Finding Storm Read online

  “Uh-huh,” she answers.

  “You not used to nudity in these parts?”

  “Nudity, yes. Abs, no. Well, except for my brother, but he doesn’t count because gross.” She shudders, and I laugh.

  “So … abs, huh?”

  “Oh, come on! You know you’ve got abs. Eight of them at my last count.”

  She counted my abs? Multiple times.

  Nice.

  I have to stop myself from flexing them.

  “Our neighbor, ninety-year-old Mrs. Hindley, sees your abs, and she’ll have a stroke. And you don’t want to be responsible for the death of a sweet old lady, do you?”

  Well, I’m already responsible for the death of my father. So, what’s one more?

  I realize I’ve gone quiet.

  I force myself to speak, “Yeah, no. Sure. I’ll borrow a shirt, if that’s okay.”

  She’s watching me. I can feel her stare. But I don’t look. I don’t want her to see the shit going on in my head that I know will show in my eyes.

  “Of course. I’ll grab one when we get to the B&B. It’s not far. Just a five-minute walk.”

  We walk side by side in relative silence. Aside from the shit going on inside my head, it’s actually a nice walk.

  We pass a couple of people. One walking a dog, which Stevie stops to pet, and a jogger. They both greet Stevie by name.

  She’s clearly liked by people in this town.

  And who wouldn’t like her? She’s awesome.

  I get a couple of looks from people, but I think it’s more because I’m a stranger. Well, that or because I’m currently shirtless, wearing only a leather jacket.

  I have the urge to smoke. My fingers twitch around the pack in my pocket. But I don’t want to piss her off.

  Although pissing her off does sound quite entertaining.

  “You mind if I smoke?” I ask.

  “I don’t mind. But the months of life you’ll take off my lungs will. And the fish that your cigarette butt will kill does too. He minds a lot. But by all means, smoke.”

  I grin.

  Is it weird that I get off on her chiding me?

  I have issues. I know.

  “How do you know it’d be a he?”

  “Who?”

  “The fish. It could be a she,” I tease.

  “Even worse then because she might be pregnant with fish babies, and you’d murder all those innocent babies too. How do you sleep at night?”

  I glance down at her, and the mirth in her eyes is everything I need to see right now.

  Well, apart from her naked body writhing beneath mine, that is.

  “Usually naked,” I tell her, wanting to shock and humor her.

  And I do both.

  Laughter bursts from her, but her chest goes red. Not that I’ve spent time staring at her chest. Who am I kidding? Of course I have. She has great tits. And while I was staring at her tits, I noticed her chest goes red when she’s embarrassed.

  I’m just wondering if it does the same when she orgasms.

  “Just so you know,” she says, cutting into my awesomely pervy thoughts of her, “there’s no smoking in the B&B. If that’s a problem—”

  “It’s not a problem,” I cut her off. I look down at her, and she’s staring up at me. “Honestly,” I assure her.

  We lull into silence, and I don’t like it. I want to keep talking to her.

  “So, you’ve lived here your whole life?” I ask.

  “Yep. My whole twenty-four years have been spent here.”

  “You’re twenty-four? So am I.”

  “No way. I thought you were older.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

  “Is it ever a compliment when someone says you look older than you are?” At my outraged look, she laughs. “I’m kidding! It’s not because of your face. It’s just because you’re so damn big.”

  “I am big.” I puff my chest out.

  “And when someone drives a car like yours, to have that kind of money, I guess I just expect them to be older. Which is crazy really because a baby can be rich, born to the right parents.”

  “You know many rich babies?” I ask her, teasing.

  She screws her nose up in thought, and it’s fucking adorable. She’s adorable.

  And since when did I start thinking women were adorable?

  Since her, clearly.

  “Nope. Only rich, shirtless dudes who have terrible taste in music.”

  “You don’t even know what music I like.” I laugh. “So, how do you know it’s terrible?”

  “Not true. I know you like heavy metal from the eighties.”

  “True.” I nod.

  “So, what else do you like?”

  You. The thought surprises me.

  “I like … Justin Bieber.”

  I grin at her, and she snorts out a laugh.

  Again, fucking adorable.

  “But, seriously, I do like metal,” I tell her as I try to think of other bands she might know. “Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, AC/DC—you’ve heard of them, right? They graced the eighties.”

  She gives me a look. “I’ve heard of them.”

  I think of more modern-ish bands. Well, ones past the decade that she loves. “Avenged Sevenfold, Slipknot, Five Finger Death Punch.”

  She’s shaking her head.

  “You really listen to nothing outside of the eighties?”

  She gives me a look. “There’s really a band called Five Finger Death Punch?”

  I laugh. “Yep. Terrible name, great fucking music. I’ll play them for you sometime.”

  “You want to listen to Madonna with me?”

  “I don’t actually mind Madonna.”

  “Really?” Her whole face lights up.

  “Just FYI, you do know that Madonna has made a shit-ton of music outside of the eighties?”

  “I’m aware,” she says primly. “I just like her early stuff.”

  “I really liked her erotica phase.”

  “Course you did.” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh.

  “So, you admit that you do know some music outside of the eighties?”

  “Never said I didn’t. I just choose not to listen to it.”

  And if I ain’t thankful for that because it means she has no clue who I really am.

  “So, you’re from LA?” she asks me a moment later.

  Oh, yeah, I said that when we were back at the garage.

  “Yeah.” I could stop at that, but my lips keep moving. “I was born in Queens though. Moved to LA when I was thirteen.”

  “When you were adopted?” she asks, her voice a touch quieter.

  I nod. And she doesn’t ask any more details, and I’m glad for it.

  Stevie seems to know when I’m done talking. It’s a trait I appreciate. Especially when everyone is always up in my business, asking me questions about my life all the time.

  “This is us,” she says a few moments later.

  I follow her up the steps toward a big split-level house with gray bricks and blue paneling. The upstairs has a balcony over the entryway to the house.

  It reminds me of a house you’d see in one of those Hallmark movies. You know the type, where the big-city guy shows up to try to buy the house, so he can flatten it and build offices there and ends up falling in love with the hot female owner.

  And no, I don’t spend all my time watching Hallmark movies. But Tru watches them, and sometimes, it’s hard not to get drawn in.

  Those shitty movies are as addictive as crack.

  Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.

  I ignore the pang I feel in the center of my chest when I think about Tru.

  I’m not going there right now. I’m not losing this good feeling I have from being around Stevie.

  She lets us in the front door, closing it behind us.

  “Gran,” she calls out, walking toward the reception desk in the hallway. She picks up a piece of paper off the desk. “I l
eft her this note before I went out. She’s probably not home yet.” She rounds the desk and drops the paper into a waste bin behind there.

  I lean my hip against the desk.

  “I’ll just quickly check you in. Grab that shirt I promised you. And then I’ll show you to your room. Any preference to which room? You have your pick. Our last guest left this morning, and no one else is due for a couple of days.”

  I shrug. “As long as there’s running water and a comfortable bed, I’m happy.”

  She laughs. “Easy to please.”

  I rest on my elbows and lean closer. I get a hint of cherries coming off her skin. I smelled it when I was in the truck cab with her earlier. “Some of the time. But definitely not all the time.” I suggestively lift my brow, flirting with her.

  Her cheeks go pink, and she looks down at the check-in book. My eyes go to her chest. It’s blushing too.

  “I’ll put you in Bayview,” she says without looking at me. “It has the nicest view. Hence the name. Bayview. Obvs.”

  I’ve noticed she also rambles when she’s nervous. It’s cute as fuck.

  “Sounds good to me.” I straighten up off the desk, giving her space.

  “Let me just go get that shirt for you. Give me five minutes.” She disappears off down the hall, and I hear a door open and close.

  I wait in the peace, just enjoying it. This place is nice. Homely.

  Has the same feel to it as Tru and Jake’s house.

  Nope, not going there.

  Stevie appears a few minutes later, a black T-shirt in hand.

  “I hope this is okay. It was all I could find in Beck’s closet that didn’t have oil stains on it. Although it might, and I just can’t see them.”

  I take the shirt from her. “It’s great. Thanks.”

  “Let me just grab your room key.” She’s back behind the desk, crouching down behind it. She reappears a moment later with a key in hand. “I’ll show you up to your room.”

  I follow her up wide oak stairs, totally staring at her ass. Curvy, grabbable, and absolutely fuckable.

  We go up another flight of stairs and down a hallway to a door at the end. She puts the key in and unlocks the door, opening it and letting us in.

  I follow her inside.

  It’s a nice room. Big, spacey, a lot of light. Huge window. You can see the water from here. There’s a big wooden-framed king-size bed. Looks comfy as hell.

  I stifle a yawn at the sight of it.

  “Bathroom’s attached,” Stevie says, opening a door, revealing a small bathroom. “Shower, toilet, but no bath.”

  “Works for me. I’m not a bath kind of guy.” I drop the shirt on the bed and walk over to the window, looking out.

  “Same. I don’t get why people want to lie around in their own filth.” She pulls a disgusted face.

  “How dirty are the people you know?” I chuckle.

  “I live with two stinky mechanics. What do you think?”

  “Good call.”

  “So, is the room okay for you? There are others if it’s not.”

  I turn to face her, looking away from the view. “It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

  She smiles shyly. Almost like she can read the thoughts in my mind.

  “Okay, good. Well, I’ll leave you to get settled.”

  “Before you go,” I say, stopping her, not ready for her to go just yet, “would you be able to point me in the direction of a clothes store and a drugstore? I’m going to need some stuff for while I’m here.”

  “Oh, sure. I mean, I can do one better if you want. I can take you. There’s a department store in town. Sells everything. It’s a thirty-minute walk from here. Which isn’t bad. But I can drive you, if you want? I need to pick up a few things from town myself.”

  “If you don’t mind?”

  She gives a soft shake of her head. “I don’t mind at all. When do you want to go? The store closes at nine, so we can go whenever.”

  I could probably do with a shower and sleep right now, but the thought of spending more time with her is too appealing. “Is now okay?”

  “Sure.” She smiles.

  “Cool. Just let me put this shirt on, and I’m good to go.”

  I take my jacket off, not even thinking about her being in the room with me.

  Whether this is because I feel comfortable around her or I’m just used to getting naked around woman, I’m not sure.

  But she’s not so comfortable.

  She lets out a little squeak, covers her eyes, and spins on the spot, turning away from me.

  I let out a low laugh. “You’re not shy, are you?”

  “Of course not!” Her voice is pitched high, making me smile. “Just giving you privacy.”

  “You’ve already seen my bare chest.”

  “Only part of it. And not by choice!”

  I laugh at her awkwardness as I pull the T-shirt over my head.

  “I’m covered,” I tell her as I pull the shirt down and reach for my jacket.

  “Good. Okay then.” She pulls her hands from her face but doesn’t turn around. “Shall we go?”

  She’s out of the door before I get to answer.

  Laughing to myself, I put my jacket on and follow her out.

  Stevie locks the door and hands me the key without once looking at me.

  I follow her down the stairs. Her back is ramrod straight.

  She clearly felt uncomfortable. It makes me feel like a dick.

  “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable just then.”

  “You didn’t.”

  She still isn’t looking at me.

  I stop her with a hand on her arm. Aside from shaking her hand in the truck earlier, it’s the only other time I’ve touched her. And I get the same exact feeling as I did that first time. Like my nerve endings are all coming alive, chasing their way down my arm, racing all over my body, bringing me to life.

  Stevie glances down at my hand and then up at my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I say the words firmly, so she knows I mean them. “I’m just used to undressing around people. I didn’t think.”

  “You’re a stripper?” she jokes.

  Just like that, the mood is lightened, and we’re back to before.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I grin, removing my hand from her arm.

  “No way! You’re a stripper! Just to be clear, it’s a profession I wholeheartedly approve of.”

  “Hold on. You’ll pay to see a stripper but blush when I get shirtless in front of you?”

  Her chest goes red. “Well, yeah … but I know what I’m getting when I go to see a stripper. You just took me off guard. We were in a bedroom, alone. With a bed. And you were”—she gestures at me with her hand—“shirtless. And tattooed. And muscly.”

  Ah. So, I didn’t upset her. I turned her on. And that freaked her out.

  Interesting.

  “You know strippers are usually shirtless, tattooed, and muscly, right?”

  She looks up into my eyes. They look so wide and innocent. Makes me want to dirty her right up.

  “Of course I know. But I wouldn’t be alone in a room with a stripper, would I?”

  Her voice is softer now.

  Just a touch.

  If I had any doubt in my mind that she’s attracted to me, I don’t anymore.

  But she’s definitely guy-shy for such a confident girl.

  Makes me wonder why.

  “I’m sure you must have guys trying to get shirtless around you all the time.” My voice is lowered now.

  And is it just me, or are we closer than we were a second ago?

  Her throat moves on a swallow, and I have the sudden urge to follow the movement with my tongue, heading downward.

  She shakes her head.

  “I find that hard to believe.” My voice sounds hoarse.

  Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips.

  I don’t think she even realizes she did it.

  She wants me to kiss her.
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br />   “Stevie? That you up there, honey?” a female voice calls from below, breaking whatever was just happening between us.

  Well, I’m pretty sure something fan-fucking-tastic was about to happen between us. But that’s over now.

  Stevie moves so quick that I’m surprised she doesn’t break something.

  “Yeah, Gran. It’s me. I’m coming down.”

  She hightails it down the stairs like her ass is on fire. I follow behind in relaxed amusement.

  She totally would have let me kiss her then. She wanted me to kiss her.

  Just a damn shame I didn’t get the chance. But it’s good to know I might get another.

  She likes me.

  I can’t believe how fucking jacked up that makes me feel.

  Even drugs haven’t gotten me this high before.

  I reach the bottom step to see Stevie talking to a familiar-looking woman. Older and glamorous in a pantsuit, pearls, perfectly styled blonde hair.

  The woman looks at me, and recognition sparks in her eyes. “I know you.” She points a polished fingernail at me. “Shirtless boy from the gas station.” She clicks her finger against her thumb.

  A grin takes over my face, and I point a finger back at her. “Winking lady who ogled me in the gas station.”

  She laughs. “Guilty as charged.”

  “You’ve already met?” Stevie asks, sounding bemused at our exchange.

  “Not officially,” the woman says, turning to Stevie. “I was filling up my car when this young man decided to do a striptease at the gas station. Of course, I had to watch the show. Would have been rude not to.”

  I have to stop myself from laughing at her word choice, considering, not a minute ago, Stevie thought I was a stripper.

  “Oh, that’s when you spilled coffee on yourself,” Stevie says to me, connecting the dots. “Well, Nick Slater, coffee-spiller and shirt-remover, meet my gran, Stella Cavalli, bare-chest-ogler and serial-winker and the owner of this fine establishment.”

  Stevie’s introduction makes me smile. She’s so damn goofy. And I like it so damn much.

  “Nice to officially meet you, Mrs. Cavalli,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “Call me Stella. I hear Mrs. Cavalli, and I think of my late-husband’s mother. That woman was a dragon. God rest her soul.”

  I chuckle. Stella is quite the character, this one. It’s clear where Stevie gets it from.

  “Gran, Nick is going to be staying with us until his car is fixed. I put him in Bayview.”