Next to Never
Page 12
And she’d just issued a challenge.
I watched as she took the oil can out, replaced the dipstick, and closed the hood of the car.
“Keys are in it.” She turned to me, the gloating look in her eyes still there.
Keeping my gaze on her, I reached into my jacket and pulled out my billfold again, taking out a business card. Not breaking eye contact, I placed it on the toolbox.
“Whenever you’re ready to give me that apology,” I told her.
Please don’t lose it.
And please don’t use it.
Chapter 3
“Oh, wow.” Dylan lays down the book on the bed and turns her wide eyes on me. “That was hot. What do you think is going to happen when he sees her again?”
She giggles and turns the page, but I grab the book out of her hand.
“You can’t be serious. He’s a jerk.”
“He is not,” she argues and tries to take the book back. “He’s awesome.”
“Whatever.” I laugh, rolling onto my back and holding the book away from her. “He’s trying to pay her for sex.”
“No, he’s not.”
“All those hundreds?” I remind her. “Then what’s the money for?”
She shrugs, reaching over me to try to grab the book back. “Maybe he knows she needs it. I don’t care. I want to know what happens next!”
I hug the book to my body, laughing when she tries to pry it away.
“Oh, come on.” She pouts and gives up, lying at my side on her back. “Think about if it were Lucas, and you were . . . changing his oil.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Shut up.”
Of course she doesn’t.
Propping herself up on her side, she rests her head on her hand and looks down at me, her voice turning sultry and playful. “Alone in the shop at night,” she taunts. “An older man in a hot suit who knows what he’s doing . . .”
My stomach flips, and I can’t stop the image that springs into my mind. Lucas . . . seeing me for the first time in so many years . . . and everything’s changed.
“Think about him looking at you that way. Like how Jase looked at Kat,” Dylan says, “Like you’re a woman and he wants what a man wants from a woman, because his body’s on fire and he needs his hands on you.”
Lucas’s eyes fall down my body, like all of a sudden he can’t stop himself, and my breath escapes me, my lungs emptying at the thought of his gaze turning dark and possessive like Jase’s did with Kat.
An electric buzz runs under my skin, but I shake my head, clearing it.
Jase and Kat. My parents, Jason and Katherine, could easily have gone by those nicknames in another life.
But I’ve barely ever heard anyone ever call my dad Jason, let alone something as informal as Jase. It’s “Dad” to Madoc and me. “Jason” to my mom only. And “Mr. Caruthers” to everyone else.
“Yeah, well,” I say, pushing the fantasy of Lucas away, “I’m not like her.”
“Like what?”
“Hot.” I let out a sigh. “I’m not hot. I’m just sweet and kind and boring.”
Dylan falls back again, and we both stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, me, too,” she breathes out. “I wear a tank top, and my dad tells me to go put some clothes on.”
We both laugh, because with a dad like Jared, she has it just as tough as me. Jared doesn’t parent his kids based on what’s right or wrong. Quite simply, if it makes him uncomfortable, he isn’t having it and that’s that.
But Dylan is better at sneaking around her father’s hang-ups and getting away with more. I’m not used to pushing the boundaries with my parents.
I want to be, though. I want to be like what Jase said. Dangerous to someone.
I gaze straight above me and slip my hand behind my head, whispering slowly, “Pathetic . . . fucking . . . college boy.” And then Dylan’s voice joins mine as we both say at once, “You wouldn’t know what to do with this ass.”
Heat pools in my belly, and Dylan and I both start to laugh.
“I kind of feel hotter now,” she tells me.
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Okay, then.” She takes the book from my arms and flips onto her stomach, opening it up. “Let’s keep reading. Learn some more dirty talk.”
• • •
Jase . . .
I shouldn’t have left her my card. What the hell was I thinking?
I’d met the girl twice, and in that time, there were already a dozen moments when I should’ve done something differently, like walked away.
I knew what I should do. I knew what I shouldn’t do. I knew the difference between right and wrong, but if, by some miracle, I saw her again, what I knew wouldn’t matter in the face of what I wanted.
And that couldn’t happen.
It had been a week since I’d left her my card in the garage, and thankfully, she hadn’t called. I wouldn’t seek her out, so as long as she didn’t call me—which she wouldn’t, since she probably thought I was a piece of shit, anyway—then everything would be fine.
I had the strength to stay away from temptation.
And then the fucking money. Throwing my weight around like I could buy anything I wanted. I hadn’t really been trying to buy her. Just a few minutes with her.
Walking into my house, I heard the clock chime nine as I closed the door behind me and made my way across the dark foyer. Maddie was still at her parents’ with our son, so the house was deathly quiet. The baby was only a few months old, but he already loved music, so I was used to walking into the house on any given day with a wide range of tunes playing loudly: classical, oldies, eighties rock . . .
I watched as she took the oil can out, replaced the dipstick, and closed the hood of the car.
“Keys are in it.” She turned to me, the gloating look in her eyes still there.
Keeping my gaze on her, I reached into my jacket and pulled out my billfold again, taking out a business card. Not breaking eye contact, I placed it on the toolbox.
“Whenever you’re ready to give me that apology,” I told her.
Please don’t lose it.
And please don’t use it.
Chapter 3
“Oh, wow.” Dylan lays down the book on the bed and turns her wide eyes on me. “That was hot. What do you think is going to happen when he sees her again?”
She giggles and turns the page, but I grab the book out of her hand.
“You can’t be serious. He’s a jerk.”
“He is not,” she argues and tries to take the book back. “He’s awesome.”
“Whatever.” I laugh, rolling onto my back and holding the book away from her. “He’s trying to pay her for sex.”
“No, he’s not.”
“All those hundreds?” I remind her. “Then what’s the money for?”
She shrugs, reaching over me to try to grab the book back. “Maybe he knows she needs it. I don’t care. I want to know what happens next!”
I hug the book to my body, laughing when she tries to pry it away.
“Oh, come on.” She pouts and gives up, lying at my side on her back. “Think about if it were Lucas, and you were . . . changing his oil.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Shut up.”
Of course she doesn’t.
Propping herself up on her side, she rests her head on her hand and looks down at me, her voice turning sultry and playful. “Alone in the shop at night,” she taunts. “An older man in a hot suit who knows what he’s doing . . .”
My stomach flips, and I can’t stop the image that springs into my mind. Lucas . . . seeing me for the first time in so many years . . . and everything’s changed.
“Think about him looking at you that way. Like how Jase looked at Kat,” Dylan says, “Like you’re a woman and he wants what a man wants from a woman, because his body’s on fire and he needs his hands on you.”
Lucas’s eyes fall down my body, like all of a sudden he can’t stop himself, and my breath escapes me, my lungs emptying at the thought of his gaze turning dark and possessive like Jase’s did with Kat.
An electric buzz runs under my skin, but I shake my head, clearing it.
Jase and Kat. My parents, Jason and Katherine, could easily have gone by those nicknames in another life.
But I’ve barely ever heard anyone ever call my dad Jason, let alone something as informal as Jase. It’s “Dad” to Madoc and me. “Jason” to my mom only. And “Mr. Caruthers” to everyone else.
“Yeah, well,” I say, pushing the fantasy of Lucas away, “I’m not like her.”
“Like what?”
“Hot.” I let out a sigh. “I’m not hot. I’m just sweet and kind and boring.”
Dylan falls back again, and we both stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, me, too,” she breathes out. “I wear a tank top, and my dad tells me to go put some clothes on.”
We both laugh, because with a dad like Jared, she has it just as tough as me. Jared doesn’t parent his kids based on what’s right or wrong. Quite simply, if it makes him uncomfortable, he isn’t having it and that’s that.
But Dylan is better at sneaking around her father’s hang-ups and getting away with more. I’m not used to pushing the boundaries with my parents.
I want to be, though. I want to be like what Jase said. Dangerous to someone.
I gaze straight above me and slip my hand behind my head, whispering slowly, “Pathetic . . . fucking . . . college boy.” And then Dylan’s voice joins mine as we both say at once, “You wouldn’t know what to do with this ass.”
Heat pools in my belly, and Dylan and I both start to laugh.
“I kind of feel hotter now,” she tells me.
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Okay, then.” She takes the book from my arms and flips onto her stomach, opening it up. “Let’s keep reading. Learn some more dirty talk.”
• • •
Jase . . .
I shouldn’t have left her my card. What the hell was I thinking?
I’d met the girl twice, and in that time, there were already a dozen moments when I should’ve done something differently, like walked away.
I knew what I should do. I knew what I shouldn’t do. I knew the difference between right and wrong, but if, by some miracle, I saw her again, what I knew wouldn’t matter in the face of what I wanted.
And that couldn’t happen.
It had been a week since I’d left her my card in the garage, and thankfully, she hadn’t called. I wouldn’t seek her out, so as long as she didn’t call me—which she wouldn’t, since she probably thought I was a piece of shit, anyway—then everything would be fine.
I had the strength to stay away from temptation.
And then the fucking money. Throwing my weight around like I could buy anything I wanted. I hadn’t really been trying to buy her. Just a few minutes with her.
Walking into my house, I heard the clock chime nine as I closed the door behind me and made my way across the dark foyer. Maddie was still at her parents’ with our son, so the house was deathly quiet. The baby was only a few months old, but he already loved music, so I was used to walking into the house on any given day with a wide range of tunes playing loudly: classical, oldies, eighties rock . . .
