Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (16 page)

"Yeah. They didn't like to pay them."

"Oh."

Outside the car, I saw the first sign of
life. A couple blocks in front of us, a lean, scruffy man with
bushy hair weaved his way from one side of the street to the other.
As he walked, he stopped every once in a while, peering into the
few beat-up cars that dotted the oddly quiet street.

"You know him?" I asked.

"Not from before. And not from now either. I
never
come back here."

"So why today?" I said. "And why with
me?"

"Because," he said, "there's something I need
to say."

He turned sideways in the car to face me.
"It's about what happened. What I did to you."

I stared deep into his eyes and heard myself
ask, "What about it?"

He looked down and shook his head. "It wasn't
right. I'm not stupid. I know that. Shit, I knew it at the time.
And why I couldn’t stop myself—" He looked up again, meeting my
gaze with an intensity so sharp that it hurt to watch. "I am so
fucking ashamed of myself, I can't even tell you."

My breath was coming short and fast. This
car, this place, him – it was all so surreal. And his voice was
hypnotic. I wanted to fall into his arms and never let go.

He reached out for my hand. "You're my dream
girl, Chloe. You've got to believe that." His voice got this
far-off quality. "I wished for you, and here you are, everything I
ever imagined. Yeah, I won't lie. I've been with a lot of girls.
But there's been nobody like you."

"Really?"

He nodded, never breaking eye contact. "I
mean it. I love you. I should've told you sooner. And I should've
done a better of showing it. But if you just give me one more
chance, I swear to you, you won't regret it."

I caught my breath, and my heart
flip-flopped. I wanted to believe it. But it was all so
unbelievable. Girls had literally fought over him. Lots of girls.
Did they all think they were something special too?

"I want to tell you something else," he said.
"And I'm dead serious. The things I've told you today, I've never
told anyone."

"Ever?" I said.

"Ever."

The admission was staggering. And still, the
question lingered. Why me?

He was Lawton Rastor, and I was a waitress
without a home of my own. And he'd been linked to so many girls,
women actually. How could someone like me stand out in a sea of
endless choices?

But I couldn't help it. Listening to him, my
heart melted, and my eyes grew misty. When he squeezed my hand, I
squeezed it back, too blown away to say much of anything.

"So when I thought you were just playing me,"
he continued, "pretending to be something you weren't, well, I
guess I went a little nuts. But I swear to God, it will never, ever
happen again."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to process
what he just said. If I were completely honest, I
was
pretending, although not in the way he feared.

Here he'd just bared his soul to me, told me
his deepest, darkest secrets. If I couldn't do the same in return,
I didn't deserve to be happy. And I sure as hell didn't deserve
someone like him, who would bare his soul just to say he was
sorry.

I squared my shoulders. "You need to know
something too," I said. "That house in your neighborhood? It's not
mine. I'm just staying there, that's all." I looked down. "I don't
really belong there."

"Baby," he said. "I know it's not your house,
remember?"

I felt myself nod.

"And you wanna know where you belong?"

"Where?" I said.

"With me."

I felt myself smile. In my whole life, I'd
never been wanted like this, not even from my parents.

"Now c'mon," he said. "No more serious talk.
Whatever's going on, we'll work it out, alright?"

I nodded.

He leaned closer. "First, I just have a
question."

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

My voice was just a whisper, but when I
spoke, it seemed to fill the entire car. "Yes."

His leaned closer still. "Say it."

I looked deep into those breathtaking eyes,
and said what he wanted to hear, the truth. "I love you."

Something in his expression eased, and he
gave me a heart-stopping grin. "Baby, I love you too. More than
life itself. I mean it."

When our lips met, it felt like coming home.
Or rather, it felt like coming home to the home I never had. His
lips were urgent and soft and everything I remembered. A half-sigh,
half-moan escaped my lips, and I wanted to melt into him right then
and there.

Too soon, with a visible effort, he pulled
away and looked around, taking in our surroundings. "We'd better
go," he said.

I looked around, too. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing yet. But it'll be dark soon." He
settled back into his seat and started the car. "And trust me, the
farther away we get, the better."

As he pulled away from the curb, I said, "So,
this car? Is it really bullet-proof?"

"Pretty much."

"But why?"

"Why not? Haven't you ever wanted a
bullet-proof car?"

"No." I laughed. "Not particularly."

"Eh, you're not a guy. Besides, I'm glad I
have it." His voice softened. "Otherwise, I'd have never brought
you down here."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "I might take a lot of chances in
life, but with your safety? No way I'm risking that. Not ever."

I felt myself smile. "You couldn't have
bullet-proofed one of your nicer cars?" I teased.

"Nope."

"Why not?" I said.

"Let's say we drove the Lexus. We'd be taken
for an easy mark." He shrugged. "Or a drug dealer. But in this
thing, we're practically invisible." He looked around. "It's
perfect for stuff like this."

"Stuff like what?" I said.

"Seeing things without being seen, watching
without being watched. A car like this in Rochester Hills, yeah, it
sticks out like a sore thumb. But a place like this, it's just part
of the landscape."

"But why the bullet-proofing?" I said. I took
one last look around. "It's practically a ghost town."

His tone grew serious. "Just because you
don't see people, it doesn't mean no one's around. Besides," he
said, "I use it for a few other things."

"Like what?" I said.

He turned to give me a heart-stopping grin.
"It's a secret."

"What?" I sputtered.

He laughed. "No more serious talk. Remember?
You hungry?"

I nodded. It suddenly occurred to me that it
was dinner time, and I hadn't even had lunch. We turned off his
street, away from his childhood home.

I hadn't had an easy childhood, but compared
to Lawton's, mine was a cakewalk. What would it feel like to
actually live in a place like this?

I never wanted to find out.

As we left his old neighborhood behind, I
watched the urban landscape change from worse to better with every
mile.

He took me to a little Tai place in the
business district. I had to work in just a couple of hours, so we
didn't have a lot of time, but the time we did spend together made
me remember why I'd fallen for him so hard in the first place.

We held hands over dinner and laughed over
dessert. I talked about Josh and Grandma and the time I'd let Erika
bully me into piercing my naval.

His eyes smoldered into mine. "Is it still
pierced?" he asked.

I laughed. "You know the answer to that.
No."

"You sure?" he said. "I could check."

"You could," I said, "but we'd probably get
kicked out of here."

He grinned.

I found myself grinning back. "What are you
so happy about?" I said.

"You didn't say I couldn't check, ever. You
just said I couldn’t check
now
."

I thought of Erika's words. Just have fun,
let it go.

I looked across the table at him. I loved
this guy. And he made me laugh. True, he'd also made me cry, but
that was part of life, right? And he did love me. I could see it in
his eyes.

And I loved him too. So much it almost
hurt.

Maybe I was a fool. But I'd rather be a fool
in love than a fool with regrets. And I knew one thing for certain.
If I walked away now, I'd regret it forever.

Before we left, he leaned in close, ignoring
the dirty plates and empty glasses. "Tell me something," he
said.

I was lost. Lost in his eyes. Lost in his
presence. "What?" I said.

"Are you still my girl?"

There was no way I could stop myself. For
better or worse, I felt myself nod.

He practically dove across the table,
wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. I heard his
voice, tender in my ear. "Baby, I promise you. You're not gonna
regret this."

What I
really
regretted was that I had
to work that night. So instead of spending the night in his arms,
or even an hour in his bed, I'd be spending the night at the diner,
delivering food, pushing drinks, and worst of all, training
Brittney.

We were sitting in the Parkers' driveway when
I told him that Brittney was my new co-worker.

"Want me to take care of it?" he asked.

"How?"

He shrugged. "However."

I thought about it. It was tempting, but
ultimately, I couldn't say yes. I didn't want anyone to fight my
battles for me, no matter how easy it sounded. So, with a certain
amount of regret, I told him no.

There was barely enough time to walk Chucky
and get ready. From the driver's seat, he turned to face me. "I
don't wanna let you go," he said.

"You mean to work?"

"No," he said leaning toward me. "I mean
anywhere." He wrapped me in his arms, and our lips met in one final
urgent kiss.

I stifled a groan as our tongues danced and
my core ignited. Desperately, I tried to justify calling in sick,
or at least showing up late. Or maybe skipping Chucky's walk.

I wanted Lawton so bad that I felt like I'd
melt away to nothing if I didn't have him this instant. I wanted to
feel him inside me, to have his tattooed skin pressed against my
own unmarked stomach and breasts, to feel his hands on my back, and
his pelvis grinding into mine in that special way that drove me
insane.

I heard myself sigh. I just couldn't.

I'd been on the other side of this equation
too many times. I'd been the person let down or left hanging
because someone was off doing something they wanted, and letting
others pay for their fun.

I wasn't going to be that person. Not now,
and not ever.

With another groan, I pulled away. I looked
toward the house, and saw the curtains move. A moment later,
Chucky's face appeared in the window.

Lawton laughed. "Our chaperone."

"Yeah." I blew out a breath. "I've gotta
go."

"I was afraid of that."

Before I got out of the car, I leaned into
him and asked, "When do you fly out?"

"Tomorrow morning. Six o'clock."

"So early?" I said.

He nodded. "Are you sure don't wanna come
with me?" He leaned his forehead against mine. "Tell ya what, you
don't even have to wake up. I'll carry you onto that plane
myself."

I laughed in spite of myself. He would too.
"I wish," I said. "But I've got Chucky. And work."

"When I get back," he said, "we'll have to
talk about that."

He'd be gone a whole week. It seemed like a
week too long. "And just so you know," I said, "I want to do a
whole lot more than talk."

Brittney smirked. "I've just got to be rude
to people. How hard can it be?"

"Funny and rude aren't the same thing," I
told her.

"Why not?" Brittney gave a toss of her golden
hair. "I've seen you do it. And you get good tips, right?"

The uniforms aside, there was a reason my
tips were good, and it had nothing to do with rudeness. The place
was like a dinner show, with everyone playing a part. As for me, I
played a big-haired, big-mouthed waitress with attitude.

"Attitude and rudeness aren't the same
thing," I told her.

"Oh shut up," she said. "You're just trying
to sabotage me."

"I'm serious," I said. "You can sass them,
but you can't insult them."

She frowned. "Now you're just trying to
confuse me."

"It's not that complicated," I said. "Sass
them too little, and they feel cheated. But sass them too much,
they'll get insulted."

"Oh whatever," she said. "You're not the boss
of me, so stop acting like it."

I wanted to strangle Keith. It was bad enough
he'd hired Brittney in the first place. But to assign me as her
trainer? It was sheer stupidity.

I should've shrugged it off. But this time,
there was more to it. A lot more. He was goading me, plain and
simple. It was just one more thing to drive me out. Just like his
constant nitpicking.

Keith's game wasn't exactly subtle. I'd seen
it before. That weasel wasn't going to fire me. He was going to
make me quit, the same way he'd gotten rid of my favorite cook.

Now, I was stuck training Brittney. I wanted
to blow it off, but I couldn’t afford to. If she gave bad service,
it would hurt me a lot more than it hurt her, at least while she
was under my guidance.

We were sitting at a tiny table in the back
room. I'd been reviewing the job duties, along with the basic
customer service procedures.

"Listen," I said. "I'm telling you, you can't
be mean to people. That's not what this job is about."

"Sure it is," she said. "I've eaten here.
Lots of times." She shrugged. "You come up, you say something
funny, and then deliver the food. What's so hard about that?"

I gave her a look. "Have you ever even
waitressed before?"

"Oh please." She raised her eyebrows. "Do I
look
like a waitress?"

I gave her appearance the once-over. Somehow,
she'd missed the mark entirely. The look was supposed to be retro,
with big hair, bright lipstick, and dark eye-shadow.