Evan (Novella): 3.5 (A Carter Brother Series) (9 page)

My hands reach for her jumper and I slowly pull away when I start to lift it up her body. She’s shaking and I can see goosebumps breaking out all over her skin and chest.

The second her jumper hits the floor my mouth reaches for hers again in a heated, passionate kiss.

I’m about to grab my own t-shirt that is damp from walking across to Lexi’s and back when Imogen starts crying. I groan into the kiss hoping she’ll stop, but when her cries get louder I push away from Kennedy feeling frustrated as fuck. I’ve never wanted to be inside a woman as much as I do her.

“I think my daughter is cock blocking me,’’ I moan.

Kennedy laughs, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen. She reaches down for her jumper and I try to stop her from putting it back on.

“I’ll go settle her down.’’

She giggles looking down at my crotch. “Um. I think
you
should settle down first.’’ With that she walks down the hall towards Imogen’s nursery, still chuckling.

Little minx.

Waiting tables was the last thing I wanted to do when I woke up this morning. Especially since I could be at home with Imogen and Evan, but my time off, including Evan’s, had come to an end.

Spending so much time together over the past week has brought all three of us closer together. I know Imogen is too young to realise anything has changed but even she has grown attached to everything that is Evan.

Already Evan has picked up on what Imogen’s tells are, what her likes and dislikes are and how to settle her down. They’ve bonded in the way I had hoped they would. I shouldn’t have been worried.

Evan and I have also gotten to know each other on a deeper level. We talked about our pasts, our families and growing up. We talked about our likes and dislikes and have grown closer over the week. It feels like we’ve known each other a lot longer and he even admitted I knew more about him than any of his friends.

Thinking of Evan, his body and his personality, reminds me just how lucky I am to have him in my life. Never in a million years would I have thought a man like him would ever look twice at me. But for some reason he has. I’ll never understand it and, if I’m honest, I don’t quite believe it, but for some reason I know I’ll live with it. He’s everything a girl could wish for in a bloke.

Evan is the first man I’ve ever lived with intimately and it’s taken a lot to get used to it. Not in the way you may think. I guess I’m used to my privacy, my own space. When I got an upset stomach from the dinner I thought he cooked, but instead he ordered in, I had been in so much pain that I knew I needed to go to the toilet. I’d been completely mortified. I don’t know about anyone else but that’s the worst part of a relationship for me. But it shows how comfortable I am with him because I excused myself and did my business. Mind you, I’ve only been in that situation once before and it was when I was round my ex-boyfriend’s house. I had caught a stomach bug and desperately needed the toilet. Even though we had been dating for over a year I still didn’t feel comfortable enough to go to the toilet around him, so I ended up leaving in a hurry to get home.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t feel unwelcome, I feel comfortable. I know he wouldn’t act immature and make an issue or a scene just to embarrass me. It’s not like women don’t go to the toilet, it’s just not very lady-like or seductive. The other part is that I don’t mind going through stuff when I clean, or making myself at home. In fact, we seem to pretty much work together like we’ve been doing it for twenty years.

The only things I’ve still not gotten used to is having to put the toilet seat back down when he’s left it up. It’s not good going to the toilet early hours of the morning, half asleep, only to fall into it because he forgot to put the toilet seat down.

The other major one is his idea of cleaning. He shoves things in cupboards without a care in the world, he never polishes and I’m pretty sure he didn’t know he had a hoover. Biggest pet peeve though is spending hours ironing his clothes, for him to just throw them into his wardrobe, not bothering to hang them up or fold them away in his drawers? We had words about this one. It went pretty much how I thought it would. He kissed me making me forget what we were talking about in the first place.

But the one thing I’ve found the hardest to get used to is sharing a bed. Even though we’ve done nothing sexually, the tension is there and it’s suffocating. I’ve been finding it hard to sleep because of it, but there are also other reasons. The main reason is because I like to sleep in the middle. I’m used to sleeping like a starfish, not caring if my mouth is hanging open or if I’m drooling in my sleep. Now, I have to give up the middle of the bed and I’m constantly trying to cover my mouth with the blanket just in case I accidentally move it away and have my mouth hanging open like a goon.

Hey, it happens.

“Order up,’’ Howard shouts from the kitchen, snapping me from my thoughts. I rush through with the drinks I was just filling to a table before moving over to the hotplate stand. I rip off the table number and groan when I find the food’s for table four. Three men walked in over an hour ago now and have only just ordered food. When they first arrived something in the air shifted. I’m not usually one to judge but the three men looked like serious trouble. And you know what they say; if it smells like trouble, looks like trouble, then it most likely is trouble, and these three men were definitely trouble. It’s like they’re waiting for something or someone and it unnerves me, especially when I’ve found the biggest one of the three staring at me more than once. Each and every time I’ve felt his eyes on me a cold shiver has ran down my back.

If they’re here to deal drugs to someone then they’ll be extremely disappointed. Mark, co-owner of Molly’s, used to be a copper. He still takes the term ‘serve and protect’ seriously, even if he is retired. He won’t stand for... you know...mess like that going on in his cafe.

Thankfully I get off in a couple of hours and won’t have to worry about them. I’ve been dead on my feet since nine this morning. It’s now five in the evening and I’ll have to pick up Imogen from Melanie’s soon. With the weather being so bad her day care had called me this morning telling me they were closed for the day. Apparently most of their staff travel from a small village half an hour away and it’s all flooded. They apologised profusely and explained it was too short notice to get any substitute teachers in to cover for them.                            

“Can I get you anything else?’’ I ask as I drop the three plates down, trying not to curse. I usually only carry two plates at a time, but because I didn’t want to hang around them any longer than necessary, I placed one of the plates along my arm, and the hot plate has burnt my pale skin, leaving an angry red mark.

“Yeah, how about your number?’’ the biggest of the three laughs slapping my ass. I squeal, jumping away and sending him a glare, even though my heart is thumping in my chest.

“If that’s all, I’ll leave you to your food,’’ I snap, not caring if I get into trouble. I don’t deserve to be harassed.
Customers are always right
my butt.

“Hey, not so fast. How about you join us?’’ the smaller of the three winks making me cringe.

“No, thank you,’’ I tell him sternly before walking off. On my way back to the counter I drop off some extra napkins to a family when I hear the three men saying something crude about my behind.

“Yo, Kennedy, you got a call,’’ a loud booming voice shouts across the restaurant. I jump where I’m standing before looking over to find Molly waving the phone in the air. I walk over taking the phone off him, giving him a smug smile.

He’s always complaining no one ever calls him. Any time the phone rings it’s either for bookings or for one of the other staff working. Granted, I’ve only ever been called a few times due to emergencies, one of them being my sister being found dead. So having a call has the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Nothing good ever comes from having a phone call at work.

“Hello?’’

“Kennedy?’’

“Melanie? Is that you? Is Imogen okay?’’ I ask panicked, a horrible feeling sinking in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah, she’s fine. I went over to your place to get her lullaby pen to settle her down a little. She’s been grumpy all afternoon. I think it’s her teeth again. But when I went over,’’ she says pausing, as if she’s debating whether to tell me or not.

“What is it, just tell me?’’ I tell her needing her to just hit me with it. Whatever it is I can handle it. Nothing could be worse than what happened to me last week or the threat on Imogen’s life.

“Your place is completely trashed. I’m sorry, honey.’’

I gasp down the phone, tears filling my eyes. Not wanting to cry until I know how much damage there is I straighten up, not wanting to break down at work. But no matter how much I try the lump in my throat grows. All I can think about is how much money it will cost. No matter how many hours at work I do, I’ll never be able to replace everything in my flat. I’m already lucky to have what I do in there. It’s not much, but I bought it all with hard earned money. Now it looks like I’ll have to do it all over again. I can’t expect Evan to support me and Imogen forever. The guy won’t even let me buy food for honey’s sake. If he finds out about this I know he’ll demand to replace it all and I can’t...no, won’t have that. I don’t need a man to look after me. Okay, that’s a half lie. I may not need a man to look after me, but I do want Evan to care for me.

“Let me talk to Mo. I’m going to try get over there as soon as possible. It’s pretty busy in here today.’’ It’s not a lie either. My feet are killing me from being on them all day and after having the week off doing hardly anything, they’re not used to being on the go so much. I guess a week off really does do wonders to a person.

“Do you want me to call the police?’’

I think it over for a second before answering her. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the flat. I know they’ll never catch anyone or pay for it to be replaced, but still, it was home. “Let me come assess the damage, otherwise I’ll never get in there if the police are involved. I’ll call Evan on the way over, see what he says.’’

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll just see if her pen is usable before I lock up behind me. Be careful on the roads, the weather’s getting worse out there. Earlier I thought the window was going to smash it was raining that hard.’’

“I will,’’ I laugh. “See you in a bit,’’ I tell her. I wait for her to say goodbye but the line goes dead. Thinking it must have been cut off by the weather I make my way over to the kitchen to Mo.

“Mo?’’ I call when I reach the kitchen. He gives me a look that says
I know what you want
. I give him a wide smile, knowing he can’t resist or say no to me.

Mo is a large loveable man and without him I would never have been able to raise Imogen on my own, especially without having to depend on government support. He made sure to be fair when it came to my hours and always, always, lets me take my own tips home. The rest of the staff put theirs in a pot and at the end of each month it’s shared out equally. I tried to refuse, not wanting to be singled out, but because all the other staff members are either old or have no family, they said it was only fair. They even give me a percentage of their tips if my own tips are low at the end of each week.

“Go. Do whatever you gotta do, but girl, you owe me hours. God, you’re a pain in my ass,’’ he scolds holding up a spatula.

“Okay, and you love me really,’’ I giggle.

“Get gone,’’ he shouts, his lips twitching.

Giggling, I move into the staffroom to grab my keys and coat out of my locker. For once, I’m thankful I have my piece of poop car. Evan had taken me to get it this morning when he came with me to drop Imogen off with Melanie.

Remembering this morning when we dropped Imogen off brings me back to Evan leaving for work. He found it hard to leave Imogen, it was cute. A few times he even contemplated calling in and just staying at home with Imogen. He even tried to bribe me to call in sick, but I knew I couldn’t afford any more time off. I didn’t say that to him, though. I don’t want him to know how hard I struggle. He probably has an idea already, but I don’t want to wave the poor flag in front of his face. I keep forgetting he has seen this mess I live in. No one with money would choose to live there.

I wave goodbye as I leave, walking back through the kitchen. I’d parked my car out the back today, not wanting to have to park miles down the road like I normally have to.

Running through the rain over to where my car is parked I end up soaked. The rain is coming down heavier and I start to feel worried about driving in it. My flat is only fifteen minutes tops drive away, but in this weather, I’d be lucky if I get there in thirty. My car isn’t the best to handle and the wind isn’t exactly on my side tonight either.

Shivering, I start up the car, turning the heater on full blast. When cold wind blows through the air vents I shiver uncontrollably. I really should start saving for a new car. I sit for a few more minutes waiting for the heater to warm up.

When it’s warm enough I reverse out of my spot with ease. The roads are slick as I pull out onto the main road. There aren’t many cars around which eases my worry about driving. I’m not at all surprised that no one is out driving in this. You’d have to be insane. Like me.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket I dial Evan’s number to update him on what’s going on. Evan seems like a man who would get pissed if I didn’t tell him about something as important as this. The phone rings and rings and I let it ring to voicemail before ending the call. Deciding to leave it for a few more minutes, I put on the radio to distract me from the disaster I’m about to walk into.

My only concern about turning up at my flat is that I’ll find out it has something to do with Damon. Maybe he knows I’m not living there at the moment and smashed it up. In reality it could just be some punk kids who live in the same block of flats as me that have noticed I’m not there and have decided to see what they could rob. I’m praying for the latter, but no matter how much I tell myself that it’s just a bunch of kids, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach is telling me it’s Damon, and I need to be prepared for what’s to come.

Dialling Evan again, I wait for him to answer, but it rings straight to voicemail. This time I decide to leave a message hoping he’ll listen to it before I arrive at the flat.