“You’ve got no right telling me how to raise my daughter when she’s with me,” I ground out. “It’s Saturday night, Layla. It’s your goddamned weekend! Care to explain where my daughter is right now?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her haughty expression pushing at every one of my buttons. “She’s with my sister. I’m enjoying a night out with friends. Despite what you think, I am allowed to have a life, you know.”
I could feel the blood coursing through my veins beginning to boil. “Yeah, you can have a life. Every. Other. Fucking. Weekend. When Eliza’s in Pembrooke with me. When it’s your weekend, you spend time with her.”
“You know,” she smirked, “It’s amazing that you think I have to listen to anything you have to say. I stopped having to listen to a word you said when I left your sorry ass.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I chuckled sarcastically, “You know damned good and well I was the one that left your ass ‘cause I was sick and tired of fucking a dead, frigid fish every night.”
She sucked in an outraged gasp. “You sorry son of a bitch!”
Austin stood, reaching into his back pocket and throwing some bills on the table. “You know what, I think I’m gonna get out of here. I just remembered, I have a… thing…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe waved him off. “Run along. And while you’re at it, do me a huge favor and lose my phone number. M’kay? Thanks, bye.” Like the punk-ass he was, I saw Austin move away from the table out of the corner of my eye.
“Excuse me,” the server interrupted, stopping next to my stand-off with Layla. “Is there a problem here?”
Chloe answered before anyone else. “Nope, no problem. We’re actually ready for our check if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Certainly.”
“Oh!” she reached for the money on the table and handed the bills to the waiter. “And this is for the other gentleman’s check. You know, the one that kind of looked like a gorilla?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the server grinned.
“If there’s any change left, feel free to keep it.
“Thank you,” he tilted his chin up at Chloe before turning to Layla with a knowing expression. “Ma’am, may I help you back to your table?”
She might have been a bitch, but Layla wasn’t stupid, she knew a dismissal when she saw one. I was leaving our server a fat tip; that was for damned sure. Not saying another word, Layla shot one last hideous look in my direction before stomping off to whatever gutter she’d drug herself from.
As I turned back to the table, I noticed Chloe stand on wobbly legs. “Well,” she sighed heavily, obviously feeling the effects of her wine. “You two enjoy the rest of your night. Pretty sure I’m going to go home, climb in bed and pray that, when I wake up, this whole evening will have been nothing but a really bad nightmare.”
“Whoa,” I clasped her arm as she tried to pass. “No way in hell you’re driving, sunshine.”
“Pfft. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Yeah?” I found myself grinning for the first time since my succubus of an ex-wife walked to our table. “Tell that to the bottle of wine you downed. I’m taking you home.”
The server reappeared with our check and I deftly slid my wallet from my back pocket, placing more bills than necessary in the small black folio, but the man deserved it. It was the least I could do.
“But — my car…”
“Carla can drive it back,” I answered deftly.
“Uh, what?” I looked over to an incredulous Carla, no longer caring if she thought I was the world’s biggest asshole. There was no way I’d ever subject myself to a second date with that woman. Hell, I was already regretting agreeing to the first. “I had wine, too, you know.”
“You had a glass,” I told her. “And you didn’t even finish it.”
“But—but…” she sputtered, trying to come up with a solid argument, despite the fact it was pointless. My mind was made up. “Can’t she just take a cab or something? This is supposed to be our date!”
“Yeah, it was. And now it’s over. Now, I can’t imagine you’re the type of person who’d actually put the wellbeing of someone else in jeopardy by, say, putting them in a cab with a stranger when they’re highly intoxicated.” Yep, I wasn’t above guilt-tripping, not one damn bit.
“I’m not that drunk,” Chloe argued, folding her arms over her chest and wrinkling her brow in an adorable pout.
I ignored her. “And I certainly wouldn’t want to believe you’d rather Chloe get behind the wheel of a car after drinking when you could easily do her the kindness of driving her car home so I can put her in my truck and we all make it back to Pembrooke safely.” I squinted my eyes and tilted my head as I went in for the kill. “Or am I completely wrong about you?”
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, throwing her napkin onto the table. “You know, this probably has to be the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“Hasn’t been a cakewalk for me either, sweetheart,” I deadpanned. Chloe let out a little hiccuping giggle and I knew she was drunk enough that she was going to be hurting come morning.
I kept my arm firmly around Chloe’s waist as I guided her through the busy restaurant. Holding her body next to mine was the complete juxtaposition to how it felt when Carla clung to me on the way here. Carla was all sharp, narrow points, while Chloe was warm, lush curves that molded to me as we walked. I didn’t feel any bone when I placed my hand on her, just the smoothness of her waist dipping in before those intoxicating hips flared out. She had a woman’s body, through and through, and I wanted to kick myself for even noticing how good she felt against me.
“Where’s your car, sunshine?” I whispered in her ear. Was I closer than I needed to be in order to speak to her? Hell yeah. But I seemed to have lost all control over my body when it came to her, and the way she shivered against me as I spoke had my arm hugging her even closer to my side. My pants had grown uncomfortably tight as my erection strained against the fabric. For Christ’s sake, I felt like a goddamned teenager unable to control his boner around the pretty girl. It was pathetic.
“Uh,” she cleared her throat as she pulled against my arm. I could either refuse to let her put any space between us — like my body wanted to do — and risk some seriously fucked up mixed signals, or I could loosen my hold, allowing her the space she seemed to need from me. I went with the latter, even though every inch of me rebelled at the loss of her warmth. “I’m there,” she answered, pointing to a small, two-door Honda.
“Keys?” I asked quietly, closely, unable to help but close the distance whenever the chance arose.
With a small, shuffled step to the side, she dug in her purse until she unearthed her keys and handed them to a butt-hurt Carla. Turning her face toward mine as Carla climbed in and started the car up, those bright green eyes shone up at me, just a hint of glassiness thanks to the wine. “I should — I should probably ride with her.”
“You’re riding with me,” I insisted, my tone sounding a little too direct, even to my own ears. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t seem to think straight and all the blood in my body was rushing to one particular area. Since walking into The Peak and seeing Chloe dressed to the nines, something inside me, some protective instinct had scratched and clawed its way to the surface, only growing stronger and stronger as both Carla and Layla spit their hatefulness at her. I couldn’t stand to watch it.
“But—”
“I don’t want you alone with Carla.”
She stared, mouth open, eyes wide for a few seconds. “You think I can’t defend myself to her? Please,” she snorted. “I could take her.”
“I have no doubt about that, killer,” I chuckled. “But fact of the matter is, she’s been a bitch to you all night long.”
“Only because I crashed your date!”
“If I remember correctly, I was the one who insisted. You didn’t crash anything.”
Her face grew contemplative as she stared up at me. “Yeah. Yeah,
you did kind of push in. What was up with that? Were you just itching to have the world’s most uncomfortable date or something?” She snorted again, and damn if I didn’t want to lean down and kiss her cute mouth.
I needed to get my shit together, and fast, or I was going to do something to screw up our friendship — and why the hell did just thinking that word suddenly leave me feeling bitter?
“What can I say? I’m a masochist like that.” I guided her to my truck and had to help her into the cab, I wasn’t sure how much more my poor, high strung body could take. I needed a cold shower and a couple minutes alone with my palm before my head exploded.
I walked around the hood of my truck and climbed in, twisted the key in the ignition and put it into drive, only to be hit with the realization I had no clue where Chloe lived. Suddenly, my dick wasn’t the problem anymore. No man alive could maintain an erection once he recognized what a shitty human being he was. I’d known Chloe for a year and a half, I claimed to be her friend, and all this time, I didn’t know anything about her. Hell, I didn’t have the first clue where she lived.
I coughed awkwardly, drawing her attention. “Are you, um… are you sober enough to give me directions to your place?”
The glimmer that was just in her green eyes moments ago got swallowed up by something else. Her usually open expression closed down as she spoke in a small, pained voice, “You don’t even know where I live?”
“No,” I admitted, my tone apologetic. “I mean… well, I just never really thought about it.”
“My apartment’s right above the bakery,” she said in a flat, emotionless voice as she turned to look out the window. I couldn’t have possibly felt any lower if I’d tried.
“Well that’s convenient, huh?” I asked way too enthusiastically.
She didn’t look at me. “Yep.”
“I didn’t even know there was an apartment over the bakery.”
“Mmhmm,” was all I got in return.
The whole drive back to Pembrooke was made in uncomfortable silence. I’d finally felt like I’d taken some big steps forward when it came to Chloe, and after tonight, I couldn’t help but think that I’d just put myself back at square one.
12
Chloe
The pounding on the front door pulled me from a fitful sleep. Rolling over, I glanced at the alarm clock before burying my face in my pillow and letting out a muffled cry. It was eight in the morning. On a Sunday. One of my only days off this week. I wanted to sleep until well past noon. I needed it.
“Go away,” I groaned into my pillow, praying whoever was at my door would eventually just give up and leave me in peace.
“Chloe! Open up!”
“Damn it,” I hissed, dragging myself from the comfort of my bed. “I swear to God,” I cursed as I pulled the door open. “If you weren’t pregnant, I’d kick your ass.”
Unconcerned by my threat of violence, Harlow pushed past me and waddled into my living room, collapsing on my couch with an exaggerated huff. “Well, if you’d answer your phone, I wouldn’t have to drive my ever-widening ass over here and beat your door down.”
I shot her a withering look as I rounded the couch and headed for the kitchen, in search of a cup of coffee. I was one of those people who desperately needed caffeine in order to function. “It’s eight o’clock! Of course I didn’t answer my phone. I was sleeping. Like a normal person.”
“Yeah well, Noah’s spawn won’t allow me to sleep anymore, so I figured I’d come over here and share the love.”
I glared over the eat-in breakfast bar that separated my kitchen from the rest of the apartment. That was one of my favorite things about my place. Everything was open and airy. The building had been around since the early nineteen hundreds, and despite countless renovations, it still held a lot of the original charm along with the modern amenities a person this day in age couldn’t live without. My apartment spanned across three of the shops below, leaving me with more than enough square footage. The wood floors were original and three of the four walls were exposed brick, giving the space a rustic feel I absolutely adored. The entire place was an open concept with the exception of the bathroom, my favorite room in the place. Everything in there had been updated, from the black and white subway tile to the amazing claw foot tub. My bathroom was every woman’s dream.
“Don’t you have a husband you can torture instead of me? I didn’t realize being your best friend meant I had to share in your misery.”
“Well, now you know,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, I’ve tortured poor Noah enough. If this baby doesn’t come soon, he’s liable to be elected for sainthood just for putting up with me, then I’ll never hear the end of it. The more I stay out of the house, the less ammunition he’ll have to hold over my head in the future.”
I smiled despite the fact I was still exhausted. “So what you’re saying is, you’re playing the long game.”
“Exactly.” Harlow grinned wickedly as I took a seat next to her on the couch. “A wife should never allow her husband the upper hand. That’s a part of the vows no one knows about.”
“Well thanks for the heads up.” I sucked down a gulp of my coffee, hoping it would help me to feel somewhat human again.
“Sooooo,” she dragged out clapping excitedly. “Tell me about your date! I want to know everything.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and dropped my head to the back of the couch. “It was a complete disaster,” I started. She held on to my every word as I told her about the worst date in the history of bad dates, everything from Austin’s assumed steroid use, to Derrick showing up with Carla and turning the evening into the double date from hell, to Layla’s unexpected and unwanted appearance. By the time I was done, her mouth was hanging open in disbelief.
“Wow,” was all she could say for several seconds.
“Yep. So obviously the excess wine was necessary.”
“So, let me get this straight. He actually made Carla drive your car home while he drove you?”
“One of the fewer highlights of the evening, but yes.”
“And she didn’t key it or slash your tires?”
My back shot straight as I looked at Harlow with wide eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t been out to check it. Do you think she would?”
Harlow snorted. “Carla Fitzgerald, are you kidding? Hell yeah, I think she’d do something like that.”
My mug hit the coffee table with a loud thunk as I bolted from the couch, out the door, and down the steps to the small parking lot at the back of the building. A cursory inspection showed that there wasn’t any external damage, at least none that I could see.
“Anything?” Harlow asked from the landing as I made my way back up the stairs.
“Not that I noticed, but I won’t know if she cut my brake lines or anything until I actually get in and drive it.”
“Nah,” she said, following me back into the apartment. “Cutting brake lines would take smarts Carla isn’t capable of. I think you’re safe for the time being. Just don’t get caught alone in a dark alley with her or anything. You’re spunky, but that woman’s a straight up hair-puller.”
“Duly noted,” I sighed as I sat back down, closing my eyes against the headache pushing at the backs of my eyes. I really hated hangovers. “I just want to forget last night ever happened. It had to have been one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever been forced to live through.”
“Well, I hate to say it, seeing as he made you cry and all so I have no choice but to want to gouge Derrick’s eyes out, but it’s a good thing he was there last night. At least you weren’t stuck paying for your own meal. He seems to be taking this whole friends thing to heart, huh?”
“Seems like it,” I answered, thinking back to how he hadn’t even remembered where I lived the night before. It shouldn’t have hurt my feelings as much as it did, I know that. But it was just more proof of the fact that, after spending a year-and-a-half pining over the guy, I really had been pretty invisible to
him until recently. No woman likes hearing something like that. But I was determined to push that out of my head. I’d made a decision last night and I was going to stick to it. Derrick and I were friends and I was happy with that. So it wasn’t a love match, so what. At least I had another person in my life who’d have my back. He’d proven as much the night before. I was moving past that phase of my life. This was a whole new Chloe. A take-no-prisoners woman who was open to new experiences, and refused to settle for less.
The world was my oyster, and I was going to shuck the hell out of it.
* * *
One of the things that Pembrooke shared with all small towns across the country was its love for football. Everyone in town worshipped at the altar of the Pembrooke Bulldogs starting with the scrimmage games until the end of the season. There was an electricity in the air that made the excitement so infectious that even people such as myself, who didn’t care much for sports couldn’t help but get sucked into the fanfare.
That was why, despite the fact I hadn’t been feeling all that well most of the day, I found myself rounding the stadium bleachers that seemed to hold every person in town, including Pastor Mike, the minister of our Baptist church, while I was in search of Harlow. It might have just been a scrimmage game, but I never missed when they played at Bulldog Stadium, sick or not, and with Ethan playing for the second year in a row, I wasn’t about to let the start of a pesky little head-cold stop me.
My eyes were scanning the sea of people when I somehow managed to hear a loud, familiar voice yelling over the din of noise coming from the bleachers.
“MISS CHLOE! OVER HERE!”
My head shot sideways toward the fence line that separated the field from the stands and a huge smile broke out across my face at the sight of Eliza jumping up and down, waving her hands in the air frantically. Her excitement to see me was enough to make me forget I wasn’t feeling all that great — at least temporarily.
I made my way to the small group at the fence, where Eliza was standing next to Harlow as she spoke to Noah over the waist high chain link. “Hey there,” were the only words I’d been able to get out before Eliza’s tiny frame barreled into me, knocking the breath from my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I returned her hug with a small laugh as I sucked in tiny breaths in an attempt to re-inflate my lungs.
Welcome to Pembrooke: the complete Pembrooke series Page 9
