All Things Pretty (Pretty #3)(24)
Author: M. Leighton

After scarfing down a leftover cheeseburger and two pieces of pizza from my practically empty fridge, I brew a pot of coffee, dump as much of it as I can fit into a travel mug and I hit the door. When I arrive at Tommi’s, there are no signs that they’re awake. Or even at home. But her car is still at Tonin’s. Unless she got it last night and has already left. Assuming that’s not the case, though, I suppose that she’s in there, and that she needs me.

A ride, I mean, I clarify to myself.

At eight o’clock, the front door opens and Travis appears. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, pulled up over the low bill of his hat, and he’s walking with the enthusiasm of any other kid who has been ousted from his warm bed to go to school when he’d much rather be sleeping.

A few seconds after he steps onto the tiny front porch, Tommi follows, pausing to reach back and pull the door shut behind her, testing the knob to make sure it’s locked. She looks fresh and beautiful, not like she had a night like she did, and she’s dressed impeccably. Of course. She doesn’t look up as she makes her way down the driveway to where I’m parked at the curb, so I take in her clothes, her body, the way she moves.

She’s wearing light brown pants that hang like some sort of expensive material, the shift of her supple thighs barely visible beneath it. A dark orangey-pink blouse with a plunging neckline is tucked in at the waist, accentuating her curves in a demure, hot-teacher kind of way. I think again of her cut off shorts and tank top, my favorite. I miss them. More than I probably should and for reasons I dare not think about.

“Where are you going after we drop Travis off at school? A political fundraiser?”

She says nothing, still not meeting my eyes as she holds the door for Travis and then climbs up into the passenger seat in silence. Her brother has no such problem answering, though.

“Laaance likes her to dress that way,” he sneers.

“Travis!” she says, a little snappy before she softens her voice and asks, “Did you get your lunch from the kitchen?”

I hear his frustrated sigh as Travis pats his backpack, green zippers clacking.

“I wouldn’t have to aggravate you about it if you’d just leave your bag in the kitchen at night. I’d put your lunch in there in the morning and not have to ask you every day if you got it,” she explains a tad defensively.

Travis says nothing.

“I’m making chicken pot pie tonight. Don’t make plans,” she requests, less of an edge to her tone now. To this he grunts. “Did you hear me?”

Travis nods, continuing to stare morosely out the window. I guess his part in the conversation is officially over.

I wait for a minute before I speak. “I just meant to say that you look beautiful. Stuffy, but beautiful,” I confess quietly, glancing over at Tommi.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off the windshield.

It’s my turn to sigh. Doesn’t seem like they’re much for talking this morning, so I crank up the music for the rest of the ride to school, singing along with the songs that I know. Loud as hell, too. A couple of times, I check my rearview and find Travis trying not to grin. Now if I could just get Tommi to come around.

When we drop off Travis, I can’t help noticing the way Tommi stares after him, her heart in her eyes. What’s eating at her? What isn’t she telling me?

A lot, I imagine. I think this woman must be an enigma wrapped up in a bundle of secrets, secrets maybe nobody knows. But I aim to find out. Luckily, I’m good at working puzzles, at figuring them out. I just need a few more pieces. I’ll have to finesse them out, these important facts, but I’ll do it. I can be pretty damn persuasive when I set my mind to it.

She doesn’t say a single word on the way to Tonin’s place. I think we’re both aware of the big elephant sitting in the back seat, though.

I can recall with disturbing clarity the way she looked last night, the way she felt in my arms, under my hands, against my body. Her smell, her taste…Damn! I want more. A lot more. I think she does, too, but there’s a whole lotta shit holding her back. By rights, there should be a lot holding me back, too, but I figure it can only help strengthen her trust in me and go toward accomplishing the overall goal of taking Tonin down, which should make her life a whole lot better.

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Tonin’s got something on her. Or maybe he’s giving her something that she desperately needs. I can’t imagine what, but he has some kind of hold on her. I mean to break it, though. If she’ll just trust me.

When I pull into the spot right beside her car in the garage, I reach out to take her hand before she can hurry out of the truck. “Spend the day with me today. Not because I’ll be following you, but because you want to.”

Her eyes are full of all kinds of things–fear, sadness, regret. “I-I can’t.”

“You can. If you want to.”

“I have a spa appointment.”

She didn’t say she didn’t want to, just that she has other plans. “Skip it.”

“If Lance found out…”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know him. You don’t know the kind of reach he has. You’re playing with fire.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do.”

We’re quiet for a few seconds as I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

She looks down at our hands. “I wish I didn’t care,” she confesses so softly I almost don’t hear her. She pulls her hand from my grasp. “We’d better get upstairs. My appointment is at ten.”

After last night, there’s no question that I go up with her. All the way up. And when we ride the elevator back down almost two hours later, there’s no question that she’ll come with me, in my truck.

Not a single word is said until Tommi is climbing out of my vehicle and onto the street in front of the spa. She gives me her polite smile, the “Lance” one, as I’ve come to think of it. Fake as hell.

“Pick me up at two?”

“I’ll be here,” I say with a nod.

Four hours at a spa? What kind of shit is she having done?

I already know the answer most likely. She’s carrying one of the oversized bags she brings when she’s got her little computer. That means the spa has a back door and that there’s a Wi-Fi spot nearby. I’d bet money on it.