Drift

by Anna Brooks

  “I don’t want to need someone.”

  “Tough, baby.”

  She finally looks up and gives me her pretty blue eyes, lingering tears making them shinier than normal. Her bottom lip quivers. “He… he touched me,” she cries. “I stood there while he pressed his… his body against me, and he touched me and threatened me, and then when I wouldn’t do anything, he fired me!”

  “Who?”

  “My boss, stupid Paxton.”

  Nothing could have prepared me for the amount of madness I feel. No-fucking-thing could ever have prepared me. Seeing the tears a minute ago and worrying about her being hurt was bad enough. But this? This… ferocity that explodes throughout my body is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  I do what I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw her and pull her into my arms. She comes willingly and cries against my chest. I tighten my grip, trying to give her some reassurance that I’m here. That she’s safe now. That I will never allow someone to put their hands on her ever a-fucking-gain. The way she clings to me tells me that maybe I could be what she needs.

  “I’m sorry.” She steps back and wipes her face with the back of her hand. “I need to go take a shower.”

  She slams the door to the bathroom, and while she’s taking a shower, I put the food in her fridge and pace in the living room. Twenty-four minutes go by before she returns, and when she comes directly to me and sits beside me, I lift my arm up and hook it around her shoulder, pulling her tight against me.

  Her head rests on my shoulder. “I can’t believe that happened.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.”

  “You weren’t. You are now, honey. Told you that already.” It’s a miracle this hasn’t happened already. I think. “Is this the first time he’s touched you?”

  “Yes.”

  Maybe I’ll let him live. “Thank Christ for that.”

  She snuggles deeper into me while we sit like this for a little bit, and I absolutely love it. I love my job because it takes me away and makes me so busy I forget about everything. We’re gone so much, and when we’re living with clients, that is our life. Twenty-four seven. It leaves very little time for a personal life, and up until this exact moment, I’ve never cared how much I was gone.

  Even though I’m working local right now, I know that’ll end, and there’s no telling how long I’ll be gone for the next job. And I don’t want that, not anymore. I want to be here; I will be here. With her. I get it now. I get Royce and why he made such a massive deal about only working local once he and Paisley were an item.

  And I get what Erik was telling me.

  “I still went to the audition and totally failed. I did horribly on my lines and almost cried because I was so upset and frustrated and messed up in the head. God, it was so bad.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I vow again.

  That’s all I can say right now. Because I’m going to kill him. That motherfucker messed with the wrong girl. No, I won’t kill him… I’ll just ruin him. His restaurants and his reputation that’s already shot to shit will be even worse off. And then I’ll get my girl her dream job.

  My girl.

  Damn hell…

  “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “No. It’s fine. I won’t go back there again, and I’ll just find a different job.”

  “Fuck that. He’s goin’ down. I’m gonna make him pay.”

  She sits up, shaking her head. “No, I don’t want you to get involved. I wasn’t telling you so you could do something.”

  “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to. He shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “Why, Carter? I don’t understand why you care so much.”

  Has she really never had a man in her life who would absolutely not tolerate the kind of shit that’s happened to her. I can’t believe she’s surprised that I’d want to help her with no goddamned strings. “Because you mean something to me. You mean more than you probably know, and I will not let a fuckin’ pissant like that motherfucker hurt a woman who means something to me.”

  She does a faceplant in my chest and fists my shirt. “I’ve never… nobody’s—”

  “Shh.” I kiss the top of her head as my hands sift through her soft hair. “You don’t need to say anything. Just let me do my thing, honey.”

  “What thing is that?”

  “You let me protect you from Pax—”

  She pushes up off me and drills her eyes into mine. “I appreciate you wanting to help me out so, so much, but I can’t, and I won’t be some kind of charity case for you. I’ve been on my own for three years. I mean God, look at you”—she motions to me—“and look at me.” Then does the same to her.

  “Yeah, Billie. I’m looking at you. I’ve been looking at you, and I see you. You see me, too; you’re just too scared to admit it.” When she doesn’t reply, I bring my hand to the side of her face, my thumb tracing her jaw. “What are you scared of?”

  Chapter 6

  Billie

  What are you scared of?

  I… how do I even answer that? I still can’t. Which is why I’m still staring at him. Because everything scares me.

  “Oh my God.” I push off him, the thought suddenly hitting me. “I forgot my phone.” Even if Tom did call me back, which I don’t think he will, I wouldn’t know. And what if Paxton clears out my locker and throws my cell away? I don’t have enough money to buy a new one, and then I’ll never know.

  He stands and grabs my arms. “Okay, we can go get it.”

  “No, no, no. It’s at the restaurant. I left it in my locker when I stormed out along with the other outfit I wore today. Shit.”

  “Hey.” He gives me a small shake. “Take a breath and look at me.”

  Listening to him, I focus on the softness in his eyes.

  “I’ll take you to get your stuff.”

  “But—”

  “No, come on.”

  He practically drags me out of my apartment, and I have just enough sense to grab my keys on the way out. “Carter, I—”

  “Don’t say anything else, okay? Promise you it’s fine and not a big deal.”

  I clamp my lips closed and hop up in his Jeep when he opens the door. The drive is fast because the traffic is minimal this late at night, and when we pull up to the parking lot, several cars are still here. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You’re not going in there by yourself.” He shuts the engine off, and I get out, running to catch up to him.

  “Wait. Stop.” Grabbing his arm, I pull it, but he keeps pushing forward. “Oh my gosh, would you stop.”

  He finally listens, and I slam into his back. “Thank you. Jeez.”

  “What?”

  The change in his demeanor is excessive, and despite my heart and my gut telling me he’d never hurt me, it gives me a shiver of fear that he can flip his switch so fast. “Please calm down. I just want to slip in the back door, get my stuff, and be gone. No confrontation, nothing. And I don’t want you to—”

  “Tough shit, I am.”

  “Stop interrupting me. You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

  He smirks and brings his hand up, running the pad of his thumb across the apple of my cheek. “Let’s go get your stuff, honey. You lead; I’ll follow.”

  I pull my shoulders back in triumph and walk around to the employee entrance that’s always unlocked during business hours. He keeps his hand on my hip while I take us through the kitchen, the staff looking back and forth between us like we have seven heads, but nobody says anything. Then he stands in the doorway to the staff lounge while I grab my stuff. Thankfully, everything is still here.

  “Let’s go.” I hold up my phone. “I have it.”

  He gives me a tight nod, and I follow him back the way we came, and he turns the corner right before I do. “Thought I told you no more chances,” Paxton yells from behind me. I jerk in my skin out of shock but keep walking.
Straight into Carter. Who, if looks could kill, would have just murdered Paxton.

  Oh shit.

  I know that look. I’ve seen that face. The clenching of the jaw, the darkening of the eyes, the flush of the neck. I’ve been on the receiving end of that look, and as much as I would like for Paxton to get taken down a notch, I will not be responsible for Carter getting into any trouble for me.

  He doesn’t realize he already does enough just by being here for me. I don’t need a macho display of anything from him.

  I put my hands on his chest. “Stop.” He keeps walking, making my feet slide as I try to stop him. “Carter, please. I just want to go. I don’t want to be here.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Please, Carter. Just take me home.” I plead with him, violence not something I want to be any part of ever again.

  He pauses and looks down at me, then turns me so we’re both facing Paxton. The way his lips slightly part and his eyes bug out of his head, I can tell he wasn’t expecting this… me to come back, with a bodyguard.

  “Carter?” Paxton’s voice rises an octave, and he shifts on his feet.

  He knows him?

  “What are you looking at right now, Pax?” Carter asks, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against his chest.

  His eyes dart back and forth between us. “She yours?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The rumble of his voice at my back causes a shiver down my spine.

  Paxton’s shoulders hunch, and he stutters. “I… I didn’t know.”

  “Now you do.” The pressure across my belly gets lighter as Carter drops his arm and links our fingers together. With that, he pulls me around and walks us to the parking lot.

  “Get in.” He opens my door and helps hoist me up.

  When he peels away, the tires squeal, and I have to grab the handle so I don’t fall over. “Carter.”

  “Give me a second.”

  I zip my mouth closed and hold my hands on my lap and hope he can’t see them rattling.

  “Wish you wouldn’t have done that.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Held me back, made it so I’d have to push you away to get to him.”

  This is new. This feeling of having a man want to hurt someone who hurt me. “I don’t want—”

  “My help. I know.” He runs his hand through his hair and huffs out a breath. “But I could have done something. I wanted to do something because I might not always be able to. I might fail you; there may be a time when shit’s outta my control. So if there’s anything I can ever fuckin’ do, I need to fuckin’ do it.” Every word he says gets louder until he’s yelling.

  Then there’s silence.

  “Carter.”

  “God, this is insane, Billie. You make me insane and logical at the same damn time. I want to tell you that the only thing I want is to look out for you, but that’d be a lie because I want so damn much more.”

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and he doesn’t take his eyes off the road as I answer. I don’t even bother to worry about who it could be.

  “Hi, is this Billie Bishop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, this is Tom Landry. I was calling about your audition tonight.”

  I sit up straighter and reach over to grab Carter’s hand. He immediately curls his fingers into mine. “Okay.”

  “Although you failed to produce the type of quality audition we’re looking for, your girl-next-door look is exactly what we’re looking for.”

  “Oh, um.” What am I supposed to say to that?

  “That being said, we’d like to give you another shot at what we hope will be the final round of auditions since we’re still undecided.”

  The Jeep comes to a halt, and I almost drop my phone. “I… I would love to. Thank you so much.”

  “Roger will be calling you in the next couple of days to give you details.”

  The line goes dead, and I do drop my phone this time.

  “What was that?” Carter asks, leaning over to me and turning my head to face him. “You okay?”

  “That was Tom Landry… He, he invited me back for the final round of auditions.” Everything around me—the cars pulling in and out of parking spaces, the lights flickering, people walking—moves in slow motion.

  “That’s great, honey.” His cheekbones pop when he smiles, and I watch in fascination as the tension fades away. For me. Because something good happened to me. “Congratulations. Come on, I’ve got some champagne, and we can celebrate.”

  Once we’re back inside my place after he got a bottle of bubbly from his, he pours us a glass, and we lean against my countertop. As I stand here and avoid looking at him, I contemplate how I feel about his mood swings.

  He’s so sweet one minute, but the way he so quickly lost his cool around Paxton was a little frightening. And now he’s back to sweet.

  But when he did look like he was about to explode, I wasn’t scared. His anger wasn’t directed at me; it was on my behalf.

  “I’m not mad about another audition.”

  “What?” I ask with a laugh, deciding I’m thinking too much into this.

  “Do I get to put more of your food in my mouth?”

  He smiles at my smile. “You really don’t mind?”

  “Uh, no. Are you kiddin’ me? I get to look at my girl and taste her delicious cooking. That’s better than surfing the monstrous waves at Jaws. And that’s saying something.”

  My girl.

  “What’s Jaws?”

  “Only my favorite place in the world. It’s in Maui.”

  “Wow. Did you vacation there?”

  He memorizes how many pieces of thread are in my kitchen rug. “Sure. Vacation.”

  “Hey, I never asked you. Are you any good at surfing? Because I’ve always wanted to learn how to. You can teach me.”

  A sheet of ice materializes out of thin air and lands on his face. Carter rubs his fingers over his chin and shakes his head. “I don’t anymore.”

  “Don’t surf?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why not?”

  He laughs. “Let’s focus on you right now, okay? Are you hungry? The lasagna should be warm by now. Not that it pairs well with champagne, but we can make it work.”

  “What happened?”

  His back is to me, but he shakes his head and opens the fridge. “I didn’t make any bread, but I figure it’s so late it wouldn’t be good to eat that much heavy stuff.”

  Avoidance. He’s good at it. I’ve noticed him do it before when I asked him something he didn’t want to answer. I get up, and when he’s reaching up in the cabinet for a plate, I wrap my arms around his chest and press my cheek against his back. He’s being so nice, and I appreciate his offer to help me. I don’t want to rely on him, but knowing he’s here if I need him is more than enough for me. And the way he had my back with Paxton, I feel like he needs to know. “I’m here too, ya know? For you.”

  He closes one large hand over mine and sets the dish down, then turns around. He cradles my face and leans down, our lips feather light for a moment before he slants his head and kisses me deeper. His tongue dances against mine, and I fall into him, knees weak and lightheaded. My hands grab his shirt so I don’t fall, and in the process, I press against his crotch and his hardness pokes me.

  Instead of being good and backing away, I push against him, and he groans, yanking his head away. He slides his hands around and cups my butt as he brings his lips to my neck and kisses the tender skin there.

  His fingertips dig into me, and I want so badly for him to slip them between my legs, but that would make me seem like a slut. He licks the very outer edge of my ear and slides his tongue back down until he reaches that spot just below my neck where it meets my shoulder and kisses there.

  With a regrettable sigh, he pulls back but not before kissing me again. Then he brings his hands back to my face and says, “Yeah, babe. I know.”

  * * *

  I can’t remember the last time I laughed
so hard I had tears rolling down my cheeks. Heck, I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy. After we ate a delicious meal that he made, we came to the living room and just… talked.

  And when I had something to say, he listened. It’s unreal because I think he genuinely cares. Well, that is until we got on a very touchy subject.

  Accents.

  He thinks I have one when I clearly don’t. And I think he talks like a total surfer. What you would think someone from California would sound like, he fits it to a T.

  But then he challenged me to say a sentence with what I think he sounds like. So I did. And now my jaw hurts.

  “Shut up.” I attempt to cover the embarrassing snort that escapes me, and it only makes him laugh harder.

  “That was painful, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t.” I struggle to even catch my breath.

  His head is tossed back on the couch, and his chest shakes as he laughs. “You have to say that again.”

  “No way!” I wipe my eyes. “I can’t keep a straight face with you.”

  “One more time. You almost had it.”

  “No!”

  “Please. You have to.”

  I sit up and clear my throat, then laugh again. “Okay. Okay.” I take a couple of breaths and then look at him, trying to gather my composure. “Dude, that burrito was like, hella good with guac.”

  “Holy shit! That was so bad.” Carter falls off the couch, howling with laughter, and I jump on him. “I’m sorry, but that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  “Carter.” I push at his arm, and he rolls to his back. “Shut up.” He continues shaking, and I lean down to cover his mouth. But when my body shifts, and I realize I’m straddling him, I still.

  He stops laughing and hardens almost immediately beneath me. I slide my hand off his face and push up on his chest, which is rising and falling heavily now instead of the short bursts from his laughter. He feels so big and hard between my legs, and I squirm at the sensation of having him there.