by Sadie King
“Thank you for that,” she says, her eyes shining. “He’s been leering over me ever since I moved in.”
The thought of him leering at her makes my blood run hot. She’s looking at me all innocence and light, and I feel a pull right in the pit of my stomach.
“Pack your bags,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen.
“You’re not staying here.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m not leaving you to be ogled over by some horny college kids. So pack your bags. I’m getting you out of here.”
“But I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“I’ll take you to my place, and we’ll figure something out from there.”
She puts her hand on my arm. “Why would you do that for me?”
She’s looking at me with those big green eyes, and I don’t know what to say because I’m not even sure myself.
“I want to protect you, keep you safe.”
“But I don’t have any money. My mom had to work two jobs to get me here. This is all I can afford.”
I take her hand in mine. It’s soft and warm. “We’ll figure something out. But I’m not leaving you here tonight.”
She nods. “Give me five minutes.”
I pace the hall as she goes upstairs to pack her things. There’s a pile of mail gathering dust on a side table. It’s my cop instinct to be nosy, and I rifle through the letters. There’s a creak on the stairs, and I grab one of the envelopes and stuff it in my pocket just as Amber comes down dragging a suitcase.
I rush to take it off her. “This all you have?”
“I travel light.”
As we drive to my place my mind’s racing. I’ve just met this girl and here I am taking her to my place. I look over to her in the passenger’s seat, and she looks back at me shyly. My heart skips a beat, and I know without a doubt I’m doing the right thing.
4
Amber
We pull up outside a nice-looking house in the nice part of town. As I follow him in the door, I have Momma’s voice in my head again. If she thought getting into a car with a stranger was bad, what would she think of going into a strange man’s house?
But he doesn’t feel like a stranger. It’s weird, but it feels like I’ve known him forever.
It’s a nice house, although sparsely furnished with hardly any decorations, like it needs a woman’s touch.
“You can take the spare room,” he says, heading up the stairs.
The spare room is a large sized double with an en-suite.
“Grab a shower if you want. I’ll make something to eat.”
I let the hot water run over me, wondering what the hell I’m doing in a stranger’s house and where he thinks I could possibly move to. Maybe he wants to rent out this spare room, but there’s no way I could afford it. There’s a reason I was living in shared, rundown student housing; it was cheap.
I only put half of my stuff in that suitcase, because I know I’ll have to go back. I turn off the water with a big sigh.
I wrap the fluffy towel around me and run the soft fabric against my cheek. At least I can enjoy the luxuries of a nice home for one night.
By the time I dress and head downstairs, Carver is busy in the kitchen.
“I hope you like chili,” he says, stirring a large pot.
“Love it.” I sit on a bar stool in the kitchen and watch him dish up two plates. “How long have you been a cop?” I ask between mouthfuls.
“Almost ten years.”
I do the math in my head. If he went straight from school to a couple of years of training, he’s probably in his early thirties, about ten years older than me. The thought excites me, and I blush so quickly I have to look down at my plate.
“Did I make it too hot?” he asks, seeing my face go red. “I love spicy food.”
“Ah, yeah,” I lie.
“Let me get you a glass of water.”
“You enjoy being a cop?” I ask as he gets me a drink.
He nods. “I love it. It’s interesting work, and I’m helping people. What could be better than that?”
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
He puts down his fork and looks at me, eyes sparkling. “You worried about me, honey?”
I feel a blush creeping up my neck again. But he laughs and so I laugh too, and soon he’s telling me a story about a burglary he attended where the perpetrator got stuck halfway through a bathroom window.
“He’s the one that called the cops because he couldn’t get himself out.” He laughs easily, and I find myself relaxing. The conversation flows, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.
After dinner we move through to the living room, and I sink into the plush sofa.
“You look like you need to get some sleep,” he says.
I stifle a yawn. After the excitement of the day, the hot shower, and the meal, I’m suddenly exhausted. “I think I’ll head up to bed. Thank you so much for taking me in.”
“I don’t want you going back to that house, okay?”
I look down at my hands. “But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You can stay here as long as you need. Until you can figure something out, okay?”
I feel the hot sting of tears behind my eyes and quickly blink them away.
“Hey, what are those for?” He comes and sits next to me.
“You’re being so kind, that’s all. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
He lifts my chin up so I’m looking at him. “I’m happy to help.”
His face is inches from mine, and I can see the different shades of blue in his eyes. He leans in and I close my eyes, meeting his lips with mine. They’re firm and warm and I part my mouth, letting his tongue dart in and savoring the warmth and taste of him.
His hand moves to my knee, and his touch on my leg sends shivers racing through my body. My heart is beating wildly, and for a moment there’s nothing else in the universe apart from his touch.
Then he pulls away. I open my eyes, and he’s staring at me with longing mixed with resolve.
“You’d better go up to bed,” he says, his voice strained.
I feel the disappointment run through me. It felt so good, so right. Then I remember that I only met him a matter of hours ago, and I blush with shame. I get up stiffly.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Amber,” he says softly as I leave the room.
5
Carver
My heart is thumping as Amber leaves the room. She has no idea what it cost me to back off just now. I’ve never wanted any woman so suddenly, so completely as I do her. But she’s had a traumatic night, and she’s a guest in my home. I won’t take advantage of her.
I pace around the room until my blood cools and the hard-on in my pants settles down.
When I can think straight again, I pull out the envelope I stuffed in my pocket and fire up my work laptop.
The name on the letter says Jessica Barnet. I type it into the system and wait as it searches.
The page flashes and a mug shot comes up.
“Bingo,” I say to myself.
I scan her file. It’s an interesting read. Disrupting the peace, indecent exposure, class 2 drug possession. Typical college student petty crimes, although quite a big profile for one student. I look at the dates. It seems she’s been active in the area for six years, so either she’s doing a doctorate, or she keeps extending her studies.
Something catches my eye.
Dealing class 1 drugs. That’s a serious offense. She was arrested but not charged two years ago.
If she’s into this kind of thing, she’s definitely not the type of person Amber should be spending any time with. And who knows what kind of people are coming around to the house.
I feel relieved that I got her out of there when I did and thankful that she won’t ever have to go back. I can’t explain this protective feeling I have toward her.
I shut the laptop, but I’m too wired to go to bed.
I head down to the basement where I keep my punching bag. I slide on my gloves and punch the bag until I’m tired enough to go to bed.
The next morning, Amber’s already in the kitchen when I come downstairs.
“I thought I’d make pancakes,” she says, spooning mixture into a hot pan. She’s in baggy pajamas and fluffy pink slippers, and she looks so adorable that I have to stop myself from wrapping my arms around her. Instead I sit on a stool and admire her expert pancake flipping skills.
“My mom always made pancakes,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind that I went through the cupboards.”
“Not at all,” I say as she slides a perfect pancake onto my plate.
“I couldn’t find the maple syrup. You do have some, don’t you?” she asks anxiously.
I grab it out of the cupboard, and she squeezes a generous amount onto her pancake stack. “You want some?”
“Oh yeah.” I let the gooey syrup run down the pancakes then cut myself a big mouthful. “Mmm, this is really good,” I say. And it is. I could get used to this for breakfast.
“I’m on shift today,” I say between mouthfuls. “Do you need a lift to college?”
“That would be great, thanks. I’ve got a lecture this morning.”
“You can stay here again tonight.”
She smiles shyly. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Her smile brightens. “What time are you home? I’ll make dinner.”
I love the idea of this gorgeous woman making me breakfast and dinner. “Should be home about eight,” I tell her.
“Perfect. What kind of thing do you like?”
“I’ll eat just about anything. Have a look in the cupboards. Use anything you find.”
She jumps up and starts rifling through the cupboards, pulling out jars and packets.
“How about pasta?”
“Good for me.”
She beams at me, and I find myself smiling back at her like a goofy schoolboy.
“Now what could we have with it?” She moves to the fridge, and I can’t help but smile at her rummaging through the shelves.
I take the breakfast dishes over to the sink. “I don’t want you going back to that house today,” I tell her, suddenly serious.
She has her back to me, and I see her stiffen slightly.
“Why not?
“I don’t think it’s safe there. Can you promise me you won’t go back?”
“Chicken pasta!” she exclaims, holding a pack of chicken up triumphantly. “And you’ve even got pesto sauce.”
I have to laugh at her obvious delight.
“This is my favorite dish to make. You’re gonna love it.”
Her excitement is so infectious that I can’t help pulling her into my arms. She gasps, surprised, and I plant a kiss on her lips and then release her before she has a chance to realize what happened.
“Thanks for the pancakes. I’m going to grab a shower.”
I leave the kitchen before she can see the raging hard-on poking out of my bathrobe.
6
Amber
I turn the key in the lock and push open the door to my old flat. It’s quiet inside, and I let out a sigh of relief. Carver didn’t want me coming back here, so if no one’s home I can quickly grab the rest of my things and be done with the place for good.
The stairs creak as I go up them and into my room. I drop my backpack by the door and pull out a couple of trash bags. I was too embarrassed with Carver here yesterday; I didn’t want him to see that I needed to use trash bags to stuff my things into.
I open the top drawer and start stuffing clothes into the first bag. I don’t own a lot of stuff, so it only takes two bags before I’ve got everything.
I give the tiny room one last look and turn to go. Leaning against the door frame is Jess.
“You moving out?” She eyes my bags disdainfully.
“Yeah.”
She arches her eyebrows at me. “I didn’t think you could afford anywhere else.”
“I’m staying with a friend for a few days until I figure it out.”
“Can’t get away quick enough, huh?”
I wait for her to say something about the concert, but she just stands there watching me, chewing a wad of gum.
I’m suddenly full of anger towards her. “Why did you run away and leave me last night?”
She smiles. “Oh yeah. Sorry about that.” Her expression shows she’s anything but sorry.
I wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.
“You dragged me into it and then ran off and left me. I got arrested, you know.”
Her eyes light up, and she laughs as if it’s all a big joke.
“Good for you!”
“No, not good for me. I was put in a cell with a bunch of drunk and rowdy women. There was nothing good about it.” I leave out the fact that I met a hot policeman.
“Did they charge you?”
“No.”
“You’re lucky. Just a warning, I guess.”
I nod.
“I’ve been arrested before, you see,” she says.
My eyes go wide in surprise.
“That’s why I ran. If the cops had caught me, I would have been in a lot of trouble. But you...” She waggles a finger at me. “Now you’ve got a cool story to tell. The time you spent a night in the cells.” She leans back and laughs as if she’s given me a big gift.
“It’s not funny, Jess. It’s not something you do to a friend, leave them on their own like that.”
The smile suddenly disappears off her face. “Yeah, well I’ll tell you something else you don’t do to a friend. You don’t hit on the guy they’re into.”
For a moment I gape at her. Surely she can’t know Carver.
She points her finger at my chest, poking me through the fabric of my sweater. “You know I like Carl, and you’ve been chasing after him all this time.”
“Carl?” I almost choke. “Our housemate Carl?” Surely she can’t mean the beer swilling, joint smoking, sleazy Carl who Carver had up against the wall last night.
“I know you’ve had the hots for him even since you moved in.” She’s leaning right in now, and if it wasn’t so menacing it’d be funny.
“I can assure you, I am not in any way interested in Carl.”
“That’s not what he told me. I know all about you coming onto him. Trying to get with him when he’s drunk.”
“What the hell are you talking about. Carl’s been trying to hit on me. I keep having to bat him off.”
I see doubt flash in her eyes. “That’s not what he told me.”
“Yeah? Did he tell you about last night? When my new boyfriend was here?” I feel weird saying that Carver’s my boyfriend, but it has the desired effect. Jess drops her finger and backs off.
“You got a boyfriend.”
“Well, it’s early days yet, but yeah, maybe. He’s a cop.”
“A cop?” Her eyes light up. “Well, that’s great, Amber. I’m really happy for you.”
She’s back to smiling, but the change is so sudden that I don’t trust her.
“I gotta go,” I say, grabbing my two trash bags.
She steps out of the doorway to let me past. I’m halfway down the stairs when I remember my backpack.
I go back up the stairs, and she’s crouching over it.
She stands up quickly. “You left this,” she says brightly, handing it to me.
As I sling it over my shoulder, I notice the zipper on the front pocket is open, which is weird because I usually keep it shut. But I dismiss it from my mind in my hurry to get down the stairs.
“Good luck with your cop, Amber,” she says sweetly from the top of the stairs.
“Goodbye, Jess.”
I push open the door and head out into the fresh air. Carrying my two trash bags, I walk to the bus stop and head back to Carver’s place.
7
Amber
Back at Carver’s, I dump the bags in my room and head down to the kitchen to start on dinner. I
prep the chicken but it’s only seven, a little too early to start cooking. I head back upstairs to do a little unpacking before Carver gets home.
I get out my mini speaker, hook my phone up, and choose some music. I sing along to a country ballad as I empty the trash bags onto my bed and start folding clothes into piles. It doesn’t take long to get them organized into the set of drawers.
I sit on the bed and pick up my backpack, pulling open the unzipped front pocket. There’s a plastic bag in there and I frown, trying to remember what it is. I pull the bag out, and my eyes go wide. It’s a bag of dried green buds, dense and stuck together, a bag of weed.
At that moment, I hear a creak on the stairs. I have just enough time to tuck the bag of weed underneath me when Carver appears in the door.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I’m not surprised with this music going.” He taps the speaker to turn the volume down a few notches.
“You’re early, aren’t you?” I look at my watch. It’s only 7:30.
“I skipped out as soon as shift was finished. I wanted to check that you were okay.”
He leans on the doorframe looking at me.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say lightly. But his gaze seems to scrutinize me, as if he knows something’s up. I feel the color rising up my neck and curse myself for not having more practice in deceit.
“I’ve been thinking...” He sits down next to me on the bed, his thighs brushing mine and sending warm shivers through my body. “I know we’ve only just met...” He takes my hands, and I turn towards him. His touch is electric, but all the time I’m aware of the bag stashed under my bottom.
“I’d like you to stay here,” he says. “You can stay in the spare room as long as you like, but I hope one day you’ll want to move into my room with me.”
It takes me a while to realize what he’s saying. “You want me to move in with you?”
