The 'Burg: Hold On Part 41

"No."

"Things could get dicey in the dressing room of the strip club, gorgeous. All those b.i.t.c.hes stealin' eye shadow and boyfriends and s.h.i.t. It got ugly. So if she keeps sendin' you pictures and givin' you c.r.a.p and you need me to take her out, you just call. I'm there for you."

"Good to know you got my back."

She'd been teasing.

She was absolutely not teasing when she stated, "You got mine, you get that back. Always, Merry."

He lifted her hand and kissed it again.

Her fingers didn't curl too tight that time, but they still held on.

When he had her hand to his thigh, she asked, "Is that it?"

"That's it."

"No high school girlfriend gonna come outta the woodwork that's gotta be dealt with?"

"I didn't have a high school girlfriend," he told her.

"Oh," she mumbled.

"I had seven."

He heard her sigh before she kept mumbling, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He smiled at the road.

"Just to note," she began, "you already know my boy is excited enough about us to send you text messages pretending to be me. But when I told Mom we were goin' out, she did a grab-and-hold stupid girlie hop."

Garrett started chuckling.

Cher kept talking.

"She called you the last good one standing." She let that hang, then finished, "No pressure, though."

He burst out laughing.

She squeezed his hand, then he smelled her perfume stronger before he sensed her closer, which was right before she touched her lips to the hinge of his jaw.

"Since we're layin' it out," she whispered in his ear, "you should know, I love it when I make you laugh."

He tightened his hand on the wheel as he felt a tightening in his crotch and the same in his chest.

"We're too far from home now, honey," he muttered. "Stop bein' sweet and sit in your seat like a good girl."

He felt her nose flick his ear before she did as told.

But she kept hold of his hand.

This was good since Garrett had no intention of letting her go.

Cher I sat in Merry's truck, the best steak I'd ever eaten settled warm in my stomach with the rest of the best food I'd ever eaten, not to mention three gla.s.ses of champagne.

And we were on our way to his place after the best date I'd ever had, bar none.

With the s.h.i.t out of the way on the road to the restaurant, the rest was just Merry and me the way we'd always been.

Except super-charged.

We talked. We laughed. He teased. I teased.

But the added element of us being a new kind of us, a different kind of together, a together that involved s.e.x, having had it and going to get it, made the teasing amazing.

It was like two hours of the best foreplay imaginable, having it over good food, nice champagne, in a crazy-awesome restaurant, wearing fancy clothes with other people around, and yet it was just me with a handsome guy.

The last good one standing.

Having it, I felt lucky.

Not like the lucky I felt when I'd met Dennis Lowe, who was pretending to be Alec Colton, insidiously slithering into my life in order to shake it to its foundations.

A genuine lucky where the goodness was right there, not just within reach because, most of the meal when we weren't eating, Merry held my hand.

So I had a hold on it.

And it had a hold on me.

And all I had to do was not f.u.c.k things up and not let go.

"Nicest place I've ever been," I murmured into the cab.

"What, Cherie?"

I turned my head and looked at him.

G.o.d.

Could that be mine?

"Never been to a place as nice as that," I told him louder.

He glanced at me before looking back to the road. "Never?"

"Nope."

In the dashboard light, I saw his jaw weirdly go tight before he released it.

"Hand, sweetheart," he ordered, taking his from the wheel and holding it palm up between us.

I put mine in his.

His fingers curled around and he rested our hands on his thigh.

Yeah, I had a hold on it.

I just had to work not to f.u.c.k it up and never let go.

"Gotta catch up," he muttered.

"Catch up?" I asked.

"Givin' you the things you deserve that you already shoulda had."

f.u.c.k, but I loved that he thought that about me.

I let that settle deep inside as I looked forward. "Need to take Ethan there. Maybe when he turns thirteen. Show him what life could be like if you're smart and work for it."

I was aiming for thirteen because I'd seen the prices on the menu, though it may take until Ethan was fifteen before I could afford it.

And I was still having difficulty processing the fact that Merry had blown that kind of cake on me.

"You're a good mom."

I loved that he thought that about me too.

"I'm a cool mom," I contradicted. "If I was a good mom, Ethan would eat broccoli."

Merry chuckled.

I smiled.

He flipped on his blinker.

I started paying attention to where we were going and I was surprised as Merry slowed to pull into an apartment complex that I'd driven by hundreds of times since moving to the 'burg but never really noticed simply because it wasn't the kind of place you noticed.

It wasn't a disaster, but it wasn't very nice either. There were far worse places to live, and I knew this because I'd lived in them.

It just didn't seem like a place Merry would live.

He had a nice truck. He wore nice suits. He had a Harley. I also heard he had a boat. And it wasn't only when he'd heard his ex-wife was marrying someone else that he ordered a shot of expensive whisky (though, he didn't normally order several of them).

So he had good stuff and he liked good stuff.

Then again, he was a cop and everyone knew they didn't get paid millions to put their a.s.ses on the line to solve crime.

Maybe to get his suits, his Harley, and his whisky, he needed to sacrifice other things.

This I could absolutely see.

He drove through the complex and I noticed his truck was by far the best vehicle of any.

And as he drove us through the complex, I was thinking that I didn't like this for Merry. I preferred to think of him in a home with a yard and a deck where he could barbeque, with decent cars in the drives of the houses around him, no one coming close to even thinking they could have a wild party that got loud and stayed loud.

I figured in this place, wild parties happened every weekend, even if a cop lived amongst them.

He parked. He got out. I opened the door and was almost out before he got to me, took my hand, and helped me the rest of the way.

He cleared me from the truck and slammed my door, beeping the locks, then guiding me to some stairs.

He was quiet. He seemed mellow.

I was mellow and that all had to do with good food, champagne, and Merry.

But as we walked, it started to wear off.

I was a sure thing. He knew I was a sure thing.

That didn't bother me.

But the last time we went at each other, I'd been out of my head drunk.

I'd liked it.

He'd liked it.

But still, we'd both been slaughtered.

I was not a girl who had too many hang-ups about s.e.x. I went for it. I let the spirit move me. Sometimes I got good back. Sometimes who I was with didn't work for me.

Right then, the only s.e.x I'd had in years was a s.h.i.tfaced session with Merry and, before that, f.u.c.ked-up s.e.x with Denny Lowe. But never, not ever had I been with someone who'd meant something (except Merry).

Sure, I thought Lowe did. And I thought Trent did.

But now I knew.

So yes, f.u.c.k yes, I was beginning to feel panicky.

All this filled my head on the way up the stairs and it kept filling my head as Merry walked me down the landing. It continued to fill my head as he let my hand go and let us in his place, throwing the door open for me.

I walked into the dark, but it wasn't dark for long because Merry hit a switch and a not very attractive chandelier came on over a dining room table to my right.

Beyond that was essentially a galley kitchen, the "essentially" part because one side of the galley was not closed off but opened to the rest of the s.p.a.ce, which was a living room. But it was still tiny.

The furniture was of decent quality, comfortable but spa.r.s.e.