Shut Off (Just This Once #3) (9 page)

“I do,” she whispered.

“You do, what?”

“I like it.”

I gave her a wink before continuing raining kisses across her face. Eventually, she pulled my mouth to hers and deepened the kiss as she opened her mouth against mine, breathing in the heat that lingered between us.

“I’m glad I got a chance to bring you out here,” I said to Blaire as I pulled her against my chest, moments after our lips parted and she found herself searching for air. This night with Blaire was proof that there was still beauty in the world.

“Thanks, Joel. This is amazing. Who knew you were a bit of a romantic.”

“Let’s just say I was inspired. Beautiful girl, beautiful night.” I shrugged my shoulders, and I could see Blaire watching me from the corner of my eye.
Did my words surprise her? They shouldn’t have, not with all of the time I’ve spent trying to win her back.

The hardest part and the thought that circled through my mind even as we lay there with the endless sky before us was that I didn’t know how long it all would last. I could wake up Wednesday morning and everything—every moment shared with her—could end up being nothing more than one long, elaborate dream.

Chapter Eight

Blaire

Once again, I found myself outside of that rundown house, stuffed inside my car in the dead summer heat, watching and waiting. For what? I wasn’t sure. The red BMW
was gone, but I didn’t know if her boyfriend was home, and the last thing I wanted was to be caught knocking on their door and have Lara pull up.

So, I waited.

Memories of the night before were the only thing to keep me company. I touched my lips as I thought of his kiss—the desperation I felt in the way his lips captured mine. He kissed me like it would be his last, which made me even more fearful of what would happen if he lost the case.

I replayed everything in my mind, careful to remember every detail so I wouldn’t forget. How he woke me up with soft kisses across my shoulders and around my neck, the way he propped himself up with one arm while watching me wake from sleep, how he told me he wanted to take me somewhere; “an official date,” he said, in case I was confused.

“Joel,” I yelled from inside the garage. “Where’re my boxes of clothes?” I moved around the room, flitting from one large box to the next in search of a box that would hold something that was better than the jeans and tee shirts I’d been sticking to since I arrived.

The garage was large enough to fit four cars with one side designated to a workshop space and gardening tools, yet over half of the space was taken up by the entire contents of my home.

I heard Joel’s footsteps behind me, and when I turned to look at him, he smiled that knowing smile of his. It was a cocky and arrogant smile. One that laughed at how frantic I was to find the box I’d been looking for.

“You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question because he could see it so plainly. I was nervous, but I was excited, too. My hands shook, and my feet couldn’t stop moving. Even when I was standing in place, I had to be moving something. Anything to expel all of the energy built up inside me. We had already had sex, but apparently my mind was well aware that a date was something much more.

“Will you just tell me where the box is?” I said while trying to read the big black writing on the side of the box. He flicked on another light that bathed that side of the room with a fluorescent glow, making it easier to read which box was what. Joel didn’t speak as he walked closer to where I was standing. He brushed past me, his body heat bathing my back as he continued deeper into the maze of boxes. After a few minutes of rustling and grunting, Joel pulled out two large boxes and placed them at my feet.

I read the labels claiming “wardrobe” and tore off the tape in a tornado blaze to check and see if the jeans that I’d spent years breaking in and that hugged my ass perfectly, along with the black blouse that made my boobs look amazing, were in there somewhere. Joel stood over me and the box, watching with a look of amusement as I whipped through carefully folded clothes to find what I was searching for. When I finally caught a glimpse of what I was looking for, I returned my sights to the man who stood quietly above me, watching.

“Uh, do you mind? If this is a proper date, you wouldn’t know what I planned on wearing until you picked me up.”

“Nothing about me, or us, is proper. Besides, I’ve already seen everything I need to when it comes to you.”

He winked at me, and I pushed at his shins, “Would you get out of here!” I yelled as he chuckled and turned to leave me.

I wanted more of that: more dates, more banter, more unexpected kisses under blackened skies and glittering stars.

Just then, the door opened and Lara’s boyfriend, Paul
Twinings
, emerged from the house. He looked just as unkempt as he did the first day I saw him—with wiry brown hair and a chin dusted with day-old scruff. His clothes weren’t designer; he was wearing faded black jeans and a plain white shirt that looked like it’d seen the inside of those dollar bins at
Walmart
. He got into his Grand Am, and when his car turned down the street, I followed him. It was just the opportunity I needed to get him in a public place and talk to him.

Over the weekend, Kerri gave me what little details of the case she knew of since I’d met with her last week. I was all the more worried about the proceedings scheduled for Tuesday because, as far as Kerri knew, Joel’s lawyer hadn’t presented them with any new information. She didn’t mention anything about the video from his condo, but she did say there was testimony of someone who used to spar with him at another gym that confirmed he was right-handed and usually led with his right—discrediting that the marks on her face were from Joel.

I had done my own research on Paul
Twinings
, and though he had a criminal record for petty theft, he didn’t seem to be any more of a threat than the average person. That didn’t make me any less nervous for what I was about to do because there was a multitude of ways our conversation could go. I played through each one as I followed him through the streets of Vegas.

When I wasn’t planning for my date that weekend, I was busy thinking of what I would say. How could I tell a man who clearly looked in love that his girlfriend was a user and would probably leave him the moment she got a little money in her bank? Even if he was part of her plan, I almost felt sorry for him. I was sure she would leave him at the first opportunity. The way he clutched onto her a few days prior—like she was his security blanket—let me know that he was invested in what he had with her. She was probably using him for a place to stay until she could cash out. Paul had to know what she was capable of. Now, I just had to find a way to convince him of his inevitable future.

Paul turned right down Lake Mead Blvd and into a shopping center. I pulled in after him, parking a couple lanes over between two SUVs that could hide my little Honda Civic easily.

My throat was dry and my palms sweaty as I watched him exit his car and head toward the stores of the plaza. Every other storefront was shopping or dining, so I couldn’t be sure if he
was
dining—which would be the perfect opportunity to talk to him, since he’d be caught off guard—or if he was just swinging by a store to pick something up. I hoped it wasn’t the latter because I didn’t exactly want to corner him in an aisle of Vons and try to convince him to tell the truth at the court hearing happening the following day.

I got out of my car, moving through rows of parked cars and scanning the parking lot as if someone watching me would be able to discern what I was up to with just a glance. My stomach tensed and sweat lined my forehead—both of which having nothing to do with the heat. I was used to the sweltering temperatures. What I wasn’t used to was trying to be stealthy while following someone.

Peeking around the back of a car, I observed Paul go inside a Chinese restaurant. I spotted a bench just outside the adjacent store and decided I would sit there until he received his food. He would be less inclined to get up and walk out if he had a plate of food in front of him. Or at least that was my reasoning as I sat bouncing my knee while waiting for the right words, the right time, and the strength to follow through with what I had to do.

What if he makes a scene? What if Lara is supposed to be meeting him here? What if I get to his table and choke?

What if he believes me?

The last thought steeled my nerves. I was doing this for the hope that he would listen and do something to help Joel. Anything was better than nothing. The idea of Joel going into the courtroom and getting slaughtered by my law firm made my chest ache. Joel didn’t deserve what was inevitably coming to him.

Ten minutes passed, which was sufficient time for him to order and the food to have arrived. I got up from my seat, paced in front of the door, and casually glanced in to see if I was right.

He sat with his back toward the door at a table not far from the hostess stand. The hand holding his fork moved to his mouth, confirming my assumptions. I looked around the restaurant to see if anyone else was in there with him and found a couple sitting just inside the door on the right and an elderly man sitting in a booth on the left side of the restaurant. The room wasn’t very big, with no more than 20 seats for diners. I met eyes with the thin woman whose black hair was in a bun standing behind the hostess counter. Her eyebrows rose in expectation, and I took that as a sign to proceed.

It’s now or never.

I sucked in a lungful of dry air and pulled the door open, the chime of the bell attached to the other side of the door rang out.

“How many?” the woman asked as she went to pull the menus from the side of the stand. My hands tangled together in my haste to stop her from drawing any attention to me.

“No, I’m…I’m OK,” I said as I motioned to Paul’s table. Luckily, he was either too busy eating or unconcerned with who was coming and going to turn around and find me fumbling for words.

The woman stepped aside, nodding her head in understanding, and I strode past her with a heart that felt like it was trying to flee my chest and make an escape. What I was doing was brave, stupid, reckless, and honorable, but the feeling I felt most was terrified as I drew up alongside his table and he stopped eating to take notice of me.

“You’re not expecting anyone, are you?” I whispered the words, low enough that I wasn’t sure he even heard me, but when he set down his fork and wiped his mouth, I was sure he had.

“No, but I’m not…”

“Then you won’t mind if I sit down. Will you, Paul?”

I rushed to sit down before he could object. He looked shocked, words frozen on his lips as I settled in.

“Do I know you?” Paul looked like he was expecting someone to come bounding into the building to tell him he was on some comedy show and this was all a part of a joke.

“No, not exactly. I’m actually here about your girlfriend.”

“Fuck this. Who are you?” He scooted his chair back as if he were getting ready to
flee
, but I grasped his forearm stilling him.

“Wait. Please.”

“Who are you? You better get to the point real fucking quick, lady.”

“I’m a friend…of EJ’s.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean the ex that treated her like a slab of meat? Are you serious right now?”

“Yes, please just wait. I don’t know how much you know about what happened between them, but I know he didn’t do that to her, and I have a feeling that you do, too.”

“Are you calling my girlfriend a liar? Did you see what he did to her?”

“I saw what someone did to her, yes. And it was awful, but I’m telling you right now that it wasn’t him. He would never do that.”

“Well, if he’s so innocent then he has nothing to worry about tomorrow, and this conversation is pointless.”

He moved to get up again, and I stood blurting out, “Wait!” loud enough that I drew the attention of the other patrons, who all stopped eating to see what was happening there in the back of the restaurant. I smiled faintly at the hostess who still looked undecided on whether or not she was going to ask me to leave.

“Please. I don’t know how long you’ve known Lara, but I promise you whatever she’s promised you, it’s a lie. As soon as she wins, she’ll go ghost on you and you won’t so much as see an update on her Facebook feed.”

“I can tell you I’ve known her longer than you and know she wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me, and as soon as that money comes through, we’ll be out of here. Together.”

“I wish that were true, Paul, but think about it. Think about the kind of person she’s become. That money will technically be hers. Even if she takes you with her, you’ll just end up being her assistant, waiting on her hand and foot. You’ll be no more than a slave. You know I’m right.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

As he left the table, I looked around the room and could see the few patrons watching the commotion from the corners of their eyes. Paul stopped at the hostess stand, fishing money out of his wallet, handing it to the woman before storming out. I didn’t have to wait for the hostess to give me the stink eye before I made my escape.

That didn’t exactly go how I’d planned, but I said what I needed to say, and it was better than doing nothing. Only time would tell whether or not Paul would do something to help Joel. I had done everything I could do on my end, which wasn’t much considering that I was on suspension at work and Joel didn’t want me anywhere near the case.