The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (17 page)

Hopefully she doesn’t expect me to move today, but if she’s gonna be like that, I’ll drive to Lark’s and wait for her. Her mom will probably let me crash at their apartment long enough to find my own place. I hope.

Charity stops in her tracks, clutching a quart of half & half, “You can’t make Chastity move out!” The panic and frustration in her voice is impossible to miss. She hates the idea of living here alone with Mom. We’ve talked about it more than once. But we might not have a choice.

Mom says, “Charity, this is between your sister and I.”

Charity shakes the carton of half & half for emphasis. “No it’s not! We’re a family! You can’t make Chastity move out!”

I want to cry because of how Charity is standing up for me.

“You’re pushing her away just like you pushed Dad away!”

Mom looks pained. “I didn’t push your father away! He—”

“You did too! You’re always telling us how bad Dad is! Now you’re pushing away Chastity too! Are you going to push me away next?! Maybe I should go live with Dad before you do!”

Silence.

Nobody says anything for a long time.

Mom is obviously shocked by Charity’s words. She’s not sure what to do. She shifts her weight to her other hip and blinks her eyes several times, frustrated, irritated, and probably a little bit hurt. She gazes up at the ceiling, her lips moving minutely, praying. After a moment, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and glares at me. “Fine. We’ll discuss this later. But until I make a decision, I want to make one thing
perfectly
clear to both of you.”

We both stare at Mom, waiting.

“I don’t want either of you having
any
contact with the McKnights.” She shoots a look at Charity. “And I mean
none
. I don’t want to see either of
them
anywhere near either of
you
, or this house. Am I making myself clear?”

I scoff, “Good luck with that. They live next door.” I say it like she’s insane, because she is, despite how calm she’s acting.

“Mom, why are you being like this?” Charity demands. “Lance saved my life!” She’s mad, her eyes on fire.

Mom is now twice as frustrated as she was a second ago. She shakes her head like her brain is popping like hot popcorn and she can’t stop it. She yells, “
Just!! Don’t!!
”

“Why?!” Charity demands.

“It doesn’t matter why! I don’t want you interacting with them! At all! Do you hear me?!”

“
YOU’RE CRAZY, MOM!!
” Charity screams, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. She throws the carton of half & half on the floor. Cream blows out the end and sprays across the hardwood floor. She storms out of the kitchen and slams her bedroom door.

Mom is silent.

I hide a smile.
That happened
.

Mom shakes her head, completely exasperated, and almost turns to me with a look of commiseration on her face that says, “
Can you believe her?
” But she stops herself at the last second, ignoring me instead. She grabs paper towels and the trash can and squats to clean up the mess.

I slip out of the kitchen while Mom is distracted.

“We’re not finished, young lady,” she says to my back right before my foot touches down in the hallway.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Fine. We’ll talk about this later,” she warns.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I whisper.

“What did you say?” she demands, her voice ice.

“Nothing.”

Whir.

Chapter 12

CHASTITY

“Mr. Molton? Is there any way I can get more hours this week?”

He peels the lid off a fresh tub of mint chocolate chip and lowers it into the display freezer at work. “You’ve had twenty-five hours a week all summer. I was planning on cutting you back to fifteen starting next week.”

“Oh, geez. Really?”

“With the summer rush over, that’s all I really need. You know how things slow down once school starts.”

“Right. Um, are you sure?”

He smiles, “You know I’d love to. But we can’t afford it. I’ll be covering your hours myself.”

I sigh. “Okay.”

“Is something wrong?”

Do I tell him? No. Can I hold it together and act like being on the verge of thrown out is no big deal? I doubt it. But I’ll try. “No. Everything’s fine.”

He rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. His eyes are friendly. “You can tell me, Chaz.”

I’ve known Mr. Molton since I was a kid. I got this job two years ago because he goes to my church. Mom knows him too. I blink back tears and look away. “My mom wants me to move out. We’re fighting. It’s serious.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs thoughtfully. “Can you work it out? Maybe if you talk to her…”

“I really don’t think so.” I sniffle and wipe away tears. I grab a paper towel from the back and blow my nose before automatically washing my hands in the sink.

“I’ll talk to my wife and see if maybe we have a little wiggle room on your hours. But I can’t promise anything.”

I nod vigorously, more tears threatening to spill. I sniff them back. “That would be great.”

Luckily, an entire girls softball team pours in with their parents, distracting me from my thoughts. Serving twenty-five flavors of ice cream loaded with candy, cookies, chocolate chunks, peanut butter cups, jelly beans, gummy worms, gum balls, all drenched in five different flavors of hot fudge or caramel and topped with heaps of whipped cream to wide eyed kids for whom ice cream is heroin and cavities are an afterthought, always puts a smile on my face.

It’s the simple things.

An hour later, the phone in back rings. Mr. Molton answers it and walks out a minute later, frightened of something. “Chastity, I have to go. Caden fell off his bicycle. Amy is taking him to the hospital.” His worry is catching.

“That’s terrible,” I gasp. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t know. I need to meet them at the Emergency Room. Can you handle things here?”

“Of course. Go. I’ve got everything covered. Give Caden a kiss for me. I hope he’s okay.”

He nods gravely, “Me too. Thank you, Chaz.” He squeezes my arm. “You’re a lifesaver.” He throws a light jacket on over his Marble Slab polo shirt and strides out the front door, keys in hand.

When the softball team is finally gone, I busy myself cleaning tables before more customers show up. The team left a mess. I toss empty ice cream cups into the trash and sweep wrinkled napkins into the long handled dust pan.

Bing!

The front door chime
.

Someone walks into the shop, but I’m busy using the tip of the broom to scrape up a stubborn ice cream soaked napkin that’s glued to the tiles, so I don’t check who it is. “Welcome to Marble Slab Creamery, I’ll be right with you! What the—!” The someone just pinched my butt! I spin around, broom ready to strike.

Lance. Grinning. And already dodging back from the broom. “Easy, samurai.”

“I should hit you.” But he’s too handsome to hit. So I shake the broom in his face as a warning. With a smile.

“I bet you’re lethal with that thing, Pink.”

“Care to find out?”

“No. I’ll take your word for it.” He stares at my chest. “You’re pink again, Pink.”

“Oh. The shirt. It’s the uniform.”

“Looks good on you. Love the shoes.” He glances at my matching pink Keds.

I roll my eyes and rest the broom on the tiles like a spear. “To what do I owe this,
ahem
, pleasure?”

“Came for my sundae. On Sunday.” He winks.

“That’s right! What kind would you like? Oh wait. You have money, right?”

He smirks. “Of course.”

“Perfect. What would you like?”

“You pick. Gimme something that’ll blow my mind.” His eyes flame and I’m instantly tingling.

Usually this place is my element, but with Lance watching, I’m all thumbs. I drop a scoop of ice cream on the floor, which I hastily clean up only to knock over the jelly beans. They clatter everywhere and roll off the counter, falling to the floor, rolling into every corner. “I can’t believe I did that.” I grab the broom and start sweeping.

“Relax. I’ll help you clean them up.” He walks behind the counter.

“Wait! You can’t be back here. No customers.”

“You sure?” He steps toward me.

“Stop.”

He doesn’t. He saunters forward until he pins me against the marble slab on the counter. It’s chilled to a frigid 27 degrees, so it bites my back. But I barely notice because Lance is a hot wall of fire right in my face.

I grab an ice cream scoop from the bucket and hold it up to Lance’s chin like a knife.

He arches an eyebrow. “You gonna cut me with that?”

“Try me.”

“You’re fuckin hot when you act dangerous.”

My face bounces between laughter and irritation. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna have to fuck you.” He says it like it’s punishment.

I jam the blade of the scoop into the crook of his jaw.

“You know I have a death wish, so go for it.”

“Do you really?”

Rattlesnake fast he snaps the ice cream scoop out of my hand.

“Hey!”

He grins. Then he runs the dome of the scoop down my Marble Slab polo shirt, between my breasts. Then he cups my right boob with the scoop and lifts experimentally. “You really do have perfect fucking tits.” He lifts the left one. “If I could eat them, I would.” His devil’s grin appears. “That gives me an idea.”

“What?”

“In the back.”

“Huh?”

“Get in the back of the store.”

“We’re still open!”

“You’ve got that doorbell thing. We’ll hear if anyone comes in.”

“No!”

“Yes.” He slaps the scoop against my butt and jerks me toward him. He’s already hard in his jeans. “Now turn around and march.”

“Lance,” I press.

“Now.”

“Fine.” I spin around. “Are you sure you’ll hear the chime?”

“Yes. Now march.” He slaps my butt with the scoop.

Why do I feel like I’m walking to my own ice cream execution or something? I don’t know. But I trust Lance.

He grabs a whipped cream canister off the counter top.

“What’s that for?”

“I’ll give you zero guesses. Keep marching.”

“You’re weird.”

“It’s my key appeal.”

I shake my head and my ponytail waves down my back.

“Take that stupid baseball cap off. It looks like shit.”

Before I can remove it, he pulls it off and it sails across the back store room and lands on top of one of the industrial refrigerators behind some napkin boxes. “Hey!”

“I’ll get it later.” He kicks the store room door closed.

“Don’t let it close all the way. I need to hear the chime.”

He stops it with his toe, leaving it open a few inches. “That okay?”

“Yeah.”

Lance may be considerate, but he is dangerous. Everywhere he goes, he disrupts things. There’s this sense that whatever he touches goes bouncing off in a new and unpredictable direction, like a cue ball hitting a rack of billiard balls at a hundred miles an hour. There’s no way to know how things are going to end up. For all you know, those billiard balls might jump off the table and shatter a window or roll right out the front door into oncoming traffic where they’ll get pulverized under the wheels of a cement truck.

Yup, Lance is the walking incarnation of risk.

I’m game.

On a day like today, I need the distraction.

He heaves me onto the stainless steel prep counter and I land on my butt. He shakes the whipped cream can in his hand vigorously, grinning.

I smirk, “I bet you have a lot of practice doing that.”

“Whacking off? Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

I’m waiting for him to make some joke about not masturbating because he has sex with thousands of woman on an hourly basis. “Because…” I prompt.

“Because what?”

“You know.” Why am I torturing myself like this? I don’t really want to know his sexual history. Do I? Maybe I should. He did tell me his life is thirty-one flavors of crazy. Yeah, it’s better I know. “Because…”

“Shut up.” He squirts a fat dollop of whipped cream over my lips.

“Mmph!”

He leans forward and licks it, taking forever to get to my lips.

I stick my tongue out.

“Don’t. I’m not done with the whipped cream.” He smacks his lips. “This is some tasty shit. Better than the junk at the grocery store.”

“I know, it’s—”

Pblpblfft!

More whipped cream splatters my face.

His eyes sizzle. “Now I have to start over. Sit there and don’t move.”

I’m about to tell him I’m going to go get my samurai broom, but his gorgeous grin disarms me.

Standing between my khakis, he shifts his weight from boot to boot before leaning in slowly to lick the whipped cream and tickle my lips.

I wait patiently until he finally slips his tongue in my mouth. It’s sweet with cream.

He grabs my ponytail like a rope and tugs on my head, exposing my neck. He sure loves neck.

Vampire.

He licks down one side and up the other before skimming along my jaw. He’s really good at making out because it’s a summer rain in my panties.

I let out a little moan when he circles my ear.

“Your hair smells like vanilla.”

I giggle, my eyes closed, “It’s the shop.”

“Do your tits taste like caramel?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Take your shirt off. And your bra.”

“Lance! We’re still open!”

“Nobody’s here. It’s dinner time. Nobody eats ice cream until after dinner.”

“That’s not true! We have—”

“I want you naked when I come back.” He opens the store room door.

“Where are you going?”

“Stop asking so many questions.” He closes the door behind him.

This is a really bad idea. But I am drenched and all that whipped cream kissing has me shaking with desire. I tear my polo shirt and bra off in a frenzy and set both down in a neat pile on Mr. Molton’s desk. Geez, what would he do if he found my bra on his desk? I don’t even want to think about it. I suddenly feel terrible knowing he’s—

The door snaps open and I reflexively cover my breasts.

“Don’t cover them.” Lance holds a bucket of warm caramel sauce and a long handled ladle. He lifts the ladle high and watches caramel drizzle back into the bucket. “I’m going to have a Chastity sundae.”