Easy Little Lick (Copperline #3) Page 8

  She lifted her eyes to mine, once again raw with torment. “You’re a good guy, Cody. You’ll make some girl very happy someday.” Tears glistened in her gaze. “I really wish it could be me.”

  She pressed her lips to mine, not really kissing so much as absorbing me, breathing me in. Then she stepped back and slipped off my jacket, handed it to me, and turned to walk to her car.

  With one last sad smile, she climbed in and drove away.

  If Ilsa had avoided me before, it was nothing compared to what she was doing now. Not only staying away, but practically disappearing before my eyes. She refused to even look anywhere in my direction. Oddly, she even seemed to stay closer to the Copperline bar sluts, a behavior that mystified me at first.

  Until I realized what she was doing with them.

  It started with Pauline.

  When I had eased my ache with her, Pauline had made it no secret that she wanted more. I’d been pretty successful in brushing her off, not wanting her to feel something for me that I didn’t feel back. She had all but given up in the past couple weeks.

  Until one night when my eyes were searching for Ilsa across the bar room, and I caught sight of her handing Pauline a drink. Ilsa glanced up towards the stage to see my attention directed towards her, and a strange expression swept over her face.

  Longing mixed with despondency, and then she quickly wiped it away with a false smile. She leaned down to say something to Pauline who immediately looked over at the stage. At me. Directly into my eyes.

  And she smiled, a come-hither look, flirtatious and inviting.

  Fuck me, what did Ilsa say to her?

  Whatever it was, I’d played right into it, watching like I did. Unable to tear my eyes away from Pauline’s hopeful gaze.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  She did it again the next night with Ruth. Then Laura. She even did it with Vivienne, a divorcee who was a couple years older than us guys, but totally cougared out now and then. She sorta freaked me out, to be honest, and I had always kinda avoided her.

  But Ilsa had them all watching me, looking for the occasional glance in their direction that they obviously interpreted as encouragement. Before long, I was half scared to look out over the crowd at all, and tracking Ilsa’s movements became nearly impossible. At the end of each night, I spent time extricating myself from them instead of trying to get to her.

  But even as she did this, night after night, she clearly didn’t want to. Lonely regret radiated from her eyes, from the set of her mouth…

  …every single time.

  I thought I was never going to catch a break with her. She did the whole avoidance thing spectacularly, and part of me wondered why I even cared. She didn’t want me. Or she didn’t want to want me, as she had said once.

  Two Saturday nights later, though, after the bar had closed, we had packed up our shit and were heading out. The back lot was almost empty with the exception of the Mofos’ vehicles, Brannon’s Cougar, and Doug’s pickup… and Ilsa’s car.

  I almost didn’t see it, the dark color blending in with the shadows. At first, I didn’t see her. I wondered where she’d gone and how she’d left without her car. Then I caught sight of her, resting her forehead against the wheel. Not moving.

  I panicked and bolted over there, thinking she might be hurt. As I ripped open her car door, she jumped and glanced quickly up at me, then dropped her eyes and turned away.

  She was crying.

  “Ils? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine, Cody,” she replied in a small voice.

  “Bullshit. Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?”

  She shook her head, and I crouched down in the open door to get closer to her level. She still didn’t look back at me, just sniffed and took a deep, shaky breath.

  “Ils,” I tried again, more gently. Coaxing. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong.”

  I thought she might not answer again. She sat still. Pensive. “I can’t get my car to start,” she finally said, having gained a little control over her voice.

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s not so bad. Lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty fucking awesome mechanic. That’s my day job. Let me take a look.”

  “I’ll just call somebody, Cody.”

  “Brannon’s garage isn’t the only auto shop nearby, but if you called around, you might just get stuck with me regardless. So you may as well save yourself the trouble.”

  She finally looked up at me, her lashes spiky with tears. “Cody—”

  “What’s it doing?”

  “It just…” she sighed in defeat. “It won’t start. It was turning over, but now it’s not even doing that.”

  “Probably killed the battery trying. Pop the hood, Ils,” I said. When she didn’t move, just averted her eyes, likely thinking of any way possible that she could get rid of me, I reached in under her dash, and pulled the release myself.

  As I went around front and lifted the hood, Brannon and Sophie walked up.

  “Try starting it again,” I called out, and only a few clicks indicated she’d heard me. I wiggled the battery cables, trying to improve the connection, told her to do it again. Same result.

  “Battery’s dead as a doornail,” Brannon commented.

  “Yup, I think she killed it trying to get it to start. I’m not sure why it wouldn’t start in the first place, though. I’m going to grab my truck and jump-start her, but maybe take a peek while I’m doing that. See if you can tell what else might be wrong with it.”

  He nodded and got out his cell phone, flicking on the flashlight app to shine over the engine. Sophie rounded the car to the driver door.

  “These guys are total gear heads, so they’ll get you up and run—” She stopped abruptly, and her tone softened as I stepped away. “Hey, it’s not that bad, Ilsa. Really. Bran and Cody are amazing. They’ll get it fixed for you.”

  By the time I got back with my truck, Ilsa had gotten out and was looking just slightly less distressed, although still on edge. She stood alongside Sophie while Brannon and I jump-started her engine, Bran in my truck and me in her car. It took a few minutes to get the battery juiced up, and another minute or two before we finally got her car to start. Brannon had figured the alternator was truly fucked, probably a result of a pretty pathetic looking belt, and the way the car acted when it was finally running seemed to support that theory. As I flicked on the lights, the heater, and the radio, the voltage went a little haywire.

  I also learned something new about Ilsa.

  She had very odd taste in music.

  “What the hell?” I asked as I turned up the volume and tried to make some sense of what I was hearing. It was like bubblegum pop but… not.

  It sounded like it was from another planet.

  Ilsa looked slightly sheepish as she twisted her hands together. “It’s, um… it’s K-pop.”

  I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I glanced over at Brannon, and he seemed to be equally amused, then back at Ilsa.

  “It’s what?” I asked.

  “K-pop,” she replied, chewing on her lip. “Korean pop music.”

  “Well,” I nodded, “that explains why I don’t understand a word they’re saying.”

  Right then, the chorus hit (at least I think it was the chorus), saying something that sounded like ‘Dream Girl.’

  “That part sounded a little English.”

  “There are bits that are in English,” Ilsa shrugged.

  “I kinda like it,” Sophie smiled. “It’s pretty catchy.”

  Brannon shot her a horrified look.

  “What?” she asked. “I do. What’s this band called?”

  “They’re called SHINee,” Ilsa shyly replied, “but two E’s at the end, so it looks like shiny.”

  “I’ll have to look them up,” Sophie smiled, bouncing a little to the beat as she stuck out her tongue to Brannon, “and I’m going to listen to them in your car
.”

  “Not the Cougar,” Brannon gasped, feigning sheer terror, but it was totally belied by the grin touching his lips.

  “Like you won’t let Sophie do anything she wants,” I laughed. “You’re so whipped.”

  “Fuck off,” he shot back. “You’re fired.”

  Ilsa looked the slightest bit concerned at that, so I leaned my head down towards hers and smiled. “He fires me about twice a day. He doesn’t mean it.”

  “I do this time,” Brannon replied, but his grin completely belied his words.

  Watching the back and forth between us, Ilsa seemed to come out of herself just a little, even offering up what could almost have been a giggle at the couple’s playful banter. Before long, Sophie, who was probably one of the nicest girls ever on the entire planet, had her sharing the names of a few other bands, and Sophie was pulling them up on Spotify. They had created a whole K-pop playlist in no time.

  “This is great,” she squealed. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Brannon deadpanned, looking anything but enthused, “thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry, Brannon,” Ilsa offered, with a light, apologetic grin.

  “I’ll make it up to him,” Sophie said, snuggling up close to her man.

  Standing there, I suddenly found myself envious of the two of them. For a second, I allowed myself to wish Ilsa would do the same with me. The urge to pull her close and to tuck her up against my side made my hands itch to touch her. Right about then, Ilsa looked up at me, and there was a moment that I almost thought she maybe wanted the same. Her smile faded just a touch, and she licked her lips nervously.

  But then she abruptly moved away, towards her car.

  “Well,” she said, looking like she was getting ready to bolt, “thank again, guys. I appreciate it.”

  Part of me panicked a little, not wanting her to leave just yet. It had been over two weeks since the awesome outdoorsy sex up on Pipestone Pass. Over two weeks of watching her push me away, to put others in my path. Over two weeks of lying in my bed at night with her sexy little gasps and moans echoing around in my head. Over two weeks of waking up hard as a rock after dreaming of her and jacking off in the shower to alleviate the ache in my balls, even though it still left the one in my chest.

  I had an awesome excuse to not let her drive away into the night again, though.

  I was in no way confident that her car would really keep running. It had been kinda hard to get going, and alternator issues could be a real bitch, especially with night driving. Power surges and dumps caused by electrical inconsistency could make it downright dangerous, especially when it started fucking with the headlights, and I really didn’t like the thought of her cruising down the highway and having her lights go dim. Or being stranded on the road from here to Butte at this late hour.

  Brannon raised his pierced eyebrow to me, indicating he had similar concerns about the safety of her driving off.

  “Hey, Ils,” I said, stepping towards her, a bit in between her and her car and blocking her escape, “I think we need to take your car into to Brannon’s shop. It isn’t running terribly well at the moment.”

  She frowned, looking suddenly frantic, and shook her head quickly. “It’ll be fine, Cody. You don’t have to do that. I’ll take it to a shop when I’m off on Monday.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Brannon said. “Cody could give you a ride home tonight, and we’ll take a look tomorrow.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I mean, then I won’t have a car at all, and I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Ils, I’ll just give you a ride,” I said, feeling a little despondent at how panicked that suddenly made her. She didn’t respond, just bit her lip looking incredibly nervous. Practically hyperventilating. “Or Brannon and Sophie could, I guess, since you seem to want me around like the plague these days.”

  Both Brannon and Sophie gave me strange looks, not so much at me offering their help, but rather how I ended that offer. I sounded like a complete loser, but, since the night in the mountains, my pride had really taken a hit at her hands. I knew there was something driving her need to stay away from me, something that didn’t really have anything to do with me, but it still kinda felt shitty that she got so desperate at the thought of being around me.

  “It’s not that,” she replied. “It’s just… I, well… I have to work tomorrow, and it’s so late. I hate to think of you guys driving back and forth in the dark. Especially with the bars having just closed and drunks being out on the road.” She was sort of babbling, spouting out excuses as fast as she could think of them, from the sound of it.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, that just makes me feel worse about letting you take this car doing what it’s doing.”

  She snapped her mouth shut, and I could almost see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. Her mind anxiously spinning through possible options that might take her away from me.

  “How about you just take my truck?” I finally said. “You can just use it until we've got your car figured out.”

  “Won’t you need it?” she asked in response.

  I shook my head. “I've got my bike, remember?”

  Her cheeks flushed, visible even in the shadows of the lot. Yep, she remembered. She’d been on my bike with her arms wrapped around my waist and her body pressed tightly against me. Then she’d rocked my world in the mountains before we’d come back down to earth.

  Oh yeah, she remembered.

  Brannon helped my case, turning to me to offer his assistance. “Soph and I will follow you to the shop and give you a ride back to the house, if you want.”

  “And I’ll make them listen to K-pop,” Sophie grinned at Ilsa who offered her a weak smile in reply.

  “Or I could walk home from the shop and avoid the K-pop,” I groaned at the thought of being trapped in the Cougar with whatever-that-was blaring through the speakers. “It’s a nice night out.”

  “Whatever,” Sophie said with a roll of her eyes. “At any rate, you don’t have to worry, Ilsa. We’re happy to help out.”

  I looked back over at Ilsa who still seemed unsure, but, after a moment, she finally dropped her head in defeat and agreed.

  The next morning, up way earlier than usual after a later-than-usual Saturday night, I was in Brannon’s shop working on Ilsa’s car.

  There was no doubt in my mind that the alternator was fucked, which really blew, but mostly because of the expense. Replacing it would take no time, but her make and model of car required an alternator that had pretty high amperage, and the part itself was looking like it would be a couple hundred dollars if we got it locally.

  Brannon had been in early as well, perusing online parts places trying to find a cheaper one. In the meantime, I checked out everything I could think of to make sure there wasn’t a bigger problem than the belt that caused the alternator to go to shit in the first place. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like there was anything else, but it looked like the best bet was to stay local for the parts. Between the time it would take to order a cheaper alternator and the uncertainty that it would be dependable, Brannon decided to just make a quick run to a parts store in Butte.

  A short time later, we had the car running with a new lease on life. I sat in the driver’s seat, looking for other little things that might need attention. I loved cars anyway, but working on hers sorta seemed… special.

  Not that I would ever admit that to the other guys. God, Justin would never let me hear the end of it.

  “It wouldn’t hurt for her to have some jumper cables,” Brannon said, grabbing a spare set from the tow truck. “Pop the trunk, Cody, and I’ll throw these in there for her. I’ll just give them to her.”

  I pressed the button that released the back, then continued to examine the fuses under the dash, pulling them one at a time to ensure they were okay.

  “Holy shit,” I heard Brannon say from the back of the car. “Cody, dude… come here.”

  I climbed out and walked back to where h
e stood with some trepidation as to what he had found.

  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.