Page 23 of The Deadbeat Next Door

He cleared his throat and my eyes rose to his face again. He was clean-shaven for the first time since I’d met him and his hair was slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower, only a few strands slipped over his forehead and into his face. “See something you like?”

“Not a thing.” I put my hands on my hips and forced a frown. What the hell was wrong with me? I did not find him attractive. He was entirely wrong for me. “You?”

His eyes roamed over me again and I repressed a shiver. “Dilly said you were trying a new look. It suits you.”

“Thanks.” I was thrown off guard by his sincere compliment and hated that the word came out a bit breathless. “You and Dilly seem to have become fast friends.”

“That a problem?”

I bit my lip, considering, and his eyes zoomed to my mouth, making it very, very hard for me to think. Was it a problem that he and Dilly were now friends who discussed me behind my back? Hell, yes, but he didn’t need to know that. “It’s fine,” I said. “But you should probably know that she just got out of a messy relationship, and I don’t want you getting the wrong idea. She’s really not ready to be dating or…Whatever…” I was totally lying through my teeth. What in the ever-loving hell was wrong with me? It was just that the idea of him making a move on Dilly right in front of me…Because he wasn’t good enough for her, of course. Not because I was jealous.

His mouth twisted into a frown. “I’ve got no intention of making a move on your friend. Are you saying you don’t want me to go out with y’all tonight?”

“Well, of course it’s not that I don’t want you to join us,” I said. “It’s just that—”

“Great.” He stepped through the doorway and brushed by me, pulling the door shut behind him. “Let’s go. You can ride with me.”

“Well, no, actually I was going to ride with Dilly and Lance.”

His lips pulled into a dramatic frown. “Well, I can’t go alone. I’m new around here and I don’t know my way to the club. I didn’t think you’d want Dilly to ride with me, but—”

“Oh, for the love of moles and molehills. I’ll ride with you. I’ll just tell the others to meet us there.”

I went back to my house and told Lance and Dilly the plan. Dilly looked way too happy with the arrangement, and I got the distinct impression I’d just fallen into one of her traps.

Cody was already in his truck, the engine humming. Before I reached his driveway, though, he hopped out, jogged around the front, and opened the passenger door for me.

I accepted his help up and onto the high seat and buckled my belt while he closed the door. His nice manners had struck me a bit dumb, but by the time he’d rounded the front of the truck, I’d reminded myself of all the times he’d been severely lacking in manners.

He pulled to the end of his driveway. “Which way?”

Dilly and Lance had already gone, so I couldn’t tell him to follow them. “Take a right and then another right out of the neighborhood.”

We rode in silence, except for me giving him directions, and pulled up in front of Philistine’s ten minutes later. Philistine’s was an old warehouse that had been converted on the inside, but the outside was pretty much untouched. “Nice place,” Cody said.

“It’s better inside.” There were lots of people heading inside and it was hard not to feel the buzz of anticipation and energy in the air and get excited. I jumped out and met Cody at the front of the truck. He took my hand and it felt good, natural and warm. I should have dropped it, but it had been a long time since I’d been out to a club and I was more than a little nervous. It felt good to have him by my side, unflappable, clearly used to an active night-life.

The heavy beat of hip-hop hit us as soon as we walked in. The place was already crowded, and I didn’t see Dilly or Lance anywhere. I huffed in annoyance. They weren’t supposed to leave me on my own. I wasn’t ready yet.

I popped to my tiptoes to look for them, but Cody was already pulling me through the crowd. I followed in his wake, amazed at how easily he moved through the laughing, swaying people. He was heading toward the bar, but I didn’t want a drink, I wanted to find my friends and get away from his very intoxicating presence. I pulled against him, but he yanked me against his side and wrapped one large arm around my shoulders. I was pinned to him by physical restraint, but also by the warmth of his body and the delicious smell of him, wine and something masculine and spicy. It felt really good, so I didn’t fight too hard against his grip. He steered me to a small table in a far corner of the large club. Dilly and Lance were there, deep in conversation. I pulled out from under Cody’s arm and hurried over to my friends.

“There she is,” Dilly said. She shoved a drink in my hand. It was pink and pretty and probably one of Dilly’s too-sweet favorites. “Drink,” she said. “Then we dance.”

Cody stepped up behind me, his body warm against my back. Ordinarily, I would have sipped the drink and chatted with my friends, but I didn’t feel like sitting around. I felt like spinning around and pressing my body against Cody’s. So, I chugged the drink, grabbed Dilly’s hand and pulled her out to the dance floor. Lance hated dancing, but he loved people watching, so I didn’t feel bad about leaving him with Cody. I doubted they’d find anything to talk about, but that wasn’t my problem.

I hadn’t been out dancing in way too long, more than six months, and I loved it. I didn’t listen to hip-hop or rap or techno at home, but I loved the beat on the dance floor. I hadn’t gone out more often because of Harrison and my string of bad blind dates, but that was going to change. I was turning over a new leaf, a fun leaf, a going out at least once a week leaf. I faced Dilly and we danced until we got thirsty. I had another drink, when I should have had water, because Lance and Cody were deep in conversation and seemed to be getting along.

I went back out to the dance floor with my feet barely touching the ground and my head in the clouds. Everything was wonderful, everyone was gorgeous, and I was young and free and having the time of my life. I faced Dilly and started to move. Someone put their warm, big hands on my hips. I widened my eyes at Dilly and she gave me the thumbs up, so I spun in the guy’s arms and came face to face with bright blue eyes, an easy smile, and a pretty face. I could definitely work with this and, if I danced well enough and smiled enough, maybe I could forget that for a moment I’d hoped it was Cody’s hands on my hips.

I danced with the beautiful stranger and I let him put his hands all over me, something I’d never allowed in the past, because it felt good and I was young and this was fun. I pushed aside the buzz of worry in the back of my skull and threw my arms around his neck.

New hands grabbed my hips and pulled me away from the beautiful boy and I looked up to see brown eyes and a scowl. It was too loud to talk, so I scowled back at Cody. He pulled me tight against his body and he started to move. I mean really move. This wasn’t like the pretty boy who was just undulating to the music, Cody’s large body moved in a sinuous rhythm that made me think of dark bedrooms and bare skin and thrusting — I pushed away from him and mimed that I needed a drink.

I stumbled off the dance floor and to the bar, waiting for the bartender to see me.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Cody asked, sliding up to the bar next to me.

I’d been planning to have water, but his words made me change my mind. “Not at all. I’ve got a high tolerance.” I did not have a high tolerance, but I didn’t need a babysitter and more booze might help me to stop thinking about how much I wanted to lick the throbbing pulse in his neck. I turned away and flagged down the bartender. I was losing my ever-loving mind.

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