Taking Connor (12 page)

“Goodnight Demi,” he whispers before backing away.

“Night.” I give a little wave and slip inside my car. As I pull out of the parking lot, I touch my mouth where his lips brushed, smiling because, all in all, that was a perfect first date.

As I’m climbing out of my car, heading inside my house, I hear the roar of Connor’s bike. A few seconds later, he pulls in behind me. The motion sensor lights on the side of the house flashed on when I pulled in so I can see him perfectly,
and
I can see the dainty arms wrapped around his midsection. I shut my door, intending to hustle inside, unsure of why I want to avoid meeting whoever it is he’s brought home, but he turns off the engine and calls, “Hey, Demi. Everything alright?”

Turning, I plaster on a friendly smile. “Oh yeah. Just exhausted. Been a long day.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but motions his head, indicating for his guest to climb off while he holds the bike steady. I stand there, feeling like an idiot because I don’t know if it would be rude to go inside now or not. Should I wait for an introduction? Then, a tall blonde with a perfect body climbs off and smiles at me. I should’ve gone inside.

“Hi.” She waves, giving me a friendly smile. She’s the definition of a sexy biker chick. “I’m Roxy.” Of course she is. She’s gorgeous and has an awesome name.

“Demi,” I respond as I return the wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are. I’ve heard so much about you, Demi,” she beams as she rushes in and gives me a strong hug. She has? Has Connor spoken about me? And why is she hugging me? My gaze darts to Connor, who clears his throat as he climbs off his bike and stretches. When Roxy turns back to him, he gives her a look that says,
zip it.
But I don’t have time to think about it because his gaze moves to me and moves down my body and back up again. I feel myself get hot just from his obvious perusal, and I pray the limited light hides my reaction. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows before he asks, “You been out tonight?”

I don’t know why his question makes me feel nervous, but I look at my feet and push my hair behind my ear, before meeting his gaze again. “Yes. I had a date.”

Now his brows rise, and his eyes widen. “Oh.” Then . . . there’s silence. Was that shock I heard in his voice? I wait for him to say something—anything—but all I get is silence. The sounds of crickets and frogs seem to blare until Roxy moves beside Connor and wraps one arm around his torso.

“Well—”

“We were going to grab something quick to eat and have a drink,” Roxy offers. “Would you like to join us?” Wow, this woman is friendly. And as weird as it sounds, there’s something about her that makes part of me want to get to know her. She looks like the kind of person that has all kinds of interesting tales of adventures to tell. Seeing them side by side, Connor in his rugged glory; tattoos, muscles, and worn jeans and Roxy in her perfectly fitted outfit, and long, lean legs, I can’t help thinking how good they look together. Now, I’m feeling a little off. And I can’t figure out why.

“Oh, I already ate,” I respond quickly. “But thank you. You guys have fun.”

“Your dress looks really good on you, by the way. I bet it was a great first date,” Roxy yells as I reach the steps.

As I climb the stairs to my back porch, I look back. “It was. Thanks,” I smile and head inside.

After I brush my teeth, I open the bathroom window just as Connor’s light in his apartment switches off. I guess Roxy is spending the night. As I climb in bed, I check my cell and find a text from Vick.

Vick:
Thank you for an awesome evening. Hope I didn’t scare you off with all of my intelligence. ;)

Me:
No. Just the talk about your huge penis. I’ve decided I only like small ones.

Vick:
Damn. Maybe I over talked it. It’s not
that
big.

I laugh and text back:

Nite. ;)

Vick:
Sweet dreams, Demi.

As I lay my head on my pillow after turning off my lamp, I inhale deeply. Thoughts of Vick scurry through my mind, followed by thoughts of Blake. But as my eyes close and I drift off to sleep, the last thought I have: Is Connor having sex with Roxy?

Friday rolls around, and I rush out of work and head to the grocery store to buy enough food to feed the army of children staying at my house this weekend. When I pull in the driveway, Connor is under a truck, his legs peeking out as he works. When he hears me pull in, he rolls out on the creeper he’s using to help roll under the truck and sits up.

“Hey stranger,” he chirps as I pop open my trunk. We haven’t spoken since the night he brought his friend Roxy over. I hate how odd I acted that night, and in turn I’ve been avoiding him, so I haven’t had to think about it.

“Hi there,” I respond cheerily. “How are you?” I busy myself pulling groceries from my trunk. When I feel his hand on my lower back, I startle.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles as he reaches in and grabs some bags.

“Sorry, wasn’t expecting you,” I laugh nervously. When my gaze meets his, I notice he’s sweaty, and there are smudges of grease on his face. He looks delectable.

“Did you buy the entire store?” he snorts as he moves to carry the five bags in his arms in the house with me following behind him.

“I’m babysitting Wendy and Jeff’s kids this weekend to give them a break. Those kids eat like they’ve never been fed in their lives.”

As soon as we’re in the kitchen, Connor drops his bags on the kitchen table, and I set mine on the counter next to the sink. “They’re staying all weekend?” he asks with disbelief.

As I move to the cabinet and grab a glass, I answer, “Yeah. I’m nuts, right?”

I fill the glass with cold water at the faucet then hand it to him as he says, “And you plan on watching them by yourself?”

“Lexi is supposed to come and help.”

I start unpacking groceries when I notice he’s just standing in the same place, unmoving. When I look at him, he’s staring at the glass. “Why’d you give me this?”

“Because you’ve been working outside, and you look like you’re hot,” I answer honestly. “You can dump it out if you don’t want it,” I say when he doesn’t respond.

His mouth curves softly before he chugs the water down in a few large gulps. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, I’ll be around, so I’m happy to help out as well.”

I smile as I open a cabinet and put the peanut butter away. “I appreciate that. They’ll be here in two hours. Thinking about just ordering pizza tonight. Thought it might be a nice treat for them.”

“I’ll order,” Connor informs me as he heads toward the back door.

“You don’t have to do that, Connor. It’s a lot of pizza,” I chuckle.

“They’re kids. How much could they possibly eat?”

I stare at him blankly. “Uh . . .”

“I got it, Demi,” With that he exits and as I finish putting the groceries away I try to mentally prepare myself for the weekend ahead. Not sure that’s even possible.

The Tuffman children descend upon my house like Cicada bugs on their seventeen-year return; sudden and loud. Wendy and Jeff basically shoved them out of the car as they did a slow drive by, honking their horn as they sped away.

So far, McKenzie has sat on my back porch, sunglasses on, ear buds in, listening to her iPod and ignoring the rest of us. Wendy called me earlier to inform me McKenzie was less than thrilled about coming to stay here. I was surprised to hear this. It’s been a long time since I’ve kept her—before Blake passed away—but she used to love spending the night here. At least the other children seem fine with sleeping over. Mark has been glued to Connor’s side as he works on a truck someone dropped off for a tune-up, and Mary-Anne and J.J. are playing hide and seek in my house. Grayson is sitting at my feet poking invisible buttons in front of him. My insides twist as I watch him.

“Grayson,” I call his name gently, but he doesn’t respond.

“Grayson,” I say louder. Still . . . nothing. Bending down, I put my face level with his. “Grayson,” I sing his name in a goofy voice, and he turns his head, his big brown eyes darting everywhere, but at me. I snap my fingers in front of his face and repeat his name again, with no acknowledgment.

Twisting my mouth, I stand and put my hands on my hips. How could I have missed this? “Umizoomi!” I say, and Grayson stands, his eyes finally meeting mine.

“Umizoomi. Umizoomi,” he repeats before sprinting in my house beelining for my television in the living room. I stare after him for a moment, my heart sinking. The signs are there. I should have noticed sooner, but every time I’m around the Tuffman family it’s chaos, and I missed the giant indicators.

I’m jarred from my thoughts by the screech of the screen door when Connor enters, wiping oil from his large hands on a shop rag. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes narrowed in concern. I have to blink a few times before I manage to turn my head. He’s shirtless. Again. And all my eyes want to do is rove over his body. Geez, I need help. I should not want to stare at him like I’m doing at this moment and every time his shirt is missing.

I take a deep breath and nod yes. I can’t tell Connor my concerns while McKenzie is in such close vicinity. Not that she’d care. Her brother’s problems would seem slight to her in comparison to her own world-shattering issue; no cell phone to talk or text on. “We’ll talk about it later,” I answer.

“Demi!” Connor and I both turn as Mr. Jenson from next door rounds my porch heading for the stoop. His wife follows behind him carrying a metal bucket of tomatoes and cucumbers. Mr. Jenson is the friendliest neighbor I’ve ever had, and Wendy’s children adore him.

“I see my buddies are over for a visit,” Mr. Jenson chuckles as he climbs the stairs slowly, his feeble hand holding the banister while Mrs. Jenson follows, her mouth flat and expression unfriendly. I don’t know why she comes over here with him when she clearly hates it so much, but to keep the good neighbor peace flags flying, I smile and welcome them both into my home. Connor holds the screen door open for them, and as soon as they’re on the porch, they both fail miserably at hiding their scrutinizing gazes as they take in Connor. It’s not hard to see they don’t share my appreciation of the shirtless Connor Stevens.

“This is Connor Stevens,” I say. “Blake’s cousin. Connor, this is Mr. and Mrs. Jenson from across the street.”

“Oh,” Mr. Jenson’s mouth rounds around the word as his brows rise in understanding. “Blake spoke very highly of you.”

Connor’s mouth goes flat, and he gives a curt nod. It’s still hard for him to believe Blake boasted about him. “Nice to meet you, folks.”

“We brought some vegetables from the garden,” Mrs. Jenson interjects as she thrusts the bucket at Connor. It hits his hard chest and a small humph escapes him. Connor darts his gaze to me that says he’s thinking,
Is this lady for real?
I roll my eyes in apology and decide to move things along. As soon as Mr. Jenson says hello to the kids, hopefully they’ll leave. If it were just the old man, I’d pour him a glass of tea and offer him a seat on the porch, but since he brought Lady Butthead with him, I need to get them gone.