I heard him curse softly under his breath. But my subterfuge didn’t keep him off the subject of my soon to arrive ex-boyfriend.
“Stop trying to change the subject. The asshole who gave you that scar is coming over for goddamn coffee and donuts. Nothing about that scenario is a good thing.”
I know…
“I’m perfectly safe,” I said. And I was. Derrick looked as if he hadn’t been on drugs for a long time, so that meant he was of sound mind.
And that made it safe to be around Derrick.
Then why was I so scared?
Whoa, wait a minute! When had I gone from nervous to scared?
About the time you started to remember what had happened to you the last time you were alone with him.
I gulped and brought my hand up to my forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Raphael barked out. “You’re holding your head like you’re in pain.”
Oh, goody. So now I had a second peeping tom neighbor to contend with.
I bit my lower lip, took a few deep, hopefully silent breaths, and looked over to where Raphael stood on his porch, staring over at me.
“I’m going to be fine.” I waved him off. “So you just go inside and do something computer geeky.”
“So funny,” he groused.
I locked eyes with him and gave him my most serious look. “I promise, if I need you, I’ll call.” Hell, I’d scream my freaking head off if I needed him.
As if on cue, an unfamiliar silver Beemer rolled to a stop in front of my house. Derrick had always loved silver, and I remembered his father had driven a BMW.
Raphael growled again, this time twice as loud. “I’ll yank out his ribcage and wear it as a hat if he starts anything.”
“You’re a mild mannered computer programmer,” I said, shooing him away with my free hand. “Now go inside and try taking over the world on your laptop.”
He pulled his gaze from me and frowned. “I can’t do that.”
Oh boy. “Well, if Pinky and the Brain stop by, I’ll tell them you’ll be of little help.”
“Hope?”
“I’m fine!” I snapped. I took in a deep breath and tried to force a smile. I softened my voice when I said, “I mean it. I’ll be fine. Just go inside, okay?”
“Fine,” he bit off. “But if I even hear a raised voice, he’s going to lose some teeth.”
Well, at least his threats were getting blander—from pulling out ribs to knocking out teeth. Who said I couldn’t be persuasive?
“What?”
“Oh, did I say that out loud?” I blinked at him as he smiled at me.
I heard the Beemer’s car door shut, and Raphael looked over and bared his teeth in Derrick’s direction.
I rolled my eyes. “Please, just go inside.”
“I’ll be watching,” he rumbled, and made that hand gesture that meant “I’m watching you.”
He disconnected our call and grudgingly headed back into his house.
I looked back toward Derrick’s car and found him still standing there, his blond hair tousled, and his hazel eyes wide and questioning.
He was waiting for me to give him permission to come closer.
Either that or he thought Raphael would charge out of his house if he moved without my consent. Either way, I was glad he was.
I suddenly felt calm. Be it having talked to Raphael, or just having been so nervous all day, I was now feeling a deep, gratifying calm.
I jerked my head to tell him to come over. He started walking over to me, and I got up off the porch swing and met him at the top of the porch steps. He stood there on the sidewalk, his crooked, always charming smile in place.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he said. His voice was deeper than I remembered, almost soothing.
“Janine insisted.” I folded my arms under my breasts and hugged myself.
Derrick’s shoulders tightened and he frowned, looking down at the pavement. “So you’re doing this only because you’re being forced?”
I shook my head absently. “No, I wanted to talk to you.”
His eyes turned hopeful.
I tried to force some kindness into my voice, into the way I looked at him, but more than anything I just wanted to get this over with and for him to go away again.
I may have wanted closure, at last, but that didn’t mean I wanted him hanging around.
“I’ve been hiding from you—hell, I’ve been hiding from everyone and everything since the day I ran away from you.”
He cringed.
I felt an unwelcome pang of guilt. I didn’t want to hurt him.
“I’m sorry if that sounded blunt, but I’m afraid that’s exactly how I feel.”
He looked up at me, his eyes shining with the beginning of tears.
Part of me wanted to lie and try to make him feel better. Another part of me still wanted to turn tail and run back into the house, locking all the doors and calling the police.
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” I said. “I don’t hate you anymore… and if you need me to forgive you, then I do. I forgive you.”
He took a step closer, but I raised my hand to stop him.
“But I still don’t want you around me. And I don’t want to work with you either.”
“But…”
“We will never be together again… you have to realize that.” I stepped down a few steps until I was at eye level with him. “And I don’t want to work with you either.”
His eyes looked down and his mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Look at me,” I said, and Derrick looked back into my eyes. “Just go home and get on with your life. And I’ll do the same. Okay?”
Derrick’s eyes, which I remember thinking were so beautiful, filled with tears that didn’t quite overflow.
“I never meant to hurt you.” He sighed in frustration and shook his head. “I just thought I was losing you.”
I reached out and touched his cheek, only for a moment, and then pulled my hand back. “But you did. And that’s that.”
His gaze was tortured and strained, but I saw when he finally understood. It was like a light had gone off in his eyes. The hope he’d been holding onto was finally fading away.
I turned away and climbed the steps of my porch, went inside and shut my door.
I didn’t lock it. I didn’t feel I had to any longer.
Chapter 43
I was sipping my coffee, looking out my side kitchen window, when I saw Bette rush out her front door and jog over to my place—which is a feat, with all the hair, and boobs, and high heels.
I didn’t get up to open the door for her, since she had her own key. But I did jump up to let her in when she started pounding on my door like she was fleeing a horde of zombies.
She rushed into my kitchen, breathless, and grabbed hold of my wrist, pulling me toward my front door.
I put on the brakes and pulled my arm free of her grip.
“What in the hell is going on?”
Bette looked back at me, her eyes wide. “Darla just called.” She took a couple gulps of air, her cleavage heaving dramatically. “She said to get you out front, that it’s an emergency!”
Emergency?
I suddenly felt my heart sink. Had she and Drew broken up?
That was a terrible thought. They were so great together, and Darla deserved a happily ever after.
All of us did.
I grabbed hold of Bette’s wrist and started pulling her toward my front door. We were out in the San Antonio afternoon in seconds, and were waiting on the porch for approximately thirty seconds when a hot, candy-apple red Camaro convertible flew down our street, did a tire screeching U-turn, and then came to a smoking-tire halt in front of my house.
When the dust and smoke settled we saw two young women in the car. The one closest to us was unfamiliar, but the beauty queen with not a stitch of makeup on was our sweet, ruthless Darla.
She popped up out of the car and gave us a wave.
; “Oh my god,” I said.
Bette looked exasperated as she leaned dramatically against my porch railing and fanned herself.
“I thought you said it was an emergency!”
Darla smiled, her dimples popping to take her from just pretty to downright gorgeous.
“It was an emergency. I bought my first car!” She threw out her arms like she was a car show model. “It’s a convertible!”
Bette smiled. “It’s a freaking Camaro.”
Darla nodded her head emphatically. “It’s a convertible!”
The girl in the passenger seat rolled her eyes. Obviously she’d heard this mantra for a while now.
“Who’s your friend?” I called out.
Bette had started down the steps and I followed her out to the great, shiny red beast Darla had roared up in.
“This is Stacey Britt,” Darla cooed. “She’s my best friend.”
The girl waved.
Darla said, “Stacey, this is Hope Jones and my best friend Bette Le Brandt.”
Both Bette and Stacey looked at Darla incredulously.
“Honey,” Bette said after a pregnant pause. “You can’t have two best friends.”
“Yeah,” Stacey agreed. “And I’ve been your bestie since kindergarten!”
Darla gave them both a surprised look. “Of course I can.” She looked to Bette. “You’re best friends with Hope and me.”
“She’s got you there,” I chirped helpfully, and Bette scowled at me.
Then Darla looked at Stacey. “And you’ve had Tommy Hildebrandt as your other best friend since sophomore year.”
Stacey shook her magnificent head of mahogany hair and rolled her dark brown eyes again. She really was quite beautiful. With her long, lean body, and those luscious, pouty lips, she was the polar opposite of Darla.
“We’ve been over this a million times,” she said flatly. “Tommy’s my best gay-guy friend. You’re my best straight girl friend.”
I blinked. Darla blinked. And Bette smiled wickedly.
“So you have a best lesbian girl friend?” Bette asked salaciously.
Darla’s eyes bugged out a tiny bit.
“Sure do,” Stacey said, her tone and expression matter of fact. “She’s my roommate at Our Lady of the Lake U.”
“Wow,” Darla said, plopping down on her knees on the sweet black leather bucket seat. “You never said anything.”
Stacey shrugged. “What’s to say? Libby’s gay, she has a girlfriend, an open relationship and a pet piranha.”
I felt a shiver rise up my spine at the thought of a pet piranha. They make horror movies about piranhas.
Her eyes wide, Darla asked, “Has she tried anything?”
We all stared, waiting for Stacey to answer.
“Not after that first time.”
We all gasped.
Stacey shrugged again. “We made out for a few minutes, but saw that neither of us was enjoying it, so it’s never come up again.”
Our jaws dropped and we stared all the harder.
Stacey shot us all a dubious look. “I’ve got a best straight guy friend too.”
“Did you make out with him too?” Bette asked breathlessly.
“Well, yeah.” Stacey flicked her hair back over her shoulders. “How else was I gonna know that we were just going to be friends?”
Darla closed her gorgeous blue eyes and gave her head a frantic little shake.
Bette gave me a sinister grin.
I needed to change the subject. My first best friend disowned me when I went away to college, and then married the man I’m now sort of dating/in love with.
Oh boy, my head just did a cartwheel just thinking that thought.
My current best friend was Bette, and maybe my best guy friend was Raphael… but I was still having some not-so-friend-like feelings toward the broad shouldered hottie.
Change. The. Subject.
“So,” I said, looking Darla’s new car over. “Do we get to ride in your convertible?”
There was a group shout of assent, and Bette and I piled into the little back seat, leaving thoughts about sexual orientations and how many best friends you can have in the dust as Darla hit the gas and her sleek new Camaro roared gamely and streaked down the street.
Chapter 44
We were on Route 37 when a tire blew out on Darla’s new car.
Darla rolled the Camaro to a stop on the side of the road, traffic speeding past us like we were stuck in time: dust and litter blew up into the air with every passing car.
“Well hell,” Darla cursed in the sweetest voice.
“I’ve got AAA,” Bette offered.
Stacey was already stepping out of the car. “I’ve got this. Just pop the trunk.”
“You can change a tire?” Darla called back to Stacey, popping the trunk and then crawling out of her new little sports car. We all got out and traipsed back to the trunk.
“Yes, I can change a flat tire,” Stacey drawled, staring down into Darla’s open trunk. “That is if you had a spare one, or a jack, or a tire iron.” She shot Darla with a hard glare.
“Oops,” Darla whispered.
Bette dug into her purse and extricated her smart phone. “Like I said, I have AAA.”
“But she doesn’t have a spare tire,” I told her.
Bette waved me off and told the AAA operator, “Hi, this is Bette Le Brandt. Let me talk to Howard.”
“Who’s Howard?” I mock-whispered.
“The owner of the San Antonio branch,” she mock-whispered back.
Oh…
Bette’s smile and voice turned both sunny and sultry. “Howard! It’s been too long.”
She smiled devilishly at whatever Howard was saying to her.
“You scamp. Is that all you ever think about?”
I heard a throaty belly laugh from the other end of the line.
“It is, isn’t? Well, I have a problem. I’m out with a friend, and it’s her car and there’s no spare… oh, that would be fantastic. Thank you so much Howard. We’re on Route 37 right across from the outlet mall.”
Darla bumped me with her hip. “I so want to be her when I grow up… she knows everyone.”
“Me too,” I said. I could use her nerve and amazing curves, and her take no prisoners mentality.
Bette let out a whooping, southern belle laugh. “Oh Howard! You are so very, very naughty. Thanks again.” And she hung up.
Bette faced us, her hands on her hips and a triumphant smile on her lips. “A truck with a spare tire will be here shortly. This beast of yours takes 15s, right?”
Darla looked dumbfounded.
“Yes, it does,” Stacey answered.
About ten minutes later a blue AAA truck glided off the freeway and parked right behind us. Billy smiled and waved from the driver’s seat, a bit of his big bad wolf showing through.
I smiled and we waved back to him in chorus.
Well, except Stacey.
“Who’s the letch?”
Darla elbowed her friend. “That’s Billy Lewis, I went to high school with him. He was an upper classman.”
Stacey growled, like a puma right before it strikes you in the jugular with its paw full of sharp, sharp claws.
Billy hopped out of the tow truck and jogged over with a spare tire on a rim and a tire iron in his hands. He set them down and then jogged back for the jack.
Bette leaned against me and fanned herself. “He’s so cute.”
Billy must have heard her, because he gave her a long, wolfy stare as he walked back past us. “How do, Miss Hope.”
Bette smiled and I said, “I’m good.” Which, for the first time in a while, was true.
Things, likely or not, were looking up.
“Crap on toast, I wish that boy were a few years older,” Bette breathed, and then giggled.
I kept on forgetting I lived beside the modern version of Blanche Devereaux.
Billy set down the jack and made a show of cracking his knuckles—and thus flexin
g his triceps.
“Don’t worry ladies, this is a man’s job, and I’ll have you all back on the road in no time.”
Stacey scoffed and cocked her hip. “I could have changed it just fine without the help of a big strong man.”
Billy smiled that dark, sexy smile at her, the one that just burned right out of the picture frame. “Sure you could have.”
The sound of his voice was placating. And that sound made Stacey take a step closer and get right up in his face. “You bet your scrawny butt I could have.”
Billy snickered and looked off over her head at the Camaro. He was about five inches taller than her. “Sweet thing, those tires were bolted on using an air compressor wrench. No little girl is ever gonna get those suckers off.”
“Just watch me,” she said, leaned over and grabbed the jack and then pushed past Billy.
He had an amused, turned-on look on his face. “Now don’t be afraid to ask for help. I wouldn’t want to see a pretty little thing like you hurt yourself.”
Stacey slid the jack under the car, popped the handle in and started pumping it like a grease monkey.
She was thin and lanky, but she had some nice curves too. Billy’s eyes went wide and then his eyelids went to half-mast, a vulpine hunger smoldering in there.
Before I knew it the car was jacked up and Stacey had the tire iron in her hand.
Billy gave a little snicker.
Stacey glared at him, and with a quick bend and a violent yank she pulled the bolt loose and spun the tire iron with preternatural speed until the bolt came off in her hand and she slipped it in her tight jeans pocket.
Billy stood there watching, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as Stacey took off all the bolts, pulled off the tire and then put on the new one, working each bolt into place until each one screeched its surrender.
She let the car down off the jack, tossed the tire iron to Billy and started rolling the flat tire back to the trunk.
Billy was by her side in a flash, and reached out to help her throw it in Darla’s trunk.
Stacey glared at him, daggers in her dark eyes.
Billy just smiled back, his face the picture of happiness.
Oh, dear god. He was falling for the wrong woman again!
Georgia was a no-brainer. She already had a boyfriend she loved, and said boyfriend had been Billy’s best friend.
Love Him: A Love Him, Hate Him, Want Him Novel Page 29
