Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

by A. Marie

  Kelsie and I get along for the most part, only if for short bursts at a time. She even gave me some old items for my apartment like utensils, cups, and a nightstand she scored at a thrift store but didn’t fit her new house decor. Kelsie and her high school sweetheart got married just before she gave birth to their baby boy, Miles, in the fall. The small house they moved into has a cozy cottage style where my place has more of a I’ll-take-what-I-can-get vibe, so I got a few things they found lacking.

  Where we disagree is our mother which is ironic considering the very tie that binds us doubles as the noose around the neck of our relationship. Every time there’s an altercation she takes Mom’s side, no questions asked, no explanation needed. Of course she’s never seen the ugly, sinister side I grew up with so she can’t imagine the heinous things Rianne has done to me.

  That’s why when I met her and Miles for dinner yesterday, I tried to steer the conversation toward safer topics. I needed her help finding an outfit for graduation so I bribed her with dinner just to get her out of the house. It was worth it though. I got to spend time with my chubby-cheeked nephew while buying something nicer than cut-off shorts to wear. The outfit we picked out was flirty and fun, not exactly what I’m used to, but Kelsie swore I could pull it off. The topic of graduation obviously led to discussing who’d be in attendance. The invitation is still open to our mother. I want her to see what I’ve accomplished without her help. Despite Rianne having the invitation on the empty fridge for months, whether she comes is up to her. I’m sure Drew will be there, maybe even his dad since he was my stepfather for a short time. When I asked Kelsie if she’d make it, things quickly went south. She maintained she couldn’t attend unless Mom went, saying it wouldn’t be right to celebrate without her. Unsurprisingly, I grew defensive and things escalated from there. She left in a huff with Miles flailing in her arms. I hate fighting with Kelsie, especially when it affects seeing my nephew, but I don’t understand her logic.

  My world history teacher spent a summer in South Africa when he was in his teens. Mr. O’Conner’s parents let him visit his cousin who had sold all his possessions to start an animal rescue sanctuary on this oasis in the South African wilderness. Anyway, he told us this story once about these Mozambican Spitting Cobras and how they would get inside the house sometimes. They’re insanely venomous and a single bite could kill a human in under forty-five minutes, so it was a huge ordeal when they’d find one. They’d retrieve the snakes using special tools, including safety goggles, then release them back into the wild unharmed. Apparently, the spitting cobra—aptly named—also spits its venom at their targets. It doesn’t actually do anything unless it gets into the eyes, then it can scar the cornea leaving a person blind. I can’t help but wonder if this is what’s happened to my sister. Our mother’s poison has reached Kelsie without her even realizing it.

  I came home to discover a red rose placed in front of my door. Upon finding the stinky flower, I tossed it in the dumpster outside. The boys, well Coty and Beckett, had been leaving me little notes and treats all week, so the rose was an unwelcome surprise to say the least. I’m still not sure who it was from either.

  * * *

  Joe enters the office carrying a stack of work shirts.

  “New shirts came in. Make sure you grab a few.”

  The last time we spoke was on the phone when he insisted I meet him for some BS excuse, yet here he stands, acting like a normal, non-skeevy boss.

  Nose twitching at a strong odor, I cautiously approach the pile and take a handful. Scanning the sizes, I look up.

  “They’re all extra small.”

  “That’s what everybody wears so that’s what I ordered. You trying to tell me you don’t fit an extra small?”

  Not that it’s any of his damn business, but no, I don’t.

  “It’s hotter out there,” I point to the front, “than it is back here. I like my shirts loose for a reason.” Multiple actually.

  Why am I explaining my clothing preferences to my manager? How is this okay?

  “Well, this is the new style the boss wants everyone in so either make it work or…”

  Sighing, I leave, throwing them in my locker on the way to my station. He’s making it impossible to keep working here. Mandatory infant size shirts? What’s next? Wet and Wild Wednesdays? Stripper Sundays?

  No. Thanks.

  I manage to stay busy enough that I barely notice when Coty’s Camaro rolls out of the bay and into my towel covered hands.

  Just as I make my way around the hood, I hear Joe call my name and glance up.

  “I need you to stay late.”

  Shit.

  “Tonight?”

  He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. He rocks back onto his heels, exposing his belly in the process. I bite back a fair amount of vomit.

  “The windows need done. Nobody cleaned them last night so they’re filthy. Expect to be here a while.”

  Double shit.

  My eyes drop to the two sets locked on my every move. Coty’s eyebrows snap together while Marc is sporting his usual scowl.

  I dry the rest of the car in a daze, my heartbeat loud enough for them to hear through the windshield. When I open Marc’s door to clean the jamb, I get an idea.

  I wait until I open Coty’s to put it into action.

  “Hey, neighbor girl,” he teases with a wink.

  I peek back to find the bay empty.

  “Hey, yourself. What are you guys doing here?”

  They share a look before Coty answers vaguely, “Work.”

  Okay, then.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Hopefully hanging with my hot neighbor.”

  Marc groans from the passenger side, making Coty laugh.

  “I didn’t realize Gary was up for visitors but I hope you two have fun.”

  Both guys break into laughter and I smile despite the dread simmering below the surface.

  “Why? What’s up?”

  My gaze flits around the car, the speed of a hummingbird. “I was wondering if you could pick me up?”

  Coty grows serious, immediately scanning my face. “Is something wrong with your Jeep?”

  I look down to my shoe splattered in dirty water. That part was hard, but this part feels wrong. “I don’t know. It sounded weird on the way here and I wanted to go to the library after work,” Coty’s eyes narrow a fraction and I almost lose my nerve altogether, nevertheless I persevere, “but my boss needs me to stay after-”

  “Done.” I don’t even get to finish when Coty cuts me off. “Consider it all done. We’ll take care of the Jeep. I’ll be here when you get off. You can use my laptop for,” his hesitation nearly ends me, “whatever you need it for. Anything else, we’ll figure out later.”

  He glances over to Marc, jerking his chin. Wordlessly, Marc gets out and walks around the back with his hand out. “Keys?”

  “He’ll take it to the shop now and we’ll look at it there.”

  My face outright ignites as I fumble for words. I didn’t expect them to take control like this. I should’ve, but I didn’t. The web I’ve spun can’t be removed without revealing everything in the process. And honestly, that option sounds worse than asking for help—even if it did feel like exfoliating my tongue with sea salt.

  I tell Marc to meet me out back, however, ignoring my wishes, he follows me through the building, hot on my heels all the way to my Jeep.

  “What’s his deal?”

  I turn to see Joe watching from the window. Sighing, I tell him the first truth today, “I don’t know.”

  “He looks pissed, like someone shit in his double roast beef sandwich.”

  I eye Marc skeptically. “Double?”

  “Look at him.” Marc unabashedly waves a hand in Joe’s direction. I grimace but play it off as a squint. The sun is bright. “His sweat looks like it’s a step below that pink slime shit from butcher shops.” Eww. Actually, now that I think about it, it does. “Dude’s arteries are p
robably working overtime.”

  “Maybe he’s just hot?”

  Marc pins me with a hard stare, making me regret I even said anything.

  “Maybe he’s a fucking scumbag.”

  Well, I can’t argue with that.

  With a shrug, I shuffle the keys. “Thanks for helping me. I know we don’t know each other very well but Coty-”

  “Coty’s my boy. If he needs something from me, it’s done. Period.” He pauses. “He thinks you need saving.”

  I peek up at him. “Let me guess, you don’t?”

  A moment passes where neither of us says anything.

  Marc takes the keys from my wavering grasp. “Is this thing going to make it to the shop okay or am I gonna have to Flintstone my ass the whole way there?”

  “Umm.”

  I can’t. I can’t do it. Lies may not make your nose grow but they sure as hell make your conscience shrink.

  “Watch your back tonight.”

  His eyes bounce over to Joe again before landing on me pointedly.

  Shit.

  I wait until he’s gone then reach up to feel my nose, wondering if it grew after all.

  * * *

  Luckily, by the time we switch off the sign for the night, Coty’s Camaro is already backed into an empty spot. Some of the tightness in my stomach loosens when I see him there, waiting patiently. Without telling Joe, I go out to give Coty my bag and let him know I’ll be a while. He assures me he’s got all the time in the world making me glad he’s here. Even though it felt like jumping from a cliff without knowing what was waiting at the bottom of the dark water by asking him for help, it still felt safer than swimming with a hungry shark—a shark with pink slime sweat no less.

  Upon entering the office Joe starts in with the fifth degree.

  “Who’s that? A boyfriend of yours?”

  Tracking my movements as I gather the tools needed, he crosses his arms over his chest.

  “He’s my ride. Car trouble.”

  “I could’ve taken you home. This isn’t a place for dates.”

  I scoff. Loudly.

  “Well, he’s waiting for me.” I meet his eye, hoping he hears what I’m not saying. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to knock this out and get out of here.”

  Not bothering to hear his response, I get to work washing the heavily streaked windows. Joe wasn’t lying. They’re bad. Whoever closed last night should get their ass kicked for leaving the bay in such bad shape.

  An hour later, I’m surprised when I find the office empty when I finish. Joe was in and out of the bay but never stayed long. Thankfully. I don’t know where he is now and I’m not sure I really care. I just want to leave already.

  I wander around, listening for any sound. My steps are slow and measured as I call Joe’s name.

  The light from under the bathroom door, the closed bathroom door, catches my attention and I come to an abrupt stop. Keeping my distance, I can somewhat make out sounds like…grunting?

  What the?

  A knock at the office door startles me. After letting Coty in, his gaze sweeps the room. His narrowed eyes find mine, softening in the next instant. “All done?”

  I nod, grateful. “Take me home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His imitated southern accent makes me smile. “Hungry? I know I worked up an appetite just watching you.”

  “Hmm. No wonder you came early.” We walk out to the black sports car with our hands clasped. “But yeah, I could eat.”

  Coty leans over and kisses me sweetly, tenderly.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

  Smirking, I kiss him back, my lips thanking him for things I refuse to admit. I find myself craving his presence even more since our sexy bike ride together. He calms my ever-present storms looming in the distance.

  Tucked safely inside his car, Coty grabs my hand after turning up the “Too Good To Be True” remix featuring Machine Gun Kelly and takes us for a late meal.

  Back at Creekwood, I grab a shower before meeting him at his place.

  I’m wearing his black sweatshirt—he’s never getting it back—and a pair of tight athletic shorts when he opens the door showing a living room packed with people.

  “Holy shit.”

  He moves to block the opening.

  I follow his gaze to make sure I did in fact put shorts on. My apartment’s so hot, I “forget” to put full outfits on sometimes. Confirming I’m dressed properly, I look back to Coty.

  “You can’t wear that.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Nothing. I like what you’re wearing. A lot.” His eyes darken a shade. “But I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself in front of all these people behind me.” He jerks his head. “Let’s go to your place.”

  He takes a step into me but I push him back, laughing.

  “Mine doesn’t have anywhere to sit, remember?”

  “Shit. That’s right. Do you mind hanging in my room then? I want you all to myself tonight.”

  Eyes narrowed, I say, “Fine, but I have shit to do so no distractions.”

  “Babe, you are the distraction.”

  Our fingers entwined, he leads the way, making quick introductions as we go. Beckett barely looks up from the couch as a girl nibbles his ear. Marc’s in the kitchen cutting up limes. He looks up and nods, saying, “neighbor girl,” as we pass.

  I glance over Coty’s room, looking for differences from the last time I was in it. Aside from a few large rolls of official looking paper on the desk, everything appears the same. Breathing in the tropical tang, I sit on the bed and take in the beautiful picture above the headboard, reading over the quote again.

  Coty closes the door, then walks over to rearrange some papers on his desk. Head down, he tells me, “We need to keep the Jeep a while longer. The part’s on back-order but should be in by next week.”

  I couldn’t keep the shock from my face if I tried. Excuse me, what? There was nothing wrong with my car to begin with, that I know of, so I’m completely taken aback by this information. Coty refusing to meet my eyes isn’t helping.

  “What part?”

  “The carburetor.”

  This would be a great time to know something, anything, even a fun fact, about vehicles besides their make and model.

  “Where’d it go?”

  Coty finally looks at me, his eyebrows basically touching.

  “It didn’t go anywhere. The original one was shit and should’ve been replaced a long time ago. I’m surprised it didn’t give you any problems.” Coty coughs, adding, “Sooner.”

  Even though it’s killing me, I bite my tongue. I’d rather him think I have car trouble than boss trouble.

  “If the carburetor’s still in there, then can I drive it until the part comes in?”

  Coty unplugs his laptop, shaking his head. “We already stripped it. I can drive you to and from work. Or anywhere else you need to go.”

  My hands clench between my legs. “That won’t work. I need my car back.” Now.

  “Babe, the guys and I already talked about it, we’ll make it work. I’ll put our numbers in your phone and one of us can take you wherever you need to go. All you gotta do is text a time and place and someone will show. Don’t worry, we got you.”

  The laptop forgotten, Coty saunters over to join me. Dropping to eye level, he places his knee between my legs, placing his hands on either side of me. His advance forces me to lie back and honestly, distraction never looked so good.

  Inches above my body he breathes, “Damn, I’ve pictured you in my bed so many times.”

  His fingers skirt along the skin peeking out from my shorts. Roused by the featherlight touch, I push my groin up making contact with his and he obliges by dropping his waist down to meet mine. Feeling him already rock hard makes my center throb with anticipation. With one hand holding up his torso, his other snakes around to my ass, gripping my thigh and arching it over his waist. Our groans loud an
d wanting, we kiss like it’s the first time all over again. With new areas to reach and less clothes to restrict, we explore using our hands until soon we’re both growing greedy for more.

  His shirt is promptly removed and tossed across the room, giving me free reign to explore. Pulling away from my impatient hands, he lowers to my still exposed middle and nips just below my belly button. I arch off the bed simultaneously moaning in a voice foreign to my own ears. Just when I think he’s going to ask me to keep it down or leave he does it again, eliciting the same reaction.

  “Coty,” I pant.

  “Please don’t tell me to stop,” he grinds out against the top of my shorts, his erratic breathing penetrating the tight material.

  “I wasn’t. I was going to tell you not to stop.”

  “Fuck, babe. I’m-”

  The obnoxious knocking on his door that sounds like “Old McDonald” at that exact moment interrupts Coty.

  A muffled groan against my shorts, my still sensitive body hums as he sits up.

  “What?”

  “Movie time. Are you and Angie coming out?”

  Coty swings his gaze to mine, apprehension plain as day.

  I shake my head gently, picking up the laptop. Coty looks at the device like he’s about to throw it at Beckett. My hold on it tightens. “No, thanks.”

  I wait for it to fire up while propping myself against the headboard.

  Flopped onto his back, Coty huffs out a breath of frustration. You and me both, buddy.

  “I knew we should’ve gone to your place. How the hell can you still have homework? I thought this was your last week.”

  With his eyes shut, I admire his profile before answering. His dark hair, messy from our make-out session, matches his thick eyebrows. Lush eyelashes rest over those all-seeing chocolate eyes that frequent my dreams. High cheekbones and a strong jawline make his face almost too handsome, too perfect. Plump, supple lips above the slight indentation in his chin round out his nearly flawless complexion.