Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

As it turns out, Joe’s dilemma wasn’t all that pressing. Imagine my surprise when I found out Little Miss Thievery herself would be working alongside me today. Then to confuse matters more, Joe treated Amity much the same as he did the last time the three of us shared a shift. Flirtatious. Familiar. Baffling. Downright disgusting. All further proving that the crap Joe tried selling me last night was just that—shit.

The only saving grace was that with the object of his affections—and suspicions—present, it kept Joe away from me. The three of us worked well together, meaning they worked and flirted while I kept to myself in the front drying cars, washing and folding towels, scrubbing invisible stains off my shoes, pretending to tan in full view of witnesses—I mean customers—during lulls, and any other menial task I could think of.

Sadly, during one of those faux chores some tips magically went missing. It’s not hard to pinpoint exactly who the thief was—their name rhymes with calamity—but I would like to know whether or not Joe knows. If he does, what’s he going to do about it? And if not, am I willing to risk my job by throwing her stealing ass under the already unprofessional bus? I don’t know the answers yet, but that money was earned by my hands which is where it should’ve stayed, damn it.

* * *

Less tips means eating in, so after a measly dinner of frozen tortellini—ketchup doubles as tomato sauce, right?—I’m on my bed scrolling through new music when there’s a round of four knocks at the door.

Louder than necessary, I yell, “Who is it?” Truthfully, I could’ve spoken normally and they would’ve heard me, but I want whoever is on the other side to know I can, and will, be loud. Also, I wait for an answer before opening it this time.

“Your incredibly sexy neighbor ready to take you for the ride of your life.”

Despite the cheesiness, I grin and pull the door open to a drop-dead gorgeous Coty. He wasn’t joking about the incredibly sexy part. I’m almost positive he wasn’t kidding about the ride either.

On the verge of blushing from images his statement creates, I cross my arms, throwing on my best scowl.

“Damn, I was hoping it was Beckett.”

Coty’s eyebrows snap together. His roommate’s earlier words about him being jealous more than ever come to mind.

I drop my arms and the act.

“I’m kidding.” I roll my eyes, smiling at his resistance to budge. God, what a beautiful mess. He said he could handle messy, didn’t he? I don’t think he knew just how messy things could get. “What’s this ride you’re offering?”

“Funny girl. Are you ready?”

“Let me change and I’ll meet you down there.”

Coty rushes to stop me from closing the door though.

Arching an eyebrow, I watch as he reaches behind his back, grabbing something from his back pocket. Next, he presents a black hoodie—his black hoodie.

“Here. I grabbed this for you in case it gets cold.” Quieter, he says, “It doesn’t have the drawstring.”

I snap my gaze back to him.

“I, uh, took it out. Last time you said yours hurt your back?”

A slow smile stretches my face. He’s always protecting me, almost on instinct at times. Standing before me now is a nervous Coty though. He’s giving me a glimpse of his soft heart and hoping I don’t throw it in his face. I want to show him how appreciative I am, how much this one small thing means to me, how nobody in my life has ever tried to prevent such a minor inconvenience for me—the inconvenience people usually try to avoid is me—but I don’t trust myself to speak. Not right now. So, dropping my eyes from his, I take it, then close the door softly.

On my bed, I bring Coty’s sweatshirt up to my face and inhale. His signature scent hits me and I’m done for. I’ve come to crave his smell and having it here in my apartment feels better than it should. It feels like it belongs. My fragrance and his—blended in perfect harmony, neither fighting for the spotlight, just happy to share the stage with one another.

I debate whether I should invite him in or just ditch altogether. When I hear the roar of his engine outside, the decision becomes clear. I’m already in further than I originally wanted. Turns out there’s nothing light and easy about the boy next door. Some semblance of boundaries can still be set though. Establishing rules now will help if I need to push him away later—not if, when. When my hideous past resurfaces, it’ll be easier to walk away if neither of us gets too deep. I just hope wading in won’t take us both under in the meantime.

With one last creeptastic whiff, I change into warmer clothes—black leggings paired with a white tunic covering my ass finished by my all-black Adidas sneakers. I throw on Coty’s oversized hoodie and look in the mirror. I am in so much trouble. Taking a deep breath and sending up a silent prayer, I need all the help I can get, I go down to meet my incredibly sexy neighbor ready to take me for the ride of my life.

Beckett and Marc beat me out there but Coty is quick to explain they’re not joining us.

“Nice hoodie, Angie.”

The appreciation in Coty’s eyes matches Beckett’s words. I look down at my outfit feeling my body buzz.

“Thanks. I love it.” My teeth catch like part of my recent pasta just slipped out. I chance a peek at the guys but nobody seems to realize the weight of what just happened. Everyone’s too lost in their own convoluted worlds to notice the turmoil in mine.

Suited up and ready to go, the roommates call out their traditional motto.

I tip my face to Coty.

“You guys are always saying that. What does it mean anyway?”

“Ride it? It means to ride life, don’t let it ride you. It’s a reminder that no matter what gets thrown at you, you still have the power to decide how you maneuver through it. Riding motorcycles is the truest testament to that since even a small pebble can send the strongest of riders reeling.”

Already wearing his helmet, he helps me get mine on. In my Coty-induced haze I forgot to tie my hair back, so he helps to tuck it away from my face as I place the helmet over my head.

Beckett catches my eye, nodding as he passes.

“What was that?”

Coty’s face has taken on a darkness that wasn’t there before.

I tip a shoulder up. “Neighbor secret language. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Guess I didn’t. Is that the same one that states Beck gets to wake you up with breakfast?”

Although playful, his words carry a tinge of hurt to them. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t hear from him about it sooner.

“Jealous?”

Head dropped, his answer’s immediate. “Extremely.”

“Nobody gave Beckett permission to do that. And he just talked about you the whole time anyway, so you have nothing to be jealous of. Trust me.”

He doesn’t look up so I grab the mouthpiece of his helmet and lift until our eyes meet.

“Hey.”

Lost in his thoughts, he remains quiet.

I grip the hoodie and his eyes follow the movement. “This means a lot.” Finally, Coty’s gaze reaches mine. “Any asshole lacking manners can interrupt a good sleep. But this, this means so much more than any unwelcome wake-up call ever will.”

I lean in, forgetting I have a helmet covering my face, and bump awkwardly against his. We both laugh at my mistake, breaking the tension from a moment ago. He bends until our helmets are pressed together, face-to-face, and pauses. Our eyes flit between each other’s as we hold the unconventional embrace.

“Don’t be mad,” I whisper.

“I’m not mad. I’m jealous as hell. I want mine to be the first face you see in the morning. Not Beckett’s. Not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

Whoa. Coty didn’t even bother checking the temp of the water before diving straight in, did he?

Unable to respond in an effective, or generally mature manner, I deflect. “You do not want to see me first thing when I wake up. You should be grateful, really. Your friend took one look at me and ran the other way. Seriously, he’ll never make that mistake again.”

His eyes narrow but he smirks anyway. “I doubt that.”

Coty steps back and holds out his hand. I stare at his long, outstretched fingers, debating.

When I meet those chocolate eyes again, he repeats, “I’ll wait.”

Coty is so much more than I could’ve anticipated. He pushes but also pulls. He gives while taking. He knows what I need and offers me what I didn’t realize I wanted. He’s the wild I thought was unattainable. He’s the stability I’ve craved for so long but gave up on. He’s the wrench thrown into my simple plan, but, oh, what a delicious diversion he’s been.

Placing my hand in his, I decide to swim with the current instead of against it for once. Maybe that really is the best way to get back on shore safely.

There’s only one way to find out though.