Detour: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 1)

Predictably, the car wash doesn’t need my help for the next few days, giving me time to look for another job. After my lengthy shower the other night, a plan began to form. One where I take matters into my own hands before they can fall into anyone else’s.

Not wanting Coty to know what I’m up to, or why, I’ve been going to the library to use the computers. Ever since seeing that wedding, I look forward to coming here now. I even checked out some books about ethics in the workplace. Spoiler alert! Hot Shots is failing—miserably.

Drew calls one day as I’m leaving.

“Where are you? I don’t see your car.”

“Where are you?” My heart jumps to my throat, thinking he’s at the wash.

“At your apartment. I wanted to see if I could talk you into some Chinese tonight.”

“Oh.” My pulse steadies. “I’m driving there now. I…had some errands.” It’s true. Mostly. “Can we go to my place again?”

Drew groans dramatically. “Last time their sweet and sour chicken was so dry I almost choked.”

We switch between two places in town, each of us favoring one over the other. Mine has its strengths while his has its chicken.

“But their egg rolls are so much better,” I whine.

My plea goes unanswered though.

“Hurry up. I don’t want to run into one of your neighbors again.”

“I heard about that,” I snicker even though really, it’s not that funny. I can only imagine the hell he caught not only from Coty, but his girlfriend afterward. I bet Jamie wasn’t thrilled about someone mistaking Drew as another woman’s.

“I figured he would tell you. Please tell me you’re not hooking up with your neighbor.” He laughs incredulously.

I bristle. “I’m not.”

“Well, he likes you, so watch out.”

“What’s not to like? A broke girl with daddy problems and mommy issues. That’s prime stripper material.”

“Over my dead body,” he growls, making me laugh.

“The dull new toy next door caught his attention momentarily, that’s all. He’ll grow tired of playing in the dirt and move on soon.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.” I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I’m about to pull in.”

I hang up, parking next to his car. All the boys’ cars and bikes are here along with several others, almost filling the lot to capacity. It’s Friday night. Party night.

I rush into Drew’s waiting arms as he leans against his silver beauty. Unable to speak, I press my face into his shoulder, inhaling his fruity musk.

“Are you ready? Or do you need to change first?”

I glance down at my outfit. My ripped-to-shreds skinny jeans hang low on my hips while my thrift store band tee is tied into a knot, showing a slice of belly. I pulled half my hair up into a top knot, leaving the bottom half straight this morning. My skater-style black and white Adidas shoes complete my look.

I scan Drew. I’m underdressed compared to him but that’s nothing new. I swear he strolled out of the womb wearing Nantucket reds. His salmon-colored shorts and blue polo could get him onto any golf course in the country. Perfectly styled hair adds a genuinely charming quality that he already has in spades.

I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

He sees me smiling and returns the gesture. “What?”

“Nothing. Can we go now? If you can stand to be seen with me that is.” I beam, wondering how many more times we’ll be able to do this.

He catches me up on all the things. From his girlfriend to his dad. I’ve never had a close relationship with Drew’s dad but I’ve never had a problem with him either. Drew works with him at some fancy building. I’m not exactly sure what they do, but I know they work hard and love their jobs. Even though I’d never admit it to Drew, I’ve always found it to be inspiring, their situation. Working closely with someone you love and still wanting to show up day in and day out. It can’t be easy, yet Drew and his dad, Robert, make it look like a cake walk.

I grudgingly drive us to his restaurant of choice. As usual, it’s not busy. Must be why their chicken tastes so good—less customers means more attention to fried poultry.

Conversation doesn’t flow as smoothly as usual and I feel myself holding back on certain topics now, whereas before I was always an open book with him. I steer away from anything neighbor related, just telling him bits and pieces about my apartment life. I avoid work talk altogether, fearing I’ll spill the truth about what’s really going on. I’ll tell him about Joe. Just not today. Or tomorrow. Okay, I don’t know when I’ll tell him, but I will—eventually.

I hate hiding things from him but it’s for both of us. His relationship with Jamie is getting more serious by the day. I’m finding my way on my own. Slowly. I still love Drew like a brother and want him in my life; I’m just trimming some of the strings that’ve been tying us together for so long.

Afterward, we’re met with a full parking lot when we return to Creekwood. Unable to find a spot, Drew offers up his, preventing him from coming up. We say our goodbyes and I park in his space once he leaves.

People are everywhere. Packed onto the guys’ balcony. Huddled on the stairs. Some even loiter near the cars. How do the other residents not care? What about the manager? I seriously want to know what kind of deal the guys have with her that she turns a blind eye to this. She lives on the property so she has to hear at least some of this. Creekwood is broken up into three sections forming a broken U shape with the pool in the middle. Hers is in one of the outer buildings while ours is in the central hub.

A pack of guys descends the stairs as I approach. Unease slows my steps. I contemplate going the long way around to the back staircase, the one leading to the pool, but the lights there are constantly burning out, so I pull my shoulders back, walking around them as they fill the sidewalk. A few turn my way and one lets out a low, appreciative whistle. Keeping my head forward, I shoot my eyes over to the group, gauging their proximity.

“Hands off. Shit, eyes off, too.”

Everyone, including me, looks up to see Coty staring down from their front balcony.

“She yours?” the whistler, I think, asks.

Coty opens his mouth to answer but I beat him to it with, “I’m nobody’s,” then frown realizing there’s more truth to that than anything I’ve ever said.

All eyes return to me. I keep mine on Coty though, wishing he’d see what I’m too nervous to tell him. His eyebrows dip but rapid movement to my right causes me to break our connection. I swing my back to the wall, facing the guy—again the whistler—as he advances.

“I’m Jason.”

His hand hangs between us. I glance from it to his face, letting the moment stretch until it’s awkward, for him anyway. I personally don’t mind. I don’t want to touch him. Plus, you can tell a lot by watching someone, especially when they’re uncomfortable.

I nod, then move to signal I’m leaving.

“Aww, it’s like that? No name for the beautiful girl?” he teases. Before I can see it, he reaches out, hooking a finger into one of the shredded slivers in my jeans.

I yank my leg out away from his obnoxious touch, scolding, “What the hell was that?”

“Leave her alone, J.” I hear Beckett warn above our heads but I don’t dare look away from Jason in front of me or the group behind him in my peripheral.

“Aww, come on. I’m just having some fun. Why does it matter?”

The whining is annoying. If I didn’t already find him unattractive, I definitely would now.

Beckett’s chuckle comes out sinister. “You’ll see.”

Then Coty is there causing everything—maybe even time—to freeze. He glances over to me with an unreadable expression before posting up in front of Jason, hands clenched at his sides.

“What the fuck don’t you get about ‘hands off’?”

Jason shifts, his eyes darting past Coty’s shoulder. Coty moves his head, blocking his view.

“She said she wasn’t yours. She’s free game then, right?” The crack in his voice gives away his nervousness. What he says next reveals his stupidity. “I was just going to offer her a drink. I thought we could go for a dip out back. Maybe the naked variety.” He laughs, looking to his boys who are watching with mounting apprehension as Jason blunders full speed ahead, completely oblivious.

Without warning, Coty’s fist connects with Jason’s nose, resulting in a sickening crunch my own sinuses feel. In a blur of motion, Coty lunges at Jason, aiming for a second hit, but everyone jumps into action, separating the two. Jason doubles over, howling in pain as his nose bleeds uncontrollably.

“You’re done. Don’t show here again.”

“What the fuck, man? What’s so fucking great about her anyway?”

Beckett calls down, “Yo, J, you heard him. You’re out.”

Jason throws his hands up, letting the blood flow freely. “First Tony, now me? You’re choosing this skank over your boys? Pussy better be fucking good if you’re going through this much trouble.”

Eyes widening, I open my mouth to tell this loser off but Coty lands another punch, this one across the jaw. Jason falls backward, ass meeting concrete in an almost comical slow-motion feat. Luckily for him, he stays there.

“Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back. I see you near her again and you’ll be cut from the races, too.”

My eyebrows lurch.

“You wouldn’t!”

“He would.”

I jump at the thunderous tone from the step above me. Marc stands with his arms across his chest, eyes fixed on the bleeding mess in front of him.

Jason squints up at the group gathered around and jerks a nod. Some help him stand but others shoulder past, returning to the apartment, not one looking my way.

Coty, tightly coiled and unmoving, watches silently as Jason makes his way to a nearby car with help from a friend. His back tenses waiting for them to leave. Only when the car’s out of sight does he breathe fully, turning to look at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Beckett smiling before he goes back inside.

The stairwell finally empty, I study Coty as he slowly approaches, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

“Some party.”

“Will you come upstairs with me?”

“I live upstairs.”

“No, to my place.”

“So I can meet more of your friends?” I give him a pointed look. “I don’t think they like me.”

“Fuck them.”

“No, thanks. I’m tired.” His hand—his bloody hand—shoots out, stopping me before I can even try to escape. “Oh my god. That needs to be cleaned.” I grab at it but he pulls the damn thing back. The other hand snakes around my waist, bringing me against his front. His alcohol tinted breath dances over my face.

“Come upstairs with me,” he pleads.

“Get one of your friends to clean your hand.”

“I’ll kick them all out and then you’ll have to,” he jokes—I think. “Come with me.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re beautiful,” he counters, making my heart squeeze. Never getting compliments growing up has made me suspicious whenever one is given to me. The problem is Coty sounds and acts sincere and while I still wonder if he means it, I realize I want him to.

I push against his chest, asking him to release me. Not yet finished, he drags his hand down my arm, reaching my hand. Our fingers lace together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, then he leads me upstairs.

He stops at his door and waits. He’s leaving the decision up to me—again. Always.

Shaking my head, I turn the knob. “I’ll help clean it, then I’m leaving.”

Coty remains close behind, keeping our hands entwined as we enter. Almost instantly, there’s a whoop from across the room. Beckett.

“If I knew that’s all it took to get you to party with us, I would’ve been knocking people out this whole time.”

“You’re a moron,” I joke.

He somehow disentangles the girl attached to his side and makes his way over to us. I watch in wonder as people move aside for his mountainous form.

“What can I get you to drink?”

I blanch, remembering his idea of a drink.

“I’m just here to take care of this,” I say, gesturing to Coty’s bloodied hand with my free one.

His eyes grow wide. “Oh, shit. I’ll get the vodka.”

“I’m not using vodka. I need soap and water.” I roll my eyes.

“The vodka’s for me.” Coty grabs the bottle from Beckett and nudges me forward. “We can use the bathroom.”

Oh. Yeah, I knew that.

Tucked away in the bathroom, Dermot Kennedy’s “Power Over Me” drifts from down the hall. Coty closes the door, muffling the song and crowd noise significantly. Next, I’m spun and pressed against said door, Coty’s face burrowing into the crook of my neck.

“Where have you been?”

Him breathing me in like a man drowning makes everything else fade away.

“Um, dinner?”

Pulling back, Coty licks his bottom lip, his eyes roaming over mine like he just remembered how hungry he is.

I close my eyes, counting to ten. I get to two when I feel Coty step between my legs. I raise onto my tiptoes preventing additional contact. He doesn’t bother hiding his frustration, letting out a low rumble deep in his chest.

“I missed you.”

“It’s been two days.” Before he can argue, I steer us back on track. “Are we doing this? I thought I was cleaning your hand.”

Still eyeing me—rather hungrily might I add—he reluctantly nods, and sits on the closed toilet lid, holding his hand out for me to take. Careful to hold it from the bottom, I run water over the top, watching as the blood washes away. I squirt some soap from a repurposed whiskey dispenser and wash his knuckles gently but thoroughly. Coty, taking pulls from the vodka bottle, doesn’t miss a second, watching every move I make. I shift the water to cold, hoping to combat both Coty’s swelling and my own heated thoughts.

Finished, I gently blot dry his hand with a towel.

“I don’t see any cuts.” I’m almost positive it was all Jason’s blood. “Does it hurt?”

He simply nods.

“Where?”

Using his good hand, he crooks a finger at me.

After a hesitant step, I halt, unsure. Unsure if this falls under ‘light and easy’. Unsure if I even care.

Coty’s hooded eyes travel my body head to toe and back again, leaving a storm brewing the more he explores. When he makes it back to my eyes, he nods his head, beckoning me closer. I don’t move.

He tips the bottle back for another drink and I snag the bottle next. I take a sip, cringe, and place it on the counter. I step around Coty’s legs in a standing straddle. His head tilts back, watching me closely, and drags his now dry hand up the back of my thigh. Never once breaking eye contact, he settles it right below my ass cheek, then does the same with his other hand. He pulls me forward, bringing his face in line with my chest.

My hand comes up to play with his hair. The areas that were sweaty from the fight have dried, making his dark brown hair soft but wild. He’s wearing a black V-neck that’s tight over his still-taut muscles. His jeans are slung low over his hips and tucked haphazardly into black boots. The bathroom is filled with his spicy coconut smell but it’s been muddled from the party raging just outside the door.

Remembering why I’m here in the first place, I grip the strands, angling his head to the side. Coty lets out a low growl as I bring my face in close to his.

“Why are you fighting your friends?”

Coty remains quiet, looking between my eyes. Just when I think he won’t answer, I relax my hold to straighten, but Coty has a different idea—one he doesn’t bother running by me first. Suddenly, he lifts me up by the backs of my thighs and my arms reach around the back of his neck so I don’t face-plant into his head. Placing me on his lap, he runs his hands down my legs until he hits behind my knees, then drags me forward. It’s erotic and sweet and makes me want to run far, far away, however, I stay put. For now.

Pleased with our new position, Coty snatches the vodka up again. After taking his own swig, he lifts the bottle to my lips. I hesitate briefly before opening my mouth for a drink, too.

Full of liquid courage, he says, “They can’t have you.”

“Neither can you,” I counter, just as bold, maybe even bolder. I don’t drink often, so the vodka’s hitting harder than I’d like to admit.

“Why not?”

Leaning in, my lips graze his ear. His hiss makes me smile.

“I’m not yours.” I pull back, meeting his eyes. “It’s better that I’m not.”

“For who?” His grip on my thighs tightens.

I stare, willing him to see the truth but terrified of what he might discover.

“Everybody,” I answer honestly, my arms falling from his neck.

Coty hauls my ass forward, placing me directly on top of his erection, saying, “Bullshit.”

A small gasp tumbles from my lips.

God. Damn.

The ache that started moments ago is fully raging now, begging to be soothed.

Before I can shamelessly grind on the guy, someone knocks on the door, snapping me out of my lust induced stupor.

“Fuck off!” Coty growls.

“I need to go,” I sigh, slowly getting to my feet.

Coty lets me, but follows suit, staying close.

Inspecting my appearance in the mirror, Coty steps up behind me—he’s not a fan of personal space that one—and says, “Sunday.”

My brain, working slower with the hormone and alcohol tornado swirling about, is struggling to keep up.

“Riding. Let’s go this Sunday. Not with the guys either, just you and me.”

He watches himself graze my lower back with deft fingers. I suck in my breath when his hand begins the trail up my backbone only he can blaze. My thighs clench together as I attempt—in vain—to smother the throb that’s pulsing to the same beat outside, I swear.

“I have to work,” I manage to croak out.

Not missing a beat, he says, “I’ll wait.”

My response gets lost in the haze Coty’s hands are creating as he continues paying special attention to his favorite spot—my spine. Gripping the bathroom countertop, I close my eyes and drop my head, letting out a defeated, and embarrassing, moan.

“Coty.”

He sweeps my hair to the side before lowering his mouth to the skin there. A murmured, “hmm,” the only noise I can make out over my heavy breathing. Kisses on the back of my neck have my knees slamming into the cabinet as my legs try to buckle.

Coty encircles a hand around my front, holding me up by my quivering stomach.

“Coty?” I pant out, more desperate. Desperate for what? I don’t know.

My knuckles, now white, cling to the edge—of both the counter and my sanity—while my legs shake uncontrollably.

Coty’s tongue swirls lightly before closing his lips over the skin, sucking roughly. Watching him make out with my neck, I arch my back, pressing him where I really, really want him.

He releases my skin gently, almost reluctantly, to meet my eyes in the mirror again.

“What do you need, babe?” he breathes out, pained. Ever so slowly, without looking away, he leans back down, sinks his teeth into my shoulder then closes his eyes, savoring the taste. Sucking away the pleasant pain elicits loud moans from both of us. My clothes suddenly feel too restrictive. Why the fuck am I wearing pants today of all days?

My palm slams against the hard surface, wishing he’d give another place that same attention. Coty’s mouth is the single best thing I’ve ever experienced and the rest of my body is dying to test his skills. As much as my body is screaming at me to turn around and see what else Coty can do with those lips, my overactive mind is objecting just as loud.

“Could you, uh, give me some room?” The words physically pain me but need to be said all the same.

Instantly, two tortured eyes snap open. Before pulling back, he kisses the red spot marking my skin with closed lips, then spins me to face him. Unfortunately, my body has turned to jelly and I blatantly sag against him. We’re both breathing heavy but some color’s seeping back into Coty’s near midnight eyes.

His lips turn up into a sinful grin as his hands clasp the counter, caging me in. “Are you sleeping over?”

Hands on his chest, I push him back, gaining some much-needed air.

“I warned you about things getting messy.”

“Life is messy. I can take it.” He pops his shoulder up, completely unconcerned.

Although he makes a valid point, he’s also been drinking and he’s horny. He’d say anything right now to get laid.

I open the door, stepping into the party. Coty stays a step behind me as I make my way down their hallway. Beckett has a girl, a different one than earlier, pressed against his bedroom door with one leg wrapped around his waist. He detaches from her face, seriously that looks intense, and smiles lazily over at us.

“Neighbor girl,” he teases. “Did you play nurse in there or what? I bet you fixed Coty up real good.” His cackling laugh jostles his guest, causing her to glare my way.

I tsk, “Don’t be jealous. Looks like you’ve got someone taking care of you already.”

Coty wraps his hand around my middle possessively and barks, “Close the door, jackass.” This only spurs Beckett on further which almost knocks both him and the girl clear over.

He murmurs something about needing to find himself a nurse before resuming his extreme make-out session.

Grimacing, I continue into the living room to find Coty’s other roommate with a girl on his lap and another at his side, both peppering him with kisses. Marc looks up to Coty briefly.

Those boys have their fun lined up for the night. The thought that Coty might still find his has me bristling as I reach for the door handle.

Past the threshold, I say, “It looks like you guys have your hands all full. Have fun with that.”

Coty’s eyebrows furrow. “What does that mean?”

“Your roommates are taken care of for tonight. You better get back in there so you’re not left out.”

I hate the bite to my words revealing the jealousy that’s sunk its claws into me, refusing to let up.

Coty breaks into a knowing smile and leans back, shouting, “Party’s over! If your face, or any other part of your body, isn’t attached to Beck or Marc, get out.”

Groans erupt but people begin filing out just the same. My mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish in what I’m sure is a very impressive parting gift for the guests as they pass.

“’Night, neighbor girl. See you Sunday,” the sexy jerk says before winking.

I lift a hand stiffly, then flee into my studio.

Coty’s proving to be a more worthy counterpart than I originally thought. Why does he have to live next door though?