All You Can Handle (Moments In Maplesville Book 5)

by Farrah Rochon

  Ian released a deep breath, along with her head. He lifted a couple of fast food napkins from the stow away rack mounted behind the gearshift and used them to clean up the mess from the condom. Sonny’s skin grew tight with the awkwardness suddenly suffusing the confines of the car. This was one byproduct of her boldness she hadn’t foreseen.

  Fitting himself back into his pants, Ian pulled up the zipper and straightened his shirt. He looked over at her and said, “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

  Sonny nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Ian’s fingers went to her mouth. He stroked her lips, gently tugging it free from her teeth.

  “Please don’t do that. You do that and it just makes me want another taste.”

  She went liquid again. She wanted another taste just as badly as he did, which is why she needed to end this right now.

  Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for tonight. It’s exactly the kind of welcome I needed.”

  “Are you sure tonight will be enough?”

  “Yes. We should end this right here. It’s for the best.”

  Ian’s sigh matched hers. “If that’s really what you want,” he said. He cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. “Take care of this car.”

  Sonny laughed. “Your concern over my car is touching. And weird.”

  “Well, I don’t have to tell you to take care of yourself. I have a feeling you know how to do that already.”

  He stroked his thumb along her jawline once more before pulling her head closer and capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. “But, just in case, take care of yourself,” he said. He kissed her again, then opened the door and slid from underneath her.

  Sonny pulled her jeans over her hips and redid the buttons on her shirt. Amazingly, it only felt slightly awkward to be doing this while Ian stood outside her car, staring at her.

  Okay, so it was way awkward. It was exactly the kind of awkward she was hoping to avoid if they ever met up at the post office, or the bank, or the supermarket’s bakery counter.

  Sonny climbed back into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It purred. She laughed when Ian covered his heart and closed his eyes as if in ecstasy. Their eyes caught and held as she shifted the car into drive. Several pulse beats passed before she gave him a small wave and pulled out of her parking spot.

  She looked at him in the rearview mirror as she drove out of the lot. He remained standing there, one hand in his front pocket, his shirt askew.

  Hmm…maybe running into Ian again wouldn’t be the most horrible thing in the world. Sonny wondered if Monday nights at The Corral were a regular thing for him.

  A naughty smile drew up the corners of her lips.

  “I think I’m going to like it here.”

  Chapter Two

  Sonny checked the readout on her phone, making sure it matched the numbers above the door of the two-story French Colonial that sat back a good fifty feet from the street. The white clapboard on the front façade stood stark against the home’s deep red brick. She spotted the detached garage just to the left, at the end of a single-car driveway that widened into enough space for two closer to the garage.

  It was the apartment above the garage that had brought her here.

  When she’d called the number listed in the Craigslist ad, the real estate agent had informed her that the owner was eager to get the place rented. Sonny had quickly emailed the required paperwork for the background and credit check, and explained that she would be here Tuesday afternoon to see the apartment and to please, please, please not rent it to anyone else. She’d added an extra please after her name for good measure.

  If the owner had been honest in the ad, this place fit her needs perfectly. For one thing, according to the real estate agent, it was fully furnished. When she left Houston a year ago, she’d left the stuff from her old life behind. Most of what she had fit in the backseat of her car, although she also had a couple of boxes of items she couldn’t part with stored in the tiny bedroom she’d been staying in at her old college roommate’s house in Baton Rouge. If all went well, Sonny would soon be able to get her things from Karen’s and bring them to her new crib.

  She needed all to go well because she needed this apartment. In addition to being fully furnished, this place was less than a ten-minute drive to Catering by Kiera, the local catering company where tomorrow she would start as the new pastry chef. She and the owner, Kiera Coleman-Watson, had agreed to a trial run, which suited Sonny just fine. The thought of being tied down in a job—even one she liked—made Sonny’s skin crawl. She needed flexibility, to know that freedom wasn’t far out of reach.

  And it was that flexibility that was, by far, the apartment’s biggest draw. It was the only one she could find in Maplesville that offered a month-to-month lease.

  Shutting off the ignition, Sonny got out of the car and walked up the walkway leading to the porch. It was cozy and quaint, with two white wooden rockers on either side of the door. The rockers seemed like a requisite for this kind of house. The Society of French Colonials would probably levy a fine on anyone who didn’t put white wooden rockers on their porches.

  She rang the doorbell and took a step back, looking both left and right off the side of the porch at the pink and white begonias flourishing on either side of the house. Her mother called begonias the landscaper’s friend, because they were so easy to maintain.

  The front door opened and Sonny lost her ability to breathe.

  “Madison?”

  “Ian?”

  For a second she was certain Candid Camera would jump from behind the huge azalea bush on the right side of the porch.

  This could not be happening.

  “What are you doing here?” Ian asked, stepping out onto the porch.

  Sonny held up her phone. “Answering an ad from Craigslist. Yesterday I set up an appointment with someone named Vanessa Chauvin to see the garage apartment at this address.”

  His amber-green eyes went wide. “Vanessa couldn’t make it, so I told her I’d show the apartment myself.”

  “You own the apartment?”

  “You’re the person who answered the ad? Vanessa said the renter’s name was Sonny.”

  “Yes. I’m Sonny. That’s my nickname. There are only a few people who call me Madison anymore.”

  Ian took a step back, as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him a second time. “So, you pulled the old fake name trick last night, huh?”

  “I didn’t give you a fake name. Madison is my name, but I go by Sonny.”

  He ran his hand over his head and down his face, then released an uneasy laugh. “This is crazy,” he said. “You’re here to see the apartment.”

  God, this really was happening.

  Sonny’s first instinct was to do an about-face and hightail it off of the porch, but she wanted this apartment. She needed this apartment.

  They were adults. They would just have to deal.

  “Look, Ian, this doesn’t have to be weird. We can just pretend last night never happened and start fresh.”

  She held out her hand.

  His eyes traveled from her hand up to her eyes, and a current of desire flashed through her. Less than twelve hours ago those ridiculously sexy eyes had stared at her, drenched in desire as his rock hard body penetrated her over and over again. Pretending last night didn’t happen was an exercise in futility, but one she was willing to endure if it meant getting this apartment.

  “You really think that’s possible?” he asked. “Pretending last night never happened?”

  “It is if we try hard enough.”

  With a subtle huff of laughter, Ian finally clasped her outstretched hand. Electricity pulsed between them. He felt it, too. Sonny could tell by the way he flexed his fingers once he released her hand, as if he was trying to shake off the effects of their skin meeting again.

  Yeah, pretending last night never happened probably wouldn’t work.

  “Of course, if we can avoid bein
g seen by the neighbors I guess we can occasionally give in to the temptation of sneaking into each other’s rooms at night,” Sonny said with a nervous laugh.

  Instead of answering with the suggestive reply she anticipated, Ian remained silent. His brow furrowed slightly.

  Okay. Apparently someone couldn’t take a joke.

  Sonny cleared her throat. “Can I see the apartment?”

  Several heartbeats passed before he nodded and took a step back.

  “Yeah, sure. Of course.” He gestured for her to enter the house ahead of him. “Let me just get the key.”

  She stepped into the brief foyer that led into an open living room and dining room area, separated by three white columns. The house was beautiful. A bit messy, with several pairs of tennis shoes kicked off haphazardly next to the sofa, magazines scattered on the end table, and a jacket tossed in a chair. But it was tastefully decorated and had the kind of live-in feel that the cavernous mansion she’d grown up in could never attain.

  Ian appeared in the short hallway, keys dangling from his finger, and motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s go through the kitchen. It’s easier to get to the garage.”

  Sonny swallowed her envious sigh as she followed him through the kitchen. The massive amount of counter space was a pastry chef’s wet dream. The center island boasted a single sink with a towering gooseneck faucet. Cast-iron pots and pans hung from a rack above it. She wondered if they were just for show or if Ian actually cooked.

  Sonny was suddenly struck by the absurdity of this entire situation. She knew how his eyes fluttered closed when he orgasmed, but she didn’t know if he liked to cook.

  Why did she think a one-night stand wouldn’t be a big deal?

  She decided to cut herself some slack. She could not possibly have guessed that the one guy in Maplesville whom she’d allowed herself to sleep with would turn out to be her potential landlord. She knew this town was small but she couldn’t have ever anticipated it being this small.

  Ian led her across the driveway to the garage, which they entered through a side door. Instead of a car, there were at least a half-dozen motorcycles occupying the space. Two were covered with light brown tarps. Several others lay on their sides, parts strewn about them on the garage floor. The last one—a huge, gleaming machine of polished black and chrome—sat uncovered in the middle of the space.

  “You like bikes,” Sonny observed.

  Ian looked over his shoulder at the collection of motorcycles. “Yeah,” was all he said.

  She stopped short, her spine stiffening with affront.

  She didn’t know what to make of his terse responses. It was as if he’d become an entirely different person after her off-hand suggestion about sneaking into each other’s rooms. Maybe she should clarify that it was just a joke?

  Okay, so maybe there’d been a touch of truth to it when she’d suggested it, but Sonny would never admit to that now. Not with the way he’d reacted. This aloof, unapproachable person he’d turned into following her joke was so different from the guy she’d met last night.

  He started up the interior steps leading to the apartment, but Sonny stopped him, grabbing his wrist. He looked down at where she held him. She waited until his eyes met hers again before she spoke.

  “Ian, let me know if this is too awkward for you. I’m really interested in this apartment—there are a number of reasons why it is absolutely perfect for me—but if this is too uncomfortable for you I’ll understand.”

  He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No, we’re good,” he said, and continued up the stairs.

  She wasn’t sure how much she believed that, but if that’s what he needed to tell himself to make this okay, so be it.

  The stairs led directly into the studio apartment. The moment she entered the space, Sonny knew this was exactly where she wanted to live.

  It was more spacious than she’d anticipated, with two large windows overlooking the driveway, allowing ample natural sunlight to flood the apartment. A small kitchen was tucked into the back right corner; equipped with a two-burner stove, single sink, microwave and full-sized refrigerator.

  “There’s not much to it,” Ian said. He pointed to the door directly across from them. “There’s the bathroom. There isn’t a full-size tub, only a shower.” He pointed to a red and black Chinese screen. “There’s a twin bed behind there. It isn’t all that comfortable from what I can recall. There’s also a closet over there,” he said, gesturing to the left side across from the kitchen.

  If this was how he typically presented the apartment to perspective tenants, it was no wonder this place was still vacant. Sonny could only hope that the real estate agent who was supposed to show her the apartment had a better spiel.

  “Vanessa Chauvin mentioned that utilities are paid,” Sonny said.

  He nodded. “Yeah, they are. It’s also wired for cable, but I’ve got satellite in the house. You would have to call the cable company and have them reconnect the service if you want it.”

  “Internet?”

  “I don’t have any trouble connecting wirelessly when I’m working in the garage. I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to get online up here. You’ll just need the password to the network.”

  “Do you work in the garage often?” she asked.

  The idea of walking downstairs and finding Ian sweaty and covered in sawdust or motor oil or whatever gave men that earthy smell after working all day with their hands made her lightheaded.

  “I’m down there a lot,” he answered. “I restore bikes in my spare time.”

  She nodded and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Will that be a problem?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head a bit too emphatically.

  He shoved his hands in his front jean pockets and lifted his shoulders in a hapless shrug. “Okay. Well, feel free to look around for a while. Make sure it’s exactly what you want.”

  Sonny heard the sound of the door downstairs opening moments before footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  “Hey Ian, I need your help.”

  A young girl with long, skinny micro braids stopped short as she arrived at the top of the stairs.

  “Oh. Hey,” she said. She turned to Ian. “The switch isn’t working on my robot. I need you to see what’s going on with it.”

  “In a minute, Kimmie,” Ian said.

  Sonny just stared. The girl, who looked to be about eleven or twelve, was a female version of Ian, with those remarkable eyes and golden brown skin.

  Was this his daughter?

  Sonny had to remind herself to take a breath.

  “Uh, this is my younger sister, Kimberlyn. Kimmie, this is Madison…uhh…Sonny. She’s thinking about renting the apartment.”

  Kimberlyn walked up to her with wide-eyed fascination. “I love your hair,” she said, reaching up to touch Sonny’s ’fro before jerking her hand back.

  “Come on,” Ian said, clamping a hand on his little sister’s shoulder. He turned to Sonny. “Look around and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Sonny swallowed then nodded. “Okay, thanks. Nice to meet you, Kimmie.”

  “You, too,” the girl said. “Oh, and this place is really cool. You’ll like it. You should stay.”

  Sonny smiled at the little girl’s enthusiasm, but she still wasn’t sure what to make of Ian’s oddly cold reception.

  She would have expected that type of reaction from the guy in the stuffy suit, yet last night he’d been the epitome of laid back and fun. It was today, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that showed off just the right amount of his toned chest, that he came across as aloof and uptight.

  She shook her head. Figuring out Ian should be the least of her worries. She wasn’t here to figure him out; she was here for this apartment. That’s what she should be concentrating on.

  Sonny meandered around the space for a bit, but it didn’t take long to confirm her initial expectation. This
place was perfect for her. The only thing that wasn’t clear was whether or not she could handle living so close to her new landlord.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I don’t know what happened. It was working just fine yesterday, but today?” Kimmie lifted her shoulders in a hapless shrug. “Fix it. Please!”

  Ian sat at the dining room table, which was covered in various electronics. He took the robot he and his twelve-year-old sister had built over the course of the last three weeks and peered inside, hoping he could spot the issue without having to open the acrylic body casing.

  Actually, having to break open the body casing wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would give him an excuse to stay away from the garage apartment. He needed some time to think before he faced Madison—Sonny—again.

  “Please don’t tell me it’s broken,” Kimmie said.

  “Give me a minute to look at it,” Ian said.

  Kimmie was convinced that most of her classmates in the science and technology category at this year’s science fair would be doing something pertaining to the Internet or telecommunications. She wanted to go “old school” and work with animatronics. Being a bona fide gear-head, Ian had been geeked with her choice. He may have had more fun working on the science fair project than Kimmie had.

  “Everything looks good from here,” Ian said, twisting the robot around in his hands. “You’re sure it’s fully charged?”

  “It’s been on the charger all night.”

  “If that’s the case than it should have enough juice to stay powered for at least—“ Ian stopped short as he looked at the small round side table where the charger sat. “Umm, Kimmie,” he said, walking over to the table. He picked up the cord, which dangled over the edge. “Was the charger itself plugged into the outlet?”

  Kimmie’s mouth dropped open. “I...thought so.”

  Grinning, Ian plugged the charger into the wall socket and then plugged the robot into the charger. It lit up, its arms moving up and down, its square head turning from left to right.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Kimmie pumped her fist in the air, then dashed over to him and lifted the robot from his fingers. “Now I can shoot my next scene.”