Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book)
Page 29
"Thank you, ma'am." I give her my most charming smile, but she freezes me out. It must be something in Evan's bloodline that makes such scarily cold-hearted women.
I start up the stairs and find Evan sitting at her vanity, putting on the last of her makeup, her phone propped up and the speaker on. Her best friend is chattering to her.
"...nothing to worry about, sweets. He's going to be in a program, okay? A stone cutting program or whatever. Not to totally buy into the gender stereotype, but, realistically, how many girls could there possibly be in a school like that? And that's beside the point. He has you. What guy in his right mind would ever pursue any other girl when he has you?" Brenna's voice is bossy but caring. I love that she's got Evan's back.
I come up behind Evan and kiss her neck. She gets a big blob of black eye-makeup on her cheek. "Winch!" she squeals. "Don't sneak up on me when I'm putting on mascara. I could have poked my eye out!"
"Stop putting on mascara like such a sexy thing, and I won't be tempted." I pull a tissue out the box and try to wipe it off, but she springs back in horror and takes out some little container of round cotton things and goes to work getting the gunk off. "Hey Brenna. I like your advice."
"Hey Winch!" Brenna says, and, though I've never met her, I can almost picture her bouncing in her chair. "I know, right? Your girlfriend is so smart, but she's kind of being an idiot about this."
"You just keep reminding her she's got nothing to worry about, okay?" Evan turns to me, the mascara blob gone, and kisses me full on the mouth. I immediately want her, but I can't have her. Not yet.
"I will. Have a safe trip, Winch. And good luck with the, uh, stone work!"
"Thanks, Bren," I say, not able to keep down a sheepish smile. I’m excited about this. All this. My new life, my new job. I can’t wait.
Evan grabs the phone and takes it off speaker so she can whisper whatever crazy girl secrets she's telling her friend. When she hangs up, she immediately straddles my lap and presses against me.
"Not here," I say when her hand cups my dick, already completely hard.
"We can be so quick," she says as she nibbles my earlobe. "I've missed you."
I stifle a groan. "If Lee Early caught us even like this, he'd put a bullet through my brains, no question. I can't even believe you convinced them to let you stay over with me."
She leans back, her arms linked around my neck and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it wasn't easy. But I've been on good behavior, my community service is all done, and I think they love you. I mean, they're still pissed as hell at you for dragging your feet. But now that they know you, they love you as much as I do. Well, almost as much." She grinds on my lap and smiles this wicked smile that just turns me on more.
"Stop it before I need a cold shower." I kiss her and move her firmly off me, trying to focus on anything that will make my dick chill out enough so that I can speak to her grandparents without needing to keep something in front of my pants at all times.
I mentally focus on baseball stats, gather her bags, and we head down to say another round of goodbyes, but these are way less drama-filled, both because the Earlys are more easy-going people and because this is all good for them. Evan will only be gone two days, and then I’ll drive her back. I will stay hundreds of miles away indefinitely. It's as perfect as they could have hoped for.
"Why did the only school that offered mason work have to be seven hours away?" Evan grumbles as we buckle into the truck.
"It's the best school for the kind of stonework I want to do," I remind her. "I want to be good at this. I want to start to make a life for us, Evan."
"How do you always manage to say exactly the thing that makes me feel better?" She rolls her window down and lets the cool wind whip through the cabin as we start up. "Are you sure you can drive this thing?"
"Are you insulting my driving skills? I’m practically a professional driver." I make sure I double check my blind spots after bragging to her. I'd been driving a sleek little car for so long, my ability to maneuver something this big is rusty, and I need to give it my full attention.
By the time we're an hour or two and a thousand radio station changes in, Evan starts to poke at exactly the thing that's making me have a minor panic attack every fifteen minutes or so.
"You look nervous." She passes me a piece of gum, but I shake my head and hold the steering wheel tight, eyes fixed on a road I've never traveled down before.
"I've never really done this kind of stuff. I might suck," I admit out loud. As soon as I say the words to her, a little bit of the edge wears off.
She turns in her seat and takes off her sunglasses. "You will be amazing. You'll be the top apprentice at the school. No one works harder than you do, Winch."
A long minute ticks by before I get up the guts to add, "I've never lived away from my family."
She unbuckles her seatbelt and slides across the bench seat, buckling the center lap belt over her curvy hips before she leans her head on my shoulder. "It's scary."
She doesn't go on or give me some speech about how much better off I'll be without them or why it's good that I'm finally doing something on my own. She gets that I just want to feel scared and sad and nervous as fucking hell for a minute.
Because that's how I feel, and I can only admit it to her. I’m not used to feeling any of this, not about my own choices and future, anyway.
"I don't know what my father will do," I tell her. "He's relied on me to run so much of the business. I do so many things around there. I'm afraid Colt will get pulled in. Or he'll ask Remy, and it will all get screwed up." I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. She rubs my arm in a, slow, comforting path from my elbow to my wrist, over and over.
"And I'm afraid for Andre, you know?" I add, even though I know I’m just being an irrational ass. Evan nods and I keep talking, filling the silence with all my usually-bottled-up confessions. "Why the hell didn't he take the damn money? He'd be in art school now, not suited up for boot camp. He's tough and all, but I don't know if he's cut out for all of that."
"I hear you." She wraps an arm around my waist and squeezes.
"And I'm scared for Benelli. Ithaca basically told us all how she had some guy, someone she loved that she gave up on. What if he's the one, you know? I can’t imagine giving up on the one. I'd be lost without you."
Evan rubs her face on my arm and kisses my bicep, sighing deeply.
"Am I crazy for worrying about all this?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "You worry because you care about them. You care because you're an amazing person. But I think you should have a little faith in them. You guys are strong people, you know? And you all have to fight your own battles. No one could have done this for you, Winch. You had to decide to fight for us and your future, even though it was hard. Your brothers and sisters will all have to make their own decisions, too. And live with them." She nestles down next to me. "And I'll be around. I can always stop by and help if anyone needs it. I'll keep an eye on them."
Her saying that makes my heart thump kick-drum loud in my chest. Even after all the hell my family put her through, Evan still offered to help them. For me. I love her for that. I love her for a million reasons, but I especially love that.
"I love you, you know that?" I turn and kiss the top of her head.
She moves closer to me. "You better," she says around a long yawn. "I love you, too."
She's asleep before I can communicate any more worries, so I just let them all run through my brain, sharp and real, sad and bittersweet. And, even though it hurts to do it, I'm glad. I'm glad I can feel it all and let it go, let it move on and not control my life.
I glance down at the phone balanced on my thigh. It doesn't ring anymore. I had the number changed and, for a while, I just didn't give it to anyone. By the time I leaked it out, the people who'd tried to call while I was unavailable found other sources, and my family had already been informed that I wasn't available to respond to their every beck and call anymore.
Now?
There's so much risk, so much to lose. I'm not the one who’s going to fix everything, I won’t be the hero who comes by and sweeps up everyone else's messes. My life as a fall guy is getting put further behind me every single day, and it's time I live on my own terms, make and clean up my own messes, have my own adventures.
It feels freeing and, at the same time, a little fucking scary to live without any more excuses. To live freely. To live my own life, my own way.
Evan lifts her drowsy head when we're ten minutes away from my new place. She looks around sleepily and says, "It looks like the ghetto."
My laugh is nervous in my own ears. "I have to live on a pretty small amount of money for a while."
"Why didn't you just take the money your parents offered you?" she asks, no accusation in her voice.
I flip my eyes from my GPS to the half-falling-down street signs that mark the roads. "Youngblood money always comes with strings attached, Evan. You know that."
When we pull up at the apartment, she inhales in a sharp, worried breath. "Winch. Are you sure about this?"
I get out of the truck, walk around to open her door, and let her step into my arms. I kiss her forehead, then move my mouth down to her lips. "Just for a little while," I say, low, just for her ears. "Just til I get a good job. I'm gonna do it, you know. I'm gonna move on and up before you know it. I swear."
"I know that," she says, her lips close to mine. "I believe in you."
That's all I need to hear.
I keep those words in my head as we open the door to my apartment and notice the scuttle of small brown bugs. Evan screams and pushes me back out into the street and we drive to the closest hardware store and pick up roach spray, scrub brushes, rubber gloves, buckets, soap, a whole bunch of cleaners, and lots of bleach.
When we come back, Evan starts to go to work like a maniac, scrubbing and spraying every surface she can reach, opening all the windows, and double scrubbing when she's done. I bring in box after box and admire the sweet curve of her ass as she scrubs low down by the avocado fridge.
"Are you checking out my ass?" she asks over her shoulder.
I'm kneeling down to open a box, but I turn towards her. The place is so small, the kitchen is pretty much located in the living room, blocked by one long counter with chipped laminate. I move her way, until I'm right behind her, hands on her hips, bent low to kiss her neck. The sound of her moan rattles through me.
"I'm totally checking out your ass," I assure her. "I'm always checking you out."
She glances at me over her shoulder, her eyes wide and her lower lip caught between her bottom teeth. My hands go tight on her hips and I press closer to the curve of her ass.
"So, is all this 'woman scrubbing your house on her hands and knees' turning you on?" Her eyes narrow, and I see the spark of passion that I love so much in her.
"I like my woman to know her place," I tease, and, when she tries to turn and slap at me, I slide my hands up her shirt, along the soft, smooth skin of her stomach, and under the sweet swell of her tits. I lean over her, my chest pressed to her back, my lips brushing up and down her neck.
"You're a chauvinist pig," she says, her voice hitched on a gasp.
"I'm your chauvinist pig," I correct. "Would you like to christen this apartment with your chauvinist pig boyfriend?"
I pull down on the lacy fabric of her bra until her nipples poke out, hard under my fingers. I press tighter against her and she turns in my arms, kissing my mouth.
"This apartment is still filthy," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I'm not doing it on this floor."
Her hand runs down the front of my pants and rubs my dick through the fabric of my jeans. I grind my teeth and work my hands faster, unclasping her bra, pressing her shirt up, flicking open the button on her shorts and yanking the zipper down.
"There must be somewhere clean enough." I kiss her neck and down her shoulder, stretching her pressed-up shirt to the side.
"There's nothing, Winch. The only things I cleaned so far are the cabinets and the counter. We didn't even bring the mattress in or go over the bedroom at all."
Her body against mine makes my brain go cloudy, and all I can focus on is the word 'counter.' I lift her up so her legs are snug around my waist, and drop her on the scrubbed-down countertop.
"Winch," she whispers, glancing around and biting her lip. "We can't just do it on the counter."
I'm busy kissing her perfect neck, working her thin shirt over her head, throwing her bra to the side. "It's super clean," I answer. "I watched you scrub it down with, like, eight different cleaners."
"It's not the cleanliness thing. It's just...oh. Oh, please do that...again."
I'm not sure if she's talking about the way I just sucked her nipple into my mouth or the stroke of my thumb against the wet slide of her clit, but I do both again because she asked so sweetly and I love making her happy. She wraps her arms tight around my shoulders, moaning and breathing heavy for a minute, before she backs up and rips my shirt over my head, then reaches down to undo the button on my jeans, her breathing quick and raspy.
I pull my hand out from the leg of her shorts and she whimpers in protest. "I thought you didn't want to do this," I tease her.
She sucks a quick breath through her teeth and lifts her hips so I can slide her shorts and tiny thong down her legs.
"Um, shut up and ignore what I was saying." She shivers when her skin touches the countertop. "It's cold."
I pull her, naked and so damn beautiful, to the edge of the countertop and closer to me.
"No worries," I say low against her ear before I press a trail of sucking kisses down along her jaw. "I'll warm you up."
My hands run up her thighs, and she reaches down to grab my dick and pull with long, smooth strokes of her hand. I slide my fingers up until I'm in her, wet and hot, and she moves fast against my hand, slick and ready for me.
She presses one hand hard between my shoulder blades and tugs me to her until we're an inch away. I grab for the back pocket of my jeans, falling off my hips fast, and tear out a condom.
"I want you now," she pants, legs spread, the hand on my back digging into my skin.
"Right now? Right on this countertop?" I ask, fitting myself against her.
She opens her half-closed eyes and pulls my mouth down to hers. "Anywhere. Everywhere. Whenever. Just you. Always you--ooh..." Her words chase a moan because, with one quick thrust, I'm deep in her, pressing against her, holding her close, kissing her so I can taste her and catch the vibration of the jumbled words she's moaning and calling out.
"Evan," I say, my voice low, my hands dragging across her soft skin. "Come for me, baby. Come on me."
She bites her lips and arches back, and I slide my fingers against the wet, ready bead of her clit in a light, quick press-and-pull until her breathing turns to gasps and she gets hotter and wetter against my dick.
"Come for me," I tell her. She lifts her hips and pulls me closer with her long legs, until our bodies are pressed tight and she's grinding against me.
"Now," she moans. One hand flies to my chest and she braces against me as her back arches and her legs squeeze tight. "Now, now, now, Winch now!" She shudders against me, her face pressed hard into my neck, her hands fisted in my hair.
I rock against her a few more times, and it's all I can do to hold on that long before I let go and free fall, losing it all with her.
"Evan, goddamn, Evan, I love you so much," I manage to get out, and then I switch to Hungarian and say all kinds of things that I want her to know.
That I love her, that I want her, that I'm never going anywhere, that she and I are going to last. That this is real. That it’s forever.
She takes a few shuddering breaths and pulls back slightly, her lips grazing my cheek.
"Why do you do that?" she asks.
"Do what?" I take a deep breath, enjoying the smell of her skin and sex over the harsh stench of bleach.
"Speak another language. During sex. You always do it during sex." She runs her hands up and down my neck and rubs her nose against my jaw, breathing in with long, deep breaths.
"I, uh, say the things I don't know if you're ready to hear yet in Hungarian. All the things I feel about you, but, you know, I don't want to scare you with them. So I just say them in Hungarian." I pull back gently and take the condom off, get my pants back on, and hand her her clothes.
She hooks her bra, and I take one last look at those perfect tits before they're covered in all that lace.
"So, what did you say tonight? I don't mind you speaking Hungarian. Honestly, it's pretty damn sexy. But I want to know everything. There's no way you can scare me away, Winch." She hops into her thong and shorts and pulls her shirt over her head.
"Just plans. For us. For our future." I keep it vague, because I know I can do it, but it scares the crap out of me sometimes. How much I want. How much it will suck if it doesn't happen. If I can't make it happen.
"Tell me," she coaxes, pressing hard against me and wriggling, just like she knows will drive me crazy.
"Not yet," I tell her, kissing her hard. "But soon." And I hold her in the middle of my new place just before I start going to school to learn my new trade, where I'll get a job I’m going to be good at and a new chance at a future I assumed was doomed just a few weeks ago.
Finding Evan turned every single thing in my world around. I think I'll always be a fall guy, but I'm only falling with her, for her, into anything she wants because I know I can trust her with my future, with our future.
I just need to find the guts to say all that in English to her.
I'll do it. I know I can do it.
"So, what do we do about this dump?" I ask her, mostly to get my mind off of the fear of everything I need to make work in the next few months.
"Clean it," she answers. "Then we put all your stuff away, then we get in bed. And don't sleep. Because it will be a while before we see each other again after this. So I want to take every opportunity to get in your pants."