I went to the library after work again, hoping to smooth things over with Daisy for good. This seemed to be the rhythm of our life lately. I piss her off, she flips me the bird. It was getting tiresome. Even more so because unlike regular couples, I couldn’t just kiss her whenever the hell I pleased. So makeup sex, that was certainly off the table. Apologies first, sex when we could sneak our way into somewhere out of the public eye and also somewhere that was neither her place nor mine. It was frustrating to say the least.
When I stepped into the library, she seemed happy enough to see me, though she shot enough warning glances in the older librarian’s direction that I didn’t dare talk to her until after closing time. Even then, I kept my distance until she waved me over.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said before I could say anything. “I know you’re hurt and angry and I know you might not understand entirely, but I’m doing this as quickly and as safely as possible. I need a little more time, but things are starting to look up and I have a plan.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “I’m the one who’s sorry. It doesn’t really click with me that your dad could be scary. He seems like a big pile of drunken potatoes to me. You do whatever you need to do to feel safe. Which is sort of why I’m here—what do you want to do?”
She smiled, but there was a tiredness around her eyes that worried me.
“I want you to come over tomorrow night,” she said. “Come in through my window.”
I frowned. “I thought your dad was laid off. Isn’t that risky right now?”
She shook her head. “He signed up with the staffing agency. They got him a gig for Friday, which means he’ll be back in his rut by that night. Assuming he even comes home at all—he and my mom got in a fight yesterday and he spent the night in his truck. Came home to shower, change, and give my mom the news, then took off again.”
I whistled. “Wow. Must have been some fight.”
She shrugged and looked over my shoulder, her eyes glazing over a little bit. “Oh, you know, just one of those things.” She blinked and shook her head, then her smile was back. All of those actions told me that it surely wasn’t ‘just one of those things. She brushed a lock of hair away from her face and smiled again. “The point is, today isn’t safe but tomorrow definitely should be. And I miss you.”
God, I wanted to touch her. Just wrap her up in my arms and squeeze and never let go. “Of course you do,” I said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. “Oh whatever, like you don’t miss me too.”
So much it hurt, every damn second. “Ah, maybe a little.”
She saw right through me, and I loved it. Tossing me a sassy look over her shoulder, she led me into the little alcove that Lizzie caught us in the day before. I followed, glancing around for any more surprise visitors. The coast was clear—a fact which I barely registered before Daisy was in my arms and on my mouth.
I wish I knew what kind of flower she smelled like because I wanted to plant a million of them in the alley behind the motel under my window. It was sweet and airy and earthy all at once, hitting me in the head and heart and crotch as I breathed it in, making me want nothing more than to lay her down on Egyptian cotton and worship her body. But we didn’t have all that so I pushed her against the bookshelf, further out of view and claimed her mouth with everything I had. My hands slipped between her thighs and I pressed my fingers to her, forcing her clit to crave more than it was getting. Before I could slip a finger into her wetness, Daisy pulled back. She was breathless, her cheeks flushed like we’d gone the entire way.
“You’re gonna drive me mad and all the way into trouble, Kash Lawson.”
“Say it again,” I told her, “but this time, make it sound like a promise.”
Daisy laughed and tried to smooth her hair back in place. God, she was beautiful. Way too beautiful. She ended our meeting in a flurry of whispered promises and imagery to hold us over until Friday night—or whet our appetites until then. It was a damn good thing, too, because everything else had hit maximum suckiness.
Chapter 23
The Roadkill Crew had a short, miserable day on Friday. Only two out of the dozen of us had found new jobs, and the “Good Luck” dessert the office bought for us was carrot cake. Who does that?
Leroy was likewise short and miserable, having burned through his week’s supply before the weekend.
“So call your guy,” I told him. “What’s the problem?”
He shook his head. “It don’t work like that, Kash. He don’t got a number, nobody knows where he lives. He shows up once a week, that’s it. Then you gotta stock up ‘cause he don’t change his delivery schedule for nobody.”
I narrowed my eyes at Leroy. “Seems like a crap
