CRAVE - BAD BOY ROMANCE (7 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I had to
admit, there was something incredibly freeing about roaring through the oppressiveness
of the summer heat on the back of a big, bad Harley. Cade wasn't shy about the
throttle, and the rumble of the engine poured up my legs and pooled in my
middle, making me feel sexier than I probably had any right to feel.

It was almost as if I didn't
recognize the woman that had agreed to climb on the back of the motorcycle, and
once the wind tugged at my hair and tried repeatedly to push the hem of my
dress up my thighs, there was a part of me that was hooked. I leaned forward
and wrapped my arms around Cade's lean waist, holding on for dear life when he
zoomed around a pothole or slowed marginally for a speed bump.

The lawyer had given me a lot to
think about, but it was nice to let a little of that go, if only for a few
minutes, and revel in the feel of the sun on my face. The heat wasn't anywhere
near as bad when we were slicing through the wind like a shark's fin cutting
along the top of the water.

For the first time, my little,
expensive apartment in Detroit, complete with the broken door and shitty
landlord, was far, far away.

By the time we pulled up short
alongside the curb in a part of town I'd never been in, the exhilaration of the
motorcycle ride was well and truly lodged in my mind. I didn't think I ever
needed to stop, and letting go of Cade and hopping off of his bike was one of
the hardest things I'd had to do in a long time. It was even more difficult
than the decision to get on the plane and come here had been, somehow.

That was when I knew. Cade was more
than dangerous. He was poison. My feelings for him, surely tainted by the ridiculous
'fact' that I'd painted him before I'd even seen him, were starting to take
hold. I could almost picture them in my mind, creeping into my every thought,
winding their way through every aspect of my thoughts. It was like the ivy in
my Grandmother's backyard, touching everything, holding it all together.

Your backyard
, I reminded myself.
That's what the lawyer said, remember? If…

I shook my head to drive the rest of
that sentence out before I could have to hear it again. I didn't need that
clouding my vision right now. When I was alone, I'd have time to sort out the
next step, but for now I was going to forgot about all of that and let Cade
take me shopping.

“You ready?” he said.

I nodded.

He cast an appraising gaze up and
down me, and I felt a flush rise from my chest to my cheeks. “We'll see,” he
said under his breath, striding across the sidewalk and grabbing the door of
the shop we'd stopped in front of. “Whatever that lawyer told you Rachel, just
remember one thing. Around here, it doesn't do anyone any good to hide who you
are.”

I frowned, not understanding. I
hadn't said anything to make him think I was being duplicitous, had I? There
wasn't a chance to work out what he was talking about though, and before I knew
it he'd ushered me into the sweet embrace of the store's chugging air
conditioner and the cool air it provided.

It was a lovely little clothing
store. The fashions on display were my style, though it didn't take more than a
couple of glances at the price tags fluttering in the air current to make it
clear to me that I didn't have a hope in hell of affording anything in the
place. Still, it would have been the height of rudeness to simply turn on my
heel and walk out, and so I resolved to browse a little. If I didn't, I knew
there'd be an awkward conversation with Cade about how paltry my bank account
actually was, and knowing him he'd force me to have it out with him right here
in the middle of the store.

To his credit, he left me to it.
Instead of following me around and making me uncomfortable while I drifted
through the racks, he hung out near the front of the store. Now and then I
glanced over, and after a few minutes he'd found a seat in what I always
thought of as the 'man spot'. Every good store aimed at women had one, and the
one in here consisted of a couple of chairs and a coffee table with gender
neutral magazines near the cash register.

As far as the clothes went, there
were more than a few perfect dresses to wear to the funeral. Of course, the
cheapest was almost four hundred bucks. It may as well as have been forty
thousand, since I was going to have to work out a way to win the lottery
somewhere between the change room and the front door if I was going to even consider
buying it.

“See anything you like?” Cade asked
from beside me, making me jump. I hadn't heard him sneak up on me, and that
meant that he'd no doubt caught me running my fingers along my favorite of the
bunch, a flowing black that dress with classy buttons down the front and a nod
to the weather in the form of a distinct, yet somehow understated lack of
sleeves.

“No,” I lied.

He inclined his chin at the one I was
touching, and I yanked my hand away. “Really? That one’s nice...”

“How would you know?” I was annoyed
at him for putting me in the position I was in, liking dresses I felt like I
needed but couldn’t afford. My emotions were coming through even if I didn't
want them to. Riding here, being shown these things. What had started as a fun
little outing, my one moment of escape before the pressures of the lawyer's
instructions and the pit of despair that I was certain the funeral would turn
into, was souring quickly.

Cade shrugged. “Well, they
all
look good, I guess.”

I didn't say anything, and he reached
past me, his arm brushing my shoulder, the incidental contact sending a little
surge of electricity through me that made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand on end. “Listen, go try this one on, huh? There's no shame in seeing if
it's the right size, at least.”

I nodded, ashamed that I'd lashed out
at him so soon after my apology. My emotions were all over the place. I suppose
that was to be expected, given the circumstances, but taking things out on Cade
was hardly appropriate. I hadn't fully come to terms with how much of my
responsibility he'd put on his broad shoulders, never once complaining. He
handed me the dress and took my shoulders in my hands, using them to turn me
around and giving me a gentle push in the direction of the changing rooms set
along the far wall.

I went without further protest. He
was right; there wasn't any harm in trying it on. I'd spent my whole life
wanting things I couldn't afford, not matter how hard I tried to convince
myself that nice things made you soft.

The truth is far, far worse. Every
woman needs to feel special every now and then, and if you're never spoiled
then you're never the center of someone's world.

As luck would have it, the dress fit
perfectly. Not that it mattered. It may as well have been custom made for me,
it wasn't going to give me a chance to wear it anywhere.

Knock, Knock.

“I'm almost done,” I called,
expecting Cade to be giving me the hurry up glare through the crack in the door.
I had yet to meet a man who was happy in a clothing store, and we'd already
been here for almost half an hour. He'd been as patient as I had any right to
expect, and I wouldn't mind getting out of here too. There were a couple of
dresses in my luggage I could maybe make work. They wouldn't be anywhere near as
perfect as the one I was currently wearing, but they'd have to do.

“No rush, ma'am. Please take your
time.” By the professional courtesy in her voice, it had to be one of the
saleswomen.

“Okay,” I said, wondering why she was
knocking on the door if she didn't need anything and she didn't want me to go
or want the dress back for an actual customer or something. “Is everything
okay?”

“Of course,” came her chirpy reply.

Hmmm. “That guy that I came in
with...”

“Yes?”

“Is he still out there?”

“He is, ma'am. He and I just had a
conversation, actually.”

Great.
“I'm sure that was a thrill for you.”

There was the slightest of
hesitations, and it spoke volumes to me. Cade was gorgeous. Of course any woman
in her right mind would find his attention to be
exactly
the thing they needed to brighten their day. And why not?
But she probably wasn't sure if he and I were together, so she had to choose
her reply carefully, which made her cautious. “Is it true?” she asked, taking
me aback.

I frowned. “Is what true?”

“Are you really her granddaughter?”

I didn't have to ask who the 'her'
was that she was asking me about. Cade had been up there telling stories, and
on this occasion they were true.

“Yeah,” I said through the change
room door, “I am.”

Another hesitation from the
saleswoman. I could almost hear the question she wanted to ask.
Are you the same way she was? Can you make
things happen too?
I held my breath, praying that she wouldn't find the nerve
or the guts or the confidence or whatever she lacked to get the words out.

Because I didn't know how I'd
answer... I didn't believe in Voodoo, not in the slightest. Still, just because
I didn't think there was anything to it didn't mean that I wanted to be the
bitch that shot her mouth off about how it was all crap. My Grandmother's
memory deserved more than the last of her blood disrespecting her only hours
before her final farewell. There wouldn't be any point in me telling her the
truth, and I doubted whether I could make a lie sound convincing enough to fool
her.

Which is why what she said caught me
so much off guard. “Can you help me? Please?”

There was so much pain in her voice,
so much hurt cutting through the professional facade I could tell she was
struggling so hard to keep in place.

And fear. She was deathly afraid that
I would say no.

I made sure the buttons on the dress
were fastened the way they should be before unlocking the door and pulling it
gently open. “I don't...”

Panic. Sheer, utter panic. She was a
well-mannered, well-presented blond, the type I'd have assumed was more ice
queen than damsel in distress. If I'd have passed her in the street in Detroit,
I probably would have had a snide thought or two buzzing around in my head
about her without a qualm. And I'd probably have been wrong, judging by the way
she was mere moments away from breaking down right now. It was confronting,
seeing someone I would have thought had their shit together practically begging
me for help.

And the look on her face when I'd
started to say no!

“Please!” Her voice was on edge, and
if there'd been any other customers in the store I was sure they'd be looking
over at us. Thankfully for both of us, other than Cade the place was deserted.
It was strange, in its own way. Regardless of the fact that the sidewalk was
crowded with people, there suddenly wasn't a soul in all of Louisiana
interested in browsing high end fashion. It was as if a bubble had descended
around us, making us a part of a world separate from the rest.

“Stop,” I said as softly as I could,
pushing warmth into my voice. “I was just going to say that I don't think this
is the place to talk about that sort of thing.”

She wiped her eyes, and it was only
then that the tears truly started to fall. Her makeup was up to the task, but
even so I didn't want her to have to go through the rest of her shift looking
like some battered wife. “Yes, of course,” she said. “You've got her funeral
today. It was so selfish of me to ask, but I thought I'd never have another
chance. I had to take it, you know?”

I nodded. “Listen, let me get your
dress back on the rack and take care of the things that need to be done this
afternoon. Maybe tomorrow we can meet up somewhere and talk, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and the relief in
her voice was palpable. “Thank you so much. I'll come by the house after lunch?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I just thought... Well, that
was how your Grandma did it. I just assumed that you'd be the same. It doesn't
matter. We can do whatever you want. If you've got a different way of meeting
clients, I'm happy to-”

“Hang on a sec,” I said, raising one
hand to cut her off. She was gushing, overjoyed that I'd said I'd talk with
her. Her brain was going a million miles a minute and mine was more than a
little stunned. “My Grandma really used to run her business out of her house?”
Cade had sort of mentioned that, but I thought he’d been joking.

The saleswoman nodded. “Well, she
just used the front room, but yes.”

Hmm. That explained all the junk in
there. She wasn't just collecting Voodoo odds and ends; she was displaying her
wares for her visiting clients. I shrugged. It made sense, and I didn't see any
reason to change things. “No, that'll be fine. After lunch tomorrow. I'm
Rachel, by the way.”

“Jessica,” she said, smiling
brightly. “And I won't hear any argument when I tell you that you're going to
be wearing that dress out of here. This is my shop, and the clothes are mine to
do with as I please. I'd be honored to know that you were able to go to her
funeral in something I helped you have.”

I shook my head. I might be poor, but
I wasn't about to accept a handout, especially not one that cost as much as
this one did. “I'm touched, truly, but no thank you.”