“Why do you care?”
She was taunting him. Maybe she didn’t mean to do it, but she had, and Grant found himself unable to resist. He liked touching her and wanted to do it more, enough that she’d forget all about Keith and how close a friend he was.
He moved toward her, which backed her against the front door. From here, he could smell her skin and the sweet-scented lotion she’d smoothed over it. He lowered his head so that his mouth was right by her temple and breathed in deep.
His world spun for a moment, and he had to force himself to remember where he was and why he was here. “I care because I want you to be happy.”
Her voice was thin, almost breathless. “And you don’t think Keith could make me happy?”
“Maybe. I bet he’d like to try.” Grant knew he sure as hell could make her happy. At least for a few hours. He’d love to make her so happy she’d howl for him.
Just the thought of getting the chance made him sweat.
Isabelle pressed her hands against his chest and gave him a push so slight he wasn’t really sure it had happened. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and a sexy hint of color warmed her skin. “This isn’t right,” she told him. “You and I.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re leaving tomorrow and I’m not into hit-and-run sex, no matter how good it might be.”
Right. Grant knew that. She was a nice girl. A freaking elementary school teacher. He had no business pursuing her like this.
So why the hell couldn’t he stop?
“And even if I was into it,” she said, “Dale is right upstairs.”
Dale. A kid. One who didn’t need to see his foster mom sprawled out on the living room floor, next to his fish tank, naked with a total stranger.
That was enough to get Grant thinking straight again.
He nodded slowly and backed away from her. His blood was pounding hot and hard through his limbs, but he’d spent too many years controlling his body’s reactions to let them get the better of him now. “Sorry.”
Isabelle swallowed. “How about some tea? That will keep your hands busy.”
“No thanks. I’ve been on the road since two a.m., so I’m ready to hit the sack. I’ll go see the police first thing tomorrow and see what they have to say.” And he’d be sure to tell them about Dale’s father, in the hopes that they might have a patrolman drive by her house a few times every day. If Wyatt was a coward, as Keith suggested, then he’d be less likely to mess with Isabelle if the police were always around. If not . . . Grant would just have to stick around a while and find out.
Dale was deep into the futile effort of studying for the SATs when he heard the click of a small rock hitting his window.
For a second he thought it might be Angela and his heart kicked in, pounding hard. Her image filled his head, knocking out everything else that had once occupied the space. He saw her sweet smile, her long blond hair that always looked too perfect to touch. In his mind, she was still wearing that tight pink sweater she had on last Thursday that showed off her perfect breasts—the sweater that had him staying up until well after midnight to learn the history lesson he’d missed in class because he couldn’t quit staring at her. She was so pretty he had no idea why all the other guys in his class hadn’t fallen on their knees at her feet for just the chance to talk to her.
Maybe they were as gutless as he was, too afraid she’d turn him down to actually ask her out. As long as she hadn’t said no, there was still a chance she might say yes, and that was the thing that got him out of bed every morning. A chance with Angela.
God knew he needed something to get up for.
Another rock hit the glass, and Dale scrambled off the bed to see who it was. In his head, it was Angela and she’d come to confess her undying love for him. He’d climb down to her and she’d throw herself into his arms. They’d find a nice, quiet place where they could make out, which would, of course, turn into a wild night of endless sex that would ruin her for all other men forever. They’d run off together to a place where SAT scores didn’t matter, and he’d buy her a pink sweater for every day of the week.
When he looked down into the yard, all his hopeful thoughts that Angela had fallen in love with him shattered. It was dark outside, but the neighborhood was well lit enough for him to recognize his dad’s prison build and the expectant stance he’d used with Mom until the day he’d beat her unconscious and gone to jail for it.
Cold, bitter pain slammed into him, making it hard to breathe. He missed Mom so much. Isabelle was nice, but it wasn’t the same. It never would be.
Dale stared for a moment, choking on his anger and hatred for the man below. He knew that killing his old man wouldn’t bring Mom back, but some days, it still sounded like a good idea. Wyatt should have been charged with murder, not just assault. He’d beaten his wife so often she felt the need to escape with a hefty does of heroin as often as she could get it. If it hadn’t been for that, his mom might still be alive.
As far as Dale was concerned, that was murder.
Wyatt motioned for Dale to open the window. For a long moment, Dale considered ignoring him. Let the bastard freeze down there while he was safe and warm up in his room.
But if he did that, chances were Wyatt would get angry. And when he got angry, he hurt people. Isabelle didn’t deserve to have that kind of shit come down on her just because she was nice enough to open her home to him. Dale owed her more than that.
He opened the window and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d been hitting the weights pretty hard for the past year, but he was no match for the strength of a fully grown man—especially one who’d spent the past eight years with little else to do in prison but lift weights, getting stronger and meaner.
“I need to talk to you,” Wyatt whispered.
“Fuck off,” Dale whispered back, adding in a hand gesture to ensure that his dad didn’t misunderstand.
“Get your ass out here, boy.”