Deep Down (Lockhart Brothers #1) (21 page)

“Oh, shit,” I said in a rush. “Come here.”

I grabbed a towel from the sink and wrapped it around her bleeding thumb. There was so much blood I couldn’t even see the cut.

“You okay?” I asked. “Lightheaded?”

She shook her head. “It hurts, but I’m okay. It just won’t stop bleeding.”

“I’ll keep pressure on it.”

I squeezed both of my hands around the towel and raised her hand up in the air.

“I think we’re supposed to keep the wound higher than your heart,” I said. “I remember something like that from first aid training.”

I hadn’t dried off before opening the door, and now my wet chest was soaking through to her breasts. I stepped back to keep from getting her wet and felt the towel around my waist start to slide.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Can you grab my towel? It’s falling off.”

She gasped and reached for my hip with her free hand. “This side? I can’t see past our arms.”

“No, other side.”

I backed against the sink to hold the towel up. Ivy grabbed one corner and held it in front of me. We were a tangled mess of arms and wet body parts.

Both of us were silently avoiding eye contact until Ivy giggled and broke the tension.

“Only I, the queen of all klutzes, could pull this one off,” she said.

“If you wanted to see the goods, you could’ve just told me. You didn’t need to cut yourself to get in here.”

“Funny.”

“Have you got my towel?”

“As long as you don’t move.”

I lowered her hand and unwrapped it, able to see the gash in her thumb. Blood started to pour out of the cut again, so I wrapped the towel tightly around it again.

“You hold onto your towel for a few seconds so I can fix mine,” I said. “Then we’ll go into the kitchen and I’ll wrap this cut up with gauze and bandages.”

“I bled on the potatoes,” she said apologetically.

“That’s okay. I’m part vampire.” I lowered her hand and met her eyes. “You ready?”

She nodded and I let go of her towel. I reached for the one around my waist and secured it tightly in a couple of seconds.

“Alright,” I said, returning my hand to her towel. “To the kitchen.”

I put my other hand on her back and led her there, where I washed the cut, dried it and put antibiotic on it before wrapping it with a thick layer of gauze, then securing it with tape.

“Tell me if it bleeds through, okay?” I said. “Just relax and let me finish dinner.”

She watched me finish peeling the potatoes and add them to the boiling water on the stove, still wearing nothing but the towel around my waist. I’d sautéed the asparagus and put the steaks under the broiler before she finally spoke.

“You aren’t the kind of person who says I told you so.”

I made a face. “The world’s got enough of those people, don’t you think?”

“I do. But still, thanks.”

“I’m gonna go throw some clothes on,” I said. “We’ll be eating in ten minutes.”

I put on boxers, jeans and a t-shirt and ran a towel over my hair to dry it. When I got back to the kitchen, Ivy was leaning against the counter. Her bandaged thumb and expression of measured happiness made her look vulnerable. I wanted her to feel completely safe with me, but it I knew would take time.

“Hungry?” I asked, filling two glasses with water.

“Yes. Boxing works up an appetite. I had fun, though. I’d love to do it again.”

“Anytime.”

We sat down to eat and even though I was starving, I watched Ivy, waiting for her to taste the first bite. I was eager to see if she liked it.

She held the fork awkwardly due to her heavily-bandaged thumb. After a couple unsuccessful attempts to gracefully get a bite of potatoes to her mouth, she set the fork down and sighed.

“Want some help?” I asked, trying not to smile.

“Can you make me left-handed?”

“No, but I can feed you.”

Her cheeks flushed. “That’s okay, it’ll just take me a little longer.”

She ate slowly and we talked about work and Noah while we sat there. After we were done, I stacked the dishes in the sink, saving them for later.

Ivy was playing with Snoop, but she stood up from scratching his back when I approached. I cupped her cheeks in my hands and went in for the kiss I’d been waiting for all week.

She kissed me back, her tongue brushing across mine. Her sweet coconut smell made it hard to hold back. I wanted more of her. When I kissed her deeper and she gripped my back, I wondered if I’d ever be able to get enough.

I slid my hand from the back of her neck under the collar of her t-shirt to her shoulder, wrapping my palm around the slight lines of it. She moaned softly and I ran my other hand up past the bottom of her shirt to the warm skin of her waistline.

Ivy had never been touched by a man in the right way. I could tell by the way she jumped slightly before melting into me every time my hands wandered someplace new. I wanted to lay her down on my bed and spend hours slowly exploring every inch of her. Her sighs and moans made my cock ache for more.

It was too soon for us to sleep together, so I couldn’t take her into my bedroom. I walked her over to the couch and put my hand on her back, easing her onto it. The glimpse I caught of her from above took my breath away. Her cheeks were pink and her chest rose and fell as she looked at me, arousal pooling in her bright blue eyes.

I’d wanted her since the moment I saw her, and I finally gave in to the primal urge she brought out of me. I took her hands and put them on the armrest of the couch, holding them as I laid on top of her and kissed the soft skin of her neck.

Her body stiffened beneath mine.

“No, Reed,” she said, sounding panicked. “Stop.
Please.
”

I scrambled off her in a rush, my head swimming with confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She stood and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.” She straightened out her clothes and smoothed a hand over her hair. “No. I’m not okay.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“It’s not you,” she said, her eyes dark with sadness. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been
not okay
for a while now. Since before I even met you.”

Her gaze darted around the apartment like she was looking for something.

“Was it me being on top of you? Is that what upset you?”

“Where’s my purse?” She went to the kitchen in search of it.

“Ivy.” I followed her. “Are you leaving?”

“I need to go.”

Her eyes had a frantic look now, like a trapped animal desperate to escape.

“Did someone hurt you?” I wanted to walk the few steps separating us and take her in my arms, but I forced myself to stay rooted in place. I didn’t want to scare her again.

“Where’s my purse?”

Tears glistened in her eyes and I felt a surge of emotions. Seeing her hurt made me feel helpless. Knowing I’d scared her made me feel like an epic asshole. And realizing someone had given her a reason to fear men this way filled me with a rage that ran hot in my veins.

“It’s on the table in the living room,” I said.

She practically ran there, grabbing her purse and the sweatshirt she’d left next to it. Within a second, she was out the door, her feet pounding down the stairs in a rush.

I wanted to follow her. It was all I could do not to run after her and tell her I’d drive her home. I didn’t want her to be alone while she was so upset, but she needed to escape, and I had to respect that. She needed to escape
me,
which hurt like hell.

The terror in her voice when she’d told me to stop replayed in my mind over and over. The night had gone from one of the best I’d ever had to one of the worst in a matter of minutes.

AFTER LEAVING REED’S APARTMENT
in a panic, I’d practically run over to Margie and Gene’s. I’d only gotten a few nosy questions from Margie about my date with Reed before I said good night and went to curl up in bed with Noah.

She knew something was wrong, which was why she didn’t press me. After we left Margie and Gene’s Saturday morning, Noah and I spent the rest of the weekend playing trains and cleaning the apartment. And I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened on Friday night.

Going back to work Monday morning was good for me. The hustle and bustle of the diner kept my mind off things with Reed.

Margie and I stood together behind the counter at the diner, her stocking a pie case and me starting a fresh pot of coffee. I groaned when two brunette customers walked in and sat down at one of my tables.

“What?” Margie asked.

“Those two at Table Twelve. They’re complete bitches to me every time they come in and they always tip me a penny.”

Margie turned to look and then gave a ‘hmm’ of recognition. “Well, no wonder. You know who that taller one is, don’t you?”

“No.”

“That’s Julie Marsh. Tom Marsh’s wife.”

“Great,” I muttered. “She probably blames me for him getting suspended from his job.”

“She ought to blame
him.
” Margie stacked her tray with plates of food. “I’ll take Table Twelve.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but thanks.”

I considered making them wait, but decided to get this over with instead. The brunettes were both glaring at me when I approached their table.

“Can I start you off with some drinks?”

“I dropped something, can you get it for me?” Julie Marsh asked, eyes wide and innocent.

I bent to look under the table. “There’s nothing but a used Kleenex under there.”

“That’s it. Get that for me, will you?”

I stood upright and shook my head. “Sorry, no. Can I get you guys some drinks?”

“You’re my server, aren’t you?” Julie asked in a nasty tone.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“So serve me.”

I laughed. “My duties stop at serving the food you order. Look, I have other customers. Would you like drinks or not?”

“I’d like to talk to your manager.”

“Margie? Sure. She’s the one who told your husband not to come back in here. She’ll be glad to talk to you.”

I turned to get Margie, stopping after just a couple steps when I heard Julie say a single word.

“Slut.”

“Excuse me?” I faced her.

“You heard me. I said you’re a slut.”

I eyed her trashy outfit and bit back a comment.

“We have kids, you know.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And my husband’s gonna lose his job because of the scene you made. Don’t prance around in here shaking your ass if you don’t want men to look at it.”

“Your husband did more than look.”

She stood up and pointed at me, her face reddening with anger. “You’re a whore. Stay away from my husband.”

Something inside me snapped. Being called a whore and a slut when I was pregnant had cut me deep. I’d left that shame behind, and being labeled those things in Lovely was more than I could stand.

I grabbed an empty plate from a vacant table and held it high, throwing it to the floor with all my strength. It shattered into bits against the tile, silencing the diner.

“I am
not
a whore!” I yelled at Julie. “You don’t even know me. How dare you call me that?”

Margie was behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“You two need to go,” she said to Julie and her friend. “Don’t come back.”

All eyes in the diner were on me as Margie led me into the kitchen. Once we were safely there, I broke down in Margie’s arms.

“I’m so sorry,” I said tearfully.

“No apology needed, Ivy. I know how stressed out this whole thing with Tom has you. Julie had no right coming in here and treating you that way.”

My body sagged weakly against hers. It wasn’t Tom that was upsetting me. It was the way I’d treated Reed the other night and the anger I still felt over the letter from my father.

Gene put a hand on my back. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, Ivy?”

“No,” I pulled away from Margie and wiped my palms over my face to dry it. “I’m okay.”

“Take a few hours for yourself,” Margie said. “We’ve got things covered.”

“Would it be okay if I work back here for the rest of my shift? I can rotate stock and get the dishes done. I could use a break from customers.”

“Of course,” Margie said. “But you need to eat some lunch first.”