Easy Little Lick (Copperline #3) (14 page)

The two of us stared down into the trunk of her car and the cargo it held.

It was like she was moving, but didn’t have a lot in there. A few boxes held things like toiletries, one with some books. There was one with a few pairs of shoes, and a couple with clothes.

“This is Ilsa’s shirt,” I remarked holding up a T-shirt. “I've seen her wear this. Maybe she was doing laundry?”

“But what about this other stuff?” He reached into one container to pull out a box of Cheerios. “Food?”

“I don’t know. Groceries?” I asked, going to set the shirt back down in the box when something else caught my eye. Something that made me freeze solid.

“Yeah, but some of these boxes are open,” Brannon continued, not noticing my shock. “Why would she be carrying around food that she had already started eating?” Suddenly, he saw where my gaze had stopped. “Holy fuck, is that—?”

I dropped the shirt I held and reached out for a smaller garment. A very small garment actually.

Like for a baby.

I pulled back another shirt from the next stack, and there was a similar tiny shirt and a pair of pint-sized shoes.

“Those are baby clothes,” Brannon breathed. “Does she have a kid?”

I was astounded. “I have no idea.”

We looked through things a little more. I felt sick doing it, like I was totally invading her privacy, something she obviously treasured. It seemed even worse since she was clearly trying to keep a huge secret under wraps. I just had to know though. I had to find something to give me an idea of just what I was dealing with here.

Lifting a jacket revealed a small box of toys, there were a few little stuffed animals, little kid books, and one of those xylophone things that reminded me of one I had as a kid. Under an old quilt were some folded baby blankets, soft fleece, a few light blue and a few light green. A couple packages of diapers and some baby wipes. Mixed in with the groceries, there were a few boxes and jars that indicated they were for toddlers.

“Jesus,” Brannon exhaled. “I feel kind of like a dick for going through her stuff, but how in the fuck did none of us know she had a kid?”

“She doesn’t share much. This would explain why she didn’t want either of us to give her a ride home last night.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone? It doesn’t make sense.”

“She’s scared of something.”

“What if it’s not her kid? What if she’s kidnapped someone else’s kid?”

“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t believe that… not Ilsa. It’s gotta be hers, but… shit, this raises more questions than it answers.”

“Man, you said it. Who knows what else she’s dealing with. Seems like the last thing she needed was expensive car repairs,” Brannon murmured.

“I’ll pay for the alternator,” I said without hesitation. “The labor, too.”

“Cody,” Brannon said, “I know you've got a little crush on her, but I don’t think—”

“It’s more than a crush, Brannon,” I replied. “Things have gone a lot farther than anything so innocent.”

“Seriously?” Brannon asked, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

I gave a curt nod.

“Like how much farther?”

I clenched my teeth.

“Jesus, did you fuck her?”

I slanted a murderous glare over at him.

“Holy shit… dude, she barely even talks to anyone.”

“Yeah, well she didn’t do a whole lot of talking with me either.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah… so just do me a favor and let me pay for the expensive shit.”

“What do we tell her?”

“Tell her it was just the belt,” I replied, looking at the soft little baby T-shirt in my large, grubby hand. “That’s a cheap thing to fix, and we had to replace it anyway. We can write the bill separate for that, but keep it low. I’ll pay the bulk of the repair cost.”

“I dunno, Cody,” he hedged, “maybe—”

“She’s got a kid, dude,” I interrupted, sweeping my hand over the contents of her trunk. “She’s a barmaid. She hasn’t been here long, seems to pretty much be living out of her car, and, as far as I know, she doesn’t know anybody. She can’t afford a bunch of fucking repairs, so don’t tell her it’s that much. Even say you had the belt lying around and don’t charge her for that either. Something. But I’m paying for the damn parts.”

Brandon looked a little surprised by the adamant demand I was making.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he asked.

“Nope,” I replied, “but I’m taking her car back tonight… and we’re going to have a little talk.”

My stalkeriness went into overdrive. I told myself it was a necessary evil. I needed some answers and had to do some drastic shit to get them.

Knowing she was working that night, I called the Copperline to ask Doug to give her a message for me, to let her know I wouldn’t have her car done until the next morning. It was complete shit since Brannon and I had already fixed it before I even called, but I didn’t want her expecting me that night.

I was setting the stage for an intervention of sorts.

Then I drove her car to the Copperline after it got dark, parked way in the back corner of the lot where she wouldn’t notice me, but I could still see the door.

And I waited.

The Sunday night crowd was sparse. At a little after ten, I saw her come out of the building and head for my pickup. As she left the Copperline, I followed.

Towards Butte, on the outskirts of town, she pulled into the driveway of a small square house. There were a couple cars parked in front of the garage, making me wonder if she lived here, but not alone. Not that it was a fancy place, but maybe she wasn’t as destitute as I’d thought.

After she went inside, a middle-aged man came out of the house, went to a sedan parked near the front steps, and opened the back driver-side door.

I bristled the moment he’d appeared.

I wondered how he was related to her… if he was related to her. He was old enough to be her father, but I was trying so hard to consider all the angles. For all I knew, he could have been her man, and that thought made me ill to no end. Even more so than when I thought Doug was hot for her. This was worse, though. If this was where she lived, and it seemed like it was where he lived…

Had she cheated on him with me?

But then Ilsa came back out of the house… and she was carrying a small child with light blonde hair. The kid’s head was tucked against her shoulder and little legs hung limp when she walked. The man reappeared from reaching into the sedan with a child safety seat that he buckled into the passenger side of my pickup, then stood back and allowed her to set the child down in it.

After a moment, she turned to him and gave a tiny wave, which he returned with a kind and thankfully not leering grin. No hugs or kisses or fondling.
Thank God
. Ilsa climbed up behind the wheel and started back down the short drive to the highway.

Okay, thank fuck
. It didn’t seem like there was anything there… but, then I really started to worry.

Was she homeless? With all the stuff in her trunk, was she living out of her car?

I followed her into Butte, keeping at least one vehicle between us at all times, and she drove through the quiet streets, heading uptown. In a fairly desolate part of town, she parked in front of a small, run-down apartment building, gathered up the sleeping kid, and headed inside.

I waited for a minute, watching for movement or light. Something to indicate that she lived here and, if so, which apartment might be hers. After a few moments, light came on in an upstairs room, and I breathed an immense sigh of relief, exhaling air I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

I’d really started to think she was homeless.

The curtains were drawn, but they were thin, and I could see the faint outline of her crossing into another room. I waited a few minutes, looking for a sign of another adult. A roommate or the kid’s dad.

After a bit, not seeing anyone else but her, I counted windows over from the main entrance, trying to estimate how far in her place was. When I thought I had a good handle on it, I climbed out of her car and
trekked up the stairs to her door
.

It seemed crazy, a little bit obsessive, that I was here. I hoped to God that I had the right door when I knocked lightly, considering it was almost midnight by this point. Most people would be a little put out having someone waking them up looking for someone else.

I started wondering if I had the wrong door, so I stood back and kind of looked up and down the hallway to reassess. Thinking once again that I did, I knocked again. This time, I also leaned into the door and quietly called her name.

“Ilsa?”

Then it was like I could almost feel her on the other side. I knew she was standing there. I looked down to see the faint shadows from her feet, breaking the warm light that escaped underneath the door.

“Ils,” I called out again, just loud enough for her to hear, but not so loud as to bother the other people living in the building. “It’s Cody, open the door.”

Silence, but then a little click of the lock, a rattle of the door chain, and she was standing there before me.

She looked terrified.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you even know where I live?”

This was
so
going to make me sound like a stalker.

“It’s not as creepy as it seems,” I began, “but I followed you.”

“Why? I thought I was just meeting up with you tomorrow.”

“We got your car done a little faster than we figured we would.”

“Oh, well, okay. I’ll grab the keys to your truck.” She started to turn away, but I placed my hand on her arm to stop her.

“That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m also here because we need to have a chat.”

A wary shadow flitted through her eyes. “Cody, I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me, and please, don’t think I regret… that time I was with you. I just—”

Her voice cut off abruptly when I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little T-shirt from her trunk.

“You have a kid?” My question was really more of a statement.

She stared at the little garment in my hand, then glanced up at me. Caught. Trapped. Distrustful.

Finally, with no alternative, she nodded.

“A son. Max. He’s almost a year and a half.”

“How about a man?” I asked with my heart in my throat. Thinking back to my own parents and their essentially perfect relationship. Role models who had instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in the game of love.

Marriage meant fidelity. They made me hope I could have something like that someday.

Her answer now had the potential to really fuck with that goal.

If she was married…

Fuck
, I couldn’t think that way. I couldn’t jump to conclusions.

She took the little shirt and held it to her heart. “It’s just me and Max,” she whispered, then turned and walked into the apartment. “I haven’t always been the good girl I’m trying to be now.”

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The main room itself was practically bare, only a couch and an old easy chair separated by a shabby side table that held a lamp. There was a small coffee table with a few scattered baby toys and a book spread open to mark a place. The bag she’d brought out of the house on her way home was on the floor beside it.

A tiny kitchenette was tucked into a corner of the room with economy-sized appliances and a little table with two chairs, one of which had a booster seat strapped onto it.

She wasn’t living in her car, but it didn’t really look like she was living here either.

“So are you just moving in?” I asked. “I could help carry some stuff up from your car.”

“Um, no… I’m not sure how long we’ll be here.”

“You got another place lined up?”

She bit her lip and turned her face to the side, evading my question.