Chapter 22
22
DULCE
I ’m still in a daze of confused emotions for the rest of the day when Katie and I return to the bakery.
Katie and I are preparing to reopen tomorrow. The kitchen and prep area smell like disinfectant, reminding me of a hospital. I didn’t have time to find a prep table, so I have to use one near the cooling rack by the sink. At least I have the van and don’t have to depend on Katie for a ride.
Katie rinses out the rag in the sink, trying to wipe off the smell. “He said that?”
“Yeah.”
I told her about Ford and what he said in Trent’s office. I’m still confused about how I feel, or should feel, around him.
“He wants you, Dulce. Don’t be surprised to find you’re the reason he came back.”
“I’m not sure about anything anymore. But for now, I think he wants to be conscious of the past.”
She snorts. “There is more he wants to clean, and it’s not that,” she teases.
I prep the counter with everything, placing fresh supplies. “Is that all you think about?”
“What?”
“Sex.”
“No,” she says with a smile. “Well, most of the time.”
My thoughts drift back to Ford, just as they did in high school. I imagine how he kissed and whether he was gentle or rough when he had sex.
I hated that he was with Summer. I hated it even more when I heard he got her pregnant. I'm not sure if the rumors about him cheating on her with Heather were true. But he messed around. A lot. I wasn’t stupid or naive to think he wouldn’t. He was good-looking, and he knew it. His friends encouraged him every time they were in the halls and a girl gave him knowing looks or talk about him. I wasn’t sure who told the lie or the truth, but someone must have known if he was good in bed or how he looked without his clothes on.
“Are you thinking about it?”
One touch from him has muddled my brain for the rest of the day. “Thinking about what?”
“Him,” she says, looking at me with a raised brow. “What you want him to do to you.”
“I don’t want him to do anything to me.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not…”
“Your cheeks get red when you lie, and you keep recounting how many pieces of cake go on each tray. You’ve been on the same tray since we started talking about sex.”
She isn’t wrong. I’ve counted the same tray three times.
When it comes to Ford, I can't think. I’ve tried so hard to forget him. To accept the kiss the other night as a one-off. I’m sure he kisses plenty of women.
The pictures in the tabloids don’t lie. All anyone can have for me is pity.
“I think about a lot of things.”
Her smile falls, and it’s like we almost forgot what happened with old man Moody.
But it did happen.
“You think we should call Danny and tell him?” she asks.
“I’m not sure it matters if we do or don’t. We weren’t supposed to be there. If anything, it’s like what Ford said—we were on his land, knocking on his front door, and he was inside his house.”
“He’s disgusting,” she says, scrunching her nose. “I hope he rots inside that shithole out there in the woods.”
“I agree.”
“I think we should report it.” She glances at me, revealing her fear. “Not that Moody would seek us out or try anything, but maybe he was involved somehow, and they could investigate. You know,” she says like she just thought of something. “Did the police ever say they questioned him or that someone lived close by?”
I shake my head, furrowing my brow. “No. Now that I think of it, no. No one ever mentioned anyone living out there. If it hadn’t been for the van leaving me stranded and having to call the tow truck, I would have never found out about him. It’s not like he goes out much. I didn’t know who he was.”
Maybe Danny might know more. He would have told me if Moody had anything to do with it. He would have questioned him that night or the next day, right?
“I think you should ask Danny,” she says before leaving.
After Katie leaves and I lock up, I call Danny to meet me outside the bakery before I head home.
After twenty minutes, I hear a car pull up and peer out the window to see the familiar headlights shut off.
I open the door as he gets out of his truck.
“Is everything alright?” he asks, his brows knitting together.
“Are you off today?”
He nods, and I feel guilty for bothering him. “I’m sorry, Danny. I thought you were working.” I fidget with my fingers, thinking about what Moody said and how to tell him.
His expression softens. “Don’t be sorry, Dulce. You know you can call me anytime, and I’ll come.”
“Thank you.”
I sigh even though I’m conflicted. The concern settles in my stomach, and I tell him what happened.
“Why would you do that, Dulce?” he scolds with a disapproving frown. “Are you insane? With Katie? You could’ve called me.”
This is why I didn’t want to tell him. Why I didn’t want to call him. He would have talked me out of it, and I needed to see for myself. Deep down, I was tired of being scared and not knowing.
“You could have been hurt or lost.”
“But I wasn’t. You haven’t answered my question. Was Mr. Moody questioned?”
A ball is in my throat. I can feel the quickening of my pulse on my neck as I wait for answer.
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t meet my eyes like he is lying and can’t look me in the eye. “Not that I know of,” he says evasively. “It was four years ago, Dulce.”
Confusion clouds my vision. “Yes," I reply. Confusion turns into anger, and I clench my teeth at his response. It’s infuriating how he’s scolding me like I’m a child. “It was four years ago, and maybe you don’t remember, but to me, it feels like yesterday, Officer Mays.”
The truth smacks me hard in the stomach. He isn’t going to help me. His reaction to Moody doesn’t make sense. Something isn’t right, and for the first time, I don’t trust him.
“Dulce?” His eyes grow soft, but it doesn’t stop me from walking away.
“Dulce, wait,” he calls out.
Before I open the driver's side door, a loud rumble of an engine comes from down the street. I look behind my van when the front of Ford’s Porsche pulls up, rolling down the window and glaring at Danny. “Are you good, Dulce?” Ford asks, still staring at Danny.
“Are you lost?” Danny says. “Don’t you have a mansion somewhere and a blonde to screw?”
Ford grins. “I came to check on my girl and take her to dinner.”
“What do you want, Ford?” Danny sneers.
Ford glances at me and then turns his gaze toward Danny, emphasizing his point. “Well, like I said, I’m not here for you.” Ford glances at me. “I’ll follow you home.”
“That’s not necessary,” Danny says.
“It’s alright,” I tell Danny. “He can follow me home. He hasn’t broken any laws. It’s not like you give a shit about the law.”
“That’s not fair, Dulce. I’ve been there for you,” Danny says, pleading with his eyes.
I don’t believe him.
“I thanked you every day since that night for doing your job.” I open the door. “But now it seems like you’re not interested in doing your job anymore.”
After getting my grandmother to bed and Mary leaves for the night, I couldn’t convince Ford to leave. Not after he ordered dinner, and not after he brought a smile to my grandmother’s face.
I sit on the couch after a quick shower, not caring if it’s from the seventies with tomato-pinned cushions. The TV sits on an old dresser. It’s the box kind with a built-in DVD player.
“Did that Dickhead cop say anything to upset you?” Ford asks.
I could tell he had wanted to broach the subject since he followed me home, but probably didn’t want to do it in front of Mary or my grandmother, which I'm grateful for.
I slide my damp hair to the side, trying not to sound nervous about the fact that he is sitting right next to me and smells amazing. I want nothing more than to feel his arms around me or for him to kiss me. “No.”
“It didn’t look or sound like that to me,” he says, sliding a piece of hair away from my mouth.
“It’s nothing.”
“You called him about Moody.”
I look away, not wanting to meet his gaze. Afraid that he will think I want Danny. I don’t want to lie, so I reply, “Yeah.”
“It was the smart thing to do.”
I swing my head and look at him in surprise.
“He didn’t sound thrilled about it, I guess.”
“No,” I admit, still trying to process that he isn’t upset or thinks it was stupid. “He acted weird. It pissed me off.”
“Everyone in this town acts like that when you ask questions.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why is that?”
He gets closer and says slowly, his eyes on my mouth, “Rich people stuff.”
“That explains why I don’t know much. Because I’m not rich.”
“I am,” he counters. “It means I can ask questions and get answers.”
“Is that how it works? You throw money at it and get answers.”
“Sometimes…or…”
His lips brush against mine.
“Or…?”
“I get them my way,” he says softly.
“Which way is that?”
My skin buzzes with anticipation, and I wait for him to answer but want his kiss more.
“By force.”
“Is that what you’re going to do? Get answers by force.”
“From them, yes. You, never.”
He kisses me softly, his tongue grazing my lips, and then rough. The stubble on his chin is rough on my skin. I moan, fisting his shirt.
When his other hand slides up my bare thigh near the hem of my pajama shorts, my body shudders.
“You taste so fucking sweet, Dulce." He licks the underside of my lips. “Your name is exactly what you are." His tongue snakes over mine. “So fucking sweet and so fucking good,” he whispers.
I arch my neck to meet his eyes, biting back the whimper that wants to escape. He gives me a look I have never seen before. Different. Seductive. His eyes eat me alive, burning my clothes off my skin when they trail down my body and stop between my legs.
“Ford,” I moan.
He smiles, and then his eyes scan up. He’s still cupping my face with one hand, his other on my bare thigh.
“I’m not the same guy you remember from high school, Dulce.”
I think the mess between my legs agrees. He isn’t the same guy I remember. This is the man who women lose their heads over. The celebrity race car driver they don’t think twice about leaving with.
“I see that.”
“Do you, beautiful?” He places his lips over the spot on my throat that beats wild for him. “What do you see?” he rasps, dragging his teeth over my skin and lighting me on fire.
My eyes glaze over, and I whisper, “I see... you.”
I’m totally wet, wanting nothing more than for him to take me on the couch but knowing it wasn’t a good idea with my grandmother in the next room.
I get up, taking his hand. He looks up, and I smile. “Come to my room.”
He gets up and follows me, closing the door as I push the stuffed animals off my bed. He comes up behind me, and when I turn around, he is an inch away from touching me. He pushes me on the bed, his knee pressing on the small twin mattress. I instinctively open my legs.
His hand slides under my shorts and finds my wet pussy. I whimper and arch my back, wanting more. I ache for him to go deeper, but he holds his hand, not taking it away but not moving it deeper inside.
“I didn’t come here for this. I came here to just be with you, Dulce,” he says, rubbing my arousal over my clit.
His eyes dip between my legs, holding his bottom with his teeth.
I grind my hips, and he smiles. “Do you want to come?”
I nod because words have failed me and are stuck in my throat with the moan that wants to escape.
He leans over me, his finger swirling around my clit, flicking it back and forth, causing my climax to build. His other hand is flat on the mattress, muscles bulging beside my head.
“Show me?” he whispers near my ear.
I rub my pussy on his hand, and he matches my rhythm. His eyes watch me lose control until I come on a whimper. Flashing lights explode behind my eyes as I ride the wave. He covers my mouth with the palm of his hand. My eyes fly open, realizing that my grandmother or Mary could hear me and know what is going on in my bedroom.
He chuckles lightly near my ear. “Imagine if I was inside you, gorgeous. Everyone would know.”