Chapter Eleven
Either this was the hottest fucking dream he’d ever had in his life, or Drea really was in his bed, her arms and legs tangled with his.
Cujo roused slowly, took a moment to appreciate the way Drea’s breasts were pushed up against his chest, how her head rested on his arm.
Her skin was soft and smooth under his fingertips as he slid them slowly down the length of her back.
The clock on the side table showed it was a little after nine. Thank God Mo had agreed to take care of the cleanup.
Even though he wanted to, waking her up and making love didn’t feel quite right. It felt deceptive. They needed to talk. He needed to give her a choice before their relationship went a step further.
Carefully, he moved his arm from beneath her head and walked into the bathroom. He put his hands on the counter, either side of the sink, allowing his head to drop forward. Maybe this wasn’t the right choice. Maybe he shouldn’t have even started this with Drea.
The jetted shower heated quickly and he stepped inside, allowing the pressure to soothe him. It was just nerves. It wasn’t about his past or his mom. He’d just started to wash his hair when he heard the shower door close.
Drea slid inside and tipped her head back to wet her hair. Fuck. The way the water curved its way over her pink nipples had him rock hard, willing to leave all sense of morals behind.
“Good morning,” she said.
With makeup, she was a walking wet dream, but without it, she was lazy mornings of sex in front of a log fire.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.” He wrapped a hand around her neck. She wanted a kiss, but he reached for the shampoo instead and washed her hair. A flicker of confusion clouded her features and guilt twisted his gut. But he couldn’t give her what she wanted until they’d talked.
He finished bathing and grabbed the towel. Drea let him dry her off. White fluffy bathrobes hung on the back of the door, and he bundled her in one before wrapping a towel around his own waist.
Drea reached for him, wrapped her fingers around his cock over the towel. It twitched traitorously in response. He grabbed her hand, pressed it flat against his heart.
“We need to talk, Drea. Once we’re done, if you still want me, I’m all yours. Can I make you breakfast first?”
“I think I’d rather know what’s going on,” she said as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen.
“I know, Shortcake. Give me a minute to get my shit together.”
He sliced some fresh fruit and whipped up omelets.
He placed their breakfast on the bar, took the stool next to her, and cupped her thigh.
The twenty minutes it had taken to make breakfast hadn’t helped him figure out what to say. Cujo just stared straight ahead.
“I had cancer. Metastatic non-seminoma testicular cancer. Ironic, huh? I don’t know if it will come back, and I’m pretty sure I can’t have kids.” Not the gentlest of explanations.
“Cujo,” she said, breathlessly, her hand reaching for his. “Do you have it now?”
He dropped his fork on his plate. “No. I was eighteen. Had to have one of my … Christ.” This was harder than he’d imagined. He took a minute, then continued. “I had to have a retroperitoneal lymph node dissection because it spread.
“They removed the lymph nodes at the back of my abdomen. And my left nut is a fake. Feel free to give it a squeeze if you like,” he said, trying to smile. He picked up his fork and shoveled another bite of eggs into his mouth.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Brody.”
“I like it.” He turned to face her.
“Like what? Cancer?” she asked, surprised.
“No,” he laughed, lifting their joined hands to his lips. “That you call me Brody. I don’t think anyone else does, really.”
“Why does everyone call you Cujo? No, wait, back up. Why do you think telling me about the cancer would change my mind about you?”
“Because when Mom left, I stayed over at Trent’s, and he gave me his dad’s copy of Stephen King’s Cujo.”
“And you loved it?”
He was grateful she didn’t push him for the tough answer.
“No, it scared me so much I ended up peeing the bed. Trent felt guilty. Thought it would take my mind off things, not scare the crap out of me. Never told a soul why he gave me that name, but everyone thought it was because I was a bit crazy, so it stuck.”
Drea covered her mouth with her hand.
“It’s okay, you can laugh.”
Drea burst out laughing. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
They fell silent for a while. When she finished eating, Drea looked at him again. “Why now, Cujo?”
He faced her, rubbed his hands up and down her thighs. “Because I haven’t had a serious relationship before. I don’t know when the right time would be. I want to give you the chance to leave now. You’ve spent years looking after your mom. I don’t want you to ever have to do the same for me.”
He stood, clearing the plates from the breakfast bar. This all felt too soon. Reservations about being in a relationship still haunted him, despite his growing feelings for Drea. It was a cluster fuck in his mind.
Coffee. He needed a cup. He reached for two mugs out of the cupboard. Hands snaked around his waist, and a rush of relief flooded through him when Drea pressed her forehead to his back.
The cups rattled as he settled them on the counter. He placed his hands over the top of hers.
“I’m not leaving,” she whispered. “At least, not because of what you just told me. Just don’t get rid of the bed,” she added. He smiled, turning to envelop her in his arms.
“It means the world to me, but do you really know what it means for you?” Could she possibly comprehend how sick he could be if it came back? Was it fair to ask her to make a lifelong decision that could lead to never having kids with him?
“It means if it gets hard, I have to take care of you, right?” Her mouth turned up at the corner wryly. She was quoting him.
“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling her closer. “Normal people don’t have this conversation early, but it means I might never be able to have kids with you.”
“Can I ask … have you been tested? Like do you know for sure you can’t?”
“About a year after surgery, it hadn’t come back. I had some sperm frozen, but I was already really ill when it happened. They told me it wasn’t great quality.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when or if we get to it. I want kids. But your situation won’t be the deciding factor on whether we have something here.”
He blew out another breath of relief, lowered his lips to hers and kissed her while his brain tried to scramble through the words to tell her how much she was starting to mean to him.
“You going to make me coffee?” she asked. “A girl could die of thirst.”
He grabbed the dishtowel and flicked it at her ass, laughing as she squealed. Happier than he thought possible, he filled the coffeepot with water.
She flicked on the TV, just as the grainy video image of the abducted woman faded, replaced by Cujo’s drawing of Snake.
“Police are continuing to canvass local residents regarding the abduction attempt. This man is wanted for questioning with regard to the incident. If you have any information, please contact the number on your screen. He is known to be armed and dangerous, so no heroics, people,” the anchor finished.
Cujo passed Drea her coffee.
“Ouch,” she hissed as it spilled over the rim because her hands shook, burning her fingers.
“They told me they wouldn’t go public. Snake’s going to know I went to the police.”
“You wanna go see Carter? I’ll take you.” And kick his ass for good measure.
“No.” She stared down at the mug in her hand. “Everything is still as messed up as it was yesterday, isn’t it?”
“Everything else is. But you and me … we’re good right.” He looked at her hopefully.
“Before you commit, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What?”
“I’ve stayed in touch with Gilliam,” she mumbled.
“What? Why?” he growled.
“Because I want to find out who the woman is,” she said defiantly.
“And also because Gilliam believes this is important. Like even if we don’t find her, her work will still mean something.
He asked this DEP guy to check the site.
The day after Carter came to Second Circle.
” Her anger faded as she took his hand. “It seemed like you had enough on your mind.”
Cujo stared for a moment longer before tipping his head to the side in a move she assumed was agreement.
“I want to get the woman’s photo in front of as many people as I can. I’m not trying to get myself killed, or do anything stupid, but what the woman was involved in is … compelling.”
He embraced her, loving the wide-eyed look she gave him.
“She had a purpose, Cujo. And I envy her that.”
* * *
Drea yawned, almost running the little car Cujo had loaned her into the low brick wall separating her driveway from Mr. Escudero’s. Goddamn, she needed some sleep.
She’d opened for José having gone straight from the hotel to the café.
The hour-long nap she’d grabbed in the break room before starting work had done little to keep the tiredness at bay.
Having Harper find her facedown on the table during her lunch definitely wasn’t her finest hour.
Thank goodness it was only Tuesday and not the weekend.
Her mom was inside; she could see the television flickering through the window.
Likely some eighties TV show, addicting crap like The A-Team.
A verbal sparring session with her mom was the last thing she wanted.
Perhaps she’d run out for her mom’s favorite ice cream as a little treat to soften the assault.
Aunt Celine opened the door with a broad smile, and Milo raced out to the car. He was wearing his trusty Marlin’s jersey and a huge smile.
“Drea, Drea, Drea,” he shouted, bouncing up and down outside the car window like a dog who just caught sight of a ball.
Drea unclicked her seatbelt and carefully pushed the car door open so as not to send Milo sprawling.
“Mi chico favorito,” she shouted as she stepped out of the car and grabbed for him. He pretended to pull away from her, but the squeals of delight told her he loved the way she smushed big kisses on his cheeks.
“Hey, Drea. Your dinner is in the slow cooker. I brought you some ribs.” Aunt Celine put the backpack she was carrying on Milo’s shoulders.
“Oh my God, Aunt Celine. Ribs sound so good right now. How has she been today?”
Celine paused, which was never good. “She screamed at Milo, Drea. For humming.”
“I’m sorry.” What else could she say?
“I know you are sweetheart, but if she is going to keep that up, I can’t keep bringing Milo over when I collect him from school. It’s the third time this month.”
Who the hell would look after her mom then? “I understand, Aunt Celine. I wish it was different.”
“Me, too. We’re off to meet Harper for Milo’s lesson this week. He’s been doing so much better with her help. An angel sent her to us.”
Harper was hoping to return to teaching full time soon.
Drea would miss her at the café, but she was excited for her friend to go back to doing what she loved.
In many ways she envied Harper, being so committed to something.
She’d love the chance to do something other than serve coffee. If only she knew what.
They said their farewells and Drea wandered to the porch steps. Cujo had contacted her a couple of times, his messages running the gamut from a picture of the empty pillow on his bed tagged “wish you were here” to the sexiest R-rated text she’d ever read.
If half of what he promised came true, she’d not get out of bed for a week.
She sat down on the steps and pulled out her phone. Sometime during their night together, he’d set his photo as a St. Bernard dog. Cujo. She laughed as the phone rang.
“Brody’s sex emporium. We have a great buy-one-get-one-free on orgasms until close of business.”
Drea laughed. “Why do I have to pay for the first one?”
“Because a man has to make an honest living. The second one comes, no pun intended, with a money-back guarantee.”
“You’re that confident with your goods and services?”
“Oh, baby. Just ask your goods how happy they are with my services, and you got your answer.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, smiling at his ability to brighten her day.
He laughed at her. “Yup. What’s up, beautiful? What can I do for you beside the orgasms?”
If only it were that simple. “Nothing. Just got home. Can’t face going inside yet.”
“The Roller-Rosa driving you nuts?”
She covered her mouth but couldn’t stop the laughter. “Oh my God. You so cannot say that.”
“Hey. You were the one who said her moods are up and down.”
It had to be a sin to mock your own mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Is it wrong that I love that name?”
“Not at all. Get back in your car and drive your pretty ass over here. I’ll buy you dinner.”
She took a breath. Other women didn’t have the kind of restrictions she did. Her mom needed help with her bath. Fun times. “As much as I’d love to, I need to stay here tonight.”
“No worries, Shortcake. Call me later if you want to chat, or have phone sex.”
“Cujo!” she exclaimed.
“Later, Shortcake.” The phone disconnected and she shook her head.
“Drea?” her mom wheeled onto the porch. “Can you finish dinner up?” She wheezed, turning her chair on the narrow porch. “I’m starving. Celine brought these muffins with zucchini in them for lunch. Disgusting they were.”
Drea watched as she wheeled back inside. It was amazing how much easier Roller-Rosa was to handle after a call with Cujo.
This is my life. She laughed and shook her head.
Smoking hot calls, and vegetable baked goods.