Chapter 30 Scott Kalifornia #2
“Scott?” Michelle’s voice tightened as her gaze swept the parking lot, already searching for Paul.
“It’s not working.” I pulled it back out and examined it. “Are you sure this is the right key?”
“It’s your truck. Don’t you know?”
Only then did it hit me how stupid this was. Our whole insane plan hinged on this one spare key from the disco era.
“Can’t you just hotwire it?” she asked, so full of undeserved faith in me.
“Do I look like the type of guy who can hotwire a car?”
“But your dad’s…”
“I was lying, Michelle. I had the other key.”
“Oh, my god.” She swiped it from my hand. “Let me try.”
“I’m telling you, Michelle, it doesn’t fit.”
“You’re using brute force. It needs a woman’s touch.” She slid it into the lock with a sweet little compliment. “Look at you, glamour girl—refusing to act your age.”
A delicate twist of her wrist…
Clunk.
The loud metallic sound echoed across the silent lot.
I stared at her, then at the door. “How did you…?”
“I have my ways,” she said with a wink, and then pulled the door open as the metal groaned in protest. “Now let’s steal this bitch.”
“Hold on,” I said, hopping in and sliding over the bench to unlock her side. Then I popped back out and slid an arm around her waist, walking her to the other side and opening the passenger door with a flourish. “After you.”
I helped her into the seat and handed her the seatbelt, waiting while she stretched it over her belly and clicked it in place.
“You all good?” I asked, like we had all the time in the world.
Her smile dazzled me. She grabbed my face and kissed me. “I’m having the best time. I love you.”
“Love you too, Babe.”
No sooner had I shut her door than a shout broke across the lot.
“Hey! What are you doing with my truck?”
My eyes flew wide open. I bolted around the back, yanked open the driver’s door, and launched myself behind the wheel.
“Hurry!” Michelle yelled, smacking the dashboard like that would help. “Go! Go! Go!”
“Okay, disco queen,” I said, throwing her in reverse. “Time to go home.”
Tom rounded the front just as I backed out, his golf club swinging into the bumper with a loud whack. “You piece of shit! That’s my truck! I bought it!”
“File a complaint with the Department of Kiss My Ass!” I shouted back, grabbing a lone white golf glove from the cup holder and chucking it out the window. “And thanks for the tune-up, man—she’s purring like a kitten!”
The tires screeched as we fishtailed out of the lot, Tom’s curses growing smaller and sadder in the rearview mirror.
Michelle’s fingers dug into my thigh, and she laughed so hard that tears streaked down her cheeks. “We’re actually doing this!”
“Damn right we are. Guess crime really does pay.” I glanced at her—that wild glow in her eyes, her loose hair whipping through the cab—and for one electric second, we were nineteen again, tearing down the freeway with the Shaggin’ Wagon leading us home.
“I kinda feel sorry for whoever lives in our old apartment,” I said, as I turned the sheets down on our bed.
We’d arrived home an hour ago, and now both my truck and Michelle’s car were safely parked in the driveway.
“Not only have they probably gotten a visit from Marty, but very shortly some dude in knickers and argyle socks is going to show up with a three-iron at their door, demanding his stolen truck back.”
“Oh, no,” she said, climbing into bed. “Do you think he’ll bring his little white glove? Because that’s when he gets really scary.”
I laughed, crawling over the bed and attacking her wicked neck with kisses. “You’re mean. I love it.”
She grabbed my face, peppering my face with kisses. “And you’re hot when you’re a little bad.”
“How bad do I have to be to get you to sleep with me?” I asked, kissing her with a lingering promise of mischief.
“Hmm… Whattaya got for me?”
“Well, I could leave the toilet seat up and pretend I don’t know who did it. Or I could throw my socks near the hamper. Not in. Near.”
“Diabolical.”
“That’s right. Or if I really wanted to get you going, I’d use your fancy shampoo. The expensive one you hide behind the conditioner.”
“Oh, my god, baby, you’re so bad. You must ravish me now.”
I laughed, the sound rumbling low in my chest as I captured her mouth again, deeper this time, the teasing banter dissolving into something hungrier.
We’d always met in this space, where a simple joke could generate an electric pull that kept our marriage humming.
I adjusted carefully over her, mindful of the swell of her belly, not wanting to press too hard, but damn if it didn’t make me want her even more, the way she glowed with it all.
Her hands slid up my back, her fingers digging in just enough to send sparks racing through me, and I responded by trailing my lips along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot below her ear that always made her breath hitch.
She arched into me and a soft sound escaped her, fuel to the fire building inside me.
I loved this, the way our bodies fit together, even now, with her movements a little slower, a little more cautious.
No rush, just that slow burn that had me aching.
I pulled back just enough to tug at her shirt, helping her out of it before shedding my own clothes in a hurry, the cool air of the room doing nothing to temper the heat flooding my veins.
When I settled over her again, I took my time, kissing a path across her collarbone, then her breasts, feeling her tremble beneath me.
Her legs wrapped around my hips as best they could, drawing me closer.
When I entered her, she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, lips parting in that expression of desire that still took my breath away after all these years.
I moved with her, inside her, our bodies becoming one in that perfect, instinctive rhythm we'd honed over years.
Her soft moans guided me, each one sending electricity down my spine.
The world narrowed to just us—her fingers pressing into my shoulders, her back arching to meet me, the way she whispered my name like a plea.
I watched her face, memorizing every flicker of pleasure, every catch in her breath that told me she was climbing higher.
Tension coiled tight in my core, building with the slide of skin against skin, the shared breaths growing ragged, every gasp that mirrored my own rising need.
I held her close, one hand cradling her side, the other tangled in her hair, losing myself in her.
When she finally shuddered beneath me, her release triggered my own, and the wave crashed over us both.
I rested my temple to hers as our breathing slowed, our bodies still joined, pulses echoing between us.
I rolled to the side, pulling her into my arms, careful not to jostle her.
For a moment, we just lay there, tangled in the sheets, the quiet of the house settling around us.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“About the night we met.” I rose on one elbow and brushed a strand of hair from her face, my thumb tracing her cheek. “At the lookout.”
“Oh, I remember well. How optimistic you were.”
“Hey, I almost had you.” I grinned at the memory.
“You almost had me,” she agreed, her eyes smiling as she nodded. “Do you remember what you told me that night? You said I wouldn’t want you.”
I laughed under my breath. “I did try to warn you.”
“You were wrong. I’ve always wanted you.”
She hit a soft spot. This was the part I never said out loud. If I hadn’t stumbled into her life, Michelle might’ve had it all. And some small, insecure part of me still wondered if she knew it.
I hesitated, but I needed the truth. “Would you? Knowing what you know now… would you still marry me?”
She sat up with effort, then said, “Of course I would.”
“But you could’ve had everything, Michelle. Money. Power. That hotel.”
“Yes, I could’ve had all that,” she said, almost wistfully. “But then I wouldn’t have you or the kids.”
“Sometimes I hate that you had to choose.”
Michelle lifted her hands to my face and held me there, thumbs warm against my cheeks.
We stayed like that for a beat, eyes locked, close enough to feel each other’s breathing.
Then she leaned in and kissed me. It was slow and certain, and unguarded in a way that left no doubt.
Her mouth fit mine like it always had, like it always would.
My hands came up to her face without thinking, cradling her, grounding us both as the kiss deepened.
It wasn’t about hunger. It was about knowing…
and choosing. The kind of kiss that carried history and promise all at once, like love that had survived and decided to stick around.
She pulled back just an inch, our breaths warm and tangled. “I didn’t lose anything by choosing you, Scott. I gained everything.”
I traced her lower lip with my thumb, already wanting more, when she suddenly went still.
“Oh—” She laughed, breathless. “Did you feel that?”
I pressed my palm to her stomach just in time for a sharp kick. “Whoa. Easy, buddy. That’s your mother.”
He kicked again—hard.
“That one’s going to leave a mark,” I said.
Michelle smiled. “In more ways than one.”