What the hell? The way it sounded, she didn't mean the cheesecake. I glanced in her direction. We were friends. Nothing more. By my choice. Not hers. But I'd always been straight with her. It was never going to happen.
I had a code, as messed up as it was. Aside from her piss-poor taste in friends, Amber was a nice girl, even if she wasn't my kind of nice girl. And if I slept with her now, I'd lose a friend.
Worse, I'd gain a whole lot of grief. I did business with her dad's company, and didn't need the added complication.
I shook off the distraction and turned back to Chloe. "Is it a deal?" I said. "I'll get the purse. You get dinner."
I didn't give a rat's ass about dinner. Or the purse. There was only Chloe.
Say yes.
Before she could say anything, Brittney spoke up. "A foursome, Lawton? Really?" She let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Isn't that a bit much?"
I felt my shoulders bunch into tight, hard knots. Brittney didn't need a new purse. She needed a damn muzzle.
In front of me, Chloe swooped down to pick up her dog. "I've got to go."
Shit.
"You're not walking back," I told her.
She glanced toward the door. "Sure I am."
"In the rain?"
"I walked here, didn't I?" Outside, a crack of thunder sounded loud enough to rattle the windows. Chucky whined. Chloe bit her lip. Again, she glanced toward the front door.
"Wait here," I told her. "I'll pull up the car."
She hesitated, which I took for a yes. Before she could turn it into a no, I turned away to get the car.
Soon, I'd be alone with her.
Finally.
Chapter 12
When I pulled up to the turnaround, Chloe was waiting in the open doorway. My car had barely skidded to a stop when she made a mad dash through the downpour, clutching the dog like her life depended on it.
From the driver's seat, I shoved open the passenger-side door, hating that I didn't have the time to do things right. I should be standing outside, holding the car-door open, not shoving it open like she wasn't special.
My new home – or estate as the realtor had called it – had a four-car garage attached to the house and a larger garage out back. Normally, I'd have taken Chloe through the house and grabbed a car from the garage that was attached. It would've been easier. And dryer.
But there was a reason I hadn't. That option was dangerous. There was a car in that garage that I didn't want Chloe to see. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
So I'd gone for the other garage, retrieving my favorite car – a classic Plymouth Barracuda that I'd restored personally. On my way out to get it, I'd thrown on a fresh T-shirt, along with my shoes. Sitting in the driver's seat, I glanced down. The shirt had been dry when I put it on. Not anymore.
Like I cared.
Right now, there was only one thing I cared about – the chance to be alone with Chloe.
Still clutching the dog, she jumped into the car and slammed the car-door behind her. She was soaked. Again. My fault. Again.
It was something else to make up for.
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement up at the house. I looked up to see Brittney and Amber rushing out the front door. Amber was holding her umbrella. The umbrella was open. What the hell? Were they coming after us?
I didn't want to find out.
I hit the gas, and the car roared forward, drowning out the noise of the pounding rain. Soon, we were safely past the gate and onto the city street.
From behind the wheel, I glanced at Chloe. She was staring straight ahead, clutching the dog tight against her chest.
Lucky dog.
I said her name. "Chloe."
She didn't even look. Easy to see why. Between the pounding rain and roar of the engine, I'd have to yell if I wanted to be heard. I didn't want to yell. I wanted to whisper. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell how much she'd meant to me – even if she had no idea who I was.
When I turned the corner, she pointed toward her house and spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the noise. "I'm up here on the left."
"I know," I said.
"Excuse me?"
I had to laugh. "I know," I said, louder this time.
So much for whispering.
"Really?" She turned to face me. "How?"
"We share a fence. Remember?"
"Oh," she said. "Yeah. Sorry."
"And I saw you before." I paused. Time to decide. Use our history as a crutch or start fresh. I'd never been a fan of crutches. If I was going to win this girl, I wanted to do it right. So I said, "Walking your dog. Chucky, right?"
On her lap, Chucky gave a quick bark. He looked happy. And a funny thing hit me. I was happy, too. Happier than I'd been in a long time.
But the drive was going way too fast. Too soon, I was pulling into Chloe's driveway. Her driveway was long and lined with trees. The house was dark, inside and out. I felt myself frown. Was it safe?
In the passenger's seat, Chloe reached for the door-handle. "Thanks for the ride."
"Hang on," I said, grasping for an excuse, any excuse to make her stay. "You still owe me dinner."
She gave me a sideways glance. "The foursome? I think I'd better pass."
She looked so prim and proper that I couldn't stop myself from teasing her. She loved to laugh. I knew that from before. I grinned over at her. "How about a twosome?"
Her lips parted, but she didn't laugh. The way it looked, she was actually thinking about it.
My mouth went dry, and my jeans grew tight. She was so beautiful, and so sweet, I'd have given anything to hear her say yes.
Her gaze met mine. "Are we still talking dinner? Or something else?"
At the idea of something else, it was hard to think. Harder to talk. I cut the engine. "That's up to you."
She gave a small shake of her head. "Huh?"
"Dinner – or something else – it's your choice." At the thought of either, I felt myself smile. "Or hey, I'm up for both."
She glanced at the darkened house. After a long pause, she said, "Sorry, but I can't have guests over."
No surprise there. Odds were pretty good she lived with her parents. Still, it would be good to know for sure. Going for casual conversation, I leaned back in the seat. "Worried your folks wouldn't like it?"
She looked down at the dog, still cuddled against her chest. She stroked its fur, obviously stalling. I felt myself tense. It was a simple question. When she didn't answer, I started to wonder.
Who did she live with?
I didn't want to wonder. I tried to make a joke of it. "Let me guess, because I'm a bad influence, right?"
She didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. After a long pause, she said, "Actually, they're not here."
Through the shadows, I studied her face. Something was bothering her. I didn't know what, but I wanted to make it go away. "So what's the problem?" I asked.
She gave me a half smile. "You have guests, remember?"
Funny, I'd almost forgotten. I shrugged. "They know the way out."
Chloe gave me a long, penetrating look. I could almost see the wheels turning. I had two girls at home and wanted a third on the fly. But it wasn't like that. Not with her. And if she gave me half a chance, she'd see that.
She made a scoffing sound. "I've gotta go."
If I was lucky, I could tease her out of it. It worked with other girls. Why not her? I gave her my best cocky smile. "So dinner's a 'no' then?"
Her brow wrinkled. "What dinner?"
"The steak, remember?"
She let out a long breath. "I don't have any steak."
"Well, what do you have?"
She glanced at the house. "Uh, peanut butter and jelly."
"Sounds great."
At this, she finally laughed. A real laugh. "Seriously?"
"Why not?"
She was shaking her head. "Sorry, but you can't come in. I'll just have to owe you."
"Then I'll just have to collect." I grinned ov
er at her. "Lucky for you, patience is my middle name." I turned sideways in the seat to face her. "So, uh, tomorrow morning work for you? Steak and eggs?"
It was a joke. A bad one, obviously, because the way it looked, she was taking it seriously. A nice guy would've told her he was just kidding. I wanted to be a nice guy. But the thought of breakfast with Chloe was impossible to resist.
So I waited.
Say yes.
But she didn't. She said nothing. Outside the car, the rain was pounding. Inside the car, her silence grew louder with every second. I studied her profile. What was she thinking?
"So Chucky," I said in a conversational tone. "How's it goin'?"
Chucky gave a small bark and squirmed in her lap.
Chloe gave a little shake, as if breaking out of a trance. "I've gotta go."
And just like that, she shoved open the car door and ran out into the rain, taking her little dog with her. Watching her sprint through the downpour, I couldn't help but smile.
Holy shit. She'd turned me down.
And for some reason, I liked it.
When was the last time any girl had turned me down? I tried to think, but came up empty. Was Chloe really the first? One thing was for sure, she wasn't easy. And yeah, I liked that, too.
Still smiling, I fired up the car and waited, keeping my eyes glued to her house. When I saw the front lights flick on, I knew she was safe, so then, and only then, I backed out of the driveway.
Driving through the pounding rain, I couldn't get Chloe out of my head. I had to see her again – tomorrow if I was lucky.
But as it turned out, I saw her later that same night, and in a place I didn't expect.
Chapter 13
Sitting in the red vinyl booth, Brittney glanced up from her menu. "I could totally get a job here, you know."
Amber nodded. "You could. Totally."
The restaurant, some trendy local place with a diner theme, was jam-packed and noisy as hell. I'd heard of the place, but this was my first time here. It was some sort of theme restaurant, where the servers were supposed to be rudely funny – and¸ if the stories were right, insanely beautiful.
Lounging back in the booth, I looked across the table at Brittney and Amber. Both of them were beautiful. And Brittney had no problem being rude. Who knows? Maybe she could work here.
Brittney leaned across the table, giving me a nice close-up of her cleavage. She smiled. "What do you think, Lawton?"
I glanced away. "About what?"
With a sound of frustration, Brittney pushed herself back and settled into her seat. "About me. Could I work here or what?"
From the end of our table, a new female voice said, "Not a chance, honey. This gig's all mine."
I looked up to see our waitress, an attractive brunette in a low-cut white blouse and a short pink skirt. Her hair was big and old-fashioned, but her smile was just right – pretty, in spite of dark red lipstick that looked like something my grandma might've worn way back whenever.
The waitress had a pencil tucked behind her ear and a notepad at the ready. With a flourish, she whipped out the pencil and said, "So, baby-dolls, what do you want?"
"With that hair?" Brittney muttered, "I want you to go away."
I gave Brittney an annoyed look, but kept my mouth shut – for the waitress's sake, not Brittney's. The way it looked, our server hadn't heard Brittney's comment, and I wanted to keep it that way. The job looked complicated enough without taking insults from a snotty rich girl.
"She can't go away," Amber told Brittney. "I'm totally starving."
Well, so much for that.
Amber turned to look up at our waitress. "Do you have pancakes?"
The waitress made a show of patting down her apron pockets. "Nope. Sorry."
Amber frowned. "Bummer."
"But," the waitress said with a wicked smile, "I think we've got some in the kitchen."
"Oh," Amber said. "That's a relief." She glanced toward the kitchen area. "But how many? Because I'm pretty hungry."
The waitress paused. "As many as you want, honey."
"For real?" Amber asked.
"For real." The waitress winked at her. "We just got a large shipment in."
Brittney rolled her eyes. "Wow, that is soooo funny."
The waitress smiled like she'd heard it a thousand times before. "Why, thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment," Brittney said.
"Oh well." The waitress gave a pretty shrug. "Can't win 'em all."
A couple minutes later, the waitress, whose name was Josie, had gotten all of our orders, along with a fair amount of attitude from Brittney.
When she left, Brittney watched Josie weave her way through the tables. "Talk about rude," Brittney said.
"You weren't that rude," Amber said. "I mean, I've seen you be a lot meaner than that."
Brittney frowned. "I meant her, not me." She lifted her chin. "I was only rude, because she was rude first."
I was tired of the attitude. "They're supposed to be rude," I said. "Remember?"
"Yeah." Brittney smirked. "But are they supposed to drool over the customers? Because she was totally drooling over you."
Was she? I hadn't noticed.
But Amber was nodding. "Sorry Lawton." She winced. "There was a little drooling."
"More than a little," Brittney insisted. "She was totally staring at your abs." Brittney made a sound of annoyance. "It was so unprofessional."
Did I really need to point out the obvious? I glanced down. "You do see I'm wearing a shirt? Right?"
Amber spoke up. "Yeah, but the way she was looking, it was like she had X-ray vision or something."
"See?" Brittney said.
What I saw was a long, painful dinner ahead of me. Our waitress seemed nice, and now, Brittney would be hassling the piss out of her. Of course, Brittney would've hassled the waitress either way. I knew the type. She got off on that sort of thing.
I didn't. I leaned back against the booth. "You wanna go someplace else?"
Brittney gave me a sultry smile. "Like where?"
It was my turn to smile. "Taco Town."
Her smile faded. "What?"
"There's one up the road," I said. "You wanna hit it?"
She drew back. "You mean like fast food?"
"Hey, if you don't want to deal with a server," I said. "Not a problem. We'll hit the drive-through. Not a big deal."
I wasn't bluffing. I wasn't going to sit here and watch Brittney hassle someone who worked for a living.
After a long moment, Brittney laughed, too loud and too shrill. A split second later, Amber joined in. Around us, people turned to look.
Through the laughter, Brittney squealed out, "You are such a kidder."
I gave her a look. "I wasn't kidding."
She stopped laughing. So did Amber. They shared a glance.
It was Amber who spoke first. "But I like it here. And they've got pancakes." She bit her lip. "Taco Town doesn't have pancakes. Do they?"
My gaze slid to Brittney. "No," I said. "They don't."
Brittney said nothing, but I could see the wheels turning. How should she play this? The way it looked, she wasn't quite sure.
Beside her, Amber gave me a weak smile. "But if you're in the mood for Mexican, I'm sure we can find something we like." She reached for her purse. "You wanna head out?"
"No!" Brittney blurted out. "I mean, we can't leave. We already ordered."
Yeah, we had. I'd wanted a steak. But I'd ordered a cheeseburger. Faster to cook. Faster to eat. If I had to, I could eat a cheeseburger in two bites. Skip the fries.
"And besides," Brittney told me, "I bet you get drooled on wherever you go. Right?"
"Not if I can help it," I said.
She laughed again, putting some real gusto into it. It was too shrill, too fake, too annoying. When I didn't join in, she abruptly stopped. She leaned back and reached for her drink. She glanced toward the waitress station and said, "It's not like a real job, you know."
<
br /> I glanced around. The place was packed. I saw waitresses with trays and notepads, rushing from table to table. The way it looked, some of their tables were on opposite sides of the restaurant. Whatever their system was, it looked royally messed up. Or maybe they were just short-staffed. Who knew.
I'd never worked in a restaurant, but I'd been to hundreds. Plus, a friend's sister had waitressed for a couple of years back in high school. She'd given me the rundown. Rude customers, bad sections, lousy tippers – I'd heard it all.
"It looks like a real job to me," I said.
"Not here, it isn't," Brittney insisted. "It's more like being an actress." She gave a dramatic shudder. "But the hair. It really is awful, isn't it?"
"I dunno," Amber said. "I think it's kind of cute. You know. Retro."
"Cute?" Brittney said. "You're kidding, right?" She turned back to me. "What do you think, Lawton?"
"About the hair?" I said. "I like it. It's smoking hot."
Brittney's brow wrinkled. "Seriously?"
Hell no, I wasn't serious. But there was no way I'd be giving Brittney another reason to look down on someone with an actual job. I shrugged. Let Brittney think what she wanted. I didn't care.
Brittney glanced around the restaurant. "But about working here, I mean, anyone can do it. It's super-easy. Like acting."
"But acting's not easy," Amber said. "My cousin, she's an actress at the playhouse. She rehearses like ten hours a day. Weekends too."
"So what?" Brittney said. "That's more like playing. Not working." She squinted at Amber. "Hey, didn't Dakota work here for a while?"
Who was Dakota? Hell if I knew.
But Amber was nodding. "Yeah, but not for the money. You know her dad's totally loaded."
In spite of myself, I had to ask. "If not for the money, then why?"
"Because," Amber said, "it's like being a showgirl or something. Lots of girls get off on it." She shrugged. "Anyway, she only worked here for a couple of weeks."
Brittney smiled. "Was she fired?"
"No, she quit," Amber said. "She said the other girls were mean to her."
"Girls can be so bitchy," Brittney said. "I totally hate that."
I gave her a look. "Yeah. Me too."
Brittney hesitated. "Um, yeah. But anyway, if you ask me, they're not as pretty as everyone says."
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