On His Turf (8 page)

To emphasize his point he thrusts his erection against my back as his teeth clamp down on my ear. “This has gone way past fun and games. I want you and I’m not giving up,” he breathes into my ear. “If I have to fight every man on this dance floor I will do just that before I see you in anyone else’s arms.”

His words make my whole body spasm and the only response I can muster is a whimper.

“I know you’re freaked out but don’t be. I’ve got you,” he says, letting go of my earlobe. “Now get your ass over to my table. The guys will grab Matt.”

And I don’t know why I do but I let him lead me back to the booth. It’s probably because his words seem to have reduced my brain to a pile of mush. He sits me down at the table and hands me a clear drink. I take a sip and my eyes burn at the strong taste of vodka.

“If you’re going to get drunk I need to be able to watch you,” he explains as he sits down beside me and presses his large thigh against my smaller one.

Marco returns with Matty and both of them are holding shot glasses in their hands. I glare at Matty who looks like he’s having the time of his life. Leigh wanders over from the next table where she’s been sitting with the suits. Her hair is mussed and her lipstick smudged and all of the sudden I don’t feel much like drinking anymore. I set the glass down and lean back against the seat. Leigh plops down on Marco’s lap and he doesn’t seem to mind but I can tell that she’s getting sloppy. Matty’s bright, unfocused eyes tell me he’s not far behind her and Shane is talking to a pretty girl sitting on his left. Seeing him leaned over and nodding at her words makes an unfamiliar feeling flare up in my stomach and I have the sudden urge to pick my drink back up and dump it all over her head. I close my eyes and all at once the cacophony of voices and stench of sweat and liquor hit me and I want to be anywhere but here. I let me head fall back and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to block it all out. I don’t open my eyes again until I feel a hand caress my cheek and when I do I find Shane’s mouth mere inches from mine.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks in a low voice.

“More than anything,” I whisper back. Without pause he takes my hands and lifts me off the leather couch before setting me on to my feet. “But I should tell my friends that I’m leaving,” I add.

“Let them be; they are having fun. Marco and the boys will make sure they get home safely,” he answers, his eyes never leaving mine.

I find myself trusting his word as I let him lead me through the crowd that’s twice as thick as when we first arrived. When we get outside I take a deep breath and raise my arm to signal a taxi but he tugs it back down and kisses my knuckles. “I’m driving,” he says and I shake my head no. “I’m fine, Carmelina. I haven’t had a drop. I’m in training.”

I laugh and give him a look but then I realize he’s serious. “Then why come to a club?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Why is standing right in front of me. Do you even own a mirror, babe?” His eyes roam over my face and down the length of my body as he speaks. “It’s taking every ounce of my restraint not to throw you in the back of my car and tear that dress off of you.”

“Oh,” I say, a little breathlessly.

“I told you once before that you’re playing with fire when you wear little things like that around me.” He places a strong hand on my lower back in a claiming gesture and walks me down the block to his truck, which happens to be a huge midnight black Ford F150 Crew Cab. It just screams Texas boy and I giggle.

“What’s funny?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

“I just kind of figured you for a fancy foreign car kind of guy.”

“No self-respecting Texan would drive that shit. Trucks all the way, babe - the bigger the better.”

“I agree, bigger is definitely better,” I say, biting my bottom lip teasingly and he releases a surprised grunt. I know I’m flirting but I can’t help myself. As he opens the passenger door and helps me in his fingers linger a little too long on my ass. I swat his hand away, earning me a groan.

“Yours is the kind of ass men dream about.”

“You are so crass sometimes,” I pout but I’m secretly flattered since it’s the one part of my body no amount of time at the gym can change. He walks around to the driver’s seat and hops in. Once inside he checks to see if I’m belted in which I find kind of cute.

“You hungry?” he asks and as if on cue my stomach rumbles.

“Actually I am since I skipped dinner.”

He gives me a look and places a hand on the back of my headrest as he throws the truck into reverse. “Where to?”

“There’s a great place right around the corner from my house that’s open late,” I suggest and he quickly agrees. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Shoot,” he says, nodding.

“Why did you drive to the club if you live downtown? Your place is probably a five minute walk from Terminal,” I ask and his lips twitch.

“Thought you might need a ride.”

“Hmm,” I say, noncommittally. It’s actually pretty thoughtful of him but also a bit presumptuous so I don’t know what to make of it. The car is silent as he merges on to the interstate and I think I surprise myself with my next words.

“That was sweet,” I say and he looks at me strangely.

“Well, I’m a sweet guy.”

“Really?” I squint at him and he laughs.

“No, not usually.”

He switches on a country station and we ride the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. When we get close I give him directions to El Guapos. The restaurant is in a poorly-lit industrial area but it’s still packed even at this time of night. He finds a parking spot at the back of the building and looks around like he’s a little sketched out by the place so I take the lead and open my door.

“Come on, pretty boy. They have hamburgers too, I promise.”

“Pretty boy?” he repeats, shaking his head.

We walk inside and I wave hello to the head waitress Ronnie as I lead him to my booth at the back. I let out a little cheer when I see that it’s free and slide across the ripped vinyl to pick up one of the menus that’s been left on the table.

“I wasn’t kidding about the burgers. They are world class here,” I add in an attempt to put him at ease.

“You come here alone?” he asks, flipping over the menu to read the other side.

“With Matty mostly. I love this place,” I sigh.

“You walk or drive?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” He rests his elbows on the table and stares at me.

“My place isn’t that close so I drive.”

“Good,” he says, sounding relieved. Ronnie comes over to take our orders and Shane goes for a chicken burger with no sauce and a side salad while I opt for the street tacos. She returns with two glasses of water and I start to almost salivate at the thought of food. I didn’t realize until we walked in how hungry I am. Shane takes a big sip of his water before speaking.

“So tell me about Matty - you two seem close. Is he like your cousin or something?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“No, he’s not my cousin. Matty is my best friend and he’s been there through all of the good and the bad,” I explain.

“What bad, babe?”

“You don’t need a sob story,” I force a laugh.

“Maybe I want one.” He’s looking at me carefully - like he can see right through me - and I doubt that he’s going to let it go so I relent.

“I like to remind myself regularly that I am where I am today because of the life I had not in spite of it and that someone, somewhere always has it worse.”

“That doesn’t make your bad any less important,” he says seriously. The sincerity in his voice and the depth of his comment both surprise me and just like that I’m opening up to him.

“My mother is…troubled. My dad left us when I was just a baby and she never let me forget it. She blames me I guess but in a way I think she blames herself more which is probably why she drinks so much.” I take a breath and continue.

“I don’t remember much about the first years of my life but I met Matty in kindergarten when we learned we lived next door to one another. My mother would have these all-night parties with music so loud my walls would shake. I remember all the voices and noises and strange smells. It would scare me so much that I’d cry myself to sleep most nights. I guess one night he heard me and climbed in through my window. He hugged me all night until I fell asleep. As we got older and the parties continued the same ‘friends’ who used to ignore me started paying more attention to me. A few of them started being too friendly - bringing me candy and stuffed animals and asking me to sit on their knee. When Matty saw what was happening he did everything he could to take care of me. He climbed through my window almost every night until we graduated and could finally move out on our own.”

As I speak I watch his hands clench and unclench on the table top like he’s itching to hit something.

“I guess I owe him a thank you then.”

“You don’t but I do. That’s the thing about Matty - his home situation was so much worse than mine yet he made it his mission to let me sleep soundly night after night. I often wonder how much sleep he ever got watching the door and worrying about those men,” I say, staring at the table unable to meet his eyes.

“Your mom should have protected you,” he says vehemently.

“No argument here. My mother should have done a lot of things…and now she’s my burden to carry,” I say shortly, thinking that this conversation has gotten a little too personal.

“A mother should never be a burden,” he says.

“Maybe so, but it is what it is.”

Our meals arrive and we both dig in, barely coming up for air. When I finish my tacos I lean back and he lets his fork clatter to the plate, signaling that he’s also done.

“Now that we are stuffed and you know all about me you can fill me in on you,” I ask and he averts his eyes.

“We can save that for another day.”

His last words intrigue me because it’s clear that he doesn’t want to talk about his family. One look at him would suggest that he probably grew up with money and was probably the star quarterback or prom king with the cookie-cutter perfect life. But as I’ve learned that’s the problem with judging someone on the spot - you’re almost always wrong.

“It’s two in the morning and I’m about ready to go. You?” he says, glancing at his watch.

I look down at my plate and nod, feeling strangely a little deflated that our night is coming to an end. I shake off the thought as I run my hands through my hair and stretch out. When I look at him again he’s watching me with an intensity that I can’t even name and the energy between us is palpable.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says in a strained voice and I suck in a surprised breath. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says to me but it’s the way that he speaks that has me near-panting for him. Ronnie appears with the bill and Shane scoops it up, shoving away the money that I try to put down.

“You’re not paying.”

“I am,” I say as I lunge for the bill.

“As long as I have a set of balls you’re not so get used to it,” he says firmly and I exhale a frustrated breath. I get up and follow him to the car and he helps me in again, lingering even longer this time on my ass. I give him directions to my place and he pulls into the parking lot and switches off the ignition.

“This is where you live?” he says in disbelief and I immediately go on the defensive.

“I’m sorry it’s not a loft with a view of Ladybird - forgive me,” I snap back as I unbuckle my belt and jump down from the cab. He runs around the other side and captures me in his arms.

“I forget what a little kitten you are - you get your back up so easily. I didn’t mean anything by it other than the fact that the parking lot lighting is shit and the tree cover is thick. It just doesn’t seem like a safe place for a girl like you to be walking around,” he explains.

“A girl like me!” I shove him away and I think I hear him mumble under his breath, “so help me Lord.”

“A girl like me?” I say again.

“Yes. A beautiful, young girl who probably weighs about nothing and couldn’t do a damn thing to defend herself against a rapist or a robber,” he says vehemently and I look over his shoulder as a light on the first floor flicks on. He’s yelling loud enough that he’s waking people up and despite what he thinks about my building my nosy neighbors will be the first ones to call the cops.

“Thank you for the ride home but I think this is my cue to go.” I step around him and the gravel crunches beneath my feet as I race toward my building. I can hear the gravel crunching behind me as he follows so I whirl around to unleash on him.

“As I said, thanks again for the ride and for listening to me at dinner. You’ve been sweet tonight but it ends here. I don’t need you to walk me five hundred yards to my crappy apartment!” I whisper-shout but he just shrugs.

“It’s not really up for discussion.”

I stomp up the two flights of stairs and I can hear him following behind. When I reach my door I dig my keys out and stick them in the lock.

“Your place is accessible from the outside?” Shane says, clearly referring to the motel-style set up of the building. I glance at him sideways only to see a horrified expression on his face. “There’s no fob to let you in or front desk security? And your lock - you don’t even have a deadbolt. My skinny nineteen year old brothers could kick open this door!”

“Well good for them,” I say in an exasperated voice as I open the door a sliver and step inside. I don’t invite him in but I should know by now that Shane Mitchell does what he wants when he wants. He pushes the door the rest of the way open and follows me inside before slamming it behind him.

I switch on the side table lamp, illuminating my small but cozy apartment. I glance around at the refurbished coffee table and my DIY side lamps that I spray-painted antique white and unwittingly I start to feel a little self-conscious. I mean, I’ve done my best with the hand-stitched throw pillows, damask mirrors and fresh cut flowers but most of it is second-hand and I know it doesn’t compare to how new and sleek his place is. I sigh and flop down on the worn floral sofa and he slips off his shoes and joins me. He rests his head back on one of the overstuffed cushions and chuckles.