Inked Page 9

  I stood there, staring at Lou with my mouth hanging open. The thing about Lou was—she was really smart. She’d read every book she could get her hands on when she lived in the library. She taught herself my coursework right alongside me while I was in college. She should have the same degree as me. She’d also spied on thousands of teenagers, like watching daily on-going soap operas, and I believed she had a gift when it came to reading people.

  “Why would she lie?”

  “I don’t know. She’s scared? She’s a pathological liar? Who knows?”

  I gave her a look. That wasn’t really helpful. “Now what?”

  “You should probably take a shower. You’re dripping sweat onto the grass. Ew.”

  “No, I mean now what with Amanda?”

  “Well, your last girlfriend thought you were boring. So you should probably show this girl that you aren’t.”

  I breathed in deeply. “Okay. Thanks for that reminder. Not sure how to prove to someone I’m not boring, but okay.”

  “Nick,” she said with complete sincerity. “You are definitely not boring.”

  ~ CHAPTER 24 ~

  AMANDA

  “Wait, let me get this straight?” Finn shook his head at me. “You told him I was the father? Why?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at first. Like a way to test the waters. He reacted really well to the news, actually, and I spent the night with him last night. But, I’m starting to get this sense that Nick is really good at playing the parts he plays.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like a person who goes to extremes to please everyone else. Like he hides a lot of who he is. Anyway, I’m going to take off. Get home. Get showered. I’ll see you later though. Have a good morning.”

  “Bye, Amanda. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I left the shop, pushing open the double doors. I sure as hell hoped I knew what I was doing. Good sense told me to keep some distance from Nick, for now anyway. But the other half of me wanted none of that. The other half wanted to dive head first, all in, with Nick. I couldn’t decide which part of myself to trust. Cautious me or carefree me? After all, it was carefree me who slept with a stranger and got me into this mess in the first place.

  I went home, I went on with my day, and I tried not to think of Nick at all. I returned to the shop around noon, when I was due to start my work day, and I kept busy so there wasn’t too much time to stop and think about him. I even managed to stay late. I took an additional customer when I could have turned them away. By the time I left, it was late. Way past dinnertime.

  I hadn’t texted Nick. I didn’t have his number to text him. But I wouldn’t have either way. I decided it was better to not see him two days in a row.

  Except, as I started driving home—shit!—I missed my turn. I kept going. I kept driving. My mind was screaming at me to turn around, to go home, to leave things alone for now. But dammit, my hands and my feet didn’t comply.

  I drove straight to Nick’s house.

  Then I sat in my car for a while, like a complete crazy person, trying to convince myself to turn around and head home.

  Eventually, I left my car. My heart was racing like mad. What was I doing? My stomach was in knots. I climbed the wooden stairs that led me to the deck attached to the second level of his house.

  I didn’t go to the front door.

  I went to the sliding glass door connected to his room. I knocked softly on the glass. It was after ten. This was insanity. What would I even say when he opened the glass door—if he opened the glass door?

  It took him a second, but he appeared at the glass. He moved the curtain, saw me, and unlocked the door. Once he slid it open, I squeezed through the opening, so that I was close to him. So close I could smell him. He smelled so freaking amazing—like mint and pine. Immediately my whole body felt a bit dizzy. His hands found my waist in the pale light.

  “I don’t really want to talk,” I whispered.

  “We don’t have to talk.”

  He pressed his lips to my neck.

  They were like heaven on my skin. Soft and warm. He snaked his arms around my body, tugging me closer. But I softly pushed at his chest to make him stop. “I actually just want to sleep.”

  He pulled back, and I stared up at him. Every ounce of me was longing for something comfortable. And his bed last night had been so damn comfortable. His body, his touch—the very definition of comfortable. It was why I couldn’t keep myself away from him tonight. That comfort. That need. I worried for a moment he wouldn’t want me to stay if it was only for sleep.

  “Then we should sleep,” he said, surprising me. He tugged at my hand, pulling me toward his bed. I kicked off my shoes as I moved across his room with him. I followed him into bed, curling next to him under the covers. Today had been easier. I’d kept my meals down. And now this, tucked close to him, was a cherry on top of a really good day.

  His smell was intoxicating. Breathing him in made my body warm and my thoughts go a little fuzzy. How easy would it be to kiss him and get lost in the moment again, like last night?

  But I pulled away from his body. I moved over to the other side of his bed. “Goodnight, Nick,” I whispered, flipping over to my side, my back to him now, wrapping my arms around one of his pillows.

  “Goodnight,” he returned.

  He sounded a little confused. Maybe even a little hurt.

  I wanted so desperately to stay curled next to him. Worse still, sleep wasn’t the only thing my body wanted. I wanted to feel him inside me again. I wanted the rush I knew he could give me. I even wanted to say something, anything, even just to tell him all about my day. But I didn’t. I lay still. I fought every impulse that came my way.

  This was better. Safer.

  I could test out how I felt for him at a distance. I needed to protect myself. Because sex with this man felt way too fucking good. Conversations, almost too natural. His smiles, not easy on my heart. Even his mattress—way too damn heavenly.

  I couldn’t let myself have it all.

  I couldn’t let myself fall.

  If I let myself have it all, I’d be at his mercy. That wasn’t a position, especially when I had a child to worry about now, that I wanted to leave myself in.

  Keeping a safe distance felt like my only option.

  ~ CHAPTER 25 ~

  NICK

  Eight days.

  For eight days straight Amanda showed up at my house, same time, same way, and slept in my bed with me. She started coming in with wet hair. Her face free of makeup. Her pajamas already on. Like she’d been home, showered, prepared for bed, and at the last second decided to come sleep next to me.

  We weren’t talking.

  We weren’t fucking.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what this was or what this meant. I liked it, though, I really did. I liked hearing her breathing at night, having her in my bed, knowing she’d always show up at a certain time.

  I wanted to ask questions. But I didn’t.

  She kept me at arm’s length. And so I kept her at arm’s length. Was this Emma Winchester all over again? This weird, half-relationship, where I stuck around way too long, hoping for more, hoping for some clarity, and never got any?

  I had no idea.

  But for all the words we weren’t saying, there was something else. Sideways looks. Small smiles.

  Anything she did, it seemed, could make my heart race. She sat on the edge of my bed this morning, tying her shoes. “Would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

  She breathed the words rather than spoke them. Seriously, she hadn’t said more than a ‘goodnight’ or a ‘goodbye’ to me in eight days. I sat up in bed. Hell yes, I wanted to go.

  “It’s a work thing,” she explained. “It’s not mandatory or anything. Once a month John, my boss... you know, the guy who caught us naked that morning.” The morning I got her pregnant? It wasn’t like I’d forgotten. “He invites everyone out once a month. He p
ays. It’s nice. It’s casual. Actually, I think his wife is behind it. We’re allowed to invite an extra, a significant other or friend to come with. You know.”

  “John Michaels is married?”

  This was the shocker of the century. I knew of John, her boss, originally through Emma. And now through Amanda. He was cold and quiet. Not the ‘married, white-picket-fence’ type in any way. How did that even happen?

  “He’s married to Dani Mills. She’s Caleb Mill’s cousin. Caleb Mills of Sunset Revival. Dani is the drummer of the band.”

  Well, fuck. Caleb Mills blew into town and stole away Emma... what, nine months ago? Maybe ten? How in that time had John Michaels, the most standoff-ish guy, landed and married Dani Mills? She was as famous as Caleb. Everyone knew who she was.

  “Yeah, I’ll go to dinner,” I said.

  “You realize there’s a possibility that Emma and Caleb could be at this thing.” She turned around to look at me from her spot on the end of the bed, her eyes meeting mine. Her fingers were still on the laces of one shoe even though I think she was done tying it.

  She was so pretty. Her hair was a wavy, pink mane framing her face. Her shirt clung tight over her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could almost see her nipples through her shirt. We hadn’t spoken in eight days, but we were speaking now, and I couldn’t get enough of it. “I hope not. But it wouldn’t stop me from going with you. Does everyone at your work know? About the baby, I mean, about it being Finn’s?”

  She turned back around. Her back to me again. “Yeah. They know.”

  “And they know... about you and I? This.” Whatever this was.

  “Yeah.”

  I didn’t know what she was telling people. It occurred to me then, whether I was the father or not, she was probably discussing all of this with everyone but me. Finn included.

  How could I show her that she could trust me? That she could talk to me about everything, lean on me the most, depend on me, let me be the person she confided in.

  “Just tell me when and where. I’ll be there. I can pick you up and drive if you’d like. Actually, I’d really like to show up that way. Not meet there.”

  “Yeah.” She stood from the edge of the bed. “Here.” She went to my nightstand. I had a pad of paper and a pencil there. When I used to have nightmares, writing down the details of each incident on paper had helped me overcome them. I still kept the paper there, even though it had been a couple years since my last one.

  She wrote down her address. She didn’t meet my eyes while she did this.

  “Okay I have to go.”

  She turned for the sliding glass door, about to take off and sneak away just like she did every morning. A blur and she’d be gone.

  “Amanda,” I called after her. I hopped out of bed, realizing just how badly I wanted more than whatever limbo we—she—had stuck us in. I went to the sliding glass door, standing next to her before she made her escape. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m good with people, I promise. Really good with stuff like this. With or without an ex in the audience.”

  Her eyes moved to mine. She kind of squinted at me like she was trying to figure me out. “Okay. Bye, Nick,” she said.

  She slid open the door. Not commenting on what I’d just said, not lingering for a kiss or anything like that. Then she disappeared just the same as any other morning.

  ~ CHAPTER 26 ~

  AMANDA

  In my entire life, I don’t think I’d ever been this nervous. I changed my outfit eighteen times as I got ready, finally settling on a jean skirt, leggings, and a cutoff t-shirt. This dinner thing was always casual. No one would be dressed up.

  So I couldn’t show up with him looking like I was trying too hard. But also, I wanted to look different when Nick saw me again. The only times he ever saw was me ready for bed: no makeup, pajamas, in the dark as I snuck into his bed each night. It was my own fault, I know, but tonight I wanted him to see something more.

  I did my makeup.

  I did my nails and my hair. I scrubbed and shaved practically every inch of my body. I used my favorite lotion, a discontinued brand I only had a little bit of left, that I saved for the really special occasions. I wasn’t sure what justified this as one of those moments. But I’d used some of that lotion just for this. Just for him.

  There was a knock as I was finishing my marathon of pampering. My heart stampeded as I grabbed my bag and my shoes, and hurried for the door. I opened it, rushed outside in my bare feet, and pretty much collided right into his body as I pulled the door shut with me. I didn’t want him seeing inside. My house, which used to be Dad’s house, was about three times smaller than his rental. My house was lived in, pretty old, and nothing worth showing off. I kept it clean, but I don’t think clean was impressive when you’d grown up with money.

  “Hi,” I muttered, staring up at him. He had his hat on. The same knit hat he’d left behind that first night. It was a warm evening, he didn’t need a hat, but he sure looked damn good in it.

  I dropped to the cement. He took a small step back. Unlike so many of the houses built purposely one story off the ground in the Outer Banks. My house was ground level. It was older than me and still standing. I worked at slipping on my heels with the cold slab of cement against my ass.

  He knelt down close to me, his elbows on his knees. His blue eyes were on mine. “How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I worked on the buckle of my shoes. They were strappy and cute, possibly a little past casual. But when else did I ever get chances to wear shoes that weren’t sneakers? The buckle was being stubborn, though.

  He touched my hair and I paused. I’d blown it out and curled it into big waves, and it was kind of wild. The curls would not hold, but for now I knew it looked great. He fingered a strand, swirling his thumb against the pink.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, smiling. That smile—the kind that could make a girl tingle in places involuntarily. I wasn’t immune and today it was especially cocky on his lips. He touched my shoe. I hadn’t figured out the buckle, and for a moment I thought he might have been kneeling down to help me, when instead he pushed my right one off my foot.

  Then my left.

  I took a breath and crossed my legs, barefoot now on my front porch. “What are you doing?”

  He moved his hands to my knees. Hovering closer, he leaned in to whisper, “Wanting more.”

  He gave my thighs a little squeeze, his eyes moving back to look into mine, his mouth way too close to mine now.

  My chest was on fire.

  He softly kissed the corner of my mouth. “You dressed up for me.”

  “I didn’t. I always dress like this.”

  He made a noise in his throat. Then he started kissing me more, slow kisses across my jaw line. It felt so nice. I rested my weight back on my hands, letting him kiss my jaw then my neck.

  “You’re lying,” he muttered.

  “Fine,” I whispered. “I dressed up for you.”

  He pulled back. I must have satisfied him with that answer because he was about to stand up, to pull away, but I suddenly found myself also wanting more. I grabbed his neck and pushed my lips into his. He continued to pull back. “Come here,” he muttered, grabbing my hand, helping me stand.

  My bare feet were on the cement now. I stood there with him, my emotions zigzagging all over the place. From nervous to annoyed to hopeful to scared. He tugged off his beanie, holding it in his hands. His hair underneath was messy, but on him, impossible to look bad.

  He touched gently under my chin, his hat still in hand, tipping my face up toward him. “Come here,” he muttered right before...

  He kissed me.

  Oh God, did he kiss me.

  His hands moved to the sides of my face, and he pressed those soft, warm lips of his against mine. I felt his tongue. I was hooked on his tongue. It was a slow, savory kiss. And dammit, if it wasn’t the best of my life.

  I don’t know why the kiss I’d tried to start on the flo
or hadn’t been good enough—why he’d made me stand and then taken his hat off for this. Why this kiss suddenly beat out all his other kisses. I mean, his other ones in the past had been great and all, toe-curling even, but this one made something inside me scream.

  I melted into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, feeling the width and strength of his back. He smelled like heaven, tasted like heaven—he was heaven.

  Another minute later, he broke the kiss. He tugged on his hat, smiling all cocky at me. “Come on, let’s go to dinner.” He cleared his throat as he spoke, his voice hoarse and rough, thanks to our mind-blowing kiss.

  I felt dizzy. I couldn’t even speak. My body was buzzing, my heart was thumping, and I had no idea what he’d just done to me. “Yeah,” I muttered. I bent to my knees, once again about to attempt getting these strappy shoes on my feet. But then quickly decided I didn’t care about wearing heels. “You know what, fuck it,” I mumbled to myself.

  I kicked the heels behind, close to my front door. Inside my bag, I grabbed my keys to unlock it. Just inside the door, I had the sneakers I always wore. Only cracking the door a minimal amount, I reached in and grabbed them.

  I slipped them on instead.

  I don’t think Nick cared what was on my feet, I decided. The guy was still around even when he thought I had Finn’s baby inside me. Shoes seemed trivial in comparison. He was here despite everything else. It made me realize, for the first time, just how much he liked me.

  ~ CHAPTER 27 ~

  NICK

  “There was this one time my mom told me not to touch the stovetop when it was red, because that meant it was hot, so I made direct eye contact with her and slapped my hand down on the burner.”

  We were at dinner. There were only eight of us altogether. Somehow in my mind I’d imagined this would involve a larger group. When we’d arrived, a little late, the others had already been seated at the table. Only two open seats were left. On the end. Across from one another. I took one of the seats next to a guy named Patrick. Amanda sat across from me. Right next to none other than Finn himself. He immediately put his hand up to his face and whispered something to her. Something that made her smile for a second.