Knock Love Out (A Sensual New Adult Crossover Romance) (5 page)

“You’re very thoughtful.” I take a bite from the edge, humming instantly as warm blueberry and vanilla icing hit my mouth. “Perfect.”

He holds out his cup to mine. “To our first trip.”

I touch my cup to his. “And breakfast.”

Cash smiles, taking a bite of his pastry. “And breakfast.”

The art fair is calm, not too many people around, with the exception of some eager older ladies. He pauses at one of the displays, admiring a canvas that has bright colors splattered across it. I mostly watch him, not really into the design. I’d be a liar to even attempt faking that I understood what abstract art or … whatever … I have no idea what is what.

I only know what is pretty and what is not. I’m not an interpreter.

“Do you like that one?” I ask.

He looks over to me and smiles. “Did I tell you that you’re crazy beautiful in the morning?” His face dips toward my face, nuzzling into my neck. Softly he whispers, “You don’t ask questions until we walk away.” He kisses my cheek. “It’s rude to the artist.” Another kiss to cover up that he is correcting me, before he pulls away.

I nod in understanding, thankful that he used such discretion.

We continue walking, stopping whenever he sees something that catches his eye. He kneels down to appreciate a canvas at another booth. I feel a little odd, almost like I might be bothering him or something. Not really able to fully enjoy this experience due to my lack of knowledge.

I wander to a tent further down the line, looking at a craft table. There are vintage aprons and handmade pot holders. This is more on my level. A wooden gadget captures my attention. I pick it up and flip it around until I realize what it is.

“She’s already looking for a weapon,” he teases, squeezing my hip from behind.

I hold it up. “It’s to pull the rack out of the oven.”

A woman manning the booth laughs. “You’re probably the only person today who is going to get that right. Good guess, young lady.”

Young. Ha. She just wants my ten bucks.

“Do you want it?’ Cash asks, keeping ownership of my hip.

“I’m just looking.” I return it to the table.

“Lilla,” he warns, not liking my appeasing nature.

“I really don’t want it. I mean, I already have one,” I lie, remembering what he said earlier. I give the lady a smile. “I’ll buy one of your aprons, though. Can’t ever have too many of those, right?”

I go for my purse, but Cash is already handing the woman money.

“You don’t have to do that. You already bought me breakfast.”

He nods, taking a sip of coffee. “Yeah, I know.”

Hesitantly I look to the pile, finally deciding on a half apron with red berries and white frilly edging. The woman wraps up my purchase and thanks us.

I do the same. “That was nice. Thank you.”

“Not really. I have very selfish motives behind it.”

“And those are?”

He places his arm over my shoulder as we walk. “I want you to think about me when you wear it. Cooking dinner for your husband.”

“Can we not talk about him?”

“What’s his name?” he presses.

I sigh, “Adam. You know that.”

“Last name?”

“Downfall.”

“
Lilla Downfall
,” he tries it out, then shakes his head. “That sounds about right, considering the type of man you married.”

“I kept my maiden name, actually.”

He tosses his empty coffee cup in the trash. “What is it?”

“King.”

“
Lilla King
—now that’s a name worth a car ride with no direction.”

“Adam doesn’t like it.”

“Adam doesn’t sound like he likes a whole fucking lot, Lil. What the hell ever made you agree to stay with this guy for an eternity?”

“I was young. In love.”

“When you say young, do you really mean dumb?”

“Naïve.”

“Same difference,” he shrugs. “And if you claim
stupidity,
then that must mean you regret it.”

I sip my coffee, busying my mouth.

Cash steps in front of me, stopping us.

“How did he get you?”

“What do you mean
get me
?”

“How did he ‘woo’ you? How did he even get you to notice him? When he proposed to you, did he do anything special? Get down on his knees and beg for your hand?”

He waits, cocky and so, so arrogant. Spoils of youth. He hasn’t had that trait knocked out of him, yet.

“I went to high school with him. We just knew each other. He’s not a bad person, Cash. Marriage is not always easy. You don’t understand that because you’re too young. You probably haven’t even had your heart broken yet. Fallen in love.”

Cash shakes his head. “That’s not true, number one. Number two, don’t pull the ‘I’m older than you card.’ Number three, I don’t need to be an old man to know that if you were happy with Adam you wouldn’t be wandering around an art fair with
me
, after we spent all night driving around together. Sleeping in my car. Do I?”

“I didn’t say I was happy. I just said he wasn’t a bad person. You can be two good people who just aren’t good
together
. That’s the part you don’t get.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t understand why you would stay someplace that brings you sadness, when
clearly
happiness can be found. When I woke you up this morning, when you opened your eyes, even though the fucking car door was an irritating way to wake up, you still looked at me and smiled. You still looked happy to just … see me, Lilla. When’s the last time that shit happened?”

I look to my feet, trying to swallow down my inner anguish. Cash steps forward, placing his fingers gingerly under my chin, raising my face.

“I’m not trying to make you cry. I’m trying to make you
see
. You’re just like the colorful sky, Lilla, this beautiful creation, forgotten. Hidden wonders unseen, by those who don’t bother to look any longer
. I
look.
I
can see them.”

I can’t help the tears that fall. The burn across my heart.

“Fuck,” Cash sighs. “We are supposed to be having fun. I’m sorry I brought up your jerk-off husband. I won’t talk about it anymore, okay?”

I wipe my wet cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Want to sit for a caricature painting?” he asks, passing a stand where a couple is getting a funny drawing of themselves.

I twist into him shaking my head against his chest.

Cash smiles adorably. “Good, because I never would have forgiven you for that.”

“Not into those kind of drawings?”

“I don’t see the point of taking something and making it worse than it first started out.” He has taken my hand. He hums a tune as we look under a tent filled with handmade items. Pottery. Jewelry. Various trinkets and textiles.

“We should buy a blanket,” he suggests, “to keep warm, stargazing, tonight.”

I want to smile, but the day has gone so quickly. Why do all the days that have preceded it seem to have been so long?

He thumbs my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s almost time to go home.”

Cash stares at me for a long pause, before turning to the person manning the booth to pay for the blanket.

***

“Leprechaun green.”

He chuckles at my silly attempt. “I thought you were
good
at naming things?”

I lightly push his shoulder. We rest among the grass belonging to a field we have never been in before, looking at the sky. Somewhere off the roadside we stopped, just because the sun looked beautiful setting.

“The color right there,” he points to a section of orange dancing with pink. “
Papaya
. No other way to explain it. It’s fucking papaya.”

I get lost in my giggles. He looks over to me, taking a pull from his cigarette.

“You’re so damn pretty when you smile, Lilla. When you
really
smile. I want to kiss it right off.” He’s rolling closer, hovering. Holding the cigarette away from my face. “Don’t think about it,” he reminds me, leaning in closer. I close my eyes. He doesn’t go for my lips, like I expected. The underside of my ear. Along my neck so softly. My fingers curl.

The tip of his nose skims along my cheek, until finally I feel his lips gloss over mine. Eagerly he searches my mouth, allowing me his tongue. He tastes like cigarettes and cinnamon.

My whole body feels as though it’s being imprinted into the earth under me. Melting. Every slow, agonizingly sweet pass of his tongue over mine.

Intensely arousing and addicting—that would be this kiss’ motto if I had to brand it. His free hand cups my cheek, thumbing softly as he hums against my mouth, pulling away just long enough to whisper, “I’m glad you let me kidnap you.”

I feel his hand toss the cigarette, replacing it with my cheek. He comes to rest in between my legs, moving his lips to my forehead, nose. “Let’s just stay here and become the crazy people who live in the park, Lilla.”

I laugh quietly. “I’m not partial to poor hygiene and starvation.”

“We’ll be full on love, Baby.”

“You don’t even know me. You don’t love me, Foolish.”

“I happen to love
all
things that are beautiful and you rank amongst the highest of things in that category.”

“Oh, well in
that
case, sure.
Lettuce
live in the park.”

He laughs whole-heartedly at my words. “You stole my joke.”

I touch the hair hanging over his face. “I liked it.”

“You owe me big time for that one. Mary went on and on about the damn thing for … fuck she is
still
going on about it.”

“The bag girl?”

“Yeah, Mary.”

“She has eyes for you,” I point out.

“Of course she does. Have you
seen
me? Good looking, talented, brilliant, funny—I’m every woman’s dream lover, Lil.”

I snort. “Did you just incorporate a Mariah Carey song title into your own self-worshipping?”

“Purely accidental.”

Silence falls over us. Cash scans his eyes across my face. Tips of his fingers tracing along my cheeks, until finally pressing the warmth of his mouth against mine, gentle, slow and sweet.

Like Cinderella, my pumpkin moment is crawling nearer and nearer, sun seeking cover behind all of our creatively named colors in the sky.

Chapter Eight

Attempting to sneak inside my home is futile, considering being a stealth ninja does not come naturally to my legs. Less than three seconds and five clumsy steps of terror—Adam appears.

Arms crossed. Hardened face, heart, tone. Anything except a warm blanket, colors of the sky and a directionless car ride.

“Where the hell have you been, Lil? I have been calling and calling. I thought you were abducted!”

“I was,” I mumble, giggling softly to my feet. “I’m sorry,” I say when he doesn’t think it’s funny.

“Where
were
you?”

“There was a long line for ice cream?” I try, shrugging.

Still not funny.

“Adam,” I exhale, “I just needed to clear my head. I went for a little drive.” Honesty and lies all wrapped together.

“A
drive
? You’ve been gone for almost
two
days, Lilla!”

“Yeah,
a drive
.” I head for the bathroom, to end this conversation before I have to answer questions I’m not prepared to.

It’s amazing how different I feel, standing here, looking at myself in the mirror. How alive this girl looks. How she smiles. So shy, but hope in her eyes. I start the shower and hum the same song Cash did as we walked through the craft fair.

Fresh and ready, I change into a pair of jeans and pull one of Adam’s flannel shirts from the hanger. A tank top that is mine fits snugly beneath it. There is a girl smiling wickedly in the mirror before I exit the bathroom.

Adam is standing in the kitchen still pissed off.

“I’m going to go to the store. Need anything?”

“You were gone for two days, Lilla. Cook something that’s already here.”

“I forgot your ice cream. Relax; I’ll be back in an hour or less.”

Why does he care anyhow? Never did before. I could have been sitting two feet away and he would have pretended as though it were miles. I could have been dancing a naked jig of glee covered in chocolate syrup and crushed Oreos and wouldn’t have been more important than the Television. I’m gone for less than twenty-four hours and he wants to suddenly bolt the doors?

“I’ll go with you so this time you don’t forget.”

Worst idea of all time. No way around it.

“Whatever.”

We ride silently in the car. No radio on. No talking. No nothing. I’m not interested in his evil side-glares or underlying anger.
He
caused it.
He
has made this happen. What is the point of being together when there is no interaction? Just to keep me under his thumb? Asshole. I want to burn a hole in his face.

In the reflection of the window I replay my drive home with Cash.

How much we laughed and joked. How he held my hand and kissed my fingers. Never once bitched about me touching the radio station or wanting the air conditioning turned down. Every time we stopped for gas, he asked if I wanted something to eat or drink and even when I said no, he still brought me out a cookie or bottle of iced tea
“just in fucking case you change your mind. I know how women are, Lilla.”

And my, did I love,
love
,
love
listening to him sing along to the radio and laugh. His warped ideas for how things work in the world or
should
work. How he
thinks
things are. Maybe it was just his smile. Honesty. Sharing.

But this? This silent ride of nothing—I hate,
hate
,
hate
it.

I get out of the car once we arrive and walk to the shopping carts, pulling one from the line.