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Fast Lane
  • Текст добавлен: 31 октября 2016, 02:28

Текст книги "Fast Lane"


Автор книги: Lizzie Hart Stevens



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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1~Lexi

Chapter 2~Lexi

Chapter 3~Lexi

Chapter 4~Lexi

Chapter 5~Coen

Chapter 6~Lexi

Chapter 7~Lexi

Chapter 8 ~Coen

Chapter 9~Lexi

Chapter 10~Coen

Chapter 11~Lexi

Chapter 12 ~ Coen

Chapter 13~Lexi

 

 

Acknowledgements

To my hubby, my sons, and my parents, thank you for always supporting my dreams. I love you all more than words can say. To T, you were my first. *wink, wink* Thank you, Banana, for encouraging me, and pushing me to follow my heart. I am so lucky to have met you. You are going to do amazing things. Keep your head up, and keep kicking ass! You got this! To R, thank you for holding my hand and for all of the pep talks and wise words. And also for allowing me to annoy you daily with my newbie questions. Your motivation is what kept me pushing through the rough spots. To H, P, and C, what would I do without you three? Our daily chats and allowing me to bounce my crazy ideas off of you were much needed and appreciated. You are the most amazing cheerleaders a girl could ask for. Your friendships are so special to me.

I also want to thank Cindy and Shelly for answering my car questions.

Thank you to the ladies at Give Me Books Blog, you are amazing and I could not have done this without your kick ass promo skills!

Thank you to Renita, my Goodreads guru!

To J, you are becoming such a great friend and I am so thankful for your help and patience with me.

To my fellow Bookalicious Babes, thank you for encouraging me, promoting me, and throwing my amazing party!

To Willa and Mallory, thank you for being there for me and for your random messages to ask how things were going. They truly meant a lot to me. You are such great friends to me!

Thank you to the editors for cleaning up after me.

Thank you to Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs for making my baby so pretty!

To Sophie, thank you for all of your help and for my Hart-Beats. You are awesome.

And last, but certainly not least, a great big thank you to Marika, Clayr, Jay Jay and the rest of the Hart-Beats for sharing the Fast Lane love. Please know that if I left anyone out, it was not intentional.

Copyright© 2015 Lizzie Hart Stevens

Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Except for the original material written by the author, all songs and song titles mentioned in the book

Fast Lane are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

“WHAT THE FUCK, LEX?” Patrick snaps at me as he walks into the house, slamming the door behind him. I’m sitting on the couch, reading the latest book from my favorite author, when he comes over and rudely interrupts me.

“What did I do now, Patrick?” I say, rolling my eyes. He walks up to me and grabs my face, one hand under my chin. He squeezes both of my cheeks, hard, and simultaneously pulls me to my feet. I am so close to him, my face less than an inch from his. It hurts, but instead of saying anything I grit my teeth and stare directly into his cold, gray eyes. I refuse to let him know he is causing me pain.

“For starters, babe, you took up the entire driveway with that piece of shit Ford of yours, and I had to park my Porsche on the curb. And if you roll your eyes at me again, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.” He pushes me away from him, finally letting go of my face. My car is actually pretty new and top of the line, it’s just not his taste, so he deems it garbage.

“Jesus, Patrick, all you had to do was ask me to move my car. How was I supposed to know you were coming over? You didn’t call or text.” I massage my jaw as I turn and head into the kitchen. He inhales slowly, stretching his neck from side to side, and throws himself onto the couch.

“Bring me a beer while you’re in there,” He shouts at me from the living room.

Patrick is going to start drinking, we’re going to have horrible, boring-as-hell sex, and then he’s going to pass out and hog my entire bed all night. That’s just what I need after working all day. I reluctantly grab him a beer from the fridge and walk back into the living room.

I need to think of a way to get him out of here.

Handing it to him, I slouch down onto the couch. As he takes the beer from my hand, he sets it down on the coffee table and pulls me closer to him. With his left arm wrapped around me, he lightly brushes my cheek, urging me to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Lexi. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” Patrick slides his hand under my shirt and kneads my breast. While he’s kissing his way down my neck he says, “You can just go move the cars after I get my fill of you.”

Oh, lucky me.

“On second thought, just move your car. I can’t have you scratching the Porche.” He continues to fondle my breasts with his weak attempt at foreplay. I can’t do this anymore. I need a reason to get him to back off tonight.

“Patrick, we can’t tonight. I’m on my period.”

That’s the best I could come up with?

It works, I guess, because as soon as the words are out of my mouth he backs away in a huff. Little does he know, I was actually on my period last week. I’m running out of excuses. Fast.

AS I DRIVE DOWN the winding, tree-lined highway, I make a decision that I should have made months ago: it’s time to break up with Patrick.

When we first met, I was attracted to his soft gray eyes and lush, kissable lips. His muscular body wasn’t bad, either. His only downside? He has a crazy temper. It took a little time for him to show his true self. He would be totally sweet with me one minute, and the next thing I knew, he’d be spazzing out over something as small as not using a coaster under my glass of ice water. I just left him in a rush with some made-up story about getting called in to work tonight. I only said that so he would let me leave. Which is ridiculous. I shouldn’t need an excuse to leave my own house.

While I got dressed, he kept rambling on and on and on about himself, his band, and his precious car. I’m all for taking good care of your vehicle, but he treats his like it’s worth millions and made out of solid gold or something. Sure, it’s nice, and I mean, it is a chrome-colored 2014 Porsche 918 Spyder. It’s an expensive car, but at the end of the day, it is still a car. Patrick’s parents own a chain of successful car dealerships and they’ve always given him anything he wants. I’d hoped he could find something else to talk about. Like, why not ask me about my life once in a while?

I flick the blinker and make a right turn toward downtown. I’m not sure where I’m going yet, but I had to get out of the house.

Am I doing the right thing? Is Patrick going to flip out and go off the deep end when he realizes I’m seriously done? Maybe. But I can’t be with him forever. No freaking way. That’s why I’ve decided to end this now. I’ll save him from heartbreak later on, and save myself from the torture of dealing with his crazy mood swings.

I push the talk button on my steering wheel. “Call Brea.” After a few rings, she picks up.

“Hey, girl. What’s up?”

“Hey, Brea, are you free tonight?” I ask.

“Sure am. Wanna meet up for dinner and drinks at Mary Jane’s?” She sounds excited to hear from me. Brea and I have been best friends since the day we met in first grade. We used to climb up to the top of the climbing dome on the playground and scope out all the cute boys together. Although we didn’t realize it until years later, she always seemed to go for the well-behaved, smart, preppy guys, while I had a thing for the bad boys.

“Yes, please. That would be perfect.”

“You okay, chick?” Brea asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Um…yeah. I’ll be better than ever soon. My best gal pal, a juicy burger from Mary Jane’s, and a few whiskey sours should do the trick.”

I make one last left turn onto Brea’s street.

“Sounds good. Shall I call us a cab? You know, just in case you need a few more whiskey sours than you think,” she giggles.

“You know me so well. What would I do without you, Brea?”

“Let’s hope we never have to worry about that.” I’m pretty sure I can hear her smile through the phone.

“See you in just a second.”

“Calling the cab now—I’ll have them pick us up in thirty minutes.”

I push ‘end call’ as I pull into her driveway and park.

Brea opens the door just as I’m walking up to her front steps. Her gorgeous, sandy brown curls are pulled up into a perfect ponytail, and her hazel eyes are highlighted by just a touch of makeup. “All right. Spill it, Lex. What’s going on?”

I walk inside and Brea shuts the door behind me. I toss my purse onto her dark cherry wood kitchen table and walk into the living room. She can always tell I’m upset, even if I think I’ve hidden it. I sink down onto the couch and run my hands over my face. “I’m going to break up with Patrick.”

“What? Why? What happened? What did he do? Did he hurt you? I thought he was head over heels for you?” She’s shooting questions at me rapid fire.

“He is. I’m just tired of his crazy mood swings. I can’t handle it any more. He’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Brea walks over and sits down on the dark blue suede chair that’s off to the left of her couch. She looks at me with concern in her eyes. “You’re right, sweetie. You don’t need that shit,” she says.

“Plus, I don’t feel that spark that everyone always says you’re supposed to feel when you’re with ‘the one’. He needs to find someone that is willing to put up with his bullshit attitude,” I say, combing my hands through my hair.

Brea nods in agreement while chewing on the inside of her cheek. Suddenly, she jumps up. “I have an idea. Tomorrow, let’s go for those BFF tattoos we’ve been talking about. I’ll call Josh when I get home and set up an appointment for us. But for now, let’s go have those juicy burgers and drinks. I’m starving.” I let out a deep sigh. “Come on,” she says with a frustrated groan. “Whiskey Sours always cheer you up. Plus, that AMAZING smokey-flavor homemade ketchup that Mary Jane’s is famous for.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go. Tonight, we’re going to drink until we’re silly, and tomorrow—” I trail off and let out another sigh. “Tomorrow, I will call Patrick and try to let him down as gently as possible. God, I hope he doesn’t freak the hell out.”

“Get your ass out the door, woman, or I’m leaving without you,” she says on her way out. “The cab just pulled up.”

“Alright. I’m coming.” I say, pushing myself up off the couch. I grab my purse and follow Brea out, locking the door behind us.

WE ARRIVE AT Mary Jane’s and get seated at a table in the center of the main dining area. After a few moments, a waiter approaches our table. Nice looking guy. Tall, fit, short blonde hair, and blue eyes. I’m such a sucker for gorgeous eyes.

“Good evening, my name is Jared. What can I get you lovely ladies to drink?” he asks, never seeming to break eye contact with Brea. I loudly clear my throat and smile in amusement. Brea is gorgeous, and all the men notice.

“I’ll have a Whiskey Sour, please, and a bottle of beer.”

“And for you, darlin’?” he asks Brea. She blushes.

“Ummm, I’ll have a Strawberry Margarita, please.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be back with those for you both shortly,” he says, winking at Brea as he turns and strides away from our table. Brea is watching him the entire time. Once he’s out of sight, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye and starts to smirk.

“Oh my God, Brea.” We both burst out laughing like we’re back in first grade. She doesn’t even have to say anything. She just gives me that certain look and I know exactly what she’s thinking: he’s hot. Just as the laughter subsides, she glances behind me toward the door, and her eyes become the size of sand dollars. “Bre…what’s—” A hand touches my shoulder, and I know immediately that it’s Patrick. Shit! Shit shit shit!

“Babe, what are you doing here?” he asks. His brow is furrowed, and he looks confused. “I thought you said you had to work tonight.”

“Uh, hi, Patrick, about that…”

Brea abruptly chimes in, “Oh they called her when she was on her way saying they didn’t need her anymore. I happened to be close by, so I snatched her up for a little girl time.”

Thank you! I mouth. I don’t want Patrick to see.

“Well, you girls don’t mind if I join you for a drink, do you? I was just going to grab some take-out, but since you’re here I think I’ll stay.” He slides in next to me and places his arm around my neck.

“Of course we don’t mind,” Brea says. Just then, Jared comes back with our drinks. His mood seems to have changed. My guess is he’s a little perturbed by Patrick’s sudden appearance. Right there with ya, buddy. Right there with ya.

“Uh, hey man, what can I get you to drink?” Jared asks.

“I’ll just have a Pepsi,” Patrick says dryly.

“I’ll be right back with that,” Jared says, giving Brea another sweet look as he rushes off.

“So, Patrick, what’s your band working on right now?” Brea asks. I know she only asked to keep him distracted from wanting to bother me. Patrick and his band mostly play on weekends at local bars and small charity events. He places his hand on my leg. It rests there while he proceeds to ramble on and on to Brea about the next set list they’re working on. He’ll jump at any chance to talk about himself.

“Our new set list is so flawless, Brea. We’re going to be booked every weekend for the next three months at least. Our next show is at the tavern on Highway 68 next Saturday night.”

Jared comes back right away with Patrick’s drink and takes the rest of our order. Thank God it doesn’t take long to get our food. I’m anxious to eat and get out of here. Fast. As I throw back my third drink, I realize I have a pretty good buzz going on. I’m a lightweight, what can I say.

Maybe now would be a great time to end it with Patrick, while I have the courage. It’s almost like it was meant to be that he showed up and ruined our girl’s night. Like some greater power is trying to tell me to just hurry up and get it over with. I’ve made my decision. After we drop Brea off, I will tell Patrick it’s over. I can’t do this anymore.

He pays for our dinner, and the three of us walk out to his car. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking me home, Patrick?” Brea asks. “I can call another cab, really. Then you and Lex can have more time to talk. I kept you pretty busy chatting during dinner about the new set list and all.”

“No, Brea, it’s fine. We can take you home.” I hurry to answer before Patrick has a chance.

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all day. Are you coming down with something? Maybe I should stay the night so I can take care of you.” He looks concerned.

“I’m fine, Patrick. Just tired.”

The rest of the car ride to Brea’s place is quiet. I stare out the window and try to figure out a way to let Patrick down easy. It doesn’t matter how I say it, though. I know it’s going to crush him. I just hope he doesn’t go off the deep end. Ten minutes later, we arrive at Brea’s. She hops out and pops her head through the passenger side window where I’m sitting.

“Well, thanks for dinner, guys. Patrick, keep me posted on that concert in the city you were telling me about.”

“You bet, Brea. Goodnight.”

She and I exchange looks. She inhales deeply, nods at me, and says, “Lex, text me when you get home, please.”

“I will. Goodnight, Bre. Love you.”

“Love you too, chick.” She kisses the top of my head and jogs inside as Patrick drives away. By now, the alcohol is starting to wear off, and I’m not feeling quite as brave as before. He reaches over and starts rubbing my knee.

“Are you sure you’re okay, babe? Do you want me to stop at the store to get you anything? Crackers? Ginger ale? Soup?”

“Patrick, I’m not sick.” I’m agitated.

“Well, you’re acting strange,” he says, looking at me with concern.

“Yeah, about that. We need to talk,” I say, just as we pull up to my place. “Just park here on the curb, please.”

“But…I was hoping to stay over tonight. Since you don’t have to work now and all.” He sounds disappointed and hurt.

“I can’t tonight,” I say, looking down at my feet. “Look, Patrick, I care about you a lot, but I don’t think I can do this any more.”

“Do what, Lexi? What are you talking about? Are you breaking up with me? Maybe you should go inside and get some sleep and we’ll talk about this tomorrow after the alcohol has worn off.”

“No, I can’t. We’re talking about this now,” I insist. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I really am. But I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with your crazy mood swings all the time. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“What brought this on all of a sudden? Was it because I freaked out that you were hogging the driveway? Fuck, I didn’t mean to scare you, Lex.” He runs his hands through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. He looks confused and frustrated, like he’s trying to figure out a way to fix this.

“Patrick, please,” I plead, hoping he’ll just accept what I’m trying to say.

“Please what, Lexi? You’re ripping my fucking heart out here. I didn’t realize…” His voice starts off escalated but then trails off into an inaudible whisper. He looks like someone just ran over his dog, and he’s on the verge of tears.

“Fuck, Patrick, I’m sorry. I tried to work through it and deal with it all, and I’m just exhausted from being so on edge all the time around you.”

He’s quiet as he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Then he exhales slowly.

“Okay, Lex, whatever you want,” Patrick says in a dry, even tone. He then gets out of the car and walks around to my side to open the door for me. I’ve just ripped the man’s heart out and he’s being a perfect gentleman. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Patrick, I really believe there’s someone better out there for you. I hope you don’t hate me. I truly am sorry,” I say, while grabbing my purse and climbing out of the car.

“I could never hate you. I don’t understand why this is happening, though. I love you, Lexi.”

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

“Yeah. See ya, Lex.” He’s obviously crushed that I don’t feel the same way; I couldn’t bring myself to say those three little words. As I walk toward the door he slides back into the car. I turn around to see him watching me in his rearview mirror to make sure I get inside okay before he drives off.

I WALK THROUGH the door of my house and lock it behind me. I’ve lived here for a few years now, but I still haven’t taken the time to decorate. I’d rather spend my spare time at home, reading, or chatting with friends on social media. I have a couch, a chair, a TV (that I rarely ever watch), and a bed. What more do I need? I enjoy being on my own, not having to share my space with anyone. Men just seem to cause me stress.

I’ve lived on my own since I was eighteen. I never knew my mom—she passed away giving birth to me. My dad died from heart surgery complications a couple of months after I graduated high school. Being raised by my dad, I learned a lot about cars and how to stick up for myself. He also taught me to never seriously date a man I couldn’t marry. While I’m relieved that things are over with Patrick, I can’t help but wonder how he’s going to deal. He’s never been violent, but I’ve seen him lose his temper more times than I can count. And the way he grabbed my face tonight was scary.

I decide to have a long, hot shower, slip into my favorite pair of fleece pajamas, and curl up in bed under my blue flannel blanket. My mom made it while she was pregnant with me. It’s the only thing I have from her other than pictures. It’s brought me a lot of comfort over the past twenty-four years.

As I lie in bed, I remember that I forgot let Brea know I was home safe and quickly send her a text.

Me: I’m home. Fill you in on Patrick tomorrow.

Brea: It’s about time you texted me! I was getting worried. I called Josh. We have an appointment with him at one tomorrow.

Me: I’m really looking forward to some fresh ink.

Brea: Love ya, chick. See you tomorrow! Stoplight Café for lunch first?

Me: Sure, sounds great! I could go for a big plate of cheese fries. I’ll meet you at your place at 11:30.

Brea: It’s a date! Nighty night! Xx

Me: Goodnight. Xx

I place my phone on the nightstand, switch off my lamp, and curl up on my soft, warm bed. Just as I start to drift off to sleep, the doorbell rings. Seriously? I just got comfortable! I throw off my blanket as I get out of bed, and grab my robe to go answer the door.

“Who is it?” I ask loudly before I open it.

“It’s Derek, Lexi.”

My neighbor. He has short brown hair and bright, sparkling blue eyes. He wears his facial hair very short and neatly trimmed, not one of those bushy lumberjack beards. His muscles are toned, but not overly bulky, and he’s just under six feet tall. Derek moved into the neighborhood about four months after I did.

I open the door to see him covered head to toe in dirt and grease. He details cars in his spare time. “Wow, Derek…you got a mess tonight? What happened?”

He looks a little embarrassed, and tries to wipe his hands clean on his shirt. “Ah, yeah, sorry to pop over like this. I know it’s getting late. I’m trying to tune up a car for a friend, and the oil plug was stuck. I managed to get the plug off, but knocked the drain pan out of the way in the process and now my garage, and myself, obviously, are a mess. Anyways, I was hoping you might have some kitty litter I could use?” He smiles widely at me, flashing his dimples. I can’t help but giggle just a tiny bit.

“You’re in luck. I keep a small bag of it in the garage just for this type of thing. Give me a sec and I’ll grab it.”

“I owe you one, Lex.”

On my way back from the garage, I stop in the kitchen to grab an extra bottle of blue dish soap from under the sink. Derek’s still trying to clean his hands off with his shirt, which is as dirty as the rest of him.

“Here.” I say handing the soap and kitty litter to him. “Thought you could use the soap too,” I say with a snicker. He takes it from me, careful not to touch me with his dirty hands, and chuckles.

“Thank you, Lexi. Sorry again for bothering you. Have a good night,” Derek says, and jogs back across the street.

I lock up the door and head back to bed.


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