Touch Slowly (Red Light: Silver Girls series) (8 page)

"I'll grab my keys." Shayla stood.

"No. Stay here and finish eating. I could use the walk." Nova stormed out the door, letting it swing back on a slam.

Emmett glanced between Nick and Shayla. Completely lost on what had happened at the table. He'd made a mistake. He'd explained how he came to the conclusions she was mixed up with a biker gang and how he wanted to keep trouble out of the trailer park.

What the hell was Nova's problem? Why was Nick thumping his knuckles against the table and staring at the wall? Why was Shayla glaring at him with expectation?

B
ehind Nova, a car shifted and the engine roared faster before quieting to a sedated hum. Nova glanced behind her and walked faster along the side of the road toward the interstate. In the dark, she assumed Emmett followed her to continue the absurd story he'd created.

She could handle anything thrown at her, but no one went at her family and got away with it.

"Hey, gorgeous," said an unknown male voice.

She stopped and turned toward the car idling beside her. "Get lost."

The dark haired man driving the beater laughed and slapped his open-mouthed passenger in the chest. "You look like you need a ride, baby."

She started walking, ignoring the losers trailing her. They could follow her all the way to the interstate if they wanted, and she could hold out hope they'd get hit when a speeding car came up on them at seventy-five miles per hour.

"Come on. We'll show you a good time. We've got a fifth left."

"Half a fifth, dude. Mac siphoned a drink off the bottle when we left the party." The other man cranked up the stereo.

The only reason Nova kept from telling them both off was that she could walk faster in the glow of the headlights of the car. Without guidance, she'd be walking a gravel path between ditch and road in the dark.

Another engine roared over the music. She glanced over her shoulder as a gray car passed the two drunks and slammed on its brakes. She jumped in the ditch to escape the chemical fumes of burning rubber, the echo of slamming doors, and the yelling.

Shielding her eyes against the glare of the lights, she groaned with recognition. A muscle car. Emmett. Fight.

What was his problem now?

Forcing herself not to care, she headed in the opposite direction of the scene playing out in the middle of the road with Emmett throwing the drunk driver against the hood of the car. She picked up her pace, straining to see in the dark. Shayla and Nick lived only ten minutes from Federal by car. It'd take her at least an hour and a half to two hours to navigate the distance in the dark by foot, not to mention hiking the interstate and staying out of view of the state patrol.

Once again, her temper had gotten the best of her. Shayla had offered her a ride back to town, and because she refused, fate punished her with a roadside brawl with two drunks and a dick. No wonder she left the trailer park for bigger and better things. The drama and people in everyone's business, every single day, never ended.

A car approached from behind her. The lights lit up her path. She stopped again. The more people who tried to keep her from returning to Red Light, the longer it would take her to get back upstairs and into her room where nobody bothered her, people stayed out of her business, and the only person she was responsible for was herself.

"Get in. I'll take you back to the inn," said Emmett.

She ran through every reason not to get in his car. He insulted Nick in her cousin's home, at his table, in front of others. He disrespected Shayla by questioning and then arguing with a guest—her. Most of all, he was too close to finding out where she worked and what kind of employment she had in Federal.

The sky crackled with thunder and rain splattered on her head.

"I'm so over tonight," she mumbled to herself as the sky lit up with lightning.

The further she got away from the trailer park, the sooner she could seek sanctuary at Red Light and forget about how Emmett made her feel like scum, even though he was no better than her.

The rain picked up in intensity. She ducked her head and hurried around the front of the car and slid into the passenger seat. He could think whatever he wanted about her as long as he never learned the truth.

Emmett sped down the road. She pulled the seatbelt around her, prepared for the reckless but controlled driving he'd displayed on two other occasions.

"I'm glad you got in the car. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about what happened at dinner. I had no right to drill you for answers." Emmett turned onto the on-ramp. "My mistake."

She rolled her eyes at the window. Excuses were available on every street corner for ten bucks.

"I don't know if Shayla or Nick told you." He flipped his headlights to bright. "I'm the manager at Bitterroot Trailer Park."

A nark. The police of the park. A dick.

She'd met her fair share of managers. They all performed dirty jobs in exchange for a couple of hundred bucks knocked off the rent of their lot. She made two hundred dollars in a half hour spreading her legs for sex.

"Aren't you going to say something?" asked Emmett. "Most people would accept the apology."

"I'm not most people." She turned to him.

His gaze softened, and he looked at her longer than it was safe to take his attention off the road. She dropped her gaze to his broad chest. Taken aback by the rapid beat of her heart, she willed herself not to fall for his smooth talk.

"Nova?" He waited.

She looked up.

"I am sorry," he said, firmly and sincerely.

She inhaled deeply holding in the flutters bursting low in her stomach. His apology meant nothing, and yet she believed him.

In her life, she'd met many men. Businessmen, construction workers, political members, even cowboys, and retirees. None of them ever made apologies and most gave her excuses on why they'd come to the bordello.

Emmett's apology knocked her sideways.

"Thank you." She swallowed the tightness in her throat. "It's no big deal."

"Yeah?" Emmett turned on his blinker and pulled off the interstate. "We're good then?"

"Yeah." She blew out her breath. "Thanks for the ride. You can drop me at the viaduct."

"I'll take you to Federal Inn."

She'd learned not to argue. Once she snuck inside the inn, she'd leave out the back door and return to the Sterling Building. She only had a doctor's appointment once a week, so there was no chance of him catching her outside again.

With her plan curtailed to stay most of the night with Shayla, she'd go back to her room and get a good night's rest.

Multiple cars passed them on Main Street. The lights at the bars on every corner lit up the area. She peered to her right and caught a glimpse of vehicles lining Cedar Street in front of the Sterling Building. She shifted on the seat and took her phone out of her back pocket. Almost eleven o'clock. Silver Girls wouldn't close until two. She couldn't risk sneaking up on the balcony during open hours with the bikers patrolling the area and watching the building.

She had a safe zone between four and five o'clock in the morning if she remained stealthy and the cardboard shoved in her sliding door remained intact.

"I also need to apologize." Her toes curled at the direction her thoughts shifted. "I've been rude to you."

Emmett shrugged. "No worries."

"No." She inhaled deeply to bolster her determination to go along with her excuse. "Let's start over and I'll buy you a coffee to make up for my bitchiness toward you. I'm not usually rude to strangers. Is there anywhere around here that has a drive-thru window."

She couldn't be seen dining around town with a man or hiding out in the doorway of the abandoned building across the alley for hours until she could sneak back inside to her room. Her only option was to convince Emmett to let her hang out in his car with him for at least four hours.

Four long hours.

Then she'd have an hour to stake out the building and make her move.

Emmett turned into the Federal Inn parking lot. "There's no drive-thru restaurants in Federal. If you want, we could go up to your room and have a cup of coffee. Room service works twenty-four hours from what I've heard."

"No." She reached out, grabbed his hand on the gear shift, and promptly let go when the warmth of his skin permeated her palm. "The, uh, people next door to my room drive me nuts. Lots of noise. Thumping. The walls are thin. Besides, I try to keep safe when I'm staying in a strange town and never invite anyone to my room. I'm a woman traveling alone. You understand, don't you?"

Emmett pushed in the clutch and put his foot on the brake, stopping the car. "Not really. I'm your cousins' neighbor. I'm not a stranger."

"You are to me." She tapped the dash of the car. "How's this? I give you some money, you run into one of the bars, buy a couple of cups of coffee to go, and we go park at the river somewhere. In a few hours, we won't be strangers."

Emmett's gaze dropped to her chest, and he said, "Okay."

"All right. Okay. Perfect." She dug into her purse and extracted a twenty-dollar bill, slipping it into his hand. "It's a date."

"A date?"

"Sure." She checked the time on her phone again. Whatever he wanted to call tonight's change of plans was okay with her.

Emmett put the car in reverse. Nova relaxed in the seat knowing she wasn't going to have to spend a few hours wandering the town in the dark under the radar of everyone. She glanced at Emmett and studied him.

Besides his dick move tonight over mentioning the money she put in Shayla's room and embarrassing Nick with the assumption he couldn't support his family, Emmett had come in useful every time she'd been around him.

"Are you sure a bar will have coffee to go?" he asked.

"Absolutely." She rolled down the window a few inches. "I've worked in three bars, and a coffee pot was always kept hot by this time of night. Not only for the drunks who had to sober up before we handed back their keys but for the employees to keep their energy level going strong until closing."

"You worked in bars and then started work with some big wig art dealer?" He pulled to the curb in front of an older brick and blue building with a tower. The sign read 'Rail Point Bar'. "How'd that step up happen?"

"How do you think?" She sighed. "Sorry. Stroke of luck, you could say."

Emmett growled under his breath, set her money on the dash of his car, and exited the 'Cuda. She leaned into the driver's seat and watched his progress to the front door of the bar. His solid stride never wavered. She bit her lip. He had a butt. An actual handful.

In a world where most men never had enough oomph in their swagger, Emmett packed a pair of jeans that made women look and appreciate.

She sank back on the seat and crossed her legs. The lies kept coming.

Every time Emmett asked her a question, she rattled false information off like a pro. She wasn't a liar. Well, not normally. Actually, not ever.

Sure, she skirted the truth. She snuck around her whole life. She tricked, joked, and had a temper. Occasionally, she even sought revenge.

But, she wasn't a liar until she came to Federal and she met Emmett. He was a decent man from what she could tell. One of those men who worked hard and took pride in what little he had, and as he'd shown her each time they were together, he respected women. She'd even go so far as to assume he'd protect all women, not only her.

God, she was so screwed.

T
he soothing sound of rushing water over the rocks in the river filled the car through the opened windows. Emmett stood outside the 'Cuda now that the rain had taken a break. For the first time in days, he felt like he could sleep. Except, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

The beautiful woman with her feet propped up on his side-view mirror with the passenger seat tilted back a fraction to gaze out at the cloud-darkened sky kept him alert and hard. The pulsing need coursing through his body to find out how she kissed, how she touched, how she moved against his body kept him close to her.

She'd called tonight a date.

He never dated.

He hooked up with women when he needed sex.

With Nova, he had no idea what she wanted from him. She hadn't touched him, except to put money in his hand. Her questions to him remained generic, nothing personal. She even kept her voice real and matter of fact, not flirty or irritatingly fake.

He decided to push her a little more out of her comfort zone and moved to the inside of the open car door facing her.

Her gaze lowered to his face and she smiled. "The sky is the biggest canvas in the world. If only I could touch it, I'd never run out of room. I could paint every idea that came into my head."

"What would you paint?" He laid his arm over the frame of the door, crossed his ankles, and leaned back.

"I don't know." Her eyes glowed under the moonlight. "It's been a long time since I've been inspired to pick up a can of spray paint."

He found the statement odd coming from a woman in her mid-twenties. An activity that fulfilled teenagers' weekends, painting graffiti across the town was a phase his friends went through before they discovered cars, girls, and chugging beer. Far as he knew, none of them ever continued once they reached eighteen years old.

"What got you into spraying the sides of buildings?" Emmett thrummed his thumb against the car.

"Attention." She laughed softly, which belied her usual hard assertiveness toward him. "From a boy."

He chuckled. "Isn't that how the story always goes."

"Since the beginning of time." She lifted her feet off his door, swiveled, and perched on the side of the seat and put her shoes on the ground. "Bad boys with all their delicious meanness and loner status always break little girls' hearts."

"Including yours?"

Her lower lip swelled, and she nodded. "Cried for at least an hour."

"An hour? Damn, you must've been heartbroken." He whistled softly, amused at the retelling of the teenaged Nova.

"It took that long for another boy to notice the tears running down my face and comfort me." She shrugged on a laugh. "Not all boys are bad."