Poser (20 page)

Read Poser Online

Authors: Cambria Hebert

Tags: #Hashtag

BOOK: Poser
11.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

It was dark out when I walked her to the door. Her little white hatchback that all the guys hated was parked at the curb a couple shops down. The sidewalk was lit up, but I still stepped outside while she walked to the car.

Leaving her alone out there in the dark stirred a queasy feeling in my stomach. Once she pulled out onto the road and waved, I turned to go back inside.

As I turned, something caught my attention down the street. The shop right beside us was closed so the windows were dark, but the one on the other side was still open. Light spilled from the windows across the sidewalk.

I thought I’d seen someone standing there, just inside the dark section, right in front of the light.

I blinked and looked again.

I must have been wrong; nothing was there.

You are totally losing it.

The doorbell jingling startled me. I jumped, pressing a hand to my pounding heart, and then laughed at my ridiculousness.

I rushed back into the shop to greet the customer. “Hey! How can I help you?”

No one was there.

The boutique was empty, exactly as I left it.

Hadn’t I just heard the bell?

No one was walking out when I turned. That must have meant they were going in.

Maybe they were in the bathroom. Or the dressing rooms.

I passed by the counter and shoved open the small two-piece bathroom door. The light was off and no one was in there.

I turned the light on and looked behind the toilet.

A crazy girl could never be too careful.

Backtracking out of the bathroom, I went to the nearby dressing rooms and pulled back the heavy curtains to look inside.

No one was there either.

I stood in the middle of the clothing racks, confused. Maybe I was hearing things. Maybe I hadn’t heard the bell at all.

The wind!
I thought. It was probably the wind that rattled the door and made the bell jingle.

That was totally possible. Feeling ten times less like a crazy britches, I grabbed a stack of shirts I already put on hangers and carried them to a new rack near the front of the store.

A blur of movement rushed around the corner of the window and out of sight.

Anger eclipsed my alarm, and I dropped the clothes and rushed out onto the sidewalk. The air seemed a lot colder than it had just a minute ago.

“Whoever you are, don’t come back!” I yelled around the corner into the dark.

I swear, some people had no lives. They got a kick out of lurking around and scaring people.

I let out a frustrated growl and ignored the shaking of my hands. With force, I spun back around to go inside.

My body slammed into something hard, and I let out a shriek.

Chapter Thirty

Braeden

“Whoa!” I said, catching Ivy by the shoulders when she slammed into me. “You trying to take me out?”

“Braeden!” she gasped. “You scared me!”

I frowned and gentled my fingers on her shoulders. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Some kid was playing a prank. Making the bell on the door ring.”

I looked toward the end of the building. “Want me to find him?”

What kind of douche played pranks on women in the dark?

“No,” she said firm and laid her hand on my chest, gentling her voice. “But hi.”

Both hands slid up and wound around my neck. She rose up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine. She tasted like coffee, sweet and warm. I licked into her mouth with a sigh and kissed her deep.

“Hey,” I rumbled after I pulled back. “How’s my girl?”

“Glad to see you.”

I scrutinized her face, looking for signs that maybe she was more scared than she let on or that she was feeling anxious. I should have been here earlier. Before it got dark. I hated her working these closing shifts. The idea of her alone in this shop so late made my skin crawl.

But practice ran over and I didn’t get here as early as I wanted.

I made a note to ask Drew to start coming in and staying with her ‘til closing. Just the thought made me want to grind my teeth, but I would do it. He was extra suspicious of me since that night at Screamerz. He tried to interrogate me more than once. It pissed him off that I never folded.

It was none of his damn business. I wasn’t telling him jack. I hadn’t even told Ivy, even though I’d made up my mind to.

She didn’t want to know. She hadn’t said those exact words, but she might as well have. I knew she was scared. I knew she was upset and confused. Sometimes the words were right there on the tip of my tongue, on the verge of spilling out into the open.

But how did you just tell someone they’d been raped?

Would that make her worse? Could she handle it? My God, she seemed so fragile sometimes. Like a light wind might snap her in half.

And then there were other times, like right now, when she was the Blondie I always knew. Strong, kickass, and stable.

“Rimmel was here!” She went on, taking my hand and leading me into the store.

The place reeked of Ivy, so naturally, I liked it. It was all bright and colorful. Clothes lined every wall and jewelry hung on every table. There was a furry rug by the checkout counter and a huge free-standing mirror near the dressing rooms.

“She’s back in town?”

“Yep, just got back. She brought in some clothes I styled her in.”

I chuckled. Ivy would style the damn cat if it would let her. Hell, she already styled the dog. Poor Gizmo. I came home last night and she was wearing a leather jacket with tiny boots.

“She told me Romeo’s starting next weekend.”

“Hells yeah!” I said, pride puffing up my chest. “About fucking time.”

“She got us seats at the game. I told her we’d go.”

I nodded. Of course we’d go. I’d tell Coach I was gonna miss a couple practices. He’d probably be pissed, but whatever. The Wolves weren’t gonna be in the championships this year anyway. It wasn’t do or die. We had a damn good season, but not as good as last year. Hell, if I got lucky, he’d cancel all practices the week of break and then I wouldn’t have to worry about it at all.

I looked up at Ivy, who had a huge pile of clothes in her hand as she walked by. I stepped forward and took it from her.

Her smile was grateful, and she led me to the rack where she started hanging them. She was quiet a minute as she worked, but then she paused and glanced up at me.

“Rimmel asked me about Thanksgiving.”

“She gonna put up with his moms?” I asked. Poor Rome, having to play mediator between his mother and Rim. I got lucky. My mother loved Ivy. And Ivy loved her.

Ivy nodded and added the rest of the clothes in my arms to the rack. “She wanted to know what we were doing.”

Why did she seem hesitant to bring this up?

“I told her we hadn’t really talked about it…”

Ahh
. She thought I didn’t want to spend it with her.

“Bring those B handles over here,” I said and caught her around the waist.

“B handles?” she echoed, a bewildered expression on her beautiful face.

I palmed the place where her waist dipped in on each side. My hands fit there perfectly. “These right here,” I explained, giving them a little squeeze. “They were built for my hands. That makes them B handles.”

“You think my waist was built just for you, huh?” She smiled. I could tell it pleased the shit out of her.

It should. No one else was built for me. “Of course.”

“Does that mean I can call something of yours an Ivy handle?” Her voice was sly and deep.

A slow smile spread across my lips. “Baby, you know exactly where that is.”

The lightness in her eyes dimmed just a little. She kept her tone easy and teasing, but I’d already felt the change. “I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

Well, shit.

I was just racking up mistakes tonight.

Having a girlfriend was a lot of fucking work.

And being a gentleman was getting me nowhere.

But she was worth it.

I’d backed off on the sex. Not totally. I mean, damn, she was sexy as hell and when I touched her, she never pulled away. But still, I wasn’t on her every single night, multiple times a night, like I usually was.

I couldn’t.

My conscience wouldn’t let me. I felt like I was taking advantage of her. Not really with the sex, because I loved her. I loved her so damn much, and making love to her was just another way of showing it.

But a part of me wondered if she’d want me if she knew what happened to her.

I thought maybe backing off the physical stuff would give her body and mind a chance to work some of itself out. Maybe all the sex we had kept what happened to her from really fading away.

Clearly, it was just making her feel like I was pulling away.

And the fact that I just assumed we were spending Thanksgiving together instead of asking made it worse.

It was a classic case of me not using words when I should have.

“Hold up just one second, Blondie.” I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I carried her over to the door of the shop and turned the sign over to closed and flipped the lock. I made my way to the counter and sat her down, fitting myself between her spread thighs and cupping her face in my hands.

“I don’t like the things I’m hearing out of this damn kissable mouth.” I leaned in and kissed her once. Twice.

She started to say something, and I kissed her again.

“I was trying to be a good guy. You’ve been under a lot of stress with work, midterms.” I paused. “Other shit.” Her eyes darkened a little, but I pushed on. “I don’t want to put any added pressure on you, Blondie. I don’t want to overwhelm you. If you want more of all this…” I gestured to myself, and she giggled. “Just say so.”

“I thought maybe you missed your old life,” she confessed. Her eyes looked everywhere but at me.

“My old life,” I echoed. “You mean the one where I was miserable and grouchy without you?”

“Well, you were grouchy.”

I growled like I was mad even though I wasn’t. “
You
are the life I want.”

“Even if I act crazy?”

I could have made a joke here, but this wasn’t fucking funny. This shit here was why I needed to man up and blurt out the truth even if she didn’t want to hear it.

I grabbed her face and spoke fiercely. “You are not crazy. Stuff happened. A lot of it. You’re dealing with it.” I took a breath and then muttered, “And I’m not fucking helping at all.”

I started to pull away, but she clamped her hands around my wrists and held me in place. “You’re the only thing that’s helping.”

I stared in her eyes and saw openness. I saw willingness to talk. Relief poured into me. “Am I really?”

“God, yes. I’m terrified I’m going to lose you, that one day we’ll be miles apart.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”
I’m your anchor. You are mine.

“But it is. It already is.”

“No,” I protested and pressed my forehead against hers. “I think we should talk, baby. Like really sit down and just lay it all out.”

“I’m scared to.”

“Believe me, so the hell am I.”

After a minute, she nodded. “Okay. But not tonight. Tonight I just want to be with you. In every way.”

I groaned. “Thank God. I want you so bad it’s killing me. I played like shit at practice tonight. Coach rode my ass.”

“I wanna go home,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”

I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her fully against me. Our tongues twisted together in perfect rhythm, and I could practically hear the crackle of electricity between us. My cock was so hard it throbbed, and Ivy’s hands were impatiently exploring my back beneath my jacket, already tugging at my T-shirt.

When I tore my mouth away, I shuddered with need. “We need to go.”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“Give me your keys. I’m gonna pull your car right up front and get the heat going.”

She leaned around the cash register. The way she draped her body across the counter to do so had me biting down on my lip. Then she tossed me the keys.

“Close everything down. I’ll be right back,” I ordered, thoughts of her in bed literally all I could see in my head.

I kissed her again, having to forcibly peel myself off her before rushing out the door.

We hadn’t even talked about Thanksgiving yet. But I’d make sure we did. After.

I walked to her car down the block. It was close to where I parked the truck. As I approached, I noticed someone standing at the hood. Irritation was like a bee sting through my body when I realized who it was.

I walked to the back of Ivy’s car and stopped to call out. “What the hell do you want?”

Missy bristled and stepped forward. She was holding a cup of ice cream in her hand, one with the logo of the place right nearby, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was only using that as an excuse to watch me and Ivy.

“Did you tell her?” she asked. At least she didn’t waste my time with stupid talk.

“I thought you didn’t care,” I snapped. “I thought you said if I did, you’d just make sure I went down with you.”

“Did you or not?” she demanded.

“Guess you realized how much you had to lose, huh,
Boss
?”

She made a rude sound. “Obviously you didn’t. If you had, she wouldn’t let you anywhere near her.”

A jolt of panic hit me because I often thought the same thing. But I didn’t let her see it. “Don’t be so sure,” I said.

“So she will forgive you, but not me?”

“Wow. You almost sound hurt,” I quipped. “You finally realizing what you lost when you totally trashed your friendship?”

Her eyes slid away.

She totally regretted what she did.

A mean streak cracked through me like a bolt of lightning. I knew it was courtesy of the darkness curling in the depths of my soul. But I didn’t feel bad for her. Not one bit, so I said what I wanted to say. “There’s a difference between what you and I did, Miss.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“What I’m doing is out of love. I’m trying to keep her from getting hurt worse than she already has. But you? Everything you did was to hurt and humiliate her. Shit, you were there that night. You could have
stopped
him.
Why the fuck didn’t you?”

She recoiled like a snake bit her.

It was a question I’d asked myself over and over again. Why had Missy not realized Ivy was being taken advantage of? Why had she not seen Zach pulling her out of that party? Sometimes in my darkest moments, I wondered if she knew all along and just let it happen.

“It’s not my fault what he did to her.” Her voice shook.

Other books

The Reckoning by Karl Jones
The Whole Truth by Nancy Pickard
Ralph Peters by The war in 2020
Postcards to America by Patrick Ingle
Shades of Gray by Amanda Ashley
Cervantes Street by Jaime Manrique
Agent Angus by K. L. Denman