by Shandi Boyes
Although his tone is mocking, it does little to ease the sting to my ego. I’ve grown up half my life with people telling me I'm worthless.
"She was using you." Belittling him won’t make me feel any better, but it may wipe the arrogant smirk off his face.
Isaac’s infuriated gaze snaps to mine as his cheeks redden with anger. "What did you say?"
Foolishly, I repeat, "She was using you,” louder this time.
Before I have time to prepare, he lunges at me, shoving me back until I crash into the bar with an almighty thud. I don’t register the pain rocketing through my body. I’m too riveted by the rage morphing on Isaac’s face to worry about a twinge of discomfort. My words impacted him more than I expected. He’s not just pissed. He’s ready to go on a rampage.
When the fury in his eyes triples, I brace myself for impact, realizing I’ve unearthed his weak spot. But I had to do everything in my power to get him away from Emily before she burrowed into his skin so deep, he’d never let her go.
My muscles are tight, primed for the brunt of his onslaught, so you can imagine my surprise when Isaac doesn’t let his anger get the better of him. His narrowed gaze shifts to the dance floor for two heart-thrashing seconds before he storms into his office.
My brows furrow as confusion engulfs me. I was anticipating a much fiercer response. After taking a few moments to ease my shock, I glance over to where Isaac was looking. Emily is still standing where she was earlier, except now, her hands are clamped over her mouth, and a handful of the tears once shining in her eyes have trickled down her face.
When I take a step closer to her, she shakes her head, begging me to stop. When I do, she mouths a quick apology before pivoting on her heels and bolting for the club’s exit.
"Emily, wait!”
I push off my feet to catch up with her. Due to the large volume of people in one space, five minutes pass before I stumble onto the sidewalk outside the club. With my band’s hype picking up, so are our number of fans. Many stopped me on the way, unaware the expression on my face isn’t a welcoming one.
I sling my head to the right then left, seeking Emily amongst the crowd. She's nowhere to be found. "Fuck!"
Three girls walking by let out a yelp, frightened by my scream. I wave my hands across my body, showing them I mean no harm. "I'm sorry.”
“That’s okay.” The blonde’s frightened expression switches to excited. “Are you leaving?” She twirls a piece of hair around her finger as her eyes rake my body. Her flirting would be better received if she wasn’t pouting like a child.
“Yep. I’ve had more than enough of the club scene for one night.”
Ignoring her batting eyes begging me to change my mind, I head to my truck parked at the back of the club. My pride and joy is a rusty 1977 Ford F150. My brother Chris had been helping me rebuild it the past few years. Although she looks like a rust bucket on the outside, her core is strong, and I just refurbished her engine.
After throwing open the driver’s side door, I clamber into my seat, then shove my keys into the ignition. A grin curls on my lips when Betty fires up on the first turn of the keys. As she rolls toward the exit, I slip my hand under the bench seat to grab the pack of cigarettes I have hiding there. I gave up smoking five weeks ago, but I kept an emergency stash in case the urge arose. Considering tonight’s events, I need a hit of nicotine.
After lighting the cigarette balancing between my quirked lips, I take a long draw of the addictive stick. It tastes like garbage, but the nicotine hits the spot. As my lungs reacquaint with less-than-stellar air, I scan the street for an opening.
I’ve just found a space I can slip into when I spot Emily. She’s standing at the end of a very long line, waiting for a taxi. For the quickest moment, I consider pulling into the slow-moving lane—it would be better for her if I did—but when she wraps her arms around her body as she strives to keep warm, I know I’m not going anywhere. I may be an ass who's as confused as fuck, but I'm not entirely heartless.
After pulling my truck to the curb in front of the taxi stand, I roll down the passenger side window. Emily's eyes float up from her shoes when she hears the creak of the rusty mechanism, but she doesn't recognize my truck, so she remains standing in line.
"Do you want a lift?"
"Noah?" When she sheepishly peers into the cab of my truck, excitement beeps in her neck. Although she’s excited, she tries to play it cool. “It's okay; I’ll wait for a cab.”
Over the back and forth game we’re playing, I growl, “Get in the truck, Emily.”
I don't care if she never wants to see me again, but there’s no chance in hell I’m leaving her here, standing in the cold, waiting over an hour for a taxi while she's upset. I’m partially to blame for her watering eyes, so the least I can do is give her a ride home.
When she remains hesitant, I’m on the verge of falling to my knees and groveling. Instead, I try a less weaselly approach. “Please. It’s just a ride. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I can think of many things, but I hope she isn’t looking into things as deeply as me. I’m too worked up to think straight, probably because the image of Isaac kissing her neck is rolling through my head on repeat. If he were any other guy, my night would have ended differently. I’d most likely be sitting in a cell instead of my truck. That’s how agitated I felt watching another man seduce her.
I’m still pissed, but it eases somewhat when Emily reaches out to open my passenger side door. Her climb into my truck makes her delicious vanilla scent filter into my nostrils. It’s a smooth smell that complements the silky skin I see when her mini-dress rides up high on her thigh.
Eager to capture her scent in my truck’s cab, and to take my eyes off assets I shouldn’t be ogling, I flick my half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement, then roll up my window.
My heart rate kicks into overdrive when her smell intensifies, then it pumps out an entirely new tune when she grumbles, “You should quit that nasty habit. Smoking is disgusting.”
Chapter 9
Emily
I clamp my hand over my mouth, mortified. I really need to learn to keep my big mouth shut. Even after my horrendous performance in the club, Noah was kind enough to offer me a lift home, and how do I award his chivalry? I insult him.
With winds whipping in from the coast, I was freezing standing in a very long line, so although I’m stunned he’d desecrate his perfect body with toxins, I’ll forever be grateful for his courtesy.
Mercifully, Noah doesn’t seem put-off by my scorn. He chuckles at my snarky comment before pulling his truck away from the curb. We’re barely half a block down when the winds I was sheltering myself from earlier pump through my open window. Noah’s window is up; now I just need to fix mine.
I push down on the rusty window crank near my thigh, but no matter how hard I ram it, my scrawny arms can’t get the darn thing to budge. I give it everything I have. It refuses to move.
Deflated by my lack of strength, I slump into the bench seat with a huff, blowing an unruly hair out of my eye in the process. Noah’s snickering laughter bounces around the cab as he leans across my body to fix the window into place.
I feel instantly warm. It isn’t the window rolling into place responsible for my heated response. It’s Noah’s forearm skimming the exposed skin on my thighs. He’s barely touching me, but even his briefest touch has my heart pumping at double the speed.
Having him so close also fills my senses with his mouthwatering smell, but I don't recognize his scent. If I had to guess, I’d say it is a combination of a spicy aftershave and a smell that solely belongs to him. Eager to quell my curiosity, I suck in a big whiff of air through my nose. Wicked thoughts run wild in my mind because not even the stench of tobacco can dampen his alluring scent. He smells delicious, and my pulse is quickening.
Once he has the window in place, Noah drags his arm back to the steering wheel. Since my chest is expanded from sucking in his tempting smell, he brushes my bre
asts on the way by. Even if I could palm off my erect nipples as a consequence of the brisk air, nothing could cover up the husky purr toppling from my lips. Who knew a scent alone could create such a ruckus?
Wondering if he heard my inappropriate moan, I peer at Noah through a set of thick lashes. His heavy-hooded gaze is fixed on my thrusting chest, and his jaw is tight. He either heard my body's response to his touch or he can sense it.
When his eyes lift from my chest to my face, desire clusters in my womb. His gaze is hungry and wanton—the very look I wanted to see in his eyes earlier. I’m squirming in my seat, completely forgetting how I was an idiot earlier tonight. Nothing is on my mind but ensuring that look stays in his eyes for a lifetime. His mysteriousness is alluring, but it has nothing on his hooded gaze.
Our lust-crazed trance is only lost when a car horn honks. “Shit!”
Noah yanks on the steering wheel, dragging his car back onto the right side of the road. His windows rattle when the opposing car passes us at a furious speed.
He coughs to clear his throat of nerves before stumbling out an apology. “Sorry.”
Unable to speak—more because of the heat still teeming between us than our near-death experience—I offer him a tight smile. He accepts by offering up one of his own before shifting his eyes back to the road, where he keeps them for the next several minutes.
Feeling defeated, I sink into my seat before my eyes drift to the scenery zooming past the window. Rejection crashes into me like a tidal wave when I realize he's driving me the most direct route home. The night is still young, yet he’s more than ready for it to be over.
That’s a slap my ego didn’t need.
When my disappointment grows too much for me to bear, my eyes drift to Noah. “Do you have to take me straight home?"
His grip on the steering wheel tightens so much his knuckles go white. After swallowing several times in a row, he stares at me for what feels like a lifetime before his focus returns to the road without a syllable escaping his lips.
Sighing, I lean my flushed cheek on the passenger side window. My overheated skin relishes the coolness of the cold glass, but nothing eases the disappointment burning through me. I never understood how much rejection hurt until now.
The disappointment curtailing my breaths slackens when Noah murmurs, "Where do you want to go?"
I sit up straight as my mind scrambles for the perfect location. Not having the time to evaluate which place is suitable for two strangers with an undeniable connection but a lot of explaining to do, I blurt out the first one that pops into my head, "Bronte's Peak?"
Noah's brows scrunch as his jaw tightens. His response reveals he’s heard of Bronte’s Peak before. I’m not surprised. It’s a beautiful lookout perched above the pristinely beautiful Bronte's Beach. During the day, it’s a tourist mecca that sees thousands of people walking its shores every weekend.
Things are vastly different this time of night, though.
Bronte's Peak is the prime hookup location for local teens. The parking lot doesn't have adequate lighting, so its popularity for sneaky rendezvous is undeniable.
If Noah is concerned I suggested Bronte’s Peak so we could make out, he has no reason to fret. I don’t want a hookup. I just want a chance to explain my actions tonight. I can’t stand the thought of him fighting with his friend because I was jealous.
I also want some one-on-one time with him in person. That’s not asking too much, is it?
"I thought we could go there to talk?" I mumble with a shrug.
Noah’s brows furrow even closer, but his mouth remains tightlipped. When we stop at a T intersection, he takes his time deciding which way to turn. If he turns left, we’ll head straight for Bronte’s Peak. If he turns right, we’ll continue on the most direct route to my home.
With each second that passes, my confidence falters. I begin to worry that the idea of making out with me repulses him so much, he’d rather go home than risk it being a possibility. That hurts—a lot!
After numerous stomach-churning seconds, Noah turns right, and my heart slithers into my stomach. His rejection is a devastating blow that forces tears into my eyes. They’re so overloaded, I’m forced to brush one off my cheek when it stupidly slips over the barrier keeping the rest at bay.
Not even two seconds later, my hands shoot out to brace the dash. Noah slammed on his brakes so hard, I either brace for impact or headbutt the windshield. Dust kicks up around us when he yanks his truck to the side of the road. I try not to get my hopes up, but the faintest trickle glitters in my veins.
Noah slants his head my way, his eyes brimming with a vast array of emotions. Optimism. Concern. Anger. They’re reflecting so many emotions, I’m shocked I don’t hear them when he questions, "What do you want from me, Emily?"
“I don’t want anything.”
I’m confused as to why he'd think I want something from him. He’s been to my house, so he’s aware I’m not wealthy, but that doesn’t mean I want to use him. I’m not, and will never be, a gold digger.
“Then why did you do that tonight?” His clipped tone announces that my actions hurt him.
“I didn’t know Isaac was your friend. I would have never done that if I’d known... I’m not like that.”
Realizing I’m doing a terrible job of explaining myself, I unbuckle my seatbelt and scoot across the split-bench seat, hoping my eyes will pick up the slack of its weak counterparts. “I was jealous when I saw you were on a date. Instead of figuring out why I was jealous, I lashed out. I’m not proud of what I did, but I looked too deeply into our text messages. I thought they meant something—”
“They did.”
He seems as if he wants to say more, but he can’t force the words out of his mouth. I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to take in all the details of his face I couldn’t absorb from a distance. He truly is the most handsome man I’ve seen.
I stop drinking in the creases I know turn into dimples when he murmurs, “I wasn’t on a date.”
You’d think my first emotion would be relief. It isn’t. Not even close. I’m too angry to be relieved. First, he accused me of being a gold digger—or even worse, a user—and now, he's lying to my face. He may not have looked at me while doing it, but he’s still lying nonetheless. I didn’t hear about his date via the grapevine. I saw it with my own two eyes.
With a snarl, I shuffle back to the passenger side to yank on the door handle. I’m at my boiling point, meaning I need some distance before I say something I’ll regret. My wish for air is so brutal, the rusted handle snaps off in my hand when I yank it with force.
“You stupid piece of shit!” Frustration bubbles in my chest when it dawns on me that I'm trapped in the truck with Noah and his stupidly handsome face. The door handle is broken, and I’m too weak to roll the freaking window down.
I sling my gaze back to Noah, my anger ramping up when I see his shit-eating grin. “Let. Me. Out.”
His gorgeous dimples become exposed when he smirks at the long breaths I take between words. “I’m not joking! Let me out of the fucking car!”
When his eyes spark with humor, I peg the door handle at his head. My teeth crunch when I miss my mark and hit him in the chest instead of his head. My whack is enough to settle the leering expression on his face, but it does little to elevate the smugness beaming out of him in invisible waves.
“Calm down first, then I’ll let you out.”
Huffing, I fold my arms under my chest. My anger triples when his eyes dart down to my breasts that are pushed up from my strengthened pose.
Nuh-uh. No way, Mister. You lost the privilege to gawk at my breasts when you lied.
I angle my body away from him, denying him the opportunity to look. He tries to hold in his disappointed groan, but I hear it rumbling in his chest, smell it overtaking the scent slicking his skin. He's as frustrated as me at the turn of events.
“I wasn’t on a date.” He exhales a big breath, hating that he’s giving in to the
tension firing between us. “Meg invited herself to sit with me.”
Hearing nothing but honesty in his tone, I crank my neck back to face him. We’ve only interacted in person a handful of times, but his eyes are as truthful as his words.
Noah adds wood to the fire I’m extinguishing. “She was pretty friendly, though.” I’m two seconds from returning his jealousy with a compliment about Isaac’s friendliness, but his next set of words steal my retaliation. “But I was too busy watching a sexy brunette in a little yellow dress dancing the night away to pay her any attention.”
When his lust-crammed eyes lower to my fluorescent yellow dress. I stare at him in shock. He wasn’t watching me, was he?
He puts my confusion to rest with a lusty grin. “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice my watchful eye. You did have the attention of every man in the room.”
My stomach gurgles when I tick off the facts he’s giving me. He wasn’t on a date at all, but instead of giving him the chance to explain, I turned into a hormonal cow who used Isaac to exact my revenge. I’m such an idiot.
I’m confident there’s no chance of acting on the inane sexual connection between us, so you can imagine my shock when Noah asks, “So I’ll ask you again, Emily, what do you want from me?”
The need in his voice has a light bulb switching on in my head. I wasn’t the only one acting jealous tonight—he was as well. That can only mean one thing: he wants this as badly as I do.
With my heart drumming against my ribcage, I crawl across the cracked vinyl seat. “I want you, Noah. I want you.”
Chapter 10
Noah
I don’t get a chance to register Emily’s declaration that she wants me before her tongue lashes my tightly shut lips. She glides it along the seam of my mouth, wordlessly requesting that I accept her kiss.
I’ve dreamed about tasting her pouty mouth since she busted me laughing at her family portrait, but can I do this? She doesn't know me. No one does—except Jacob. I have demons inside of me capable of taking us both down. Do I want to do that to Emily? Do I want to drag her to the depths of hell alongside me? Siding with me never ends well. It doesn’t matter who you are, or how strong you appear to be, I’m more toxic than arsenic.
