Dirty Money
“I’m getting there,” she says, and takes another sip. “You might want to get out of the drive-thru so someone else can get their order.”
I glance at the rearview mirror, and sure enough, there’s a line snaking around the building and lots of impatient people. But I don’t want to leave yet in case Ivy needs another cookie. I hand my card over to the girl at the window. “Pay for everyone else’s, too. It’s on me.”
“Oh, Boone,” Ivy says, and there’s a soft note in her voice like I just bought these people something more important than a cup of coffee. “You big softy.”
I put the truck in park. “I ain’t leaving until I know you’re good. You need more coffee? More cookies? A donut?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I promise you, I’m perfectly fine now.”
I ain’t sure I believe that just yet, but when the girl at the window hands me my card back, I guess I don’t have more reasons to stall before returning Ivy.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t return her. I give her a thoughtful look and she’s smiling so sweetly at me, as if she hasn’t blown me off all damn week. As if she hasn’t given me blue balls and a sackful of worry. As if everything is okay now that she’s got some mocha java thing to drink. And then . . . what? I take her back to her work and she goes back to ignoring me?
I nod thoughtfully and tuck my credit card back into my wallet, hand the girl at the window a fifty-dollar bill for a tip, and then drive off, silent.
“I appreciate the coffee, Boone, though it wasn’t necessary.” Ivy’s voice is like liquid honey, all smooth and pretty and sweet. “You’re thoughtful.”
“Just doin’ my job,” I say blandly, and drive out from the parking lot and into the street.
“Oh, I think you missed the turn for the office,” she tells me politely, gesturing at the windshield. “You can take the next street, though.”
I don’t. I don’t take that street or even the one after that. I just keep driving, and she makes a surprised sound as I turn onto the highway.
“Boone? Where are we going?”
I act like it’s no big deal, like I kidnap a woman every day of the week. Don’t even look over at her while I’m driving. “I’m taking you out to West Texas with me.”
“What? You can’t!”
“Kinda looks like I can, from my point of view.”
“Boone!” She makes an outraged sound and thumps her hand on the dash. “Take me back to the office! Right now!”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, nope?”
“I mean . . .” I give her a lazy look. “Nope.”
“You can’t just drive off with me! My laptop’s still at the office. My purse, too! All I had with me was my phone—”
I let her make all kinds of unhappy noises, but I keep on driving.
“You can’t just take me!”
I glance over at her again. “It kinda looks like I did.”
Her eyes are flashing anger now. “This isn’t funny, Boone. I’m serious. This is kidnapping.”
“No it ain’t.”
“God, you are so frustrating! Yes, this is kidnapping! I can’t believe you!”
I shake my head slowly. “You said you’d go with me.”
“When did I say that?”
I’m doing my best not to smile, though it ain’t easy. She’s real cute when she’s riled. “I seem to recall a certain promise of a blow job anywhere I wanted. Anytime. Any place.”
Her gasp of shock is long, and low.
“I want it in West Texas. At one of my rigs. Don’t worry, it’ll be private. I have to oversee drilling on a new well. Got a lot of production in the new area so gonna dowse for a well in some neighboring land. Thought I might bring you along with me.”
“Because you want me to blow you?”
“No, because I like your company.” I can feel the grin spreading across my face despite my best efforts to play it straight. “Blow job’s just an extra.”
“Boone, please.” Her voice is turning soft and pleading now. “I have clients this afternoon. I’m supposed to meet someone to discuss selling their house—”
“Well now, that’s mighty interesting seeing as how you won’t look at houses with me.”
Ivy goes silent.
Now she’s snared. I wait patiently, because I’m bound and determined to get that explanation I’ve been wanting all week.
She gives a little sigh. “You and I, we’re . . .”
“Complicated?” I say drily.
“Yes. No. I mean . . . we’re not supposed to be a thing.”
“Says who?”
Ivy rubs her forehead, and I nudge the bag of cookies toward her. “Eat another.”
“You’re so pigheaded.”
Not inaccurate.
“And a bully,” she adds.
Possibly not inaccurate, either. “Where we goin’ with this?”
“Ugh! You are so frustrating, Boone! Seriously! Why won’t you listen to me? I can’t be here with you. I need to go back to work!” Her voice turns pleading and she puts her hand on my arm again. “Please.”
It almost works. Almost. “And then you’ll call me, right?”
“Of course,” she agrees swiftly.
“Just as soon as you get a chance.” Yeah. I fell for that once. I know the moment Ivy gets out of this car, she ain’t never gonna see me again if she can help it. There’s something I did that either spooked her or made her mad, and I need to figure out which so I can fix it. “Just like the rest of this week, right?”
Ivy is silent.
“Look, Ivy, I am a lot of things, but I ain’t stupid, all right? I know you’re avoiding me and you’re trying to play it off. I don’t know what I did that made you run, but I’m tired of not getting an answer. So, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”
For a long time, the only sound in the truck cab is the endless rhythm of the highway that passes under the tires, and the gentle roar of the air conditioner.
“It’s complicated,” she says after a time. “I wish I could tell you more.”
“Well, now, I sure wish you could, too.”
“Can you please just take me back?”
“If I do, am I ever gonna see you again?”
She pauses for a long moment, and I grit my teeth. Damn. Whatever I did is so bad that she has to stop and think about whether or not she wants my money? Hell, I’m offering her everything—not just a commission on a fancypants house, but the chance to live there with me as my wife. My wallet—hell, my everything—would be hers for the taking.
And she has to think about it?
“Am I that bad to be around?” I have to know. The thought of her being repulsed by me sends an ache right through my gut. I’m crazy about her and it kills me to think it might not be mutual.
Ivy makes a sound of surprise. “It’s not you at all—”
“Isn’t it? First chance you get, you ditch me. Kinda makes me feel like you’re having regrets for slumming it with me.”
“That’s not true.” Her hand goes to my knee again. “If there’s a problem between us, it’s that I’m a little too addicted to you.”
She’s not making any sense. I glance over at her before focusing my eyes back on the road again. “How is that a problem?”
“It’s a problem for me. I don’t have time in my life right now for a relationship, much less an obsessive one.”
“You think what we have is obsessive?”
“Well, I’ve known you for a week and you’ve already been in my pants. I’d say that’s moving fast. And our first visit to a house you had your head between my legs.”
I lick my lips, because it’s been entirely too long since I’ve tasted her. “I miss having my head between your legs, Ivy. I’d put it there right now if I didn’t need my eyes for driving.”
She sucks in a little breath and her legs shift on the seat. She’s wearing one of her longer skirts, her body covered down to the knees. I guess I’m the only one that gets the short skirts. Hot damn, I like that. Maybe what she’s telling me is true. Maybe she’s afraid of jumping in too fast. I can understand that.
I put my hand on her knee, just to test the waters. After a moment, she puts her hand on mine, but she doesn’t try to remove it. Guess she’s not lying and she likes my touch after all. I stroke my thumb over the soft skin of her thigh. “Missed you this week. A lot.”
Ivy’s hand caresses mine. “I missed you, too. I hate that I did. I wanted to be able to just walk away and not think about you anymore. Except that didn’t happen. I ended up thinking about you all the time.”
“But you still didn’t call me.”
She chuckles. “You’re not the only one in this relationship that can be incredibly pigheaded.”
And then I’m pleased, because she’s calling it a relationship. Maybe I’m breaking down her defenses. “I want you to go with me on this trip out to West Texas. It’ll just be an overnight, but I’d like you there with me.”
“Because I owe you a blow job?”
I drag my thumb along the inside of her knee. “Actually I just want to be around you. But yeah, we can say it’s for the blow job.” When she laughs, I press forward. “Call your clients. Tell them you can’t make it back today.”
“I need my purse—”
“You don’t. I’ll handle everything.”
She shifts and I feel her creamy skin under my hand like a caress. I rub my fingertips along her inner thigh, wondering if she’d push me away if I let my hand go higher. “I do have two clients I’m supposed to meet this afternoon—”
“Tell them you have to reschedule.”