Chapter 9 #2
“Oh yeah.” She puts Burrito back in her lap, then leans down and whispers, “Sorry,” into the stuffed dragon’s ear.
The rest of dinner goes smoothly. We talked about Sophie’s failed date with that dickhead and more potential suitors my mom can think of.
Maverick, who owns the only dive bar in town—The Whiskey Hollow—talked about how the bar’s doing and that he needs to hire more bartenders. Warmer weather means more tourists.
Then Lincoln dropped the bomb that his childhood best friend, and honorary Cooper brother, Beau Fletcher is moving back to town.
My eyes instantly cut to my sister. Nobody but me noticed how Sophie stiffened at the news, but I decided not to bring attention to it as repayment for her taking the heat of everyone's focus earlier. We’re even now.
It’s my dad and Lincoln’s turn to do dishes. They're in the kitchen, and the rest of us are shooting the shit in the living room. Lilah is in the corner, hammering away at the piano, as everyone else manages to talk over the loud and off-key music.
Ivy and Sophie sit next to each other on the couch, laughing hysterically as Ivy tries to grab Sophie’s phone out of her hands. Maverick and Mom are deep in conversation on the opposite couch, and I’m in the love seat watching it all.
Ivy fits in well here. She weaved into the fold without even trying.
I see Ivy stand and kiss Sophie on the cheek, then move over to my mom to do the same. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she licks her finger and sticks it directly into Mavericks ear as her farewell.
“God, gross, Ivy!” he shouts, and swipes at his ear with a disgusted look on his face.
Ivy just walks away with an evil smirk.
This woman.
She makes her way over to me, her gaze flicking up to meet mine briefly before dropping again. She toys with a loose thread on the arm of the couch before murmuring quietly, “Thanks for inviting me, I had a good time.”
Then she turns and yells out to Lilah over the loud piano, “Goodbye, my sweet Delilah Mae Cooper! I’ll see your beautiful face in the morning!”
“Bye, Iby!” she calls out without taking her eyes off the keys.
I push off the couch and follow her to the door where she reaches for her purse. “I’ll walk you out.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “That’s okay, you don’t need to. I can walk myself.”
“Wasn’t askin’,” I reply, and swing the door open, sweeping my hand through the air to usher her out.
“Alright, bossy,” she mutters under her breath, then steps outside.
If she only knew.
We walk in silence down the gravel road, and the once pink sky has now turned deep blue and violet.
The only sounds are the rocks crunching beneath our shoes and the steady singing of the crickets.
It stays that way for a few minutes, and the strange thing is, it’s not uncomfortable.
It doesn’t feel like the kind of silence that needs to be filled.
Hands in my pockets, I finally give Ivy a sidelong glance.
My eyes travel over her, savoring every inch I can.
Hopefully the quickly darkening sky is hiding my discreet, but thorough perusal of her body.
Ivy is like a walking fantasy, and it’s damn near impossible not to look.
I’m lost in thoughts of professionalism and boundaries when she breaks the silence first.
“What?” she says, her voice cutting through the quiet night.
My head snaps to face her. “What?”
I look down, and the bright moonlight lets me see the all-too-knowing smile taking over her face. It’s equal parts smug and sweet.
“You’re staring at me,” she teases, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not very sneaky, Wesley Reginald Cooper.”
I pray the darkness hides the heat crawling up my neck. I turn my head to face forward. “Not my middle name,” I grumble.
I’m caught red handed, and refuse to look at her. It’s like we pass the power of making the other blush, like a game. I like it far more than I should.
“I’ll get it right, sooner or later,” she replies, her voice full of amusement.
I let her words hang in the air, grateful she took pity on me and is content with just calling me out, not pressing any further.
“What’s the favor?” she asks.
My brows lower. “What?”
“The favor you need from me. Remember?”
Oh, yes. How could I forget?
The texts from earlier today. They were loaded with an innuendo I couldn’t get out of my head.
It posed a real issue for me at work. Thoughts of her doing any type of favor for me had my dick pressing against my zipper uncomfortably all afternoon.
I spent the rest of the day hoping that my shirt covered my incessant hard-on while I tattooed three more clients.
“Oh. Right.” I cough into my fist, stalling for time, trying to get myself back together. “I was asked to do a guest spot. Tattoo at another studio in Texas next month. I’d have to be there for a few days.”
“Oh, do you want me to stay with Lilah while you’re gone?” she cuts in, already ready to help.
I rake a hand through my hair and shake my head. “Well, I was actually wondering if you two would want to come with me.”
Her head whips to me, and I blurt out the rest quickly.
“I’d get you your own hotel room. It’d be the same schedule as usual. I’ll pay for everything. You wouldn’t have to worry about that. I just… I don’t like leaving Lilah for that long,” I explain.
She’s thinking. I can tell by her adorable fucking scrunched nose.
“If you’re uncomfortable with it…” I start, not wanting her to feel any pressure, but she stops me.
“No, it’s not that. I just worry about leaving Rose for that long. But her daughter lives nearby, so it should be okay,” she says, mostly to herself I think. Who is Rose?
“Rose?” I echo.
“My landlord, well, neighbor I guess. Or grandma-friend.”
“Your grandma-friend?” I quirk an eyebrow.
She smiles at that. “I rent her studio apartment above her garage, and we’ve become close. We eat dinner together a few nights a week, and I check on her regularly. She’s older, maybe around eighty.”
God damn it, I wish she wouldn’t have told me that. It makes me like her a hell of a lot more.
“Alright, I understand. Well, I guess just let me know by the end of this week, if you can,” I say, nodding.
She nods quickly. “Yes, of course. It should be totally fine. I’ll make sure her daughter will be around. If she even knew I was making a fuss about this, she’d probably beat my ass,” she says, letting out a deep laugh, and my lips twitch in response.
My alone time with Ivy, and our walk, comes to an end too soon when we come to a stop beside her car. She hauls her door open, then lingers in the space between the seat and the door.
She fiddles with her keys between her fingers, and rocks back on her heels—looking up at me. I tuck my hands safely away in my pockets, trying to keep them occupied. I don’t last long, moving one hand and combing my fingers through my hair. I hope she can’t tell it’s nerves.
Her eye catches on my arm—lingers on it—and I feel something shift in the air. A slow, building heat flares in my stomach. Seeing her ogle me again, knowing I might affect her even a fraction of how she affects me, is a very dangerous and intoxicating feeling.
It makes me want to push my luck a little. Play with fire.
I know I need her help. Lilah needs her. If I tried anything with Ivy, and it blew up in my face, we’d be screwed.
Still, the pull Ivy has is becoming hard to resist. Why can’t I get her out of my fucking head? I’ve never reacted to a woman like this before, and somehow, that only makes her more irresistible. I know she feels something too. I’ve seen it in her eyes.
I move before I can stop myself. Bracing one hand on the top of her car, the other grips the edge of the opened door, effectively trapping her. She looks up at me, the porch light from my house illuminating a soft warm glow on the side of her face.
I clear my throat. “Drive safe. It gets real dark out here at night.”
Smooth.
She cocks her head. “No kidding? Cars tend to have headlights for that specific reason.” She’s smirking again, but it’s not evil like the one she gave Maverick earlier. It’s playful. Challenging even.
“You’re a brat, you know that?” My voice drops an entire octave.
She tucks a long wild strand of hair behind her ear, never breaking our stare. “I think you like it, Wesley.”
Her tone is teasing. But right now, I’m about done being teased by her.
I don’t mean to say it. It just slips out.
“Careful,” I warn her.
The smirk on her face vanishes, and she swallows.
Her slightly heaving chest threatens to draw my attention, but my eyes stay locked on hers.
She licks that plump bottom lip, forcing me to glance down at the movement.
As if responding to hers, my tongue swipes out and traces my bottom lip on its own, and I can feel my control start to slip.
I fear I’m about to break and throw caution to the wind, but Ivy does us both a favor and steps back, slowly lowering herself into the driver's seat.
“I'll let you know about, um, Texas, ” she says, her voice breathy and uneven.
I dip my chin, but just as she reaches for the door handle, I remember something.
“Oh, here.” I dig into my pocket and pull out the house key I had made for her today. I hold it out, the keychain I chose for her dangling from it.
She reaches out, and tentatively takes it from me. “What is it?”
“A key to the house. You can use it whenever you need to. You don’t need to knock.”
“Oh… Thank you,” she says earnestly.
“Of course.” I tap the roof of her car. “Text when you get home. Please”
“Um, sure.” She looks a little puzzled by that request, and blindsided by the key.
She seems caught off guard by it all, but agrees anyway. She slowly closes her door, and gives me a shy wave through her window.
I return it.
I’m rooted in place, watching as she drives off down the road, the dust from her tires floating in the air around me. I can’t do anything but focus on the red glow of the taillights fading into the dark.
I pretend not to notice the small ache blooming in my chest with every second she gets farther away. A gust of cool night air brushes against my skin as I try to shake the feeling that I know is somewhere deep down, in a place I don’t want to acknowledge.
Can’t acknowledge.