Текст книги "Under Locke"

Автор книги: Mariana Zapata

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"He has another kid." I totally wheezed out the words. "My mom was friggin' dying, losing all of her hair, throwing up every day, and this asshole was off having babies with some lady, Dex." I gasped. "Does he not know what the hell a condom is used for? What kind of a selfish jackass does that?"

Of course, he didn't respond but I didn't care because the words just kept pouring out of my mouth.

"He loved my mom, was married to her, had kids with her and he left us. Just like that. Like we were nothing to him. One day he was there and the next he was telling my mom he couldn’t stay any longer. He was restless, he said. I always hoped that maybe he’d come back. Maybe he’d miss us enough," I rambled. "But no. Nooooo. That fucking asshole doesn't give a shit about anyone. Not really."

Dex's hand slid up my back again, circling one side of my shoulders before moving to the other.

"And he has another kid, and he left that one too." God, I was pretty sure I was wheezing. "I hate him, Dex. I hate him for breaking my mom's heart, and leaving us, and for not caring. God dammit. I needed him—," Screw me. I'd started tearing up again, my voice cracking. "And he didn’t give a fuck."

A watery cough escaped my body. “I just want life to quit taking a shit on me.”

That large hand kept up its circling swipes, down one side of my back before moving over to the other while I sat there, trying to compose myself. Trying to bottle up the momentary anger that had made its way out of me. For a long time, we just sat there. Me still laying partially over Dex's lap, Dex with his hand moving around my back over my t-shirt. The silence was okay because I'd said what I needed to. I'd released the crap I'd held in for so long.

Because apparently, whether or not I'd stopped thinking about my dad years ago, the effect he'd left on me had been stored into the recesses of my conscience.

After a while, I tried to sit up but the heavy hand on the middle of my back kept me down.

"You feel better now?" Dex whispered.

I sniffled. "I guess."

"You better, babe." His fingers inched down like he was acting out the Itsy-Bitsy Spider on me. "I know you’re hurtin' but that's enough."

Who the hell was this guy to tell me I'd cried enough or not? I tried to push back again but he wasn't having it. Dex made a tisking sound.

"No, no, no. You're gonna listen to me, Ritz. And you listen good."

Holy crap, this was going to be just like yia-yia's lectures.

"That fuck is not worth your tears. He is not worth the love you've given him. He doesn't deserve it and he never will. I'm sure you needed your dad as a kiddo, honey, but you got a shitty one. And that shitty one is not gonna define you. He is not gonna be the reason you cry or don't trust people ever again.

"You're beautiful, and you're so fuckin' sweet, and you're smart, Ritz. You have to get that from your ma because you definitely don't get that shit from your pa. Knowin' Son and how much he feels for you, I know your ma wouldn't want you to suffer like you are."

His fingers tightened on my nape. "You are never gonna cry over that asshole again. I don't even want you to get mad when you think of him. He doesn't exist anymore. His shit will never hurt you again. Do you hear me?"

I hiccupped into the pillow, nodding just barely. I felt so overwhelmed, so raw, it was draining. I'd think about him again, there was no way I couldn't but at the moment, it was nice to believe that I could wash myself of Curt Taylor.

Dex's fingers extended to where the palm covered all of the back of my neck and his fingers wrapped around most of my throat. "My ma used to tell me you have to fight through some shitty ass days to get to the best days of your life. So I’m tellin’ you now, that you gotta hang in there. I swear to you, after this shit is over, you’re not gonna have to worry about him ever again.” His thumb dug deep into my flesh.

I made a noise that sounded like I was dying. “Oh Dex.”

“Babe, you’re the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. You deserve better than this broken heart bullshit.” His fingers kneaded the muscles on my neck. “If I ever see that beautiful face cryin’ again over somethin’ that worthless sack of shit did, I’m gonna make your daddy regret ever meetin’ your ma, you got it?”

A different kind of emotion overwhelmed me, temporarily blinding all the anger and resentment that had pierced my body. It made my insides clench and want to cry all over again. Because here was this man who had just called me a dumb little shit earlier, rubbing my back and promising things that were like some kind of super salve.

The words meant more because they came from Dex. Dex who wouldn’t spout crap for the sake of being nice.

So when I sat up abruptly a minute later, letting his hand drop back to his lap, I inhaled this suffering, shuddering breath. I curled my lips behind my teeth and took in the dark scruff lining his jaw, the hard clench of his mouth, and I gulped.

“Would you mind giving me a hug?”

His mouth opened for a split second and his eyes flashed to mine, a trace of something in them. He was silent though, unmoving. I noticed a nerve under his eye twitching.

Dex’s pause had me feeling like a jackass for a minute. If I really thought about it, he didn’t strike me as the hugging type. Plus, I mean, who asks for a hug?  Who—

“C’mere,” he urged in his low voice.

I looked at him for a heartbeat, still feeling a little pathetic, but when he shifted onto his hip and lowered his chin to give me this look...I stopped caring. I shuffled forward and just went for it. Arms around his ribs, my forehead to his cheek.

It took a second but his arms wound their way around me. One band over my shoulders, the other around the middle of my back. And he squeezed. Dex held me to him, the faint smell of laundry detergent and Dex filling my nostrils. Warm skin, warm body, warm, warm, warm.  So much warmth, this wild choke lodged in my throat.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes.

He didn’t say anything either, but I felt the deep breath that inflated his chest before he let it out over my ear.

Chapter Twenty-One

"Would you quit looking at me like that?"

For the last five minutes, Dex had been sitting across the counter from me, staring. With his coffee cup raised just over his mouth, those dark blue eyes had been locked in my direction. At first I'd thought that there may have been maple syrup smothered somewhere on me but I'd touched all over and there was nothing there.

Those sleepy eyes were curious and way too intent. And it was probably because I hadn't slept so well after the long crying jag I'd thrown myself into, that it took me what felt like forever to figure out why he was looking at me with so much attention.

"I'm not going to spontaneously burst into tears, Dex," I finally advised him, rolling my eyes before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth.

From the sides of the coffee mug, I could see his lips tilt up just the slightest. What was up with that look in his eye? So. Weird. "Oh, I know you're not," the smug jerk said.

Both my eyebrows went straight up. It was impossible to understand what it was about his little challenges that had started baiting me every single time. "How do you know that?"

Those pink corners of his mouth tipped up even higher. "I told you last night you weren't gonna anymore."

This man. Good lord. I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. My gut was going with amusement. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Yeah, it is."

I blinked at him. "No, it's not, but thank you for hanging in there with me last night." By last night, I meant almost all night.

After the longest hug in the history of the world, he'd turned on the television and we watched what was left of Stargate in silence. Right next to each other, thigh to thigh.

"Whatever, babe," he shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal at all.

But to me it was. To me, what he'd done had been what had kept me up all night. It wasn't the newfound knowledge of my father's indiscretions, or my brother's lies, but Dex. Dex who'd been the complete opposite of The Dick at the bar. How the hell one man could change his colors so quickly was incomprehensible.

That was just Charlie Dex Locke though, I guess. One contradiction after another.

"Whatever," I mocked him in a husky voice, winking before I even realized I'd done it. What the hell had gotten into me?

His gaze was impenetrable. All that cool, gem-like blue zeroed in on me, making me just a little breathless.

I forced a smile onto my face. "Thank you anyway. It was really nice."

Still, he didn't flutter an eyelash as I widened my smile. The only thing he did was lower the coffee mug onto the kitchen countertop, his head tilting to the side. "Baby, just 'cuz you're cute doesn't mean I wasn't bein' serious about spankin' your tight little ass for doin' dumb shit, Ritz. You do it again, and you're gonna get it."

And… my smile came crashing down. Do not think about him referring to your butt as tight, Ris. Focus!

"Just because I've never hit another person in my life doesn't mean I won't make you the first." I blinked coolly. "Charlie."

What did the man do? He laughed.

"I'm serious," I insisted, earning another laugh from him.

"I know, babe," Dex chuckled. "I heard all about you sellin' off the rights to my kneecaps."

Oh crap. There may have been a gulp that was processed in my throat. "About that..."

He leaned forward over the counter, elbows propped up on the edge. "Sooner or later you'll figure out that eventually I find out everythin', Ritz."

That suddenly sounded like way more of a threat that I hope he'd intended it to.

~ * ~ *

"Get that ugly shit out of my face," Blake snapped at Slim.

I—who had a hummus sandwich an inch away from my face—choked on air, right before gasping, "That's what she said," like there was a fire beneath my ass.

Slim tipped his head back and laughed, loud, pulling the sheet of paper he'd been shoving into Blake's face away. "Ah, shit."

"Sorry," I apologized, looking over at Blake. He was shaking his head, still tearing away at the baked potato he'd been eating. "You asked for it."

He waved his fork-less hand in my direction. "Sure, smart ass."

I waggled my eyebrows over at Slim, referring to the ugly shit Blake had been cawing at. "Not that my opinion matters, but I think it's awesome."

The piece of paper he'd been holding up against Blake's face was a design he'd finished last night. The artwork was of a bright blue dragon with huge black wings, firing out a spray of rainbow colors. I mean, considering my name meant rainbow, I had a fondness of them. Plus, it was epic.

"You want me to save this one for you?" he asked a little too quickly.

Like I wouldn't remember he tried at least once a week to get me to agree to a tattoo. It wasn't like I hadn't thought about it regularly. I did. I loved the tattoos that the guys and Blue did, but there was only one place on my body that I could instantly think of where I'd want one at. That one place was the only location I couldn't have done.

The inside of my arm.

But I didn't want to hurt Slim's feelings and have him think that I didn't want his work since I'd kept shooting him down each time he brought it up.

"If you could tattoo over some scar tissue I have, I'd tell you let's do it right now. You can't though, right?"

The redhead nodded slowly, frowning. "Not a good idea." He tipped his head in question. "Where at?"

That wouldn't give away too much, would it? "My inner bicep." Well, what was left of it.

"Is it a lot?" Blake asked, narrowing his eyes.

Crap, I forgot how observant he was. "Yeah."

He pursed his lips. "Is that why you're always wearing long sleeves?"

Of course he'd notice. Of course. I mean, I did happen to be the only person I could think of that wore long-sleeved clothing every day. Sure most of the material was light, but the fact was, in Texas heat, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. Someone was bound to notice it at some point.

Most girls my age were usually trying to take clothes off instead of putting more on. That seemed to be the story of my life. When some people my age were worrying about certain things, I'd be stuck tackling a whole different type of monster. Oh well.

I wanted to touch my arm but I had to fight the urge so that I wouldn't draw more attention to it. "Yeah. It's pretty big."

Blake glanced down at the wrong arm before shaking his head, smiling just a bit. "Girl, we all have stuff wrong with us. You see these ears?" He pointed at them and for the first time, I noticed that they looked just a little bit larger than they should have been ideally proportional. "Kids used to call me Dumbo."

Slim snorted really loud. "I can see that."

I elbowed him in the side. "That's so mean."

The redhead shrugged. "They used to call me Gingervitis." He paused. "Cinnamon dick." He looked up at the ceiling as if in deep thought. "Once, some shit-nuggets pulled down my pants in gym class to see if—," he sent me a sidelong glance, "the carpet matched the drapes."

"Holy crap," I started laughing, not able to help it.

Slim nodded, grinning. "Yeah. I was a late bloomer, so you can only imagine."

Blake covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. "You had a little tonsil tickler, didn't you?"

"I hadn't hit puberty yet!"

"Be honest, that really happened like last week, didn't it?" Blake snorted.

By some miracle, right before I face-planted the desk from how hard I was laughing, I caught Slim shooting the middle finger in the bald man's direction.

"Fuck you, Dumbo. I was just trying to make Iris feel better." He cocked his head to look at me with an expression that showed how hard it was for him to not bust an amused gut. "Did my Little Red make you feel better about your arm?"

I didn't even have to think about it before nodding. Most of my life, my mom and yia-yia had told me that the imperfection gave me character, that it wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't. Really. It was ugly, but I'd managed to hide it as well as I could because frankly, more than the looks of disgust, the pity faces I got were what truly bothered me.

Most people thought that the cancer made me into some weak, broken thing. The only thing I'd sacrificed along the journey of four different surgeries was physical strength. My left arm would never be as strong as my right for obvious reasons. I’d lost most of the muscle over a decade. But that was it. The doctors had worried that I'd lose mobility but thankfully—thankfully—I didn't. It was just a little smaller and weaker. Big deal. I couldn't ask for more when the prognosis could have been so glum.

I wasn't built out of glass. I'd been healthy and strong my entire life except for those stages throughout my childhood and teen years. It was me who had kept my family afloat when things had withered. No one needed to feel bad for me because of my arm. I was made of tougher stuff than that.

And in that moment, it struck me that I'd felt bad for myself. I didn't need to hide my arm to know what I was capable of, what I was made of.

Because like Blake and Slim had tried to point out, we all had our physical nuances. Blake's ears didn't make him any less friendly or creative. Slim's hair was probably his signature now that he didn't have to deal with a bunch of immature douche-bags.

I felt... renewed and grateful to them.

I couldn't help but smile over at him. "You definitely did," I snorted. "Pippi Longstocking."

To his credit, Slim waited almost a minute before tossing the balled up napkin at my face.

“I think I liked you more when you didn’t talk.”

I tossed the napkin back at him before collecting my leftovers. I opened up the fridge to put my stuff up and spotted Dex’s bottles of Nesquik lined up neatly inside. Snatching one up, I pressed the cold bottom of it to Slims’s neck as I walked past him and made my way toward the front. The office door was closed and so was the private room.

Dex was at his station with a client when I walked by. He happened to look up at the right time, so I held the bottle up and gave it a swirl, mouthing, “For you.” I tipped my head in the direction of my desk and grinned at him.

The smile that came over his face before he mouthed back, “Thanks,” made my chest constrict.

What was happening to me?

~ * ~ *

"You gonna make it all the way home?" Dex asked as we made our way out of Pins that night.

The last three hours had been painful for me to get through. Having such a fitful night of sleep the day before on top of the two hours I spent at the YMCA when Dex had dropped me off that afternoon, and then working, had paid a toll on my body. I'd caught myself falling asleep once or twice at my desk.

I nodded at him after waving goodbye to Blake. "Yeah, I'll be okay." At least I hoped so.

He gave me a weary glance like he wasn't entirely convinced I wouldn't fall off the back of his bike halfway to his house. It'd be his fault though. After I'd told him that morning that I wanted to have a swim at the Y, he'd insisted on driving me there and picking me up. It made more sense to me to drive myself there, and then work, but the man was relentless.

He had shit to do at Mayhem like always.

That shit to do was why I found myself back on his bike, bordering on delusional. So I'd blame the fact I was delusional on how I ended up in his bedroom just minutes later.

Yes, in his bed.

It’d been hard enough to keep my arms wrapped around him so that I wouldn’t fall off the bike. Dex’s warm body and the mind numbingly loud roar of his motorcycle were like a potent sleeping pill. It was only an intense fear of falling off and getting run over by a car that kept me hanging onto him for dear life through my drowsiness. The moment he parked in front of his house, my brain stopped working altogether. There weren’t any cars to run me over in his driveway, thank goodness.

I remember Dex pulling me by the hand across the circling driveway, into the house and past the living room before swiftly pushing me into his bedroom and closing the door in my face with an insistent, “You get the bed tonight.”

I wanted to argue with him, I swear I did, but when I pressed my hand to the corner of the mattress and realized it was a Tempurpedic, that thought went right back out. Just one night. At least that’s what I told myself.

Most of my clothes were stripped off, I rinsed out my mouth in his master bath, and stumbled into bed wearing just the tank top I’d worn that day and my panties. Exactly three seconds later, I was dead to the world. Hunger wasn't even a blip on my radar—nothing was.

Until the bed compressed behind me not long after I laid down.

“Dex?” I asked in a sleepy whisper. I was so tired it could have been those masked serial killers I’d been stressing about forever, and I would have stayed in bed regardless.

Something touched my shoulder. A husky voice made a sleepy sigh. “Couch sucks, babe.”

Even though I was tired as hell, I knew that there was something completely inappropriate about sleeping in the same bed as my boss regardless of how hot he was. And that I might have a bit of a—nope, I wasn't going to say it was a crush. That would make me feel like I was sixteen again. I liked him, that simple. How could I not?

I wasn’t even sure if I could really consider Dex a friend, even if I wanted to justify what was going on by saying that friends could sleep on beds together. It took everything in me to roll onto my back and tilt my head over to where he’d laid down on the other side of the mattress.

Besides the times when I'd had to share a bed with Will as kids, and that one time I messed around with my boyfriend a few years back, I'd never even been on the same bed as another guy. God, that made me feel lame.

It took all the baby scraps of will I’d stashed under my nails and tendons to sit up completely, yawning like it was morning time instead of the middle of the night. “I’ll go sleep on the couch then,” was what I told him, although I’m sure it sounded like some mutilated version of it.

His hand draped across my waist in a move that I had no doubt had been practiced many times in his life. “Stay. The bed’s big enough for the both of us,” was his brilliant answer.

It was the truth but still. He was laying in the middle so it defeated the purpose of his comment.

I yawned again. “It's not a good idea.” Once again I’m sure it didn’t sound anything like that out loud.

Dex grumbled, fingers wiggling at the bend of my hip and waist. “Quit bein' a prude and go to sleep, babe.”

If I'd been more awake I would have been offended by being called a prude. Though I kind of was.

I groaned. “Dex.”

“Baby, please. Just go back to sleep. That couch is fuckin’ uncomfortable.”

Dang it!

He made another grumbling noise. “I swear I’m not gonna try to feel you up or anythin', Ritz.“

That notice didn’t exactly make me feel any better. Of course he wouldn't. I was like his... pet dog or something.

“I can just sleep, I swear," he insisted in a yawn.

Eek. Score two for Dex on the not-making-Iris-feel-better scoreboard.

“Babe, c’mon. I promise.”

And it was a Tempurpedic, damn it.

I was a weak sucker. I knew that. Even though I made huffs and puffs as I shuffled back under the covers and rolled further away from Dex, I still didn’t think staying on the same mattress was a good idea. But I did it anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Waking up next to Dex had to be the most awkward experience of my life.

More awkward than the time I'd walked in on yia-yia naked.

Because it wasn't like I opened my eyes facing the wall. I woke up on my belly. Normal, right?

With an elbow digging into my shoulder and a heavy leg thrown over one of mine—not so normal.

It wasn't like there was a boner pressed up against me or anything, but the bodily contact was enough. I straightened out as much as I could before trying to slide out from beneath the limbs pinning me down. I'd barely managed to scoot over about two inches before the leg over mine locked me down.

"What'cha doin'?" Dex's incredibly husky voice asked.

I froze. "Trying to get up."

The weight of his leg lessened as his heel slid up from my ankle to my knee. He had to be sleeping on his back, I figured. "Mmm," he grumbled. The elbow on my shoulder shifted off of me at the same time I heard him yawn. His foot shifted again, the sole coming to rest on the back of my knee before sliding down my calf. Holy moly, that was hot. "What are you wearin', honey?"

Aww crap.

"I'm not wearing pants," I told him, not moving an inch while his warm foot rubbed up my leg again.

All of a sudden, a cool breeze swept over my legs and I peeked over my shoulder to see Dex holding the sheet up, his head tipped down while he looked below it.

Wait a second...

I slapped the sheet down with my hand, half shrieking and for some unknown reason, half laughing. "What the hell are you doing?"

Of the ten different ways he could have answered, Dex chose to laugh. But it wasn't a regular laugh, it was the lightest, most genuine sound I'd ever heard from him. "Checkin' out that ass," he answered breezily.

"Jeez," I groaned, rolling onto my side to face away from him. My shirt didn't cover my upper arms at all, so as long as I kept my arm clamped down he wouldn't be able to see it. Which only meant that I needed to quit testing fate and get the heck out of the room. "That's inappropriate, Dex."

"Who says?" he answered from behind me. I could hear the sheets rustling with his movement.

My brother, I wanted to answer him but seriously? What had ever given me the idea that Dex would do something he didn't want to? Oh, please.

I sighed and sat up on the edge of the bed, facing the wall. My clothes were piled on the floor and I carefully slid my pants up my legs without standing up too much.

"You wanna shower before we get goin'?" Dex's voice carried over from the opposite side of the room.

I had no idea what he was doing. Knowing him, probably not getting dressed. I had a terrible feeling he slept in only his underwear. I'd barely survived seeing him in shorts back in Austin. Seeing him in his underwear now that I realized how I—unfortunately—felt for him? Disaster.

"Where are we going?" It was Sunday and the shop was closed.

"My niece's birthday party." It sounded like he'd opened the bathroom door. "I need to stop and get her somethin' or else I'll never hear the end of it."

Now that made me laugh. Dex Locke scared of his niece's wrath? The fact was, I hadn't met his family. I wouldn't know anyone besides him at the party, and just thinking about that made me anxious.

I leaned back to zip up the tab on my pants. "I can just stay here if you don't mind."

His huff was distorted by the distance. "I want you to go."

Crap.

The recommendation just kind of came out. "You sure you don't have anyone else that already knows your family?" The stupid redhead flashed through my brain. Ugh.

"No," he answered too quickly. "You're comin'. So grab your bathin' suit and whatever else you're gonna need at the lake, so we can leave in an hour."

A bathing suit? In front of his family? I'd just come to terms with my arm the day before, but that didn't mean I was ready to have a ton of people I didn't know looking at it weird.

Shit.

"All right." I was such a wuss. Such a big, friggin' coward.

I stood up and slipped my cardigan on over my tank top, grabbing my socks off the floor before rounding the bed. Dex was standing just inside his bathroom, a toothbrush shoved into his mouth, his face still too sleepy.

And the cruel bastard that weaved the fate of people's lives together decided that the beautiful black-haired man with brilliant tattoos all over his upper body, would be standing there in his boxers. The hand on his hip only accentuated the contoured lines of muscle beneath all his tattoos. Damn him.

"You seen my cuts?" he asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

But of course I was standing there looking at Uriel, the friendly, vibrant octopus that twirled a tentacle around one of his nipple piercings.

I coughed, dragging my eyes up to his bristly beard. "What?"

"My cuts."

"What's that?"

He lowered his chin in disbelief. "My cuts, babe. My MC vest. You seen it?"

The redhead flashed through my memory. Again. I had to fight the urge to call him an idiot for leaving me at his house alone that day. I'm sure my nostrils flared as I plastered a pleasant smile on my face. I'd completely forgotten to tell him about his stupid vest the day before since he'd been so busy with clients. "It's at the shop. Your lady friend dropped it off a couple days ago."

His forehead crinkled. "Who?"

Just how many houses had he gone to that night? You know what? I didn't want to know. God, of all the people in Austin—hell, in the Gulf Coast, that I could have grown feelings for, it'd been Dex. I was a total idiot.

"The redhead," I probably snapped a bit more harshly than I would've liked. "Sky-something."

Dex's lips turned down just a fraction, the lining of his forehead staying in place. "When?"

"That day you were planning on skinning me alive." I might have glanced down at Uriel—not his pierced nipples—again.

He looked at me like he didn't believe me. "Why?"

Why? "She said you left it at her house the night before." Crap, I really did sound a lot more crabby than I would have liked.

At the sound of my tone and the words that had come out of my mouth, Dex pulled the red toothbrush out of his mouth and spit in the sink. He glanced up once before rinsing out his mouth, quirking an eyebrow in my direction. Slowly, he straightened up, those sooty cobalt eyes lingering on me for longer than I was comfortable with.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you sound so pissed off?"

"Because you left me alone here all night," I replied just a little too fast. It wasn't because he'd spent the night with a pretty redhead. No, siree. "I kept thinking someone was going to break in and murder me since we're in the middle of nowhere."

"I wouldn't let that happen, Ritz."

I almost rolled my eyes. How would he have stopped that from happening if he hadn't even been around? "All right," I said a little more sarcastically than I intended.

The line of Dex's unshaved jaw twitched. "I wouldn't," he insisted.

"All right," I repeated myself. "It's fine."

I had a sickening feeling that he didn't exactly believe me. "You sure?"

Still, my response of a nod was too instinctual to be played off as cool and distant.

Dex kept that heavy gaze on me as he crossed his darkly tattooed arms over his chest, muscles and colors popping with the movement. He was watching carefully, way too carefully.

Suddenly, I didn't want to keep standing in front of him like I was waiting to go to trial. One foot out of the door, I rolled my eyes at myself for being so dang transparent. "Your thing is at Pins, and I'm going to shower real quick and get dressed."

"Bathing suit, Ritz!" he called out after me.

Like I could forget.

~ * ~ *

The only positive thing I could think of while Dex drove my car down the dusty road that led toward the lake, was that I was extremely grateful I'd been a Floridian before coming to Texas.

I'd grown up a short drive from the beach. I'd lived most of my life right by the ocean. And when you're broke as a joke, you can always go to the beach for free. So it was inevitable that I had almost as many clothes for sand and water as I did for a normal day. Specifically beach wear that could cover me up.

Dex and I had to make a stop at Sonny's to get my things because I hadn't brought anything to his house that was water-friendly. I found a really thin long-sleeved beach dress—plus shorts—to cover my royal purple two-piece.

I'd come up with my game plan somewhere between Sonny's and the toy store for going undetected. I could either simply not get into the water, or I'd just make sure to keep my arms down constantly. I'd only done that a few times while at the local beach back home but that was because the strangers that saw my scar were just that—people I'd never see again.

But Dex? And his family?

My secret was better off safe for a while.