Slow Ride (23 page)
“Why do you have dog food?” He’d never seen a dog in her apartment.
“Because I like dogs, but this complex is no dogs, so I buy food for the shelter. Makes me feel better.”
That didn’t surprise him. He could see her wanting to help out. Tuesday wasn’t a traditional do-gooder, she was sharp-tongued and somewhat bossy, but she had a big heart. He truly believed that. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be suffering her father’s loss so deeply.
“Damn, the room is spinning.”
Diesel knew that was a fairly awful feeling. Nothing but time and some water could make it go away. “So you cracked open a bottle of wine and didn’t realize how much you were drinking?”
“I think I was fully aware of how much I was drinking.”
Diesel wasn’t sure what to say without her telling him off again, this time actually hitting him with the door on his way out. But she had to realize that her explanation was sketchy. “So, was there any particular reason you reached for the first glass?”
Obviously a ton of people didn’t have any particular reason for drinking a glass of wine other than the fact that they enjoyed it. But they stopped before they drank—Diesel checked out her coffee table—almost two entire bottles.
Tuesday pointed her finger at him like she was about to give a lengthy explanation, but then the only thing she actually said was, “Yes.”
He sat down next to her, waiting for the follow-up, debating taking his shoes off. He was spending the night until her buzz wore off, whether she liked it or not. But he probably should take her out for food and some coffee. “Yeah?” he prompted, hoping she’d continue.
Instead she picked up her phone and started fiddling with it. “Listen to this.” She shoved it at him. Diesel put it up to his ear.
A voice mail started to play. “Hi, hon, it’s Mom. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to meet you tomorrow after all. Tom Reynolds and I are seeing each other.”
Okay. He wasn’t sure why he was supposed to be hearing that, so he just made a noncommittal sound.
“So what the hell do you think that means?” she asked, studying her phone really intently, having obvious focus issues, before pushing a button to resave the message.
He had no idea. “Can you give me some context here? Who is Tom Reynolds? And what do
you
think it means?”
you
think it means?”
“Tom Reynolds is my mother’s high school boyfriend. She always joked around that he was the one who got away. So does that sound like a date to you, or what?”
So that’s what this was about. Tuesday was worried her mother was dating already, moving on from her father. With a high school boyfriend, maybe it even had her concerned her parent’s marriage hadn’t been quite what she’d thought it was. Diesel rubbed her knee. “No, it does not sound like a date to me. It sounds like two old friends getting together.”
“How do you know?” She bit her fingernail anxiously.
“Well, what time were you supposed to meet your mom?”
“Noon. For lunch.”
“That doesn’t sound like a date to me.” It didn’t. It sounded exactly like what he had said it was.
“Yeah, but, how do you know?”
“You could ask your mother.”
“Hell no!” She looked horrified at the prospect. “What if . . .”
She left the sentence unfinished, but he knew what she meant. What if it were true? “Well, was he friends with your father, too?”
“Not really. Tom and my mom didn’t even really talk all that often. That I was aware of anyway.”
“Was he at the funeral?”
She gave him a look. “I couldn’t even tell you who was at that funeral. It’s a blur. Just a big black blur.” Glancing down at his hand on her knee she added, “Except for you. You letting me cry on you. And why would it matter if he was there or not?”
“It would show that he respected your father, respected your mother’s feelings. He wouldn’t be swooping in this soon.”
“You respected my father and you weren’t there. At least, I think you respected my father.”
Diesel stared at her for a second, not sure what to say. She was even drunker than he’d thought. “Of course I was there. You just said so two seconds ago.”
“You weren’t
there
there. You were there to visit your family.”
there
there. You were there to visit your family.”
Had she really thought for the last month that he hadn’t attended her father’s funeral? That it was a coincidence?
“No, I was there for your father’s funeral. I just stopped by my family’s grave sites on my way out. I knew your dad for years, Tuesday. I wanted to show my respect.”
“Oh,” she said, looking as stunned as he felt. “Duh. That would have been quite a coincidence I guess, huh? And now that I think about it, you were wearing a suit. Yikes, I’m such a moron.”
He was getting pretty damn sick of her cutting herself down all the time, no matter how it was masked behind sarcasm. “Shush. You’re not a moron. Cut yourself some slack. The last six months have been rough for you.”
“No shit,” she said with fire.
She laid herself across his lap. It seemed to be a favorite position of hers when she was drunk. “Thank you for attending the funeral. You were my dad’s favorite driver you know. He thought you were old school and hardworking. Honest. A true sportsman.”
Diesel felt a rush of satisfaction, and no small amount of embarrassment. That was exactly how he would like to be remembered in his career and it pleased the hell out of him at the same time he felt a little like squirming. “I appreciate that.” He stroked her hair. “Do you want to go get something to eat still?”
“Mm.”
Her eyes were closed. Diesel leaned forward and fished around for the remote control. He turned the TV on and relaxed back, figuring sleeping off the wine was the best thing for her. Channel surfing, he found a baseball game on.
“I hate baseball,” she muttered two minutes later.
Diesel grinned, rubbing her backside before giving it a little swat. She was a pain in the ass, and it was clear he really liked her or he’d never put up with her.
“Deal with it,” he told her.
He was expecting a tongue being shoved out at him, but all he got was a light snore. Putting his feet on the coffee table, he settled in for the long haul.
TUESDAY
woke up with a jolt, sitting half up, then instantly regretting that action. Her head throbbed. Where the hell was she?
woke up with a jolt, sitting half up, then instantly regretting that action. Her head throbbed. Where the hell was she?
Her bed. Reaching down, she patted herself. She was in her shirt and bra, but had no pants on. Panties were intact. She had no memory whatsoever of going to bed, which was scary. The last thing she remembered was blubbering on Diesel and coming to the realization that he had in fact attended her father’s funeral. Then . . . nothing.
Glancing over, she saw he was in bed with her, sleeping. It looked like he didn’t have a shirt on. Swallowing hard, her mouth as dry as the Sahara, Tuesday concentrated on her inner thighs. Did it feel like she’d had sex? She wasn’t sure, and damn, it would be so disappointing if they had and she didn’t remember it. Curious, she snaked her hand to his side under the blanket and touched his leg. It was bare thigh. She went just a little bit higher and encountered the fabric of his boxer shorts.
Hmm. That didn’t rule out sex though. He could have pulled those back on afterward, though she was starting to think nothing had happened. She’d been so drunk she wouldn’t have bothered to put her panties on afterward. Another two inches of creeping up his leg and she found herself hitting a solid wall of erection. Hello. Despite feeling like ass, she couldn’t help but stroke it just a little. It was such a damn fine penis.
“I’d prefer you do that when I’m awake,” Diesel mumbled, his hand covering hers and stilling her movements.
“You sound awake to me.”
He turned to look at her, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Like crap,” she admitted. “Which I guess is to be expected. I drank a whole bottle of wine, didn’t I?”
He studied her in the early morning light peeking through her blinds. “Actually it was almost two bottles. But who’s counting?”
“Oh, God.” Tuesday shoved her hair off her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He shrugged and pulled her over onto his chest.
Her stomach roiled a little and her head spun, but once settled on him, his hot skin felt strangely good on her clammy cheek. She relaxed with a sigh. “If we had sex, I’m disappointed to say I don’t remember it.”
“You blacked out?”
“Yeah, after we were talking in the living room, I don’t remember anything. I don’t have any clue how I got to the bedroom.”
His hand stroking her back felt good, through she could do without her bra. The underwire was jabbing her.
“No? So then you don’t remember us having anal sex.”
Tuesday forgot all about her underwire. Anal sex. She’d let him in the back door and she didn’t remember it? “You can’t be serious.” He couldn’t be. She would know if his you-know-what went you-know-where.
He swatted her butt, something he seemed to really love to do, given the rate with which he did it. “No, I’m not serious. We didn’t do anything at all. You passed out on me on the couch and I brought you in here. There’s water on the nightstand if you need it.”
“Does a chicken have a pecker? Yes, I need water.” Relieved that she hadn’t missed some potentially erotic encounter, Tuesday rolled very, very carefully onto her side and reached for the glass. “Thank you.”
She drank the entire glass in three gulps then lay back down with a sigh. “Why do I do this to myself?”
“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” She had been upset about her mother, that’s why she had reached for the wine. The problem was, which she could admit, was that she had no shutoff valve. Once she started drinking, she lost track of how much she’d had, and then suddenly it was all ugly. She was glad Diesel had been there with her because the idea that she had blacked out and could have done anything was scary. Granted, she’d just been in her own place and probably would have just passed out on the couch, but it was still unnerving. “So you really don’t think my mother is dating her high school sweetheart?”
“No. It’s just a couple of old friends getting together.”
She was glad he didn’t say something like she needed to accept at some point that her mother might date and remarry, because while somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that, she sure in the hell didn’t want it to happen anytime soon.
“I’m holding you to that,” she told him.
He gave a low, grumbling laugh. “Come here and give me a kiss.”
The look he was giving her, one of lust, but something else, something like genuine affection, made her heart squeeze. Feeling a wave of tenderness for him, Tuesday scooted over toward him again. “I guess I could do that.”
It was a nice, slow, sensual kiss. They moved easily together. Tuesday was amazed by that, by how natural it was with Diesel. And by how with just a single touch, a look, a word, he could utterly and completely turn her on.
She broke off the kiss and looked down at him, propped up on his chest with her elbows. “By the way, thank you for putting me to bed.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulled her on top of him in one smooth move, his erection connecting with her sweet spot.
The move left her both breathless and highly aroused.
“Now, unless you have any objections, I’m going to keep you in bed.”
Shaking her head, she also verbalized the gesture, just in case he had any doubt as to her answer. “No, no objections.”
She still felt a little rough, but she figured that was nothing an orgasm couldn’t fix.
“Good.” He pulled her head down for a kiss.
Tuesday felt a pang of self-consciousness. She probably didn’t have the freshest breath ever.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
“I need to brush my teeth.” She flicked her hair out of her eyes.
“I don’t want to kiss a mint, I want to kiss you.”
Okay, then, that was hot. This time when he put his hand on the back of her neck to guide her toward him, she didn’t resist. If he didn’t care, she sure wasn’t going to. Kissing Diesel like this, her body splayed across his from her breasts down to her toes was dangerous. It was intense, intimate, arousing, yes, but something more than that. Here she was, slightly hungover and feeling like she wasn’t capable of putting effort into anything whatsoever at the moment, yet she knew she would with Diesel. There was something incredibly sexy about knowing he saw her less-than-perfect side and didn’t give a shit.
She kissed him hard, enjoying the more powerful position of being on top. Digging her hands into his hair, she bit his bottom lip. Something about the sweep of his tongue inside her mouth, his hands sliding across her back, the way he was clearly going to take it gentle with her, made her want it rough.
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