If At First (Crimson Cove Mysteries Book 1) Page 17

  “And you liked me the entire time you were dating her?” The question came out prickly. Suddenly, I became fairly touchy about the whole thing.

  “I did.”

  My gaze narrowed, even though he couldn't see me. “Then why did you agree to date her? Why didn't you try to tell me how you felt, instead of eyeing me up all the time? You spent like two years dating her and sleeping with random people behind her back. But you liked me?” I actually laughed at that part.

  “You weren’t a reality for me. I never imagined we might date, ever.”

  “Why?”

  He lifted his hand and brushed it along my cheek before he sighed and rolled onto his back. I saw the silhouette of his face against the slight gap in the curtains and the moonlight. “You aren’t an easy girl to talk to. You’re sarcastic and rude, a lot. You are walled off like you don't care what people think about you, but I see you do care. It’s taken years and years for me to chisel my way into your heart. I started with joking and making fun of little things. Then I moved it to actual conversations. Finally, I got your email address and I sent you jokes. I asked you out all the time but you never agreed. You have some serious low self-esteem and it gets in the way of your happiness.”

  I parted my lips to argue but there was no point. He had clearly been watching.

  “You are uncomfortable a lot, which for you translates into defensive or irritable. If I could pick a girl to be infatuated with, it wouldn't be you. You’re a lot of work. You don't put out on the first date. You don't drink so I can’t ply your pants off with alcohol. And you never willingly have fun so I have a hard time convincing you I’m a fun guy. You hate fun.”

  My jaw dropped. “You are an asshole. Ply my pants with liquor?” Had he been listening?

  “I’m kidding.” He laughed after a second. “But you know you have said it a time or two.”

  “Yeah, to Lainey.”

  He turned and faced me again. “I listen better than you will ever know.”

  I rolled onto my back too. “I hate this bed.”

  “It is rather uncomfortable.”

  I turned and faced him, already dreading the lie I was about to tell, “I think we should be friends and nothing more.”

  “Friends who kiss and maybe have some sex, but only like every now and then?”

  “No.” I laughed. I couldn't stop myself. “I won’t ever be a notch on your belt, Vincent Banks.”

  “Friends it is then.” He sounded sad and I knew I was. But I couldn't break the one cardinal rule of friends, and Sage and I were already having a rough week. And I was still very stuck on his playboy behavior.

  “Can I ask you a serious question about this though?”

  “Yeah?”

  He sighed heavily. “Can I still send you funny emails? I put a lot of thought into those. It takes me hours sometimes to find the right one.”

  That put a smile on my lips. I threw caution to the wind and rolled back to where he was. I hovered over his face, resting my hand on his tee shirt. Lowering my face to his, I whispered, “I want you to kiss me, Vincent.” I kissed him softly.

  But it didn't last that way. He rolled me onto my back, encasing me with his hands as he pulled me into him and his body squished me into the bed.

  It was the second best kiss I had ever had.

  Nothing would ever top the one we had in the games room.

  I pushed him off me after a few minutes of hands roaming in places I wasn't ready for, regardless of what my brain said. “Sorry.”

  He snuggled into me, holding me tightly. “You are the best kind of friend a guy could ever have.”

  I laughed and closed my eyes. “Promise not to touch me while I sleep?”

  “Absolutely not. Sleep at your own risk.” His voice had a strong dose of sarcasm and a smile I returned before letting myself drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  A cold shower and a hot drink

  When I woke he was still there. I winced and regretted all of my decisions all at once. I cracked one eye, letting my typical mood of the morning hit me. He was still asleep. His face wasn't turned toward me. It faced the ceiling. All the regret washed away as I inspected him, maybe closer than ever.

  His skin was always golden, but not always tanned like it was then. His chestnut-brown hair had hints of summer in it, the way his bronzed skin did. His lips were a little big but not weirdly big. They made me think about how soft they were when we kissed. He had perfect skin; boys were so lucky. No makeup and not a pore in sight. He had dark, expressive eyebrows and thick wavy hair. He could rock trucker hat hair and be a grungy surfer, or he could slick it all back and look like he was refined.

  His neck was thick to match his strong shoulders and arms. He had the perfect body, not as perfect as Ashton’s or Jake’s, but somehow to me it was better. He was leaner than both of them, the ideal body type for clothing with a European cut.

  It made me smile, thinking about him playing football. He wasn't the type, and I knew he liked soccer better, but he played because he had to. He was absolutely the guy who got upset about going in the woods in Gucci shoes and spoke perfect French from being in the South of France for so much of his childhood.

  His lips twitched, making me pull back as he cracked a grin. “It’s a little unnerving waking with eyes on you.” He turned his face, blinking and laughing. He had clearly been awake a lot longer than he was going to admit to. He wasn't bleary eyed or light sensitive at all.

  “You were awake before me, weren’t you?” I asked, knowing the answer.

  His smile widened. “Maybe. But I’m not going to confess to watching you sleep until you woke up and then pretended to sleep so you didn't know I was watching you, only to end up as the watched and not the watcher.”

  He was also far more intellectual than he liked to admit, and he spoke like an adult all the time. A trait I enjoyed.

  “Do you think anyone knows we’re in here?”

  He shook his head. “Not if we get up now, they won’t.”

  I sat up and jumped out of the bed, smoothing the covers on my side. He didn’t have the same sense of urgency I did so I hurried over to his side and pulled back the covers, recoiling in horror to see only underwear. I had assumed he’d just taken his shirt off, not his pants too.

  He lowered his gaze to his legs and cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

  “You took your pants off?”

  “I can’t sleep fully clothed. I’m not like you. I need freedom. You’re lucky I kept my boxers on. I sleep naked at home.”

  “What if there was a fire?” I blurted, not even sure if he had the same thoughts or paranoias I did.

  “Then I run outside naked?” He said it as more of a question. “I’m pretty confident about my nakedness, Linds, I can’t lie.” He winked but lifted his hands when he saw the horror on my face. “It was a joke, sort of. You do realize that someone seeing you naked isn’t the end of the world, right?”

  I gulped and backed away slowly, nodding. “Of course.” I turned and walked from the room. “See ya downstairs.” I hurried into the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen. The gorgeous naked boy in my room was hard to leave.

  The house was silent.

  When I got into the kitchen, Lori cocked an eyebrow at me from her steaming cup of coffee and newspaper. “Seriously?” I was never up before noon unless it was a workday, and even then I was not up and chipper. I usually stumbled and muttered bad things.

  I nodded and sat, smiling. “I couldn't sleep. Too many girls in my room.” I no sooner got the words out, and Vincent walked into the kitchen, smiling at Lori like he hadn’t just threatened to have her fired the day before.

  Lori gave me another look but this one was far more dubious. “Mmmhmmm.” She got up and turned on the espresso maker.

  Vincent sat next to me, nudging me and smiling. He wasn't being dirty to me anymore. It was weird to watch him switch it off. I nudged him back.

  “Have dinner with me
tonight,” he muttered, dragging a thumb up the back of my arm with feathery lightness.

  “Friends don't have dinner.”

  “They do, this is a thing.” He grinned, but I saw the rejection was getting to him.

  “Secret dinner in an incognito place?” I whispered.

  He shrugged. “Or we could go somewhere nice. Whatever makes you happy.”

  It was a weird sentence to hear him say to me. I narrowed my gaze. “I have the worst feeling I’m going to wake up from this, and you’re going to be calling me a virgin and making fun of me and my email will be full of dirty jokes.”

  “Your email is going to be full of dirty jokes, and I will probably be making fun of you later, but it’s more like mocking in a loving way than it is being mean. If you recall I have never been mean to you.” He leaned in, grazing his lips against the back of my arm. “And I have a serious amount of respect for the fact you are still a virgin. It might be one of my favorite things about you. Virgins are always respected. Except in certain cultures where they are considered a reward for bad behavior.”

  I cracked a smile. “You are a pervert.”

  His eyes darted to Lori who was foaming milk for our cappuccinos and nodded. “I am and have never pretended to be anything but.” He blinked his thick lashes at me. “While we have a coffee we need to have a serious conversation about whether or not we are having dinner.”

  “No.” I smiled wide, enjoying the view of his pout.

  “I could beg.”

  I sighed. “Fine, God. I will have dinner with you. Stop asking.” My eyes lifted as my dad walked into the kitchen. His eyes landed on Vincent and me making a slow smile cross his lips. “Good morning, children.” He looked terrible.

  I offered a weird wave, an awkward “I don't know how I feel about any of this” wave. “Morning.”

  Vincent sat up straight. “Good morning, Mr. Bueller.”

  Dad glanced at the coffees Lori was perfecting the foam art of and grinned. “Don't suppose those are for me?”

  She shook her head. “The hearts are for the love birds. You are getting some kind of dog crap-shaped foam for letting all these teenagers sleep here.”

  He laughed but I scowled. She was such a grump.

  She handed us our coffees and smiled wide. “And I even managed not to spit in the foam.”

  My cheeks blushed but Vincent laughed. She grinned at him, and I realized they liked each other. He seemed to get the crabby-lady thing.

  I took my coffee, almost bowing as I backed away from the kitchen. “Thank you.” She nodded but didn't give me a grin or a smile. I turned to Dad. “We’re going to drink outside.”

  “Be out in a minute.”

  I walked out to the games room with Vincent following me. When I got outside I complained, “Why does she like you and not me? She’s hated me since she got here.”

  “I have yet to meet a woman who can’t be charmed. You just have to know your audience. She doesn't like sucking up, something you do nonstop while assuming you will win more flies with honey than with vinegar. That woman likes vinegar. She has a sick sense of humor.”

  I sat in one of the new chairs and nodded. “Makes sense.” I sipped my coffee, moaning at the robust flavor. “She does make a mean coffee, hateful or not.”

  Dad came strolling out with his coffee and the same tense look on his face. He sat and sighed, giving me the dad look. “We need to talk.”

  My stomach sank. He knew we had shared a bed. “Okay.” I glanced nervously at Vincent, not sure if I wanted him here for my dad to lecture me about sharing beds with boys. It was a valid complaint even if nothing had happened.

  “Rachel was possibly assaulted right before she died. Either that or she knew her killer and died after they had been active in the woods.”

  I winced, not needing this story a second time. The first had been horrifying enough.

  “That was my response as well. I don't even want to be talking about this, but I can’t stand the thought that maybe the killer is someone you all know.”

  My throat tightened as the threat of being sick lingered, causing my cheeks to sour.

  “The police report says she had been dead for almost three hours when they found her body. A guy from the party went to take a bathroom break in the trees and saw her. He called 9-1-1 immediately and that was around two. They are saying her time of death was 11 p.m.”

  I nodded again. I didn't have words, just sour cheeks and discomfort. We had found her right after she was killed. She was still warm.

  My dad sipped his coffee before speaking again, “It was strangulation.” He shuddered and forced himself to speak, “The wounds didn't bleed like they would have if her heart had been beating. And she had no defensive wounds. No skin under her nails or anything. They had assumed there was GHB in her system but in reality there wasn’t. Marguerite and Sage were the only ones who had any in their systems. Cups were found at the scene with fingerprints and traces of GHB in the residue, but they have no leads at all.”

  That confused me. “She wasn't drugged?”

  He shook his head. “No. She had drugs in her system, but it was Ecstasy I believe.”

  Vincent sat back, taking it all in. He clearly knew it all from his talk with my father in the hallway the night before. Hearing it again didn't make him look less uncomfortable. In fact, he looked like he was more so.

  I blurted, “So she had sex, someone strangled her, and then they cut her dead body and formed her body into that weird position?” My dad seemed like he might say something but the words flew from my lips. “And afterward they took the trouble to bring Sage up there and leave her covered in blood and unconscious and then put Rita in the woods behind them? That doesn't even make sense. Why didn't she fight back when they were strangling her if she wasn't drugged.”

  My dad’s eyes widened and Vincent licked his lips. They looked like I had them both in the hot seat. Finally, Dad swallowed hard, but it was Vincent who spoke softly, “You aren’t a sexually active teenager”—his eyes darted to my dad—“so you might not know that sometimes when people are engaging in the activity they enjoy a bit of choking.” He flushed and forced his gaze to stay on me as my dad turned his face to Vince. I wasn't sure if Dad was grateful Vince had said it or if Dad was flipping out because Vince had said it.

  I was flipping out. “So the police think maybe she wanted a bit of choking, and then maybe she died accidentally, and then maybe the person who had sex with her cut her and broke her bones?” I gagged a little bit and shuddered from the taste.

  Dad shot up from his chair. “Another coffee?” He hurried inside, leaving Vincent to finish the conversation.

  Vincent gave me a really conflicted stare for seconds before talking, “Since it was made known to them that Rachel liked a bit of choking, the police think it’s possible maybe someone was watching Rachel and her friend have sex. Her friend might have killed her by accident, which happens all the time with the kids and strangulation. It also explains why there were no defensive wounds. The guy was obviously upset and fled the forest, leaving behind the body for the psychopath to do disgusting things with. And I think that the psycho is the person sending us the letters and watching us all the time.”

  I scoffed. “That’s the worst theory I have ever heard. I knew Rachel. There’s no way she was into that.”

  His eyes widened and he coughed a little. Guilt smothered his face.

  “Oh my God. Are you kids high? You’re having unprotected sex and choking each other, and yet half of you can’t even finish high school?”

  Vincent cocked an eyebrow, sighing. “I am a straight-A student and don't call me a kid—I’m a year older than you.”

  I shot up. “I have to go. I need a shower.”

  He got up and ran after me, spinning me around. “I never choked her. I never even kissed Rachel. I just know Ashton refused to do it. It was why she cheated on him all the time. He really liked her but he couldn't do it.”

 
My jaw dropped. “You knew that she cheated, and you let him date her?”

  He backed up. “How is any of this my fault? I am not responsible for Ash or his happiness. If he wanted to date a crazy slut like Rachel while she banged every townie she could find, that was his problem.”

  “Oh my God.” I turned about to leave but paused, seeing my friends and my dad standing in the doorway to the games room. Sage cocked an eyebrow.

  I shook my head. “If anyone tries to tell you what the police know, don't listen.” I stormed past them all and headed for my room. I needed a shower.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Little Lying Mermaid

  I floated on my back with my limbs stretched out around me, gazing at the sun that was high in the sky.

  “Are you ever going back to work?” My dad interrupted my peace. I shook my head, not answering him verbally. I couldn't talk to him or anyone. Lainey had stayed after the fiasco in the morning, but she hadn’t asked any questions. She knew better. She floated in the water with me, silent and relaxing to be around.

  Visions of Rachel doing bad things in the woods with someone wrapping their hands around her throat haunted me. I guessed it was how Lainey felt, not being able to forget anything they had said. Even if I begged God to take it away, that memory would stay with me for the rest of my life.

  “So you quit then?” my dad asked again from the chairs on the patio. I lifted my head, sending my body down into the water. “Dad, seriously? How can I even landscape now? What if Rachel’s parents’ house was my next job? What if the killer’s house was my next job?”

  He clenched his jaw. “Yeah, you’re done. Good thinking.”