Page 62 of Detour

Not bothering to hear his response, I get to work washing the heavily streaked windows. Joe wasn’t lying. They’re bad. Whoever closed last night should get their ass kicked for leaving the bay in such bad shape.

An hour later, I’m surprised when I find the office empty when I finish. Joe was in and out of the bay but never stayed long. Thankfully. I don’t know where he is now and I’m not sure I really care. I just want to leave already.

I wander around, listening for any sound. My steps are slow and measured as I call Joe’s name.

The light from under the bathroom door, the closed bathroom door, catches my attention and I come to an abrupt stop. Keeping my distance, I can somewhat make out sounds like…grunting?

What the?

A knock at the office door startles me. After letting Coty in, his gaze sweeps the room. His narrowed eyes find mine, softening in the next instant. “All done?”

I nod, grateful. “Take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His imitated southern accent makes me smile. “Hungry? I know I worked up an appetite just watching you.”

“Hmm. No wonder you came early.” We walk out to the black sports car with our hands clasped. “But yeah, I could eat.”

Coty leans over and kisses me sweetly, tenderly.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

Smirking, I kiss him back, my lips thanking him for things I refuse to admit. I find myself craving his presence even more since our sexy bike ride together. He calms my ever-present storms looming in the distance.

Tucked safely inside his car, Coty grabs my hand after turning up the “Too Good To Be True” remix featuring Machine Gun Kelly and takes us for a late meal.

Back at Creekwood, I grab a shower before meeting him at his place.

I’m wearing his black sweatshirt—he’s never getting it back—and a pair of tight athletic shorts when he opens the door showing a living room packed with people.

“Holy shit.”

He moves to block the opening.

I follow his gaze to make sure I did in fact put shorts on. My apartment’s so hot, I “forget” to put full outfits on sometimes. Confirming I’m dressed properly, I look back to Coty.

“You can’t wear that.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing. I like what you’re wearing. A lot.” His eyes darken a shade. “But I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself in front of all these people behind me.” He jerks his head. “Let’s go to your place.”

He takes a step into me but I push him back, laughing.

“Mine doesn’t have anywhere to sit, remember?”

“Shit. That’s right. Do you mind hanging in my room then? I want you all to myself tonight.”

Eyes narrowed, I say, “Fine, but I have shit to do so no distractions.”

“Babe, you are the distraction.”

Our fingers entwined, he leads the way, making quick introductions as we go. Beckett barely looks up from the couch as a girl nibbles his ear. Marc’s in the kitchen cutting up limes. He looks up and nods, saying, “neighbor girl,” as we pass.

I glance over Coty’s room, looking for differences from the last time I was in it. Aside from a few large rolls of official looking paper on the desk, everything appears the same. Breathing in the tropical tang, I sit on the bed and take in the beautiful picture above the headboard, reading over the quote again.

Coty closes the door, then walks over to rearrange some papers on his desk. Head down, he tells me, “We need to keep the Jeep a while longer. The part’s on back-order but should be in by next week.”

I couldn’t keep the shock from my face if I tried. Excuse me, what? There was nothing wrong with my car to begin with, that I know of, so I’m completely taken aback by this information. Coty refusing to meet my eyes isn’t helping.