Chapter 16
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Coty
As much as I want to, I don’t drive down Mauldin Drive. Kayla’s father hates everything about the Viking Warriors MC and everybody connected to us. Randall Chambers’ disgust for bikers isn’t spared from his own daughter either, because she’s our friend. Well, let’s face it. I think of Kayla as more than a friend. Too bad I didn’t realize it until after I left. Maybe I did realize it. I just didn’t want to accept it as more than a crush at the time.
I’m not welcome near her parents’ house. Her father told me so years ago. It’s another reason I never pushed to see if my feelings for Kayla were more than friendship. Families play a big part in relationships around here. Some parents encourage their children, while others destroy any chance their children have. Kayla’s parents are the latter. It’s probably why her brother doesn’t date anyone seriously either.
My club brothers had no problem helping me out today. Parker, Cole, and Hendrix drove by the Chambers' residence every fifteen to twenty minutes. On Parker’s second pass, about the hour mark, Kayla pulled out of her parents’ driveway ahead of him. Her erratic driving concerned him enough to call me immediately. Something happened at dinner, just as I knew it would. She’s either mad or upset. Both make me want to drive to her parents’ house and punch someone.
When she turned onto the street to her apartment, Parker and the others went to the clubhouse, and I took over. I was halfway there, anyway. I’m leaning more toward her being upset. I’ve patrolled her street for nearly an hour. She hasn’t called or texted me. I’ve been sitting outside her apartment for another twenty minutes. I don’t think she knows I’m here. If she were mad, she’d have already stormed out here and told me off by now if she did.
My phone dings. I reach for it on the passenger seat without taking my eyes off her front door. There have been many nights I’ve watched apartment A17. I glance down at the message.
Sparky:
Coty.
Has she spotted me? The curtains haven’t moved.
Me:
Hey, Sparky.
Sparky : Where
Sparky:
Are you?
Her front door doesn’t open.
Me:
Why?
Me:
You miss me?
Yeah, that one was a little risky.
I watch between my phone screen and the front door. No bubble with the three little dots pops up. The front door doesn’t open. Something’s wrong. I feel it. Once again, I’m an idiot. I should have already checked on her. I jump out of the truck and run to the door.
“Kayla!” I knock loudly.
I know she’s inside.
“Kayla!” I yell and pound harder on the door.
The door jerks open, and she stumbles into me. My arms automatically wrap around her to keep her from falling face-first on the concrete slab.
“Coty!” She looks up and exclaims a little too happily. “You’re here.”
“Yeah, darlin. I am.”
“I knew you were close.” Her words are slurred, and she slowly pats my cheek several times. “Always are.”
Oh, good gracious. She’s drunk. Great. Yep, I’m an idiot. I could have prevented this if I’d knocked on her door an hour ago. A couple of her neighbors peek out their windows. No one needs to see her like this.
“Come on, Sparky. Let’s get you inside.”
“Oh, yeah. Side. We can watch movies.”
“A movie sounds good.”
She won’t make it through a movie, but thankfully, I get her inside without a huge scene. Hopefully, her neighbors won’t share what little they witnessed around town. Gossip can destroy someone’s life fast in Willow Creek.
“You want beer?” She stumbles toward the kitchen.
I scoop her up and carry her to the couch. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“No.” She pushes against my chest. “Stop telling me what I need, what I want. I decide.”
Okay. Reading between the lines here, I’m guessing her parents told her what she should be doing with her life. No big surprise there. They more than likely pointed out her faults, too. I’m not the only idiot tonight.
“Okay, Sparky. I’ll get you a beer. Wait here.”
She lifts her arm and points at the ceiling. “That’s more like it.”
I grab the last two beers from the fridge. There’s no carton, so I don’t know how many she’s already had. My guess is a lot. A whiskey bottle and a shot glass sit on the counter. Great. She’s probably mixed drinks and will be sick by morning. If I could pour half of one of these out and fool her, I would. My best bet is to settle her down. When she relaxes, she’ll pass out.
“Coty! Oh, Coty!”
I sigh and go back to the living room. She’s not ready to pass out, yet.
“Here you go, Sparky.”
She takes the beer and pats the couch. “Sit. Don’t be rude.”
Well, I can’t be rude now, can I? I’m not about to pass up a chance to be close to her. I feel like a jerk doing this while she’s drunk.
“What are we watching?” I sit next to her and look around for the remote.
“Nothing, silly.” She falls back and giggles. “The TV’s not on.”
No, it’s not. She’s clearly forgotten that she mentioned watching a movie. This is going to be a long night.
“Okay. We can just talk.” Well, no, we shouldn’t. She’s not in any state of mind to carry on a conversation.
“No talk. Talk hurts,” she pouts and wiggles against my side.
I catch the bottle of beer and set it on the coffee table with mine before she drops it. She’s closer to passing out than I thought.
“We can just sit.”
“No sit. Couch hurts. I wanna go to bed.” She struggles to get up.
I lift us off the couch and guide her to her room. It’s a one-bedroom apartment, making finding her room easy. I’ve had a few friends who lived in this apartment complex over the years. The floor plans are nothing fancy.
She walks to the side of the bed and pulls her shirt over her head. For someone so drunk, she has no problem stripping out of her clothes. I groan and close my eyes. Why? Why did she have to do this while she’s drunk? I want to appreciate every curve of her body, but not like this. Oh, the universe totally hates me.
“Help me,” she cries.
I open my eyes to find her struggling to pull the covers back. She’s beyond drunk. The covers should be the easy part.
“Hold on. I got it.”
I quickly pull the sheet and comforter back. She slips under them without any more problems.
“Thank you.” She blinks up at me. “Why you standing there?”
“What?”
She pats the spot next to her. “Sleep, Coty.”
“But..” I can’t do this. “I’ll go to the couch.”
“Please.”
My head falls back. Yes, the universe hates me. I’m going to regret this in the morning. I slide my boots off and hang my cut on one of the bed posts. I lay down, fully clothed.
She grabs the hem of my t-shirt and lifts it up. “Off.”
Okay. The shirt is all I’m taking off, though. I pull it over my head and drop it on the floor.
“Better,” she whispers and snuggles against my side with her head on my chest.
Any other night, this would be Heaven. Tonight, it’s pure torture. The word wrong repeats over and over in my head. Maybe now she’ll be satisfied enough to relax and fall asleep. It’s not my luck, though. I wrap my hand around hers to keep her fingers from moving across my chest.
“Go to sleep, Sparky,” I whisper.
Her lips lightly press against my skin. Nope. She’s not listening. I have to call on strength I didn’t know I had. Staying still is so hard. I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her to me. More strength is needed as her lips trail light kisses up my chest, my neck, and to my cheek.
“Kayla, we shouldn’t.”
“That’s exactly why we should.”
My protests are lost when she presses her lips to mine. I’m a jerk, a big one. I don’t force her to stop. I gently wrap my arms around her and let her have control of the kiss. My lips move with hers until she slows. With a light moan, she stops. Her head slips to my chest, and her breathing evens out. Finally, she’s asleep. My struggle isn’t over. Every part of my body is fully aware and awake. And I can’t move.