Knock Love Out (A Sensual New Adult Crossover Romance) (6 page)

“You need to get that much crap?” he complains.

“You could have stayed home,” I point out.

“I probably would have if you told me you were driving all the way to Tangerine to shop. Why the hell can’t you shop in Blossom? Gas is like four bucks a gallon, you know, Lil. A little conservation goes a long way.”

“They have your ice cream here. The one in Blossom is closed down.”

Adam simply shoves his hands into his pockets and huffs, following behind me as I enter. My heart already beating quickly, nerves fluttering like wings of butterflies, searching for
him
.

Cash is at his register, ringing up a customer. Mary is bagging for him, staring at him as she slowly slides items into the woman’s green tote bags. He glances to the door, about to turn away before he notices me, probably would have smiled if he
didn’t
notice Adam. His eyes appraise him, sizing him up. A stint of laughter leaves him as he pushes at the keys to his register. He hands the woman her change and faces us as we pass.

Arrogant and too young for this.

Palms flat on the steel of the check out. Palms that have touched places only my husband
should
be allowed.

Chewing slowly at what I assume is a stick of cinnamon gum.

My mouth tingles.

Directly at me, like my Cash owns my ring finger, and not Adam: “Welcome to
Valentine’s
.”

“Hi.” I’m not sure if he heard me. I’m not even sure if the word made a sound leaving my lips.

“Can we help you find something special today?”

Already have.

“We’re good,” Adam replies for us.

Lies. Such lies. We could not be anything further from good.

We aren’t even a mediocre
okay
.

Green eyes remain on me. “Are you sure?”

I nod, silent and too afraid to reply. Too fearful for the truth that might spill from my lips. Truth I know he’ll see in my eyes, just like he told me in the park and art fair; Cash
looks
at the
sky
.

“Well, I’m here if you need something. Anything.
Lettuce
know.”

Mary’s giggles are all I hear, looking straight ahead and away from danger. Like an idiot, I end up in the produce section. Adam scrolls through his phone, groaning every time I pick up something and examine it carefully.

“It’s just fruit, for Christ sake, Lilla. Pick something and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“You could have stayed home.”

He glares, still toying with his phone. “I’m going to use the restroom. Maybe you’ll find a good tomato by the time I get back.”

I make a face at him as he walks away.

Chills find the back of my arms as a voice sounds from behind.

“Not only does she bring the husband in my store, but she parades him through my department as well. You’ve got balls, Lil. I’ll give you that much.” But he’s teasing. I feel it. I sense it.

Even so …

“I’m sorry,” I say, “Adam wouldn’t let me leave the house by myself after my disappearing act.”

“I see.” Cash leans against the display of lemons. “Where’s he now?”

“I killed him and stuffed him in the meat freezer. You don’t mind do you?’’

Cash lifts my hand, toying with my fingers. “I missed you,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I glance over my shoulder like the paranoid cheater I am. “Me too.”

“Where is Adam really?”

“Bathroom.”

Cash tugs my hand, pulling me towards the stocking hallway. Gently he pushes me to the wall, placing his face against mine.

“I was praying all day you’d show up. Every time someone walked through the door I hoped it was you, Honey-girl.”

His lips plant themselves into the curve of my neck, making my eyes close to his warmth, “And if you think I didn’t notice the flannel shirt and denim, you’re dead wrong.”

My fingers wind around my hair. “I didn’t have time for the pigtails, sorry.” I tickle his face with the scratchy ends.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, leaning into my mouth.

The overhead speakers are playing an older tune, something slow. Cash gathers me in his arms, swaying us gently.

“Dance with me.”

“Adam is going to look for me.”

“Shh,” he says softly, “don’t think. Dance with me.”

We sway to the melody and I’m lost. Rocked so securely in his strong arms. I want to melt into him and never resurface.

“You have a black dress, Honey-girl?”

“Yeah.”

He kisses my shoulder. “Wear it, on Friday.”

“I think that would be a little odd.”

“Not here. I want to take you out. Go dancing for real. I’ll pick you up at the park we went to.”

I go to debate, but he shushes me once more, swaying side to side for a moment longer, until he raises my hand and twirls me twice in a circle, releasing his hold when I’m faced away from him. My head turns, seeking where he has gone, but all I find is his back, pushing through the double doors to the stock area, disappearing.

“
Friday
,” I whisper to myself, holding my hand over my heart that hasn’t beat this way in … ever. “Friday.”

Chapter Nine

The inside of a car never smelled so divine. Leather and Cash. My whore perfume.

This is not the same car Cash had on our road trip. This is not a car one out of every three people own. I know this, because, this is the first and only time I have ever—probably
will
ever—see one. This car is polished and leathery. This car is loud and powerful. A monster. This is the kind of car that would make Adam sell a nut. Both, maybe.

I’m not touching
anything
.

“Whose car is this?”

Cash smiles, relaxed in his seat, driving. His eyes stay on the road.

“Mine.”

“How …” I glance around, unable to believe him. “No offense, but how could someone stocking groceries afford all of this?”

“Easy—I sell drugs and pimp girls in my spare time.” I’m staring, silent, until he exhales. “Jesus, Lilla, you’d really believe that?”

“I don’t know you very well.”

Deeply inhaling. I’m getting on his nerves. I think. He changes the music we are listening to, switching to something slow with very loud bass. It vibrates against my seat. I’m not really into it. He seems to like it. He’s also not smoking in this car, simply toying with the cigarette between his fingers.

Yeah, he cares about
this
car.

“I sold one of my first paintings when I was eighteen. It made me a nice chunk of change. I saw this GTO sitting in someone’s yard, wasting away like all things busy people cast to the wayside and decided to save it. Restore it. My dad called me an idiot and didn’t speak to me for two weeks,” he chuckles at the memory. “He thought I needed to save it for college.”

“He was probably right.”

Cash rubs his forehead, coming to a stop at the red light.

“It never ceases to amaze me how many people assume just because you have an expensive piece of paper in your hand that you will somehow lead a better life. I know how to paint. I know how to create some of the most profound shit you might ever be a witness to with my hands.” Cash glances around the car, as proof. “Tell me why I need someone to validate that with a degree of some sort?”

“I think it’s meant to show how serious you take your craft? That someone who has vast experience and knowledge would approve of you. What
you
know. Also, to further that knowledge. Shape those skills.”

“Then what is
life
for?”

My mouth sticks. His smirks.

The red light turns green.

“I don’t mooch off of my parents, Lilla. I work in my dad’s store to be a good son. The economy is in the shitter. Grocery stores aren’t exactly flourishing. If he doesn’t have to pay someone to work there, that’s extra cash he gets to put in his own pocket. Or someone else’s pocket.”

“You work for free?”

“Depends what you define as payment. I feel like the best paid employee, right now.”

I smile, looking down to my hands, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs, shifting gears.

“Don’t get me wrong, I was spoiled to shit when I was little, when things were good. I didn’t get this kind of swagger from growing up broke, Lil.”

I roll my eyes when he winks.

***

As soon as we park and exit the car, Cash lights the cigarette he’s been holding. We’re in a parking garage and I have no idea where he is taking me. He leans against a cement wall, taking slow drags, watching the other people in the lot. Most of them are girls. Girls dressed up to go somewhere. Laughing. Girls a lot closer to
his
age.

Their clothing is sparse, to be kind. I feel out of place. I wore the black dress he requested, but it feels more like something you’d wear to a job interview rather than a date and headed where these other people are going. I don’t even have cleavage.

Two girls pass us, walking toward the elevator and he doesn’t hide his ogling. He grins, nodding to one of them as she checks him out.

“Tell Heath I’ll be over to see him soon,” he calls out.

“What about
me,
Cash?” she tosses back.

“You couldn’t handle this, Sweetheart. Keep walking.” The girl giggles, holding onto her friend as they reach the elevator.

He smiles, facing me. “Heath has been trying to date that girl for
three years
. You believe that shit?” He takes another drag before allowing the cigarette to fall to the floor. Another classic car passes by, his eyes follow it, waving to the man driving. His radio is twice as loud as Cash’s car, echoing off the walls of the parking garage.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask nervously.

Cash reaches out for my hand. “I told you. Dancing.” He tugs me along, heading for the elevator.

A group of girls pack the elevator with us. Cash holds me against him, wrapping his hands around my waist from behind. The girls are loud and their skirts too short. I’m glad he’s standing behind me. I don’t want to see if he’s looking at them. Of course he is.
Everyone
is looking at them.

I follow where he leads us, my feet following without hesitation
until
we reach the entrance of a night club.

Cash looks back, silently questioning as I pause.

“What’s wrong?”

“I … I didn’t think this was the type of dancing you had in mind.”

Cash half-smiles, stepping closer. “Where else do you go to dance, other than a club, Lilla?”

“I don’t know. I assumed that it was going to be somewhere more private.”

“Like a closet?” he teases. “What’s the
real
problem, Honey-girl?”

“I stopped doing this type of stuff when I was—”

“Twenty-four?” Cash makes a face. “Do you want to dance or not?”

“I don’t want to be the old hag everyone snickers about at the bar. Like
I
did when I was your age.”

“Who cares, Lilla? Have you looked around? You honestly think any of these people will be sober enough to remember you by morning? Even if they were, I repeat—who the fuck cares? I don’t. I give zero fucks. I’m here for three things: drink, dancing with you and hopefully coppin’ a feel of what’s under that dress.”

He holds out his hand for me.

“Come on, maybe you’ll get lucky and the DJ will play a Mariah song.”

“That’s not funny.”

Still holding out his hand, not willing to give up. I sigh, rolling away the tension in my shoulders.

I follow him to the door.

***

“What do you want to drink, Lil?” He hollers over the loud music.

“You decide.”

Cash leans closer. “I’m sorry, that’s not on the menu.”

I groan, looking back to the bar. I’m not really a drinker. And when I do drink, it doesn’t take much to tip me over and pour me out. A few girls across the bar have something pink and fruity.

“Whatever they’re drinking,” I point.

Cash orders for us, taking a beer and two shots for himself. I watch him count out money and hand it over.

He looks at me, sliding his wallet back into his jeans, glossing his eyes over my dress. A long finger calls me closer. Two steps in his direction. He shimmies the bottom of my dress up higher,
too high
, revealing my thighs. Next, his fingers pull at the fabric around my waist, tugging down the top of my dress to show a little lace from my bra. A little cleavage. His eyebrows bounce in approval.

Drinks in hand, I follow him up the steps, going into a lounge area.

The other clerk from the grocery store is sitting alone, head-bobbing as he watches two girls dance together. We sit next to him. Cash taps beers with Heath and I am given a wave. A grin.

Cash gets a grin, too.

I feel warm.

They make small talk for a while, until the girls from the parking garage come over. Cash keeps my hand in his, sipping at his beer until the conversation is lost and Heath and the girls slip into their own world. I am gulping this drink down too fast, nervously using it as something to keep myself busy.

Cash orders another drink for me when a waitress comes around. The two shots sit on the table before us. He picks one up and hands it to me, gathering the other for himself.

“To dancing—whether it’s on rooftops or shitty clubs,” he toasts.

I clink my glass to his and follow his lead, tipping it back.

Cash smiles, relaxing into the couch, pulling me against his chest. It’s dark and I’m appreciative, because his mouth is suddenly near mine. The loud music dissipates, the percussion a backdrop to the warmth of his breath. The slight scruff on his face. He taps his lips to mine three times before he pinches my chin between his fingers.

“This is ours.”

He takes one last swig of his beer and then pulls me up. The song is slower and I’m so, so grateful.