Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1) Page 4

  James’s truck pulled up and I met him at the front door, a bottle of Heineken in hand. His playful smile faded when his eyes settled on me.

  “Liv, what the hell happened to you?”

  With a sinking feeling, I realized I had never checked my appearance after my accident. James walked and closed the door as I moved to the mirror in the small foyer.

  Shocking long dirty streaks covered my face, whether from tears or sweat I couldn’t be sure. Probably both. My Medusa-like hair was an unparalleled mess. Bandages covered both elbows. My black yoga pants were ripped at the knee, with a small bandage clearly visible through the tear. Dirt and grime coated my baby blue fitted T-shirt. Upon closer inspection, my pants had not one but three rips, and as I turned to look at my backside, the worst rip was on my posterior where bare skin shined through like a beacon.

  Suppressing a groan, I turned back to James. “I got hit by a car.”

  “My God, Liv. You should be in the hospital. What are you doing home?” He shook his head and reached toward me, stopping short, clearly afraid to touch me.

  “It looks worse than it is, trust me.” I shuffled off to the kitchen, muscles and joints suddenly in an uproar. Okay, I admitted to myself I was going to have trouble walking tomorrow.

  James stared, unsure of what to do. “Have you called Lucy?”

  I pulled a paper towel off the roll and wet it under the faucet. Wiping my face, I turned back. “Not yet. I don’t want to worry her.” I threw the used towel away, but not before taking a quick look at the filth. I tried to remain calm. He touched my face, he saw me like this.

  “Liv…”

  “James, there’s nothing she can do about it. I’m fine. See?” I pulled the old standby from my bag of tricks and hopped on one foot. “It’s just bumps and bruises. Don’t worry.”

  James sighed and looked slightly mollified if not totally convinced. He took his glasses off and rubbed at the space between his eyes.

  “Who hit you?”

  Realization dawned. “I…‌don’t know.” During the conversation with the officer, I never asked if they knew the suspect. Jeez, I must have been out of it. “It was a hit-and-run, I guess.” I sounded moronic. What kind of person got hit by a car and then didn’t question who did it?

  James narrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

  Straightening my shoulders, I looked James straight in the eye. “They don’t know who hit me. The police, I mean. They are working on it. I was on my bike. It’s really just scratches.” I lifted my arms and inspected the bandages. “That’s about it.” My foot tapped a staccato beat.

  That was not about it, but there was no way I would be getting into a conversation with James about Mr. Gorgeous and his panty-melting smile.

  Biting the inside of his lip, he considered this. His shaggy brown hair was yanked back in a short ponytail and, with his hipster glasses perched on his nose, he came off as every bit the English professor that he was. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay.”

  I handed him my keys. “Tell you what. If you want to help a girl out, see if you can fix my car. I’m dead tired and just want to go to bed.”

  He brightened and smiled. “Sure thing, kiddo. Consider it fixed.” Heineken in hand, he strolled to the door and turned back. “Lock it behind me, okay? And Liv?”

  “Yes?”

  A serious look replaced his smile. “Please. Call Lucy.”

  I nodded and followed him, locking the door and then collapsing against it. I felt exhausted and overwhelmed, and not for the first time today I had the urge to cry. In fact, I wanted a good, long, soul-cleansing cry, which surprised me. It had been a long time since I cried, let alone twice in the same day. Then again, it had been a long time since I had a day like today. My hand moved to my cheek, fingers tracing the outline he had left behind. Old memories bubbled, dark and unwanted. I took a deep, cathartic breath and stuffed them back.

  Grabbing my phone and another water bottle, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. My cream striped duvet beckoned soft and inviting, and I was tempted to skip the bath and just slip under the covers. But I was filthy and sore with a body needing attending to.

  After selecting some gray cotton shorts, a loose, long-sleeved pajama top and fresh underwear, I toed off my shoes and padded down the hall to the bathroom. I was really starting to feel it now. I hoped I could get out of bed in the morning.

  The hall bath was the largest in the house with a claw foot porcelain tub. I pushed in the stopper and turned on the hot tap before gingerly stripping off my clothes. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I saw numerous abrasions and a few bruises but no other bleeding cuts. Gently, I removed the bandages and was relieved that the wounds appeared minor and had stopped bleeding. A few of my fingernails were broken and ragged, so I clipped them and filed them smooth.

  As I sank under the hot water, my cuts stung but the pain was brief, and then only bliss. After nearly thirty minutes, I emerged from the bath a new woman. I applied new bandages, dressed and brushed my teeth. To appease James, I sent my sister a brief text message, asking her to wake me when she got home.

  I slid beneath the covers, falling asleep almost immediately, my dreams littered with images of hard, painful streets, as well as warm, strong arms, and deep, penetrating gazes.

  CHAPTER 3

  Birds were chirping outside the window as I slowly opened my eyes. The events of the previous day came rushing back. I bolted upright as I groaned and eased out of bed, every part of my body in an uproar. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess I’d just gone five rounds with Ronda Rousey. I tenderly stretched and bent, making sure everything worked, albeit painfully. I was in desperate need of a massage and a hot tub, neither of which I had access to.

  I noticed I had ninety minutes before my first client. A slight pang of worry jetted through me because Lucy had not woken me as asked. There was no way James had not filled her in. She would have freaked and gone straight into mothering mode. I was certain she would have checked on me no matter what time she had rolled home.

  Dressed in what I slept in, I opened my door and shambled out, taking the stairs with particular care in my decrepit state. Coffee would help, and maybe a couple of ibuprofen. In the kitchen I picked out a cinnamon flavored coffee pod and popped it in the machine.

  My keys laid on the table with a note from James that he had jumped my battery and Josephine should be in perfect working order today. Hurrah! Part of the weight of the world slid from my shoulders, and I mentally checked one item off my to-do list. If my body were capable, I’d have given a jump for joy, but instead I hugged myself briefly‌—‌and a bit painfully‌—‌and shot him a thank you text.

  I flicked through the texts from last night, plus a new one from Justine detailing yet another appalling blind date. I’d call her but she had been at work for hours already. I was sure I would get all the gory details later, plus I could fill her in on my crazy evening.

  As I sipped my coffee, I peered into the brown liquid and was reminded of coffee-colored hair and an intoxicating scent. Damien Stone. Well, last night was…‌interesting. Once everyone got a look at my bruises, bandages and shuffling gait, there would be no way to avoid mentioning the events of the night before. And it would be doubly hard to tell my story without talking about Mr. Gorgeous, but part of me didn’t want the third degree that I would get from Lucy and Justine. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Damien Stone would get zero coverage in my adventure retelling.

  I had been hit by a car, the cops and ambulance came, I was fine. End of story.

  Remembering Weldon, I sent him a quick text telling him that my Jeep was back in business and that I would see him at the gym. Work would not be fun. I did a mental rundown of my clients and activities list. I would be fine with my clients, but kickboxing was going to be a challenge.

  I rolled my shoulders, testing them again as I filled a glass with water and tapped out a co
uple of ibuprofen from the bottle in the cabinet. These should help, but if I couldn’t move any better by class time, Boone might have to substitute as instructor.

  “Hey, when did you get up?” Lucy stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her honey-blonde hair tousled from sleep.

  “About ten minutes ago.” Turning to face her, I caught a brief glimpse of concern before she concealed it with a half-smile. “So, talk to James?”

  “Yeah. I tried waking you last night but you were out of it. You kept groaning and pushing me away.”

  “I did? Hmm, don’t remember that at all. How funny.”

  Lucy picked out a coffee pod and made herself a cup. “You were completely conked out. James said something about an accident? Are you all right?”

  “Somebody hit me while I was riding home.”

  “What!” She placed her coffee on the counter and faced me, wide-eyed and startled.

  “Yeah. Someone called the ambulance and they treated me and sent me home. I actually feel pretty good, considering. Nothing but a few cuts and some bruises.” I rolled up a sleeve to expose my bandaged elbow.

  “An ambulance came?”

  I nod. “But it was overkill. As you can see, I’m fine.”

  “Jesus.” She hugged me gently and looked me up and down, pausing at my bandages. “You were lucky, Sis.”

  “Yeah, I guess I was.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay? The ambulance…”

  “I’m fine, I promise.”

  She leaned back against the counter. “So, who hit you?” Our eyes connected, and I gave a slight shake of my head.

  “They don’t know, the police are looking into it. I didn’t see the car.” My voice was low. “I think it was just an accident, Luce.”

  Picking up her cup, she considered my words. She took a sip and nodded before looking at me again. “Did you tell the police who it might have been?”

  “No.” I returned my gaze to the contents of my cup.

  “Liv, I think you should. I know we said we wouldn’t speak of this again, but your safety is more important. If he’s back, you’ve got to tell the police.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, clipped and tight.

  I so did not want to be having this conversation about my ex-boyfriend slash psycho stalker. I hadn’t heard a word from Travis in over three years, not since he threatened to burn down my house with me in it, and then I went to the police. No one had heard from or seen him since, and we all had hoped his idle threat was his last burst of psychotic behavior. But yesterday’s events did look very suspicious. Although I didn’t want to admit it, Lucy was right. I could deny all I wanted but if Travis was back, I should notify the authorities.

  I sighed. “All right, I will.”

  Lucy nodded again, both hands around her cup as she sipped. “So, did anyone help you?”

  “Um. Yes…‌I mean, no.” My mind raced as I tried to appear nonchalant.

  Lucy’s brows knitted. “Don’t tell me you lay there on the ground, alone.”

  I bit my lip. “Not exactly.” Not on the ground, in the arms of a god. “A kind stranger helped me until the ambulance arrived.”

  “Oh? Male or female?” What was with her uncanny ability to go straight to the heart of the matter? I swore my sister was psychic.

  My earlier vow to keep Mr. Gorgeous to myself came unthreaded at the seams. Keeping secrets from Lucy was a lost cause. “Male. Definitely male.”

  Her eyebrows rose. Oh hell, here it comes.

  “Olivia St. Clair, don’t you hold out on me.” Cinching her pink velour robe tighter, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s hear it.”

  Where to start? I opted for the beginning, leaving out the parts where his touch sent tingles running through me from head to toe, his smell made me ache in parts of my body which had been neglected for years, and the fact that he went through my purse. Stalker predispositions did not sit well with my sister.

  “You were knocked unconscious and didn’t go to the hospital?” she asked. “My God, Liv!” She grabbed my hands and peered into my eyes, checking my pupils, no doubt. I was a grown woman, but since Mom and Dad had moved to Florida, Lucy couldn’t help but play the part of sister and mother in times of crisis, even though we both knew I didn’t need her mothering hen proclivities.

  Sighing, I squeezed and then released her hands. “They sent me home, Luce. I’m fine. My helmet took the brunt of it.”

  Lucy put her hands on her hips and blinked. Pausing, she changed tack.

  “Greek God, huh?”

  “Probably the hottest man I’ve ever seen.” Probably? Positively, absolutely, totally, more like. “He sort of…‌mesmerized me.” I looked away, unable to handle such blatant truth.

  She raised a single brow. “So he brought you home, he knows where you live. Do you think that’s wise?” She turned a thoughtful gaze on me. It was something that had been running through my head ever since I got in his car. Of course, my sister would be concerned too. She knew as well as I did that was far from my normal style. Since Travis, I had never invited a man to my home. Hell, in the last three years I could count on one hand the number of dates I’d had, and none of them were even close to here’s-where-I-live worthy.

  Dating, I’d come to realize, was not my thing.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know but it doesn’t matter anyway. I was the beast to his beauty. Trust me, he probably has a bevy of supermodels on his arm every night.”

  She gave me a rueful smile. “Well that sucks.”

  I snorted. “It’s for the best. He was intense. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who hears no very often. And that’s the last thing I need.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Liv. He sounds like sex on legs. If you don’t get laid soon, your lady parts are going to shrivel up and fall off.”

  I cracked up but quickly discovered that laughing was bad. My muscles objected, and I was left wincing in pain. I could tell the ibuprofen had kicked in, but I was still ridiculously sore. This was going to be another long day.

  Once her giggles subsided, Lucy quietly said, “Seriously, Liv. Be careful, okay?”

  We locked eyes, and I gave her a small nod before I checked the clock on the microwave.

  “Gotta get ready for work, Sis.” Getting a smile and the thumbs-up from Lucy, I turned and walked toward the stairs, trying my best to move naturally so Lucy wouldn’t flip out and demand I go to the doctor or worse, the hospital.

  Halfway up the stairs, the doorbell rang. “It’s probably James,” she called out. I heard her open the front door.

  “Um, Liv?” Her voice stopped my slow ascent. “There’s a delivery here for you?” Lucy asked in a singsong.

  Crouching to see her from my position high up the stairs, I gazed questioningly.

  “You better come see,” she said quietly.

  I hobbled back down the stairs, wracking my brain as to recent online orders and coming up empty. Lucy opened the door wide as I approached. A delivery boy stood on the porch, a shiny, new bike propped up beside him.

  “Olivia St. Clair?” he asked.

  I nodded, perplexed.

  “This is for you.” He rolled the bike toward me, so I was obliged to take it from him.

  “What’s this?” I asked, bemused. The bike was clearly not mine, and from its looks, worth at least ten of what mine was‌—‌had been?‌—‌worth.

  “Pretty cool, huh? Probably the safest bike on the planet.” Delivery Boy grinned and longingly regarded the bike I held between us. “It’s a Specialized Alias Pro Tri. Carbon frame and the best components out there. And it’s been tricked out. See this?” He squatted and pointed at the tires. “Glow-in-the-dark. They don’t come standard. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Lucy moved to stand beside me. “You didn’t buy this, did you?” she asked.

  I could only shake my head, dumbfounded. The bike must have been worth thousand
s.

  “Here, you’ll want this too,” Delivery Boy said, handing me a box containing a new Louis Garneau helmet. Red, for visibility.

  My skin tingled reflexively. There was only one person I knew who could afford a bike of this magnitude. Know? I snorted mentally. I didn’t know him at all. Why would he do this?

  “Have fun,” Delivery Boy said, giving the bike one last yearning look and then leaving. I stood on the threshold, the strange gift half in and half out of the house.

  “Well, bring it in already.” Lucy opened the door wider, and we rolled the bike through the doorway, propping it against the dining room table. “Looks expensive. What do you make of it?”

  “I have no idea.” Yes, I do.

  “Hmm.” Lucy pondered for a moment, frowning. “Is there a card or something?”

  There was nothing obvious, so I opened the box containing the helmet and found a small gray card with white typeface on one side.

  To help you keep your promise

  ~ Damien

  “Let me guess. Sex-on-Legs?” my sister asked.

  “Yep.”

  Lucy pulled the card from my hand and inspected it. “So, what promise?”

  “He asked me to promise not to make a habit of needing his help.” I frowned, remembering his words: Let’s not make this a habit. Promise me?

  She raised a brow. “Is that all? This is an expensive gift, Liv. Men don’t spend money on women they don’t intend to ‘help’ again.” She made air quotes for emphasis.

  Looking at the bike, I reached out and touched its sleek lines. This was really over-the-top. I remembered his snooping. He probably had left his card in my wallet so I could call and thank him for his largess.

  “I don’t get it either, but I can’t keep this.” I retrieved his card. “He left this in my purse. I’ll send it back to this address.” This would cost me in shipping and insurance, but there was nothing I could do about that.

  She stared at me. “He left his card in your purse?”