“How did you get all of this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“It pays to know people.”
“It pays to sleep with people,” Caleb muttered and ducked Tucker’s fist.
“Hey, I didn’t sleep with anyone. I just charmed, smiled, but it was all out of the good of my heart. No sex was needed.”
“Apparently, he’s just that good,” Zoey said, and the women tittered.
I met Caleb’s gaze and then Tobey’s, and then just shook my head.
I really did not want to have this conversation in front of my baby sister. Call me old fashioned.
We settled down in our seats, each with a couple of beers, a whole lot of water, and I got to feel up Erin’s back and neck when I redid her sunscreen.
She narrowed her eyes at me over her shoulder when I did so, but it was totally worth it.
The music was good, the company was great, and it was just a good time.
It was nice to hang out and simply enjoy myself.
I worked hard, but I loved my job. I was outside most of the day, so I already had a good tan going, even over my tattoos, which wasn’t the best thing. But it couldn’t be helped with my job.
I slathered up with sunscreen as well and made sure that everyone else did the same. Maybe Dimitri was right, and I was a mother hen.
I didn’t mind.
Someone had to do it.
By the time we were all ready to head out, I was a little exhausted and probably overheated, but relaxed.
It had been a good day, and being with Erin like this? It made me feel like there could be something more.
I was probably setting myself up to fail, but I didn’t care. I liked her. I enjoyed being with her.
I didn’t like the idea that I was her rebound, but maybe something could come of that.
Not all rebounds were bad. Sometimes, you still made the shot.
We said goodbye, and I helped her up into the truck, my hands sliding under her skirt ever so slightly when I did.
She raised her brows, and I grinned.
“You want to go park somewhere?” I asked, my voice low and growly.
“I think if we don’t, I’ll probably try to give you a blowjob as we drive, and we might end up in an accident. I don’t want to hurt your truck.”
I didn’t think I’d ever run around the truck as quickly as I did then. Soon, we were on our way to the quarry we had been to before, knowing we’d be safe. Anywhere else? I wouldn’t have done it. But…desperate times and all that.
I had my hand on her leg, slowly stroking up and down, getting closer and closer to the edge of her skirt with each passing caress. When my pinky scraped along the bottom hem, she sucked in a breath, and I did my best to keep my eyes on the road. I squeezed the steering wheel and then slowly slid my hand under her skirt, rubbing my finger along her soft skin.
I swallowed hard, taking the turn probably a little too quickly, but we were safe. I wouldn’t hurt her.
But, goddammit, I needed to be inside of her.
I brushed my fingers along her heat, finding the lace panties she wore soaking wet.
“Dear God,” I bit out.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, panting.
“We’d better be because I’m almost there myself.”
She chuckled harshly and then gasped as I rubbed her clit through her panties.
She arched for me, rotating her hips with my touch. I did my best not to kill us both as I parked.
And then our seatbelts were off, and I was tugging on her panties.
Her lips were on mine, my mouth crushing hers, our tongues tangling.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. I just needed to be inside her.
I reached inside my pocket, pulled out a condom, and then worked myself out of my jeans.
She helped me along, making sure she was completely out of her panties. And when I pulled the seat back and patted my lap, she grinned at me.
“We’ll make it work this time.”
“But damn, that miniskirt.”
“I’ve been singing that Tim McGraw song in my head all day,” she said as she slowly worked her way over the center console.
“Yeah, me, too. You know there’s one part where he says he has to work so hard for that first kiss. What do you think, you going to make me work hard?”
“Hey, as long as you’re hard, I don’t care.”
“Dude.” I started to laugh.
“I know. That was bad. But I really can’t wait anymore.”
I sheathed myself in the condom, gripped her hips, and slowly slid her over my length.
We both gasped, her warm cunt squeezing my dick hard.
I tugged on her tank top, and then on her bra until her tits popped out, then I leaned forward and sucked each one into my mouth. I bit down and worked at her nipples until they were pebbled and red like cherries.
“You’re so fucking sexy.”
I slid my hands down her arms, slowly sliding my hips just enough so I worked in and out of her.
She rocked on me, her mouth parted as she met my gaze.
Her skirt was rucked up over her hips, her shirt tangled down right above it, and her bra askew as her tits bounced as she rode me.
I was still in all of my clothes, my pants just a little pushed down so my dick could be out and inside her.
I’d never had sex in this truck before. The only other time I’d been close had been when the two of us had gotten each other off.
This was probably the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
She put one hand on the roof of the cab, the other on the back of my seat, and I gripped her hips with one hand as I used my other to palm her breast.
She worked me, bouncing up and down on my dick as I thrust inside her.
And when I used my hand to slide from breast to breast over her clothes and then moved to her clit, she came, clamping around my dick so tightly that I almost filled her immediately.
I kept going, though, slamming in and out of her, using the floor of the footwell to get the most of any thrust I could.
She kept going, too, her whole body flushed, and then I came, hard, fast. And she came around me again, her mouth on mine, neither of us looking at each other, just feeling.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except want to be with her.
She was mine in this moment, and if I let myself think hard about it, she could be mine forever.
But as the orgasm waned, and we cooled, and our breaths started to slow, I noticed that the windows of the truck had steamed. But we didn’t care.
This had to be it for now. I had to be okay with this.
But as she looked at me, I saw something there in her face, an emotion I couldn’t name. Something I wanted to name.
Maybe this could be more.
I really hoped it could be.
Chapter 13
Erin
I was apparently really good at making rash decisions. Recently, anyway.
No, that wasn’t the case. At least, I tried not to make it the case.
But I had told myself when Nicholas and I ended that I would figure out who I was. And in order to do that, I had to discover where I came from.
That meant I needed to figure out where Dad had gone.
Jenn knew my plans, and while she didn’t support them, she supported me. If this went horribly, which it probably would, I knew I could go to her.
But I didn’t want to. I wanted things to be okay. I wanted them to work out so I wouldn’t be stressed out. I wanted my dad to hold me and tell me that he loved me. I wanted there to be some excuse for him having left us like he did.
Like the FBI or aliens or something.
At least, that’s what I’d wanted when I was a little girl.
I wasn’t a child now. I’d had those blinders ripped off long ago. Even before our mother decided that she didn’t want to be a mom anymore and joined the commune.
It was just Jenn and me now. We were a f
amily. And then she had made her own, and I had thought to make a family with Nicholas.
Somehow, I had been left alone, left behind. Again.
And that was why I needed to try and be okay on my own. Why I needed to be okay with this new version of Erin.
But it wasn’t easy when I was so worried about what might happen next.
But that was fine, I would be fine.
I was going to find out why my father didn’t want me. Why he left.
I was going to uncover the answers.
The detective I’d hired had found my dad.
I still couldn’t believe it.
I looked down at the note in my hand. Frank Rose.
He lived less than an hour away, up in Fort Collins.
He still lived in the damn state.
Our mother didn’t even live in Colorado anymore.
She had moved to Wyoming. Sure, just a state north, but she didn’t live here. My father, the one who had abandoned us first, lived closer.
And he hadn’t thought to contact us.
I’d imagined at one point that maybe he had gone to prison or something. Or perhaps he had disappeared and lost our phone number and forgot where he once lived.
Anything would have been easier in my heart and mind than knowing that he had left us but didn’t actually move away.
But I had to be okay.
Because if I weren’t, that meant that all of this would be for nothing.
And this?
What was this?
I was sitting in my car at a gas station, halfway between my home and the place where Frank Rose apparently lived.
I’d known about his address for four days. And I hadn’t done anything about it.
I hadn’t told Jenn. I hadn’t told Devin.
What would I tell them?
Devin knew about my family. He knew because he had known us when we were younger. He knew that my dad had left us. And he knew now that my mother had left just the same. In fact, she had left soon after Devin and Jenn broke up.
Maybe I should have told Devin about finding my dad. But I hadn’t.
And that was on me.
I was such a mess.
I didn’t want to have to rely on him. Because once I did, things would get serious too fast. And if I let it be serious, then I would think about what those feelings were deep inside of me. And I didn’t want those. Not really. I’d had them before, and they had broken me.
I just wanted this to be fun. Why couldn’t I just let things be fun and not serious and just make things work?
Why did I always have to make things hard?
But here I was, sitting at a gas station, looking down at the address of the man who had raised me for what…a minute?
The man who had left us.
I needed to know why.
And I couldn’t let it break me.
Because if I let it get to me, I didn’t know who I would be after the fact.
I’d worked so hard to figure out who this new Erin was. The one without Nicholas by my side. Would I be a strong woman that could handle anything?
Apparently, not. I’d had to rely on people when my place flooded. I hadn’t been able to handle it on my own. And, yes, a small part of me realized that asking for help was a very big part of learning how to be strong and independent.
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to let anyone in.
Because people hurt you. They broke you.
I wiped away the tears that fell down my cheeks and cursed at myself.
Here I was, overthinking things again. I was just going to look at the house. I wasn’t going to call. I wasn’t going to look him up. I was just going to see. And then I would go home and figure out what to do next.
Because I was scared—so damn scared.
And I didn’t like being afraid.
“Okay, Erin. Time to put on your big-girl panties and just get it over with. It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
I gave myself a nod in the rearview mirror, started my car, and pulled out of the parking lot.
The drive was easy. It wasn’t rush hour, and I-25 was in decent shape in this area. If I had to go south, I probably wouldn’t be as happy, but I liked this part of the drive.
I’d been to Fort Collins countless times. I hadn’t known that Frank Rose lived here.
He had even kept his name.
He hadn’t gone under some secret identity or done any of the things my imagination had supplied when I was younger.
No, he had just left us. Moved away. But maybe it was for a reason.
Maybe he just didn’t want children. Perhaps he didn’t want any of that. Maybe he wanted a completely new life.
One without us.
I shook my head and followed the GPS off the highway and into a newly developed neighborhood.
My stomach clenched as I looked around. I swallowed hard.
This wasn’t some downtown urban area. This wasn’t going to be a shelter where some down on his luck old man now lived.
No, there were children playing basketball on driveways. Others in yards, playing jump rope and other games.
Little kids on bicycles with helmets and elbow pads and even knee pads.
There were parents all around, constantly watching. Hovering.
This was a neighborhood that took care of its children and watched them.
This was a place for families.
My hands shook as I took a turn down another street with identical houses and smiling people.
“Why are you here, Dad?”
I didn’t mean to whisper the words. I didn’t want to say them at all.
They just poured out of me.
This wasn’t a place for a man in hiding. This was a place for a man who was living.
I took another turn, and my GPS told me I had arrived.
I parked in front of the neighborhood playground and turned off my engine, but I didn’t look to the left.
I didn’t look where I knew the house was.
Because if I did, then I would be there for real. And everything would be different.
This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be in such a family-friendly neighborhood.
Maybe it was a mistake. Perhaps this was a different Frank Rose.
Of course, the detective had been a hundred percent sure that this was where my father had ended up.
How long?
Not too long, considering the ages of the homes here.
But, dear God. What did this mean?
I finally gathered the courage to look left, my heart in my throat, and my stomach aching.
It was a perfect two-story home with blue shutters and white trim. It looked as if it had been power-washed recently because there didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt on it. There was a large porch with a hanging swing and a screen door that had glass on it that looked as if it let in the sunlight when they wanted to open the wooden door.
There was a paved driveway and a walkway through the yard.
There was even a white picket fence.
I didn’t even know they made white picket fences for front yards anymore.
Most homes only had back fences. Hardly ever white. And certainly never with actual pickets.
But this whole neighborhood had white picket fences around the lots. Not on every one, but enough of them that it seemed to be part of the HOA.
My father lived in a perfect house, with perfect paint, a perfect yard, and a perfect little white picket fence.
Maybe he was just visiting.
Maybe this wasn’t his home.
Maybe he hadn’t left his family for this.
Maybe he hadn’t left me for this.
This had to be wrong. This wasn’t where he lived. I rechecked the address and shook my head. Maybe the private detective got it wrong.
Well, I could sit here and stare, or I could go see.
Maybe I would just see.
The PI hadn’t told me anything else. I hadn’
t asked him to dig deeper. He’d just said that he found Dad and offered to look more into it so I would know what I was walking into.
But I hadn’t wanted to know. It wasn’t about the money, I just didn’t want to know.
But now I was facing it, head-on, and I had to take the next steps. I had to figure it out.
So, I pulled my purse strap over my head and got out of the car, my hands shaking.
I locked the doors and looked both ways before I crossed the street, then smiled at a little girl on her bike as she waved. Her hand went right back to the handlebars as her mom chased after her with laughter in her voice.
The little training wheels on each side of the back wheel shook ever so slightly. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d had kids like my sister.
Would I be that mom?
I hoped I would be.
My mom had tried, but then she hadn’t been enough for us. We hadn’t been enough for her. But Jenn had been there for me.
My Dad hadn’t.
He had been somewhere else all this time. And now, he was here.
I unlatched the gate, walked through, and closed it behind me.
No one really paid much attention to me. All of their eyes were on their own things, their minds on their own worries. But I knew they saw me. I knew they saw a woman in jeans and a top with boots, her blond hair braided behind her head.
I looked normal—hopefully not like a serial killer or a salesperson.
I didn’t know what I wanted them to see. I could only focus on taking each step in front of me. One, and then the next.
Before I could take my next breath, I was there. The door was firmly closed as my finger pressed the doorbell.
I was doing this. I was going to see my dad. This was okay. He would just tell me what happened, and everything would be all right. I wasn’t going to freak out.
The door opened, and a boy of about fourteen with sandy blond hair and a crooked smile looked at me. He was lanky, probably tall for his age, and just learning how to use those long limbs of his.
But I wasn’t really looking at any of that in real detail. No, I was looking at his eyes.
Because those eyes, the shape of them, the color…those were my eyes.
Breathless With Her: A Less Than Novel Page 14
