Giving In: The Sandy Cove Series (Book 1) (22 page)

Right?

I think I’ve read what I wrote a hundred times on this trip, and I have more crossed off and written over than I care to share. The old lady next to me smells like moth balls and scotch. The rain hasn’t stopped. I can’t find a working pay phone anywhere to call Harlow.

But what if she’s not even caring that I said I’d be home in the early afternoon. Maybe she could care less. Maybe she met up with her ex, and he took her to some country club for dinner, buying her diamonds and is sweeping her off her feet and crap like that.

What if I tell her I want her and it turns out she doesn’t want me. Then what?

I’m scared, and I don’t want to be.

In my mind, I’m just as scared as I was in Iraq and that was scared shitless. I remember we had to convoy from Kuwait to a base in Iraq. It was a mile long. We didn’t have armored vehicles like the military does now, and all the roadside bombs that were set up were destroying ours. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach now is like the feeling I had that day. Not knowing what the outcome is going to be, but I’ve taken rejection my whole life, and I’ve dealt, so what the hell. Just get me off this bus, so I can see if a bomb is going to go off or not.

The houses are dark, but the cars are still here when the cab drops me off. I go inside, and I see a note from Max telling me they’re all at Jax. I smell like that old lady who sat next to me on the bus, and I’m in desperate need of a shower.

You know what? Fuck it. I’ll run the twelve blocks to Jax. I already stink so what’s the sense of even bothering with a shower.

I run as fast as my legs can take me. It’s dark and there are plenty of people hanging outside on the sidewalks near all the local hangouts. I push my way through, my heart racing. Although I’m running, my knees are shaking. The crumbled up paper towel with all my thoughts is in my pocket. I get to Jax. I’m sweating, panting, nervous as all hell. I say hi to the bouncer and make my way in. I swim through the crowd, searching for her, that mane of strawberry blonde that I just want to run my hands through. I feel a pull on my arm, and as I look down to see whose hand is on me I realize it’s that girl I took home a few weeks ago. The one Harlow ran into after she left my room.

“Hey, Cruz. Long time no see. Where you off to so quickly?”

I really don’t have time for this. I didn’t want to talk to her when she was naked and wanton in my bed, and I certainly don’t want to talk to her now.

“I’m kind of in a hurry, so I’ll see you around.”

But she doesn’t let go, only tugs my arm stronger.

“I don’t get what’s got you in such a rush, but if you stick around, I can certainly make staying worth your while.”

I take her hand, which is now squeezing my bicep, off of me. I don’t want to be mean, but I need to be blunt.

“Listen, I’m here for a girl, not just ‘some girl’, but ‘the girl’. You and I had a fun night, one night, but that’s as far as I wanted it to go.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think her eyes turned a shade of black, rage sending a clear path my way. I walk away from her, not looking back, but I can feel her burning a hole right through me with her stare.

I go towards the stage, not seeing a soul I know until I see Max and his band enter the stage. I yell for him, and he hops down.

“Where the hell have you been? We kept calling and calling and you were nowhere to be found. You gave us a freaking heart attack, man.”

I grab his shoulders. “Who did I give a heart attack to?” Hoping with all I have that he gives me the answer I want.

But he doesn’t.

He looks over my shoulder and shakes his head.

“What are you looking at?” He points, and I turn my head just in time to see the roadside bomb go off.

No. God, no.

She’s with him. Close, with his arm around her waist.

Knox.

“That’s not a good scene, Cruz,” Max snaps at me.

“That’s why I’m here, to make it better.”

I leave Max and go to her. Bomb or no bomb, I have to know. I have to let her know that this is more than friendship.

I stalk over to them. His eyes catch mine and his smirk tells me he knows I came for her. His cocky grin, his name-brand shirt, his perfect gelled-up hair.

No games, just her.

I didn’t come here to get into a pissing match with him, I came for her. The only one that matters.

I tap her shoulder. She turns around, with tears in her eyes, and suddenly my heart hurts.

Why is she crying?

She takes one look at me and goes to say something, “Cruz, where have you…”

But I interrupt.

I spin her away from him, and my lips are the only things that silence her as I pull her against my chest and kiss her. Her body molds to mine as she doesn’t protest the kiss, only throwing her arms around my neck, and I lift her tiny body. I could care less that there’s a hundred people in this room, that Knox is here watching us. I kiss this girl because she’s the only thing in this room right now. All that matters, all that I think ever will ever matter.

The way her tongue lashes around mine, her nails digging into my hair as she holds on for dear life, her sweet lips, her sweet scent. The scent of my Turnip.

I place her back down on the floor and immediately she goes to speak, “I don’t know… I don’t under…”

I place my finger on her lips telling her softly to shhh… I go into my pocket and pull out the paper towel. The words are smudged, but these are my thoughts. I won’t let some smeared ink ruin what I have to say to her.

“Let me talk first since you usually have the first and final words.” She rolls her eyes at me and it’s adorable.

“I wrote this on the bus on the way home. And before you say anything, I got on the wrong bus, lost my phone, fell asleep and missed one of the stops, but here I am, and I’m sorry I worried you.” I clear my throat as I begin to read the words that are meant for her.

“I’m not a man of many words, let me rephrase that, I am a man of many words, but usually not the right ones, but here goes. A year and a half ago right across that dance floor, right to where that door is, I met a girl who knocked me for a loop, except I didn’t know it then. You took me under your spell, and it had nothing to do with what went on behind that door. It had everything to do with the way you made me feel. I felt. I actually felt.” She looks confused.

“Do you understand where I’m going with this?”

She bites her bottom lip and wipes a tear falling down over her adorable freckled cheek.

Knox interrupts, his cronies gathering around him, watching me, waiting to see what I’m going to say next.

“No one knows where you’re going with this, asshole, so why don’t you shove off and let Harlow and me finish our conversation.”

He steps a bit closer, puffing out his chest. I’ll give him credit, he’s got balls to stand up to me like this. I look dead on in his eyes, and I’m not about to let him ruin what I came here to say to her. So even if what I’m about to say isn’t directly to her face, I bare my soul with my words. I’m looking at him, so he understands that I’m not fucking around. I’m here to let this girl know I want her, and he can’t have her, again, ever again.

“So why don’t I tell you where I’m going with this, Chad. See that girl next to you?” I point to Harlow, and then I stuff the paper towel with the words back in my jeans. I don’t need it. Whatever comes out of my mouth is what it is.

“She just turned my world upside down. She makes it chaotic with her big words and over-opinionated attitude. But you see, I like that. It means, if she feels the same way about me that I feel about her, our life won’t be boring. Now you see where I’m going with this?”

Chad bursts out with laughter.

“Oh, come on Harlow. Are you really going to fall for this shit? Look at him. I know what he is. He’s a fucking rent-a-cop. Please. What can he really give you?”

He backs up, and I push up my sleeves in an attempt to let him know to back the fuck up.

“See those tears in her eyes, they’re not there because I caused them and never will be. That’s what I’ll give to her.”

I think I’ve wasted enough words on him, so I turn my body towards her. Her eyes are bright blue, dark smudges from her mascara circle under them, so I take my fingers and wipe any traces of tears of darkness away. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll never have to do it again.

“I can’t promise you the world, ‘cause I don’t have it. I can’t promise you I’ll give you flowers, or take you dancing. I’m not the person who talks all mushy like in those silly books you read, or like those guys in the old movies you make me watch with you. I’m honest to a fault so when you ask me if your ass looks big in a pair of jeans and they do, I’m going to say yea, go change them. When you have a big zit on your face and you ask me if I can see it, I’ll say yes, go put some girly stuff on it and cover the damn thing ‘cause I won’t lie. I can’t promise we won’t fight, because let’s face it, it’s what we do best. We don’t agree half the time, but it’s what makes us… Well us.”

I pause and wait for her to slap me, kick me in the balls, or just walk away, but all she says is, “Continue.” So I do.

“If you don’t feel the same, let me know. If there’s doubt in there…” I point to her heart. “Walk away, and if you just want to be friends, well, I’ll have to learn to live with that part, but I won’t live without you in my life.”

She’s silent and I’m not sure where this is going to go. Time seems to stand still as I wait for her to say something, anything. Max’s band starts to play and it’s suddenly deafening loud in here. She goes on her tippy-toes and whispers in my ear.

“You think it would be appropriate if we go in the bathroom and finish where we left off a year and a half ago?”

That’s my girl.

I caress her hair, the softness making my fingers tingle.

“Nah, let’s start by introducing ourselves, last names included.” I extend out my hand. “Hi, I’m Raphael Cruz, but you can call me Cruz.” She takes my hand and laughs.

“Harlow Hannum, damn glad to meet you, Cruz.”

I’ll admit, keeping my hands to myself on the walk home is difficult, but I do it, and don’t think for one minute I don’t have a million dirty thoughts about what I want to do to her when we get home. I just want to be close to her, so here’s my arm around her shoulders, her arm around my waist, and the two of us are as giddy as kids at a carnival. The last few blocks we sprint. We race to the top of the wooden steps, into the house, and as soon as I fling open the door, I grab her and thrust my tongue in her mouth, devouring, tasting her. Hands are in hair, tugging. My hands fly to touch her breasts. I touch them slowly, and then pick up my pace. I can feel her nipples harden beneath my thumb. Her hands are caressing the crotch of my jeans, which quickly turns intense, bordering on God damn obscene. She’s so fucking hot.

But this isn’t what I want. It’s how we got here in the first place.

I take a step back from her, and I notice the confused look on her face.

“Turnip, this isn’t what I want.”

The confused look is now replaced with one of dread and sadness, and I think I just said the wrong thing. Well, I said the right thing, I just said it the wrong way.

Am I already on my way to fucking this up?

Grabbing her sweet face in my hands, I pull her body closer to mine. She’s a bit frigid, so I rest my forehead against hers.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I mean I want to slow this down, not rush it, although I want nothing more than to rip off your clothes and devour you. But not here, not like this.”

And I mean it. She’s too special just to throw on my bed and fuck.

She relaxes, her body softening, and I feel the relief release from her. I bring my lips to hers, taking them softly, and placing kisses across her jaw to her neck, concentrating on a spot behind one of her ears. I grab her lobe and nibble on it, sending chills throughout her body. She shudders and sighs.

“I want you so much it hurts.”

When I tell her that, she moans softly and her hands roam my body, making me so much harder than I already am.

“I have to tell you something, Cruz.”