How Hard Can It Be? (16 page)
“He always has.” Joanne shook her head and reached for another Cecil-approved cookie.
After a quick meeting in which I scared the shit out of the ladies with my new Pirate Dave ideas, the gals left. Shoshanna and I buffed the fornicating statues and came up with the worst product placement list imaginable. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but that was my own fault . . . no, actually it was Jack’s. One more thing to add to my ever-expanding “I Hate Jack List.”
Chapter 16
A
t quitting time, Shoshanna and I walked out of Evangeline’s House of Tacky feeling tired, but good. I glanced across the street to my car and saw something that made my pulse race, my gut clench, and everything south of my belly button dance with joy.
t quitting time, Shoshanna and I walked out of Evangeline’s House of Tacky feeling tired, but good. I glanced across the street to my car and saw something that made my pulse race, my gut clench, and everything south of my belly button dance with joy.
It should piss me off. I should give it the finger, march to my car, and peel out. No, wait . . . first I’ll run over its toes and then I’ll peel out. Maybe I’ll just run it over and kill it . . .
“Holy hot guy almighty.” Shoshanna nudged me, almost knocking me to the ground. “Fine piece of man meat dead ahead. And it looks like he’s staring right at you.”
Jack was across the street leaning on his car. The very same car that had delivered me to the pokey last week. His arms were crossed and his head was cocked to the side. He had that crazy sexy half smirk on his face. His jeans were worn in just the way I like them and his black T-shirt, beneath his leather bomber, hugged his muscles perfectly. Those stupid fucking muscles that I had been up close and personal with only yesterday.
Oh my God, I think I’m in love . . . Whoa. Wait. I don’t even like him. At all. He’s a lying sack of shit . . . Wait, that’s not really fair. He’s not technically a liar, as far as I know. That’s my department, but he is an omitting sack of shit, and I do not date, screw, or hang out with sacks of shit. Dang it, why does he have to be so hot?
Oh my God, I think I’m in love . . . Whoa. Wait. I don’t even like him. At all. He’s a lying sack of shit . . . Wait, that’s not really fair. He’s not technically a liar, as far as I know. That’s my department, but he is an omitting sack of shit, and I do not date, screw, or hang out with sacks of shit. Dang it, why does he have to be so hot?
I stopped on Evangeline’s sidewalk, right under the cement boobs, and prepared for a stare-down. Shoshanna, never one to pick up on other people’s vibes, left me by the giant mammaries, crossed the street, and walked right up to Jack.
“Hi there, handsome,” she said. “I’m Shoshanna LeHump. And you would be?”
“Jack Careena.” He took Shoshanna’s outstretched little hand into his big one. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rena’s boyfriend.”
“No, you’re not,” I shouted from across the street.
“Yes, I am,” he yelled back.
“No. You’re. Not.” I stamped my foot and stuck out my tongue. Shit, shit, shit. That was so junior high.
“Yes. I. Am.”
“Alrighty then, I guess I’ll leave you two lovebirds to work out your misunderstanding,” Shoshanna laughed and shamelessly slapped Jack on the butt.
She turned and gave me the thumbs-up.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I insisted.
“Uh huh,” LeHump said with a grin, “good luck with that.” With a parting wink at the man meat, she hightailed it to her car, laughing all the way.
Thirty feet separated us. I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled. I wanted to smack him almost as badly as I wanted to jump his bones. Strangely, I thought he would enjoy both. He crooked the pointer finger on his right hand and beckoned me to him.
No way. I will not go to him. He’s an omitter. I will stand my ground . . . I will not jump when he says jump. If he wants to talk to me, he can get his ass over here . . . and beg, preferably on his knees.
He made noisy kissy lips and I giggled. He was nuts and he was mine. No, no, no, I had to lose that fantasy. He was not mine. He was just a cop with an awesome butt; they were a dime a dozen. I would walk to my car and I would leave, but I wanted to stay . . . Nope, I was gonna leave. Now.
Apparently while I argued with myself, like a schizophrenic, he crossed the street faster than the speed of light and stood inches from me. I looked up startled, and my traitorous inner slut squealed with delight. Just as the ho-bag trapped inside my body tried to wrap herself around his hot bod, I came to my senses. Taking three steps back, I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. They simply couldn’t be trusted.
“Did you have fun today?” Jack inquired warily, probably waiting for my umpteenth personality to emerge.
“Maybe,” I answered.
“You, um, seem kind of mad.”
“You think?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“Yep.” He grinned.
“You think that’s funny?” I yelled, itching to slap the smirk off his face.
“No. I think you’re sexy when you’re mad.”
“Oh.” What in the hell was I supposed to say to that?
“Rena, tell me why you’re mad. I don’t like this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. I wondered if he didn’t trust his hands either or if he was simply freezing. It was, after all, twenty-two degrees outside.
“You really don’t know?” I sputtered. How could he not know?
“I really don’t know.” He smiled and waited.
“You’re my neighbor,” I said, teeth chattering. Damn, it was cold out here.
“Yeah, and?”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘Yeah, and’? You never told me,” I said sharply.
“Are you serious?” He looked at me like I had two heads and laughed.
“As a heart attack,” I snapped. How could he think this was not a big deal? Was he a total douche? I was shaking like a leaf now. Part of it was the cold and part of it was my need to kick him in the nuts.
“Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me across the street to his car.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, ducking to avoid knocking my head on the door as he dumped me onto the passenger seat. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he copped a major feel of my butt before he went around to his own side.
“I’m ensuring neither of us gets frostbite. I have plans for you. You can’t die on me yet.” He grinned and ran his fingers across my trembling lips. “Now explain how my being your neighbor disqualifies me from being your boyfriend.”
“You didn’t tell me,” I huffed, playing with the buttons on the dash. Oh my God, he had seat warmers. That was so cool. I flicked it on and waited for my butt to get toasty. I could listen to any bullshit he wanted to spout as long as my rear end was warm.
“Well, I guess I assumed you knew. I was inside the building when I met your mom and Aunt Phyllis and I’d already met Kristy.”
“Oh.” The heat crawled up my neck. I prayed it wouldn’t reach my face.
“So that’s why you were ready to dump me?”
“Um, yeah.” I hung my head in embarrassment. His explanation made sense and my behavior did not. Shit. I supposed this was where he was going to dump me. Maybe I should explain myself further . . . “I thought you moved into my building to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit. And that you were looking for proof to arrest me and lock me away for the rest . . .” I petered off, realizing I sounded deranged. The look on his face indicated that maybe I should have stopped several sentences ago.
He threw his head back and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I moved into your building because it’s a great spot, and I was only subletting my old place. I didn’t know you lived there. I signed the lease a month ago and just haven’t had the time to move.” He was having a difficult time suppressing his laughter, and I was having a difficult time not dying of humiliation.
“Oh well,” I muttered, “sorry about all that. I’m just going to go and . . .” I reached for the handle and tried to get out. There was nothing more for me to say. I’d already shoved my foot so far into my mouth it was coming out of my toasty warm ass.
He leaned across me and pushed down the lock. He was so close . . . I wanted to bury my face in his neck and sink my fingers into his hair. I closed my eyes and waited for him to move. He didn’t. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, sending tingles down my spine and calling my lady bits out from their slumber.
“But, I thought . . .” I mumbled.
“Don’t think,” he chuckled. “Thinking gets you in trouble.” His breath tickled my cheek and his scent was making me crazy. “Moving into your building is the most fortuitous coincidence that has ever happened in my life.”
“Really?” I asked. I tried unsuccessfully to rip my eyes away from his mouth. It was a work of art and meant to be stared at, so I did.
“Really.” He brushed my lips with his. If I wasn’t already sitting, I’d be on the ground. “So here’s how it’s going to go down. We are dating. We will not sleep together until you trust me. I implore you to trust me soon, because keeping my hands off you is going to kill me.” He gave me a lopsided smile that made me dizzy.
“Can we still play kissy face?” I asked, moving in for the kill.
“Only if you beg.” His voice was husky and his eyes flashed with amusement.
“Please,” I begged, my lips inches from his mouth. “I want you to kiss me . . . please.”
“Oh God,” he moaned, claiming my lips and crushing me to him. Those were the last words either of us uttered for quite a while.
“Truth or dare?” I giggled, watching him through lowered lashes.
“Truth. I’m not sure I’m equipped for your dares.”
“Oh, you’re definitely equipped,” I purred, watching him squirm.
“If you’d like to find out for sure, just say the word,” he shot back. Now I was squirming and my inner slut was break-dancing in my panties. I stared at my hands and made an attempt to pull my mind out of the gutter. We were trying to take it slow. Good luck . . .
We ended up at the coffee shop next door to our building. We agreed our apartments were a bad idea. They both had beds in them . . . The coffee shop, on the other hand, had no beds. It was warm and cozy, filled with overstuffed chairs and mismatched antique tables. After a make-out session that had curled my toes and had me secretly naming all of our unborn children, we decided we needed to get to know each other better. Hence the question-and-answer session over hot drinks in neutral territory.
“Okay, truth,” I said, playing with the whipped cream on my hot chocolate. “Why did you become a cop?”
Jack took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, and the light sexy atmosphere we shared disappeared. He ran his hands through his hair and studied his coffee cup. “Both of my parents and my brother were killed by a drunk driver when I was twenty-one. I was in my senior year at college. Back then, I still didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do . . . I was kind of a fuckup. The guy who killed my family got off because of shoddy police work. He got to walk away and live his life . . . My mom and dad and brother didn’t get to do that. I thought about finding him and killing him myself, but I had an amazing person in my life who convinced me otherwise . . . So”—he looked up and gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—“I became a cop. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer like I did. Watching that son of a bitch walk out of the courtroom was the worst day of my life.”
“I am so sorry,” I whispered. Tears blurred my vision, and I felt an overwhelming need to comfort him.
“Me too,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but I miss them. So that’s why I’m a cop.” He smiled again and took my hand in his. This time it reached his eyes. I was falling hard for this beautiful man. “It’s your turn. Why did you go into accounting?”
“I like numbers,” I said shyly, wiping the tears from my eyes. Talking about accounting made me feel like the nerd I truly am, but if we were going to be honest, he might as well see the real me. “I adore math, and logic and number puzzles . . . Although, I don’t fit in well at my office.” I grinned. “Number nerds tend to be upset by foul language.”
“I’ve never heard a bad word cross your lips,” he deadpanned and I punched him in the arm. “Have you ever thought about going out on your own?”
“I have”—I nodded—“but that takes money and contacts. Neither of which I have.”
“How is it that you’re able to do this bizarre writing gig with your regular job?”
“I have three weeks of vacation,” I muttered, hoping he’d drop it.
“But you’re getting paid,” he pointed out.
“Um hmm.” If he only knew the half of it . . . I wanted to tell him the whole story, but at this point it wasn’t my story to tell. I could destroy the lives of four lovely old ladies, my roommate, and my dad if I talked. Not to mention I could end up in jail for grand larceny. Shit.
“I really like this honest stuff,” Jack said, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.
“Me too.” In a moment of sickening clarity, I realized I had become the omitter. The sin I’d been willing to break up with him over. I felt a little better by promising myself I’d be able to tell him the whole story soon. Right after I figured out how to save everyone and destroy the Viper Bitch.
“Back to the subject of me being your boyfriend . . .”
“I didn’t realize that had been a topic of conversation,” I replied dryly.
“Oh, but it is. A very important one.”
“Please, do go ahead. I’m all ears.” I grinned.
“Well, since I am your boyfriend. Your only boyfriend . . .” He stopped and waited. Rolling my eyes, I nodded in agreement. “I want you to know I’m going out of town for a few days.”
“Why?” Maybe he was going to Iceland.
“Remember I said there was an amazing person who stopped me from doing something that would have ruined my life?” I nodded and he continued. “It’s my grandpa. He lives in Wisconsin, and he’s having gallbladder surgery tomorrow.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
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