Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) (3 page)

“Hey, you need a ride?” Dr. Dimples offers, and a part of me desperately wants to say yes.

“I’d better not.” I press my lips together because everything in me is ready to jump into a moving vehicle with him and beg him to show me his baseball bat.

It’s obvious I’m in no condition to drive. The only way I’ll get home is either to call Lauren, or Kendall—or hang out at a bus stop dressed like a human anaconda. God knows things will get interesting fast if I choose door number three.

“But thank you,” I say, latching onto his steel-colored eyes as my body begs to surrender to any offer he’s willing to make. “And thanks for catching me.”

A moment sweeps by and the room—the world—stills as his gaze lingers over mine. I’d like to think this would all play out differently if this were some party back at school, but as it stands the only place I’m dressed for success is the Gentleman’s Club. That’s probably all he sees in me, a “Pretty Girl” desperate for dollars.

I take a step back, and my knees buckle.

“Whoa,” he says, picking my arm up and wrapping it over his shoulder. “Let me help you get wherever it is you’re going.”

My insides clench because I know what’s coming. I’ve walked into plenty of my sister’s misgivings. I’ve taken her advice and deep-sixed myself in a landmine of crap a time or two.

I swallow hard.

“I’m headed to the back,” I say, securing my fingers over his, our eyes never losing contact.

I can feel a one-night stand coming on like a cold.

“You do house calls?” I ask as we hobble into the cold night air. “I’m impressed.”

We make our way toward the back of the Pretty Girls Gentlemen’s Club, where Tess and Dell have their love nest conveniently located. It grosses me out just to think of the rampant debauchery that takes place behind those doors, not that it stopped me from asking if I could crash on their couch for a few weeks. Of course, Dell said no.

“Fan-
tessy
is my sister. This is her place,” I say. Tess keeps a spare key behind the pot with a cactus in it. I lean over to grab it, and stab myself in the process. I don’t care what the hell Dell says, I’m way too toasted to drive.

“
Ouch
.” I draw my hand back like pulling it out of a fire.

“Looks like I might need to stick around and inspect you for further injuries.” His dark brows pitch, giving him a devil-like quality that I’m finding hard to resist. My heart picks up pace as I steady myself against his thick, treelike arm.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re interested in inflicting a few injuries yourself?”

“I promise not to inflict an ounce of pain—unless, of course, you say please.” Something in him softens, and he presses out a dull smile. “You got a friend you can call to help you out tonight?”

“I thought that’s what you were for?” I say it so low I’m not sure he heard. His eyes hood over, and he’s bedroom-eyeing me—reducing me to moronic substandards I swore I would never call my own. He’s luring me toward the nearest mattress without even trying. I’m one breath away from surrendering my sanity—
hell
, my body——right here at the corner of easy and hussy. “I don’t know where you get off looking so damn hot.”

Did I just say that out loud? I close my eyes a moment and the world does a cartwheel.

He lets out a low gurgle of a laugh as he comes in close. His heated breath sears over my cheek, and I can’t help but think I’m getting a little too close to the fire.

His lips touch down just shy of my temple, and I close my eyes and moan. Maybe walking on the wild side just one night wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

The scent of his spiced cologne makes me heady as our lips find one another—soft and hot, the slight taste of mint and beer lingers over his tongue.

Dr. Morgan detonates like a firecracker in my mouth, only a lot less painful and far more delicious. I pull him backward into the house and shut the door with my elbow. A series of soft moans escape from my throat as I dip into his Levi’s.

He rides his hot hands over the bare flesh of my back before pulling away and examining me with those “I’m going to make you come hither” bedroom eyes.

“I think I’d better go.” He reaches for the door, and I pluck him back. I place his hand back over my waist, where every drunken fiber of my being believes it belongs. He presses out a sad smile and his dimples ignite just for me. “Once I get going I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Who says you’re allowed to stop? And for damn sure I don’t want you to go anywhere.” I pull him backward, and my ankle explodes in a ball of fire. “Ouch,” I whisper, righting myself. “Besides, I have a bedroom.” I mean bed. “And protection.” I’m thinking condom but a forty-five wouldn’t be a bad idea in the event things go south. I glance around and note I’m not in Russell Hall while a vague memory of the Gentlemen’s Club wafts through my mind. I’m weak, and dizzy, and far too hormonal for anything good to come of this night.

He plucks a metallic square from his back pocket and waves it in the air.

“I don’t leave home without it.” He gives a crooked grin that has the potential to commit ten different felonies all on its own. And I’m hoping to God he will. “You sure you want to do this?”

My ears pulsate with a heartbeat, and my body gyrates with slight panic. In theory, one-night stands were something my dorm sisters did, often and without regret—hell, I even cheered a few of them on. But as for me, and my girl parts, we’ve deferred to the traditional dating pool for all our penile endeavors.

“Yes, I want to do this,” I hear myself say. It’s like I’m in a cage locked away in the farthest reaches of my mind. All of that champagne ushered any good sense I might have held onto and strapped it to the bedpost, much like I’m hoping he’ll do to the rest of me in less than five minutes. “The bedroom is this way.” I try not to slur as I lead him further into the tiny living room.

“Oh, sweetie.” He gives a dark laugh. “We’re not gonna make it to the bed.”

Morgan pulls me in. His hot, viral tongue lashes over mine, and a series of moans get caught in my throat.

The tugging and pulling of clothes ensues along with the clatter and banging of shoes being missiled across the room. My bra flies off, and I jump out of my panties a little too eagerly when they hit the floor.

My back lands hard against the tiny kitchen table, and the room does a silent spin.

Dr. Feel Good rises above me and takes his shirt off, revealing well-chiseled abs, and another tattoo that covers his shoulder, rounded blades that look like a series of sharpened knives.

He fiddles with the metallic square and the sound of paper tearing and crumbling fills the air but I refuse to look and ruin the magic.

His body lands hard over mine, and a fire erupts as our skin fuses together. His dark hair lands just below my chin as he peppers me with kisses that trail from the hollow in my neck, straight to my lips.

“Last chance to get off the train,” he whispers sweetly into my ear, and a line of excitement tracks all the way down my spine.

“Shh,” I say a little too loud. I reach down and guide him in.

Morgan thrusts into me with powerful force, and I let out a cry that rips the most innocent part of me into pieces.

Morgan

A
mean streak of sunshine bears down over me and my lids crack open to find a beautiful blonde snuggled up beside me.

I seize for a minute.

Shit.

I close my eyes again, hoping for a different outcome, but she’s still here, or, more accurately,
I
am.

A dry laugh rattles from my chest. I swore I wasn’t going to revisit old habits—the first one being rounding out my nights at strip clubs. Then again, I never could resist a “Pretty Girl.” But in my defense I had only planned on hanging out long enough to hand in an application for the bouncer position advertised out front. It wasn’t my fault I fell into another “booby” trap. Once I spotted Ally I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

I untangle our limbs as carefully as if I were defusing a bomb, and sneak off the bed. We made it to the bedroom after all—hell, we made it to
every
room, and even to the edge of the kitchen sink.

For a minute I think about staying—about letting her wake up in my arms. But with my luck, the booze that was talking would have long worn off, and the last thing she’ll be asking for is seconds.

I’m pretty sure bailing me out of jail on assault charges isn’t what Mom was talking about when she mentioned she wanted to get “all this wedding crap” off her mind for a while.

I fumble into the tiny living room and snatch my jeans off the floor, flinging my wallet clear across the room in the process.

Shit.

I hustle around in the dimly lit room looking for my left shoe and my phone as I get dressed—like a burglar anxious to leave the scene of the crime.

My wallet sits on the coffee table, and I pick it up only to have it slip from my fingers, rattling the thin glass square as it drops.

I snatch it up and run the hell out of Midnight Angel’s private abode.

A small grin edges on my lips as I head for my truck.

Ally was a lot of things last night, but she was no angel.

That’s for damn sure.

W
ELCOME TO
C
ARRINGTON
. An oversized sign greets me as I pull off the highway and drive onto the rural country road. Tall evergreens line either side of the highway as if they’re hiding the residents, and I kind of like it this way. Quiet, unassuming. I like the idea of leaving all my troubles behind, clear across country, and disappearing for a while.

A soft bell goes off letting me know I’m flat on empty, and a service station magically pops up on my right. If I didn’t know better I’d think fate was twisting all the green arrows in my direction for once. First Ally, then having insane sex with Ally, and now a miracle of the petrol variety. I could get used to this. Carrington should consider a new motto:
Welcome to Carrington, where all your wet dreams come true.

I pluck my wallet out only to be greeted with the dark hole of poverty. I stare at it for a second. I know for a fact I had sixteen dollars left because it was my last sixteen dollars and it happened to have breakfast written all over it.

What the hell?

Could Ally have taken it? Nope. She was too busy taking things I was willing to give her, like myself. A loose smile plays on my lips because, hot damn, my balls and I appreciated the attention to detail that girl put in.

I don’t give it another thought, just gas up with a credit card and hit the road before heading for the Elton House Bed and Breakfast.

A lone stretch of highway expands in front of me like a silver asphalt tongue. And just as my thoughts meander back to Ally, a body jumps out onto the road.

“Holy shit!” I hit the brakes so fast the car skids off to the shoulder.

A pair of long creamy legs crop up on the horizon along with a gorgeous sandy-haired girl to go right along with them. She’s got her hip hiked out and her thumb jabbed in the air. I crawl to a stop, and she runs over to the passenger’s side window, laughing. She’s hot—not in the turn-your-boxers-into-a-tent kind of way, but with a wide-eyed innocent nature. Although something tells me she’s nowhere near innocent.

I crack the window an inch, half-afraid she might jump in the truck if I give her any leeway.

“You sure hitchhiking is a good idea?” I lean over to get a better look at her. Shit. She’s barely street legal. She’s nothing but a kid.

“I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t a good idea.
Besides
, nothing ever happens in Carrington.”

That’s doubtful. If I had to guess I’d say she was designing an incident of the sexual variety as we speak.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” She peers in through the glass and inspects me with those childlike eyes.

“How far do you need to go?” I bark it out, annoyed. It was one thing to help Ally out. A part of me needed to know she got home safe and sound. Her sister’s got a screw loose letting her get tanked wearing next to nothing around a group of hopped-up assholes.

“Less than a mile to the bed-and-breakfast down the road.” She bites down on a dirty grin as if she is hungry for breakfast and she wants her meal to begin with me.

“Elton House Bed and Breakfast?”

“Yes!” She jumps and her chest ripples from beneath her low-cut top.

“Just wow,” I say, lackluster. “What are the odds? Hop on in, sweetie.” I let out a disparaging breath as I unlock the door.

“Oh my God! Like, thank you so much!” She buckles up and shuts the door before I can change my mind. “You would think it would be against the law the way people around here pretend they don’t see me.”

“Probably is,” I say, heading back on the road.

Her hand glides over my thigh, and I place it back in her lap.

Knew this was a bad idea.

And exactly what the hell is happening? Did I hit my head when I crossed the state line? Who gets bombarded with gorgeous women left and right after I all but made a vow of celibacy once I left the West Coast? It turns out the people in Massachusetts are a lot more
friendly
than they are in Oregon—hell, or every other part of the country, for that matter.

“So does your mom know you’re out doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“What?” A choking sound emits from her throat. “I’m
eighteen
. It’s none of my mom’s business where I am or what or
who
I’m doing.” She gives a sideways glance as if I might be the “who” she’s referring to.

A weak groan escapes me. “First, you don’t look a day over twelve, and yes, it’s your mom’s business. That’s why she’s called your mom.”

“I turned eighteen last April. And no, my
mother
doesn’t know I’m out. She thinks I’m tucked in my fluffy pink bed like a good little girl.” She looks out the window when she says it. “I’m Molly, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Morgan.” I press my lips together as a small sign reading
E
LTON
H
OUSE
B
ED AND
B
REAKFAST
comes up on the left.

“Anyway,” she continues, “most people think I look much older than I am, like say, twenty-one. That would explain why the bartenders here never card me.” She pulls at one of her blonde curls as if to entice me. “They give me free drinks and everything.”

“I’m sure they’d like you to pay them in other ways.” I pull in just shy of an undersized hotel painted an offensive sunny yellow. And why the hell does Molly here want me to drop her off at a place like this anyway? Crap, I bet she’s underage and I’m about to get busted in one of those sting operations the networks put on to boost sagging ratings.

A white picket fence runs the periphery of the property, and a heavily chipped archway stands about twenty feet from the establishment. The place looks run-down if you ask me. The plants under the windowsill look as if they committed suicide.

I park and we get out.

“Molly and Morgan,” she says, a little too loudly for so early in the morning. “I think we sound really cute together.” Her voice dips low and her hips swivel like a hula dancer. Molly here could give any one of those girls at the titty bar last night a run for their money.

Swear to God, if I didn’t just leave another girl’s bed I might have seriously considered the offer. Plus, Ally wasn’t just another girl. There was something genuine about her, I could tell. I’m glad she had to take off after her inglorious jackknife off the stage. I didn’t want to see her get mixed up in something sinister. Sure hope she forgets the directions to the strip club.

“Honey?” Mom’s voice streams from a set of oversized doors. “Oh my God! It’s really you!” Her shock of dark hair is still rumpled from sleep. She’s wearing a robe and slippers and accompanied by an equally disheveled man in matching robe and slippers, and oh, holy hell. Just looking at the two of them in their matching disheveled states makes my skin crawl. “You’ve met Molly!” She wraps her arms around me and gives a big rocking hug. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?” She pulls back and makes a face as she takes me in. “Is that lipstick by your ear?” She hisses it out low, suddenly fearing for Molly’s not-so-sweet heart.

“Maybe, but I assure you it’s from no one you know,” I whisper to keep prying ears from garnering any carnal knowledge.

“
Morgan
”—Mom chastises playfully—“there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She pulls in her accomplice in early-morning fashion crime. “This is Andrew.” She sweeps her eyes over him as if he were a prize. She
should
think so since she’s about to marry the guy. Truth is, I’ve lost track of how many jaunts she’s taken down the aisle, but I’ll support her if this is what she wants to do. One thing’s for sure, when I hit that petal-riddled aisle, the plan is one and done. I’d never put my kids through half the crap she did by hosting a revolving door to her bedroom. Not that I’m angry. Well, maybe I’m a little angry, but despite that I still care about her—she’s my mom. And the thought of her getting her heart broken time and time again pisses me off.

“Nice to meet you.” He gives a broad grin, exposing a row of perfectly veneered teeth. He’s got that silver fox look going on up top, and he seems nice enough. He’s not too big, so I could take him if things go south between the two of them.

“Nice to meet you too.” I offer a firm shake that says both
welcome to the family
and
I’m not afraid to break your dick
.

“I’ll get Kendall,” Mom squawks with excitement like I just came back from the dead. “She’s been so thrilled that you’re coming out.” Mom busies herself texting spastically.

“Oh, duh!” Molly jumps in her flip-flops and her boobs say hello again. “You’re Kendall’s brother. No wonder, you look just like her—but you’re all
boy
.” She leans in close and nestles up to my bicep, inspiring me to take a conservative step back.

“Morgy!” Kendall screams into the virginal morning as she barrels from a tiny cabin behind the property. Her hair looks like a bat just flew through it, and she’s wearing nothing but a white T-shirt that’s not quite long enough. I’m guessing it belongs to the dude trekking up behind her who also looks freshly laid.

“Morgy, Morgy!” she sings.

“Don’t call me that,” I tease, as she flings herself at me. I miss Kendall. I miss having someone to hang out with. I miss seeing her smiling face every single day. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but we had each other.