Chapter Fourteen #2
“Sparks. Lots of sparks.” Jo sighed. “Or at least there were until he brought me home. God, Brooke, I had the mother of all meltdowns.”
“Fuck, Jo, why didn’t you call me?”
“It’s all a blur.” Moisture gathered in her eyes. “Grandma’s mixer…”
“Oh no.”
Jo inhaled and blinked her tears dry. “Anyway, then I threw myself at Avery at his apartment, and he…” Humiliation tightened her chest. “He said no.”
“Hmph, sounds like the dick really isn’t a dick after all.”
“No, but I feel like such a fool.”
“Awe, babe, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s normal after a trauma.”
Jo stopped pacing and braced herself against the wall for the next revelation. “He wants me to stay with him...or rather, he offered, but I don’t know.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” Brooke paused, and Jo could see her biting her lip.
“What?”
“It sounds like he likes you.”
“He just wants in my panties.”
“Well, duh, but don’t you want in his?”
“Maybe his boxers.”
“So, what is there to think about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on, it’s perfect. You can spank that bad boy while you’re looking for another apartment.”
“Girl, stop.” Jo groaned. That was the second time Brooke had brought up spanking, and she was trying not to picture her BFF in black leather with her legal eagle bent over and ready for a paddle. “I’ll think about it and let you know what I decide.”
“Just in case, I’ll give Aaron the heads up he might be bunking with his brother. Maybe that will incentivize him to kick Andrew to the curb.”
The next hour passed quickly as Jo started with the most clinical task first and scrubbed the bathroom walls and floors. She saved the shower for last and took one while she was in there.
Too late, she remembered all the towels were shredded to the size of washcloths. Drying off proved challenging, but she felt clean and stronger, ready to face her bedroom and maybe find something to put on instead of the dirty sundress.
The daunting pile of chopped-up clothing on the bed took some of the wind out of her sails, so she shoved it to the floor to check out the mattress. Worst case, she could dump this one and sleep on her old one.
“Not so bad.” A few slashes here and there, but she could sew them back together. Score one for the good guys.
Naked, she flopped onto her back and checked her email for signs of a job. Nothing. She forced herself to answer texts. It seemed word of her stalker had already gotten around.
Melody: Spencer told me about your apartment. You’re welcome to stay with us. We’d love to have you.
She snorted. Like she’d invade newlyweds. They didn’t need a houseguest putting a kink in their sexy time. Or maybe they liked a little kink.
Ugh. Why am I thinking of kinky sex?
Thanks a lot, Brooke.
Jo: Thank you for the offer. I’ve got it covered.
Even if I have to get a hotel room.
Charlotte: I’m so sorry you’re going through this. If I can lend a hand or an ear, please let me know.
Jo: Thank you. I might take you up on that.
Yet another lie. She and Avery agreed that she shouldn’t spend time with his family.
As the message showed delivered, her phone buzzed, and her heart did a little dance.
Avery: Just checking in. You okay?
Buzz. Buzz.
Avery: What do you want for lunch? I know what I want.
Avery: In case you didn’t get the hint. I’m craving a certain little peach.
Jo laughed and rolled to her stomach.
Jo: I’m good. Not really hungry right now.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
Yep, going for it.
Jo: Maybe later I’ll be in the mood for a big salami.
Avery: I can help you with that.
Her peach was supposed to be air drying, not getting wetter.
Jo: I’m counting on it.
She scrolled to the next message.
Letty: Hey, I had a customer, Mrs. Rossi, ask if I knew anyone who made cannolis. Is that something you can do? If so…
Letty’s next text listed the client’s number. Ten minutes later, Jo had a new client and an order for four dozen cannolis for Friday afternoon. The day was looking up.
Her good mood didn’t last long as she read the multitude of messages from her family, but she only answered the last one from each.
Georgia: Are you still dating Mr. Money Bags or not? Are you bringing him to the wedding?
Jo: My RSVP is for 1.
Lydia: I can’t believe you accused Chase of ransacking your apartment. Are you trying to get him arrested so he can’t be at the wedding?
I’m fine by the way…bitch.
She typed out a long message to explain that she hadn’t accused Chase of anything, then deleted it.
Nothing I say will do any good.
Walt: Are you okay?
Jo sat up slowly and reread the text. Since when did he care if she was okay?
If he did, he usually followed with a corresponding message, like “Then get it together.” or “Then there must be some explanation for accusing Chase.” She debated what to say for a few minutes before going with the same brief tone.
Jo: I’m good.
Oddly, Chase hadn’t texted at all, and for a minute, she wondered if it was because he was in jail. But no, the cops would have let her know if they arrested anyone. Wouldn’t they?
I so don’t have time to think about it right now.
She glanced over the side of the bed at the scraps of clothing lining the floor like a giant litter box of confetti.
Please let there be something in there to wear.
Two trash bags of scrapped clothing later, she’d salvaged a sleeveless T-shirt and her favorite jeans. What was one more hole in holey jeans? And she and her kinky self were now the proud owners of a pair of newly-made-crotchless panties.
The saddest loss to her wardrobe was the dress she’d worn to the literacy benefit. After a rocky start, she’d actually had fun that night with Avery, and it was such a waste of money.
Fuck. I need some fresh air.
Stuffing her feet into the boots she’d indeed found in her car, she hauled both trash bags to the front door. She reached for the knob and hesitated. She hated being afraid, hated that someone could make her feel that way, hated that she had no way of fighting back or knowing who to fight.
Slowly, she rose on tiptoes and squinted through the peep hole. Lowering onto her heels, she stared at the door, her mouth open.
What the actual fuck?
Jo snapped her mouth shut and swung the door open.
Files scattered all around him, Avery sat on the floor with his back against the far wall.
A laptop balanced on one outstretched thigh.
He looked at her over the papers pressed against an updrawn knee and grinned around the pencil clenched between his teeth.
“Hey,” he said, the syllable garbled. He spat out the pencil and caught it in one hand. “How’s it going in there?”
Jo plunked her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Working.”
She took in an empty bottle of water and a banana peel, the snack he’d shoved in his briefcase on the way out this morning. “How long have you been out here?”
He shrugged.
“The whole time?”
His grin widened, and so did the crack in the shell around her heart. “I told you I wouldn’t let you come here by yourself. It’s not safe.”
Fuck, she wasn’t going to make it out of the next four weeks unscathed. Not if he kept this up. Not if he kept looking at her with those big brown, I’ll-be-your-glue eyes.
Shaking her head, she held out a hand. “You’re crazy.”
And sweet and hot as fuck.
Clasping her hand, Avery climbed to his feet with a wince and a hiss. “I think my ass is asleep.”
He gathered his things and limped inside while Jo placed the bags in the hall. When she returned, he was in the living room with his laptop set up on the half-table from the entryway.
Closing the distance between them, he hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into him. His other arm banded around her. His thumb grazed her jaw, and his gaze lingered on her mouth for a second, stirring a need to forget anything but his touch. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good.” Now that you’re here. “Kiss me.”
His smile went lopsided. “Anything for you, Legs.”
She closed her eyes and sank into the moment his lips claimed hers, sensual, deliberate, tender.
Opening to him, she relished his slow exploration, the way he seemed to savor the taste of her, in no particular rush.
The way his arm around her tightened, intent on squeezing the resistance out of her.
As if she had any left.
And all the while, her body ached for him to hurry. To remedy the coiling ache in her core.
He severed the kiss on a growl, his dark eyes, heavy-lidded with lust and searching. “What are we doing?”
Falling.
Yeah, she’d done lost her damn mind. But she didn’t care. Maybe she would later, but now… “A touchdown. A hole in one. Nothing but net. However you wanna score.”
“A homerun?”
“Yeah, that, too.”