Dirty Little Secret (Dirty #1) Read online

  I burst out laughing, and oh, shit, it felt good to let it go. Still grinning, I grabbed my plaid jacket from my locker. Melissa held her hand out, but instead of just giving over the coat, I stepped toward her purposefully, then wrapped it around her shoulders. She swam in it, looking small and vulnerable. She was really fucking beautiful.

  “A perfect fit,” I said, covering the unexpected emotion in my voice with as much gruffness as I could muster.

  I used the jacket to drag her closer. I gave her another chaste kiss on the forehead and pulled her into a rough embrace.

  “You realize that if you tell anyone what I said about you being too good for me, I’ll deny it, right?” I said into her sweet-smelling hair.

  “As if I’d admit to anyone that I even knew you.”

  “One day, you’ll be begging to say you knew me,” I countered.

  “Is everything with you about sex?” she wondered out loud.

  “I’m a twenty-three year old man. So…yes. That about sums it up.”

  I released her and slid my hand down her arms so I could thread my fingers through hers. I squeezed, then looked down at our hands. My knuckles were wide, and my fingernails were short. They contrasted sharply with her French-tipped hands. I wanted to like it, but somehow I couldn’t. It seemed to highlight my list of reasons that we didn’t belong together.

  Fuck me for being right when I want to be wrong so badly.

  Suddenly I wanted – no, needed – to get away from that reality.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, like she’d read my mind. “Maybe we can grab some breakfast or something.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “The meal before lunch. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  My heart twisted a little. I wanted to have breakfast with her. Unfortunately, I only had thirty-five minutes to get from work to home before my anklet triggered an alarm.

  Melissa looked at me expectantly.

  Time to come clean, I thought. Explain about the probationary house arrest, let her make an informed decision.

  I couldn’t do it. Ridiculous fucking pride.

  The enthusiasm and softness in her eyes killed me. I couldn’t lead her on. I owed her at least a bit of honesty.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who takes a girl out for breakfast.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair angrily. “It means, I’m the kind of guy who has a girl for breakfast. I’m not going to invite your for beers with my friends, or take you home to meet my dad. I’m not going to offer up any bullshit.”

  “You mean like the bullshit you pulled to get me here?” she countered.

  “That wasn’t bullshit. That was manipulation,” I admitted.

  The color drained from her cheeks. “I think I’ll just go.”

  She spun on her slippered feet, and I watched her leave with a heavy heart. Then I turned to the stack up the wood I’d knocked over and picked up a piece regretfully. When a thick hand clamped down on my shoulder, I jumped.

  I looked up and met my boss’s eyes. He sipped a steaming coffee and gave me a once over.

  “Did I just see a girl leave here in your coat?” he asked.

  “Yes.” There was no sense lying about it now.

  “Was she naked under there?” he wanted to know.

  “Almost.”

  “She looked pissed off.”

  “She wanted breakfast,” I muttered.

  “Then why the fuck are you in here?”

  “Are you advising me to cut out early and chase after her?”

  “Fuck, son. If I had a piece of ass like that wanting to eat almost-naked breakfast with me, I don’t think I’d ever come to work again,” he replied.

  “I’m worried she might not just be a piece of ass,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

  “Even more reason to get the hell out of here.”

  Goddamn.

  I caught up to her in the parking lot, just as she was putting her key in the ignition. I tapped her window roughly, and she rolled it down about an inch.

  “Baby doll,” I said roughly. “I’m not the kind of guy who chases after a girl in a parking lot any more than I’m the kind of guy who feeds a girl breakfast.”

  “Then why are you out here?”

  “Fucked if I know,” I replied. “Maybe I’m the kind of guy who’d be willing to change. A little. If you’re the kind of girl who’s interested.”

  “Why should I be?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Because I suck at this.”

  A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “You are pretty pathetic.”

  “Come home with me. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “I’m not getting in your truck,” she warned me. “Or in your bed.”

  “We don’t need a bed,” I said. “I have a perfectly nice sink, all cleaned up and ready to go.”

  Her eyes widened, and before she could change her mind, I hopped in my truck and eased it out of the parking lot.

  My heart was pounding in my chest, and I was so excited that I felt like a virgin, racing to my first lay.

  Only Melissa was a far cry from the overeager intern at my dad’s firm who’d deflowered me. That girl had been desperate to fuck her way to the top, and too stupid to realize my dad and I weren’t exactly tight. I wasn’t an inexperienced seventeen-year old, anymore, either. Back then, I’d been desperate to find out what it was like to fuck, and too naïve to realize that I was being used.

  I sensed that this was different. It made my anticipation that much more intense.

  I gave her a final glance in my rear view as we pulled out of the parking lot, just to make she was following me.

  I focused on the road then, because I had to.

  As I guided the truck into my spot at the building, my hands were actually clammy. When Melissa tapped on my window, I jumped a little and had to slap a grin on my face to cover my sudden bout of nerves.

  I swung open the truck door and hopped out. She grabbed my hand and I let her lead me to the front door, and as I fumbled with my keys, one of Melissa’s arms snaked around my hips. She was trying to help me with the lock, but the tips of her fingers brushed the skin just under my t-shirt.

  “Fuck,” I groaned. “If you keep doing that I’m never going to get the door unlocked.”

  She laughed, a sweet, sexy sound that I could really get used to.

  Finally, the lock clicked. I spun and grabbed her by the waist. She gasped as I growled and dragged her to me. I didn’t kiss her. Not quite. I just grazed my lips over hers and enjoyed the way she quivered against me.

  “I’m going to do that thing you see in romance movies, but I should warn you, I’m probably gonna fuck it up,” I growled against her mouth.

  “Which thing is that?” she murmured, eyes half-closed.

  “Where the guy grabs the girls, walks backward and kicks the door open, then tosses her onto the bed and ravishes her.”

  I reached for the door handle just as a cold voice floated from down the hall.

  “Nice line, Cutter.”

  Melissa jumped, startled, and I automatically put myself in front of her in a defensive pose.

  “You gonna hit me, baby?” Brandy asked as she stepped into view.

  I noticed immediately that she wore the same raincoat as she had the last time we met, and my first response was to assume that she was after a repeat encounter.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought. Why now?

  My eyes went to her legs, mentally gearing up for bare skin, and not quite registering the stank-ass jogging pants that peeked out from under the jacket. As my gaze travelled up, I realized my ex looked altogether shitty. Like, actually shitty, not the kind of shitty I’d accused her of the other day. She had on day-old make-up and her hair was tied up in a loose mess. I’d never seen her look so disheveled.

  “What’s the matter, Brandy?”

  My question was impulsive, and the sec
ond it was out of my mouth, I regretted it.

  Like I give a shit how Brandy’s doing.

  When Melissa drew in a sharp breath, then caught my eye, I cursed myself for the pussy-whipped, caring way I sounded. Melissa looked puzzled, and more importantly, she looked pretty fucking hurt. Which – for a reason I wasn’t prepared to dwell on yet – cut like a goddamned knife.

  I couldn’t exactly retract the question without seeming like even more of douche, so I just stood there, looking like a half-wit instead. My ex took advantage of the situation and shot Melissa a predatory smile. She looked like a blood thirsty vampire.

  When she spoke, she sounded like one, too. “She’s a pretty one, Cutter. Another for your personal collection? Or one you want to share?”

  “Fuck you, Brandy,” I replied.

  “Later,” my ex purred.

  My heart dropped like ton of bricks. Of all the fucking things she could’ve said, it had to be that. Why, goddamn it? I turned to Melissa, desperate to give her some sign that I hadn’t breathed of word of our encounters to Brandy, but it was too late. Melissa’s face was red, from anger or embarrassment or a combo of the two, and her eyes were dark.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” she announced.

  I reached for her, but she sidestepped me.

  “I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Mission accomplished. Maybe we’ll talk later,” she said coolly, and stalked away.

  If Brandy and my pride hadn’t been standing in my way, I would’ve chased her down and begged her to come back. Instead, I just turned to the bitch in the raincoat.

  “Get in the fucking house,” I commanded. “You better have a good goddamned reason for trying to destroy my life. Again.”

  MELISSA

  I’d never experienced anything quite like the roiling anger that coursed through my body at that moment. I tore through the streets blindly, mad at myself, and mad at him.

  I thought – because of what? A few days of living outside my tiny box of a life? – that I’d changed? I thought I was this new woman, with caution-to-the-wind morals and the capability of following through on a temptation to lose my virginity to a near stranger?

  My heart thrummed anxiously in my chest.

  Good lord. I just about slept with a guy whose regular visitors included super model caliber women in sweats and flips flops.

  Obviously, shit like that was a common occurrence in his life.

  But who the hell was she?

  It shouldn’t even have mattered to me. I knew what kind of guy he was from the second his big, stupid truck crossed my path. But dammit. It did matter to me. Because for one naïve second, I believed that there was more to him than the redneck attitude.

  By the time I got home, the tears I’d been fighting came pouring out. Which is probably why I didn’t notice that all the lights were on, or that Danny’s car was parked out front. So I didn’t have time to prepare myself mentally. I didn’t have time to form a plausible lie.

  And as I let myself in and kicked off my slippers, I wasn’t expecting to find my roommate and my boyfriend – fiancé, I corrected myself with a wince - in a panicked state in my living room.

  “Dear God!” Strong language, coming from Shelby.

  “We were about to call the police,” Danny added.

  “Don’t,” I replied weakly. “I’m okay.”

  In spite of my bedraggled, pajama-wearing appearance, Shelby accepted my statement. Because why wouldn’t she? Even though I’d never disappeared in the night before, and even though I so clearly wasn’t okay, I’d said it, and that was enough to make it true. We were friends, and we didn’t lie to each other.

  Danny, though…Something passed across his face that made my heart skip an uncomfortable beat.

  “Whose coat is that?” he asked.

  I looked down.

  Shit.

  I’d totally forgotten I was wearing it. Quickly, I stripped it off and tossed it on the floor.

  “It’s his,” I whispered.

  “Whose?” Shelby asked, puzzled.

  But my fiancé knew. I saw it in his eyes, and for the first time, it occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as I thought.

  I avoided his gaze as I answered. “The man with the truck. I don’t really know what happened. I just…I wanted to be alone, and I went up to the all-night gas station for a coffee, and…There he was.”

  “And he gave you his coat?” Danny asked.

  There was the tiniest bit of an edge to his voice. It was something I’d never heard from him before, and for some reason, it made me want to run and hide.

  “I think he was trying to trick me into sleeping with him.”

  Well. At least that was a partial-truth.

  Danny’s face was still skeptical.

  “I just got out of there as fast as I could.”

  “With his coat,” Danny stated doubtfully.

  In a last ditch effort to protect myself, I tossed a pleading glance toward Shelby. And thank God I did. Because while Shelby was a lot of useless, pretty things – naïve, too-good-to-be-true, and overly fond of kittens, for example - she was a loyal friend, ready to defend me at any second.

  “Danny!” she scolded. “This isn’t her fault.”

  If I hadn’t been looking right at him that second, breath held as I waited for him to agree, I wouldn’t have noticed his quick look at my hands.

  Shit.

  I clasped them together, but it was too late. The pinched look around Danny’s eyes told me he saw my empty ring finger.

  “What were you doing out by yourself, this early in the morning?” he asked.

  “I told you. Coffee.”

  Shelby jumped in again. “Mel is upset. She’s still in her pjs for goodness sake. She doesn’t need an interrogation.”

  No, I thought. I sure as hell don’t. Because I’m too tired to come up with a believable explanation.

  As my roommate escorted him out, I realized Danny couldn’t quite let it go. I heard bits and pieces of their conversation from my spot on the couch.

  “Yeah, but Shel, why was she out in her pajamas?”

  “She’s been a little off ever since that day.”

  “Do you think she…” The rest of Danny’s words were muffled, and I closed my eyes.

  If I wanted to convince them I was my normal self, I was going to have to work an awful lot harder. The only problem was, I couldn’t quite remember what that looked like.

  The door clicked, and my roommate came back into the living room, all smiles.

  Shelby has it down. Shelby wouldn’t even be able to look at Cutter without cringing, I thought. I don’t have to be the old me. I just have to be her.

  So for three days, I made myself watch Shelby, emulating her pleasant disposition and demure mannerisms.

  And I thought I had it down pat.

  Until the lunch date.

  My mom - I couldn’t think of her as my grandmother no matter how I tried - wanted to discuss the guest list for the wedding, and I brought Shelby along to shield me from her too-perceptive eyes.

  Everything went well right up to the second my mother excused herself to use the restroom, and Shelby leaned over to whisper to me.

  “Don’t look now, but the creep outside is staring at you.” She shivered dramatically.

  I laughed, using the little giggle I’d been perfecting for the last few days. “Maybe he’s checking you out, Shel. That shirt you have on is so cute.”

  I expected her to blush, or look down to check which top she was wearing, but she fixed her gaze on me.

  “No, Mel. This guy has been watching you for twenty minutes. I didn’t want to upset your mom, but I noticed him right after we came in.”

  I glanced out the window. And froze.

  Cutter, back in his shaggy beard and dressed in blue coveralls, met my gaze through the window. His eyes pierced through me, dark and knowing, and I understood why Shelby had shivered. He lifted up his hand in greeting. When
I saw what he held between his thumb and forefinger, I couldn’t fight the flush that crept up my cheeks.

  A paintbrush.

  “Mel?”

  I blinked at my roommate, then snuck another peek outside. Cutter was no longer in view. I knew, without a doubt, that he was coming inside. And that meant I needed to get out. I jumped to my feet.

  “Are you all right?” Shelby asked.

  “I just remembered I left my wallet in the car,” I lied.

  “You’re going out there? Where the creep is?”

  I forced a light laugh. “Have a look. He’s gone.”

  My roommate obliged, and as she did, I darted away from the table.

  I’ll go out the back way, I decided. When he gets to the table and sees I’m gone…He’ll either leave, or Shelby will call the cops.

  Three steps into the back hall, just past the washrooms, a rough hand closed around my upper arm. I took a breath and forced myself to speak calmly.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I guess you meant it then.”

  I turned to face him, ashamed that the sight of his face, even scruffier than usual, tugged at my heart. Even more humiliating was the fact that his touch lit up my body.

  Quickly, and without analyzing the why, I tucked my left hand into my pocket and slid off my ring.

  “Meant what?” I asked in a cool voice that I hoped masked the fire under my skin.

  “That if you saw me in public, you wouldn’t admit you knew me.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “What is it about, then? Because when I approach a girl in a restaurant, and she runs in the other direction, I think it’s safe to assume she’s embarrassed to be seen with me. Especially if that same girl has been dodging my calls for almost a week.”

  “I unplugged my land line,” I told him. “And for the record, I’m not embarrassed, I’m mad.”

  “About?”

  “That little thing you left off your list of incompatibilities.”

  “Which is?”

  Was he serious? Or was he just trying to force me to say it? I rolled my eyes and refused to give in to the heat blooming in my cheeks.

  “She’s about five foot ten and looks like she just fell out of the pages of porn magazine,” I stated. “Oh, and she was on your doorstep.”