Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, Coty returns to my limp form sprawled across the mattress, holding a couple of towels and tries to hand me one.

“Here. Your hair’s dripping everywhere.”

“The whole bed is wet.”

“Where are your spare sheets? I’ll switch them.”

I wave him off, muttering, “Don’t have any.” I’m lucky to have this one decent set. “Forget it, I’ve always wanted a water bed anyway.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, moving to search for his shorts. “Get dressed and we’ll go over to my place. My bed is nice and dry. Unless you’re up for changing that?”

I can just make out his bouncing eyebrows and now I’m the one laughing. I roll over to my back, wanting to dry off. The water from the shower’s been replaced with sweat, but my hair is still drenched and is in fact soaking everything. I’ve slept in worse conditions though. A little wet spot won’t keep me from my bed.

Wrapping the towel around my hair, I watch Coty hold up his discarded shorts and wring out the excess water before hanging them on the shower rod and doing the same with my swimsuit.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. My legs don’t work.” Probably. I point to the heavy towel holding my hair. “I can’t lift my head.” Definitely. “Plus, it’s too far.” Eh.

“Is that so?” he says, coming out of the bathroom. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have any clothes anyway.”

“Good, it’s settled. We’ll stay here. Naked.” Forever.

What? No. That can’t happen, not only for sanitary reasons but this is a one-night thing. Tomorrow he’s back to my incredibly hot—fully dressed—neighbor again.

I look Coty over, the moonlight kissing his bare body as he moves through the dark to my tiny kitchen, almost filling the entire thing with his figure.

Glasses of water in hand, he returns to bed. To my bed. To me.

Tonight.

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Coty sets down our drinks, then joins me, lying on his side with his head propped on his hand.

He points to the birds on his chest. “These are sparrows.”

I reach out a finger, tracing the wings.

“Why those?”

I’m outlining the matured flowers below the sparrows with my fingertip when he blows out a breath and moves to his back.

Taking my hand, he rests it on his stomach. “They symbolize loyalty.” He turns his head toward mine.

“Loyal? To family?” My eyebrows crease and he nods.

“Among other things. Sparrows mate for life.” I drop my gaze to the intricate birds. “The roses, people sometimes associate them with love, too, but they also represent passion.”

That’s a lot of love-talk so I focus on the last bit, asking, “What are you passionate about?” I’m pretty sure I know the things Coty’s passionate about but there’s something else, something he’s holding back. His eyes search mine before he speaks.

“Riding. Working. My family—the guys mostly. I want to learn more about agriculture. And…”

And?

“And one day I want to settle down with a wife, and hopefully have kids after that.” He finally breaks his stare, glancing away. “Loyalty isn’t an option for me, it’s a given. I’m loyal to those I love and ask for the same in return. I got these tattoos to remind not only myself, but those around me, of what’s really important.”

The one remaining piece, my remaining piece, hovers dangerously close to finishing the puzzle of this arrangement. It’s statements like this that pull my mind away from everything I’ve ever thought, everything I’ve ever assumed. Coty is different from anyone I could’ve planned for, so even though I want to tell Coty he’s nothing like his father, I don’t. Self-preservation occasionally wins out, and this being one of those times makes me grateful. He’s already won everything else; my mind has to remain what I’ve always needed it to be—mine.

He faces me again, his gaze penetrating. “I don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” His words come out a plea and I nod before he can finish.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay? That easy?”

I blow out a breath of my own and roll over onto my stomach again, hiding most of my face. The towel falls off in the process but whatever. “I mean it’ll be hard, don’t get me wrong, but I’ll try not to talk tattoos with anyone else while you and I are…discussing body ink.”

The bed shifts suddenly, then Coty’s there, hovering directly above me. I bite back a smile.

“There’s that sass. I knew it was here somewhere.” Coty drops his mouth to my shoulder, kissing to the other side, his cool breath making me shiver along the way. “Do you have any idea what this back does to me?”

Slow kisses start their descent down my spine and judging from the hard-on pressing into me, I have a pretty good idea. Feeling his lips rise back to my neck, I arch into him, and he sinks his teeth into my flesh.

Coty groans, sucking away the pain, while his hardness teases my readily wet entrance. Leaning on one arm, he reaches over to the bedside table to grab another condom as I toss the towel away completely. He rips the wrapper open and makes quick work of rolling the rubber on.

“Jumping to conclusions, are we?” I tease.

Coty sits back and bends my leg to the side, spreading me wide open. I hear him inhale sharply before cursing under his breath. Pressing against my back again, he nips my ear as his erection rubs my seam in time with my breathing.

“Are you saying you don’t want this?” My moaning is the only response he gets. “What was that?” he asks, picking up the pace.

“Maybe,” I pant.

Coty pushes his tip just past my opening and pauses. Unable to control myself, I lift, trying to slide him in further, but his hands frame my hips, keeping me still. The sheet twists in my hold.

He leans in close again, his lips settling on the shell of my ear. “Are you going to do this,” he pushes in fully, causing us both to curse, and freezes, “with anyone else?”

I have to focus intently on his words because common sense flew out one of my open windows and I don’t expect it back anytime soon. Not with Coty’s body coaxing answers from me.

He’s questioning me while soaking my body in kerosene and flicking sparks in my direction, only his question holds more than he’s saying. He’s asking for loyalty—the very thing he prides himself on, the quality he’s inked on his body for life—but I can’t give him everything he wants, even if that’s what I might want, too.

Unfortunately, the fire is catching and I’m out of time. I answer with the first clear thought that pops in my head.

“I only want you.”

Click. Right into place, the final puzzle piece falls.

The words are out before I can consider the consequences. Fortunately, Coty’s lips are on mine the next second, instantly drowning out any further thought. He kisses with reckless abandon and I greedily plead for more.

Caught up in making love with our mouths, his hands are still keeping me in place, so I swivel my hips to remind him what he started—what he’s going to finish. I grind small circles on him and his head drops to my shoulder.

“Damn, babe. What are you doing to me?”

“Same thing you’ve been doing to me since we met, driving you fucking crazy.”

His head snaps up. “Good. Give me your worst.” Finally, finally, he starts to move, pulling almost completely out before pushing back in. “This is mine.” Snaking a hand around to my front to circle my clit, his name spills from my mouth with ease. “And this is yours.” The thrust he delivers along with his declaration sends shivers up my spine despite the sweat gathering there.

A part of me bristles at his claims. The bigger part of me, and not just the part rapidly approaching climax, knows what he said is true—it’s just taken me longer to accept it. He’s been weaving his way into my life from the first day, whether I’ve allowed it or not. Slipping past barriers, both physical and emotional, Coty’s accomplished something nobody else has by making me feel wanted. He treats me like the prize I never believed I was. He’s discovered the treasure I long stopped searching for. With his continued patience, maybe one day I’ll see what he sees, but for now I’m cautiously following his lead.

Knowing this and admitting it to him are two different things though, so I grip the back of his neck, bringing him close as he continues to pump, saying, “Prove it.”

And Coty, not one to back down, does just that.

* * *

“Angela.”

I turn to see Amity propped against the door. Finished with the car I was drying, I walk over and toss the towels in the washer.

“What’s up?”

“Did you call Joe last night?”

“What?” I sputter.

“Joe…did you call him last night? He said you did.”

Well, he lied. “No, it wasn’t me.”

And I never would. There’s also the small fact that I was tied up with Coty all night. My cheeks heat at the reminder, so I busy myself with laundry.

When I see Amity still hovering, I turn around, bracing my hands on the dryer and cock an eyebrow, feigning boredom.

She simply shakes her head. “That’s fucked up.”

I don’t bite.

“He was with his family. With his wife. You got him in trouble.”

I shrug, spreading my hands out in front of me. “I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t call Joe last night. Or any night. If his wife is mad, it has nothing to do with me.”

Amity stands from the doorway and steps closer, pausing. “Whatever’s going on here, keep it here. Don’t involve his family in your drama.” Her eyes cut a path across my body, making her disgust clear.

I push into her face. “Maybe it was your call that tipped his wife off.”

Her nostrils flare. “Joe told me all about you. How you ask to stay after and tease him constantly. I guess you got sick of waiting for him to finally take you seriously. But you should really watch that, desperate doesn’t look good on you.”

Just as I open my mouth, I hear my name, making both our heads snap to the end of the hall. Joe’s bulky form lingers there.

“Car’s coming your way. Get out there before you miss it.” His eyes cut to Amity and she looks down before slipping past.

The dryers kick on, so I grab two towels and rush outside. I’m not sure what the hell that was about but I do know I didn’t call Joe. Aside from the fact that I would never want to talk to him outside of the wash, I don’t even have his number. Anytime he’s called me—that I know of—his number never came up. He usually doesn’t even leave messages. Then it hits me. Last night. Joe did leave a message. Something about a present. I missed the call but a number did come up that time so I texted him. Shit. I texted him. It wasn’t a call but still, I did contact him. Even though it was harmless, Joe obviously ran with it and spun the story to Amity and who knows who else—his wife, too, apparently. But, why?

Accepting the hefty tip, I spot him barreling toward me. Great.

“Why aren’t you wearing your new shirt?”

“Because I’m a grown woman and I don’t wear baby clothes.”

His eyes drop to my shell toes and make their way back up to my face, stopping on my low-cut armpits. I doubled-up on bras today, so I know there’s nothing exciting happening there. He’s just being an asshole to be an asshole.

“I see.” He doesn’t, but he wishes he did. “I’ll be sure to let the boss know your feelings on the required uniforms.”

If Joe doesn’t have to squeeze into a toddler sized shirt—gag!—then why should the female employees be forced to? People still need to get their cars washed, regardless of what size shirt the Hot Spots’ girls are wearing. Detailing pulls way more money than our side does and I swear those halfwits don’t even change out of their sloppy gaming clothes.

“Did you tell Amity I called you?”

Joe struggles to hide his surprise. “She shouldn’t have said anything. She’s on borrowed time here as it is, but I wanted to talk to you about that anyway.” I lift my chin, waiting. “You can’t call me at my house. I have a family that’s separate from work life and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You know I didn’t call you though.”

“Text. Same thing. The point is you can’t hound me while I’m with my family.”

“I texted you once, Joe, after you called me.”

“Talking about gifts and wanting to see me.” He raises his eyebrows.

What the hell? “No, that’s not how it went down.” At. All.

“Do you think my wife read it like that?” He waits and my stomach tightens. Joe’s right, my words taken out of context don’t sound so innocent even if they were.

“Maybe I should have a chat with the boss instead. I’m sure I have much more interesting topics to discuss than t-shirts.”

Joe crosses his arms over his chest. “And what proof do you have?”

I scramble to name something, but come up blank. Joe was careful to never leave his number, and the one time he did, I deleted it and his message before he could even say ‘bye’. I could try citing the time he grabbed me when I stayed late to wash windows but I’m not even sure the cameras in the bay run after closing time.

At my fallen expression, Joe’s face splits into a knowing smile. “That’s what I thought. Don’t rock the boat and you won’t have anything to worry about. I left something in your locker by the way.” He nods behind me, before leaving me there to wonder what the hell just happened. No, seriously, what was that?

Joe just threatened me but gave me a gift, too? Talk about a double-edged sword. Neither is suitable for workplace behavior and I have the book on business ethics to prove it.

My hands shake as I grab a fresh set of towels, grateful I’ve at least regained movement of my body that was temporarily paralyzed. I have to quit. There’s no other choice at this point. Joe’s pushed too far and my back is against the wall with nowhere else to go. Securing another job before I push back, or fold, is my main goal now. I’m so close to starting that class Robert lined up that I can’t jeopardize the opportunity by not having the income to pay my part.

I vow to stop by Coty’s after work to job hunt some more, then move to dry the Cadillac rolling off the conveyor belt.

One thing’s for sure, whatever’s awaiting me in my locker is going straight into the garbage.

Screw Joe’s warning.