-box, Renée jolted up in bed. Tears streamed down her face, and her heartbeat erratically. Reaching over to her nightstand, she snatched her prescription bottle out of the top drawer. With shaky hands, she opened the bottle, shook out two pills, and swallowed them dry.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Damn, what is it with her and two o’clock in the morning?
Once again, Chris observed Renée shut her bedroom door in, an obvious attempt not to make noise, then tiptoe barefoot down the hall, heading toward the kitchen. Either the girl had insomnia or that weird sleep-eating disorder he heard about on one of those TLC Network shows like My Strange Addiction or Freaky Eaters. Or she was one of those girls, a woman who had a problem eating in front of people.
She’d never struck him as the type. Yeah, she was thin, but it didn’t look eating disorder-induced. Renée might have a bucket full of issues, but that wasn’t one. Whatever the reason, he’d know soon enough.
Opening the guestroom door wider, he peered down the hall. Left. Right. Coast was clear. Chris pulled off the muscle shirt he’d worn to bed with his plaid pajama bottoms, flung it on the bed, and slipped into the hall. Destination: the kitchen.
Operation Get Renée was on like Donkey Kong. Few women could resist him without a shirt, and he knew it was her weakness as well. He’d watched her try to stop herself from checking him out several times, but her eyes had a mind of their own. They slid up and down his body like a lover’s caress. In the immortal words of one Steven Q. Urkel, he was wearing her down, baby.
In the kitchen archway, Chris crossed his arms over his broad chest. Leaning against the frame, he crossed his legs at the ankles. He watched his prey. Detouring from her typical late-night cereal, she made toast. Naughty girl—she had on the same outfit from earlier. The low-cut, maroon, V-neck camisole and black sweatpants turned into cutoff shorts. Smooth chocolate thighs begged for his touch. His tongue. The way she stood; one brown cheek was close to slipping out of the bottom.
Fuck!
He adjusted himself in his suddenly tight pajama pants. Sweat broke out over his brows. Without having a clue, the girl tortured him. Because of her short torso, her legs were long, although she wasn’t tall. She had athletic legs. Nothing would please him more than to lick both her long legs from ankle to… well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where.
Before he realized it, his fantasy carried him from the entryway. He now stood behind Renée, a hairsbreadth away from his chest pressing against her back. A delicate mixture of almond mango shampoo and cocoa butter body lotion filled his nostrils. He leaned closer to pull her fragrance into his lungs, skin. His soul.
“Oh, my gosh!”
He jerked back to avoid being slammed in the face by Renée’s head as she spun around.
Glaring at him, she clutched her chest. “You scared the crap out of me. What were you doing?”
Her low-cut camisole exposed perky, creamy brown breasts as they rose and fell. Beautiful. He craved nothing more than to hook his finger in the flimsy material and rip it down the middle. His eyes leisurely traveled down her body. Then up to her annoyed face.
Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she pinned him with an icy glare. She didn’t enjoy being startled.
He tried to hold back a grin, failed. “Wow! The forbidden pajamas again,” he teased. “You’re lucky it’s me and not Drew. This would not be considered a minor infraction.”
Ignoring him, Renée turned around.
Chris didn’t move a muscle. She could try to shut him out all she wanted, try being the operative word. Her bratty mood wouldn’t deter him.
“Why are you here?”
“Gosh, sorry to ruin your night,” he said, feigning offense.
Pressing the toast down, she turned hard eyes on him. “You don’t have the power to ruin my night.” She smiled without humor. “I can ignore you.”
Yeah, right!
The words were there, the evil eye was there, but her resolve was lacking. Especially since he noticed the heated once over, she thought she’d masked with a slow, annoyed, perusal up and down his body. He was harder than a diamond and didn’t hide it. When her gaze found his erection, he felt it like she’d taken him in hand. Her gaze lingered. She licked her lips. God, help him—he wanted to bend down and suck that pink tongue into his mouth. The urge was so strong he had to lock his knees to keep from doing just that.
“I don’t think you can.” He smirked.
Her appraisal ceased.
Chris would’ve laughed at her forlorn expression if he didn’t doubt she’d slap the shit out of him. Anyway, he had more important things to ask while he had her off guard. “Why do you think I’m so stuck on myself?”
She flinched as if startled by his question. Brown eyes narrowed. “Have you seen yourself?” Renée asked, gazing into his eyes.
Ah! So, she noticed him. Of course, he’d known that before, but it was nice to have verbal confirmation. “If I walked around like a slob, would I attract you?”
“Why does my being attracted to you matter? You have—what? —fifty, sixty groupies worshipping at the altar of the almighty Christopher Clark? Do you need more?” Renée smirked, quirked a brow.
Everyone thought they knew him so well. Had him figured out. To say their assumptions were pissing him off would be an understatement of grand proportion, hers more than anyone. Whatever; he’d table the topic for another time. Right now, he wanted to play with her. He moved closer. “So, you are attracted to me?” He grinned.
Renée, averting her gaze, stepped away. “Ugh…”
He hated when she pulled that dismissing him crap. Hooking an arm around her tiny waist, Chris yanked her close. She gasped. Finger under her chin, he tilted her head. Renée struggled, pushed at his chest—weakly. She wanted this, and he’d give it to her. Chris leaned in. Her lips parted, and her gaze latched onto his mouth. He wanted this, too. Hadn’t realized how much until this moment. Her delicate breath warmed his chin.
He lifted her arm, draped it over his shoulder. Chris almost cried when she flung the other arm up there without prompting and laced her fingers behind his neck. His lips brushed hers.
Keys jingled. Toast popped up.
They jumped apart. Twisting, she retrieved her toast. She placed it on a plate then hauled ass out of the kitchen.
Sun glittered today. Not a cloud marred the perfection of the Arizona sky. Birds chirped. Leaves of a large eucalyptus tree swayed in a light breeze. What a beautiful morning for acid to destroy Andrew’s stomach lining.
Lugging several duffel bags and a couple of suitcases, he walked down the sidewalk toward his black Denali parked at an angle in the driveway. He pressed a button on his key fob. The power liftgate lifted, exposing the rear cargo area.
He had a bad feeling about this trip. It was one thing when he'd thought his sister would make phone calls in some misguided attempt to fix her past. It was quite another to drive his baby, his precious SUV, across the country to find people Renée didn’t know from Adam. These people hadn’t given a shit about her while she suffered many abuses from her uncle and then in the foster care system. No one ever checked on her or tried to gain custody. What type of so-called family did that?
When first adopted, she was this frail little girl with big, sad eyes that had seen too much. While he didn’t pretend to understand all that she’d suffered, he knew her wounds ran deep. It had taken a long time for her to let them in. But she was worth the wait and the hardship her often mercurial emotions caused others sometimes. His sister had a spark about her, a light in her eyes. She was a fantastic person lucky few ever got to know. How was it that someone so talented and beautiful couldn’t see how loved they were? It pissed him the fuck off that this family she wanted to search for caused her deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and a low sense of self-worth. Yet, she risked hurting their parents to meet these people. And he used the term people loosely when referring to them. They weren’t worth the air they breathed in his book. The ones from the list she’d given him who’d passed away were lucky.
Andrew was of a mind to kill the ones who remained so that they’d never interfere in his sister’s life again. Maybe then she could get through these panic attacks and live a halfway normal life. She deserved that and so much more, which was why he was going with her. Her independent nature, while admirable, was sometimes a curse. She refused to rely on or trust anyone. So, until she learned it was okay to need people, he’d decide when she needed someone. She’d need him and their friends for this trip. And he would be there for her.
Plus, if he were being honest, there were definite benefits to this trip, he thought, glancing up the drive. The women were arguing about seating arrangements. Ashley, dressed in denim shorts and a gray-and white-striped, poncho-style, crewneck tee, glared. Christina, in a white flared shirt dress with a drawstring waist, slid on her sunglasses. Renée, wearing black cotton shorts and a red off-the-shoulder, cashmere sweater, shook her head no.
Just then, Lex and Chris exited the garage with a couple more bags.
In typical douchebag form, Chris tossed a gym bag at him. Andrew dropped the travel case he’d been prepared to pack in the Denali to catch the bag.
“Fuckin’ dick!”
Chris straightened his black muscle shirt. Adjusted himself through his white Ballin’ shorts. “We’re driving to Indiana?”
“That’s the plan. It should only take a few days.”
Lex pushed past him, reorganized the luggage. He shoved the travel case in between a few bags. Dude was the king of Tetris. The way he organized the luggage proved it. He looked at Andrew. “You sure Renée wants us all to go? Isn’t this kinda personal?”
Andrew snatched up a few more bags, took a suitcase from Chris, and worked the bags into the cargo area as best he could. “Of course, it is, and no, she doesn’t. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting her do this alone.”
“Are we all gonna fit in here?” Lex asked, leaning against the side of the SUV, careful not to get his white muscle tee dirty—as if Andrew would ever let his baby get dirty.
“Yeah,” Andrew assured him, “two in front, two in the middle, and two in back.”
Lex scoffed. “Cozy.”
“I don’t know if my big—”
Chattering from Ashley, Christina, and Renée coming down the walk from the front of the house interrupted Chris and drew their attention to the girls.
“I don’t care if I have to cut off a leg. I’ll fit in these damn seats,” Chris finished as they watched the girls.
Each girl carried two additional carry-ons. Great. What didn’t they understand about pack light? Shit! They wouldn’t be gone more than a week and a half, yet the girls packed like they were moving there. He placed the last bag in the truck, shut the liftgate.
Passing him, Ashley bumped his shoulder as if she were a linebacker protecting the quarterback. Damn, the girl was small, but not only did she have a big mouth, but she also packed a big—
“Excuse her,” Christina said, brushing past him.
Andrew smiled. He wasn’t a peach; he wouldn’t bruise, he thought, watching Ashley and Christina climb in the truck. “No shoes on the leather, ladies,” he reminded them.
Renée bumped him like Ashley had, but with less force. She tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Shake it easy, Andrew. This was your idea, remember? It costs to be the boss. You could always back out. Let me take the bus as I planned.”
“Not happening. Get in the car. And I thought I told you one small bag—just you—in the car,” he reminded her, glaring at her shoulder bag and the carry-on thing she held.
Hand on the door handle, foot on the retractable assist step, she shot him a snide, tight-lipped grin. She jiggled the shoulder bag. “Munchies… bro.” Renée wagged her eyebrows, then climbed in.
“Indiana, here we come!” Ashley shouted from inside the cab.
Shaking their heads, Andrew, Chris, and Lex traded exasperated looks. His terrible feeling intensified.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gallup, New Mexico
Renée stared out the truck’s window. She adjusted her oversized sweatshirt. Well, not her sweater, Alex’s sweater. Who would’ve thought New Mexico nights were cooler than Arizona’s? She’d heard somewhere that New Mexico was hot like Arizona, but it was cold, and she hadn’t packed a coat, cardigan, or sweater. She’d taken the hoodie under Chris’s frosty glare.
She sighed. There wasn’t a star in the sky. If not for the gas station’s lights that they were parked behind, there’d be no light at all. Between Drew insisting they go on this merry little road trip and Chris being…
God, what was he being? She didn’t know and didn’t care to find out. Chris confused the shit out of her. Renée had no interest in being one of his conquests, but when he got close, held her… She forgot all the reasons she despised him, and her teenage self, the one who used to have a crush, went weak-kneed.
Beside her, Ashley yawned. Renée swiveled in her seat. She and Ashley sat in the middle chair. Chris and Andrew slept in the front seat while Lex and Chrissy were knocked out in the third seat.
Ashley stretched. “Hey, what’re you doing awake?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“What, Alejandro’s stench keeping you up?” Ashley grinned. “Why would you wear that? You don’t like him, do you?”
Renée put a finger to her pursed lips. “Shh… Could you shut the hell up?”
“Did we just meet?” she asked, modulating her tone.
“No, Ash, I don’t like Alex. Not that way. It’s a sweatshirt, not an engagement ring. I couldn’t sleep. I’m nervous,” Renée confessed.
Ashley readjusted in her seat, pulling her blanket close. The leather squeaked. She squeezed Renée’s knee. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll go there; you’ll talk to these people. The worst they can say is fuck off. The best, they give you some answers, you feel enlightened and shit, we leave, and you’re better.”
Very poetic, and not that easy. Them saying fuck off was why her intestines twisted. She hadn’t seen these people in forever, wasn’t even sure they’d remember her. Plus, there was animosity on her part. How did she talk to people who didn’t give a shit about her? In her room, facing her past seemed like the right idea. Here at a rest stop, headed to do what was the most significant thing she’d ever do… Again, she was that scared, confused little girl who just wanted someone to tell her she mattered. Wanted someone to choose her. Being told to fuck off would kill her.
But she couldn’t explain that to Ashley—Christina maybe—but not Ashley. Sensitivity just wasn’t Ashley’s strong suit. She was more brute force. The taser you brought if a deal went south. Renée took a deep breath.
“Née. Really? What’s the worst that could happen?”
She took another deep breath before answering. “You’re right,” she lied. “Why are you awake?”
“I felt you watching me,” Ashley joked. “A little too Twilight for me.”
Renée chuckled. That was why she loved Ashley. Mushy words weren’t her thing, but she had a sixth sense about this stuff. She knew when her mood needed lightening and then did it.
“Did we all have to come?” Ashley asked once they sobered.
Renée burrowed into her seat, thrust her hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. “Hey, I wasn’t gonna be stuck with just Andrew. And he kinda forced the issue.”
Shaking her head, Ashley whispered, “You guys used to be so close. Now you don’t want to be alone with him. I don’t get it, Née. Build a fuckin’ bridge already.”
If only it were that easy. This, Ashley never would understand. “Let’s just say I have long-standing brother issues and leave it at that.”
“Whatever,” Ashley sighed. She pulled her blanket over her shoulders, curled in her seat, and faced the other direction. “All I know is that we better have some fun on this trip,” she grumbled.
Sure, they’d have fun ripping off her emotional scabs.
“Renée, Jason, and Giovanni are going to live here for a few months. Would that be all right with you?” Bobby asked, setting her fork prongs down on her dinner plate. She interlaced her fingers.
How weird.
People asking for an opinion on anything was hard to get used to. Being in the foster care system, Renée got moved without notice, and life changed all the time. Her feelings were never considered. So, even though it had happened several times in the last two months since she’d moved in with Bobby, it still shocked her. Sitting at the dinner table with Bobby, Aaron, and Aaron’s two friends, being involved in such a decision, made her feel important. Like they were an actual family.
Renée never had it so good. Bobby had taken her on her first shopping spree. She’d never had clothes someone else hadn’t worn first. Mrs. Greensburg bought her a whole new wardrobe, got her hair done in a real salon, let her talk on the phone to her friends, and invited them over. None could come over, but just having the ability to invite a friend over to a place she wasn’t ashamed of was nice. She also allowed her a couple of glasses of wine each night, which was so cool. Then there was Aaron.
