Chapter Nine #2
Lips clashed together. He felt her sigh as she finally opened for him and their tongues tangled.
She tasted of sugar-sweet soda, her body soft and warm against his.
He needed to kiss her more than anything else in that moment.
She was the only thing that could bring him comfort.
The only solid thing he could hold on to.
He sucked on her lower lip, and felt her push up against him.
Her hard nipples rubbed against his chest. Her lips softened against his, the sensation new.
More than just arousal. A layering of feeling he wanted the power to ignore.
This one moment was irrevocably different. The flash fire becoming a steady burn.
Her hands were on his chest now, only she was no longer pulling him in. She was pushing him away. Why? She’d been right there with him, he knew it. He’d felt it.
Hard eyes studied him. “Don’t do that to me again,” she said quietly and walked away.
* * *
Her hands were shaking so hard, it was a wonder the car wasn’t weaving all over the road. What the hell had Cujo been thinking, kissing her like that?
Her insides were eviscerated. Heat radiated through her arms where he’d grabbed her. She looked in the rearview mirror, catching sight of her swollen lips. No man had ever churned her up the way Cujo did.
“Aargh!” She reached for the radio, jacking the volume. Cuban music filled her car.
A loud pop from the front of the car made her jump. What the hell? White clouds of steam erupted from under the hood, obstructing her vision of the road. A loud pinging sound accompanied a flashing light on the dashboard.
No. Not now. Drea pulled over to the side of the highway. She rested her head on the steering wheel and contemplated just climbing into the backseat to sleep. “That won’t solve anything,” Drea said resolutely, unclipping her seatbelt.
Traffic hurtled by as she made her way to the front of the car to see what had happened.
“Ouch. Motherfucker,” she cried, shaking her hands. The hot steam made it impossible to open the hood, the little catch too close to the source. An angry red blister had started to form on her finger sending throbbing pain up her hand.
Not that she was a mechanic, but even with her limited knowledge, she knew the damage was out of her pay scale.
Maybe she should call Trent. She didn’t want to. Today was his engagement party and he was covering for Cujo at the shop right now. And the way her life was going, she might have to take him up on the offer of a loan. The idea of asking for anything squeezed her chest.
Who else did she know? Scrolling through her phone contacts, she considered and dismissed José because he was covering both shifts for her today.
Aunt Celine might know someone, but she was already looking after her mom for the weekend while Drea organized the party.
Her mom had hated the idea and was no doubt making life miserable for Celine.
She was up to her ears in physical and emotional debt. All these people were already helping her.
Cujo? No way was she going to end up owing him anything. Not after what just happened.
If she could get the car towed, maybe they could just hold the car until her mom …
well, until the expenses weren’t so heavily outweighing the income.
Drea sat on the metal railing along the side of the road.
So what if the highway patrol advocated moving away from the road to wait for roadside assistance, hiking up the verge required energy she didn’t have. She’d take her chances where she was.
How much did towing cost anyway? More than she had likely. She seriously considered abandoning the car. Let the police deal with it. One less worry. But then she’d never be able to make it between home, José’s, and the hotel.
Drea blinked furiously to stop the tears on the verge of spilling. Too tired, too broke, too alone to figure out what to do with her car and no energy left to move. She dropped her forehead to her knees and let the tears fall.
* * *
Cujo steered the truck onto the highway, headed for home.
The idea of getting in the water had lost its appeal the moment he’d watched her car leave.
It sucked. He’d approached it all wrong, certainly, but why did she have to push him away without giving him a chance to explain.
And why the fuck, after doing fine without a woman in his life, did he now have two?
No, it was worse. He didn’t want his mom there, and she was desperate to be. And he wanted Drea there, and she wasn’t. When had life become so fucking drama-filled?
He was past the little red car before he realized it was Drea on the side of the road. Why the hell hadn’t she moved away from the car?
The truck roared as he stamped the pedal to the floor to cut across two lanes of highway. He braked hard on the shoulder, the sound of sand and gravel spraying the underside echoed through the cab.
He flicked on the hazards, slammed into reverse, and backed up until he was within a few feet of her vehicle.
Traffic was heavy. His first concern was for her safety. Sobs so violent they jerked through her body broke his heart into a million pieces. Watching emotions pour out of her in such a powerful way brought him to his knees, literally, in front of her.
“I got to move you, Shortcake, okay?”
She looked at him, her face red and blotchy, her nose running, tears pouring down her face.
Cujo picked her up gently, one arm round her back, the other tucked under her legs. He cleared the metal railing and walked a short distance up the grassy embankment and found a relatively clear spot to set her down. He unzipped his hoodie and draped it over her shoulders.
Crouching in front of her, he lifted her chin with his finger and used the sleeve of the hoodie to clean up her face.
“I…” she started, but burst into tears again.
It was no use. He sat and pulled her onto his lap where she instantly curled up like one of his nieces. Rubbing her back, he held her tight until her sobs started to subside.
She wiggled in his lap and he prayed he wouldn’t lose control while they were sitting there. It was so not what she needed right now. Comfort was a new thing to him, but he was determined to do his best.
“I’m sorry,” Drea said hoarsely, wiping her face with the hoodie sleeve again. “I’ll wash this for you.” Exhaustion etched her face.
“You don’t need to do that, Shortcake, much as I appreciate the offer.” He shifted her so she was almost facing him. She weighed less than he benched. “I do need to go sort the cars out though.”
“I can’t afford it,” she whispered so quietly he almost missed it.
He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry. I got you, Shortcake. Let me help. Okay?”
“I’ll pay you back. I promise. Every penny. As soon as I can.”
She emitted a sigh, which he hoped was relief. “I know you will. ’Cos you don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Drea simply nodded.
The look of utter defeat on her face squeezed his heart. He ran his thumb across her soft cheek, removing the last of the tears. Soft pink lips tempted him, and this time instead of devouring her, he brushed his lips against hers.
The kiss lasted mere moments, but his lips tingled and he craved more.
He placed Drea back onto the grass and pulled out his phone.
A quick call to Devon, and forty minutes later, Drea’s car was being hooked up to the back of a tow truck.
“Give it a full once over, bro. Fix anything that looks bad or looks like it’ll go soon.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Devon pulled on the cables a last time. He got into the truck, and eventually it merged with traffic and disappeared.
Cujo hopped the barrier. Drea had pulled his fleece tight around her and was lying on her side, asleep on the ground. Her mouth was slightly open, her fist clenched up by her face. Even in sleep, she was ready to fight.
He lifted her into his arms. She grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, holding tight. Somehow, he managed to get her into the passenger seat of the truck and pulled the seatbelt tight across her. Her lips looked so soft and warm, he could barely resist the urge to kiss her again. But he did.
The drive to his house was uneventful. He carried her to his bedroom and tucked her in his bed. Cujo closed the blinds and left the room, trying not to think about how good she had looked with her head onto his pillow.
* * *
Thump. Thump. Thump. Drea pressed her fingertips to her temples. She ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth, it felt furry and tasted worse.
Disoriented, she sat up slowly. She was still fully dressed. For a moment, she couldn’t place exactly where she was, exhaustion still fogging her brain.
The room was dim, with a small amount of light edging its way around the blinds.
On the bedside table, there was a glass of water and two aspirin. Next to it was a drawing of Drea dressed as Alice in Wonderland, looking at the pill and glass with the words ‘eat me’ written in beautiful script.
Cujo. She was at Cujo’s. Memories of breaking down on the highway, and, oh God. Mortification didn’t come close to covering it. Perhaps Cujo was no longer home so she could escape without ever having to acknowledge the fact he wiped her nose with his sweater.
Drea swallowed the tablets, taking huge gulps of the water to soothe her parched mouth.
The bed was enormous, with a large dark suede headboard. Drea pulled a length of the bedding sheet through her fingers. It was softer than silk.
Jeez. It was nearly three. She’d slept for hours, but felt better for the emotional purge. There wasn’t much time to dash home, primp, and get back to finish the final setup.
She rolled out of bed. Time to face the music, Drea walked into the living room.
“Shit,” he whispered at the television.