Driving Her Crazy Read online

  He shoved the hurt and anger down. He’d deal with the fact that he was totally lying to himself later. For now, he just wanted to get this trip over with, drop her off, and forget he ever met her. But, even as he thought it, he knew that would never happen. She was unforgettable. And he was screwed.

  He leaned against the car, pulling in great lungfuls of air, trying to contain the roiling emotions in him. So he’d just gotten used for sex. Big deal. Most guys wouldn’t complain. So what the hell was his problem? She was the epitome of high maintenance. He should thank his damn lucky stars she didn’t want anything else from him and just move on with this life.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he yanked it out. Lena. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone but he never ignored a call from her. She or Tyler might be in trouble. He took a deep breath and answered.

  “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

  “Hey. You in New York yet?”

  “Not yet. This trip has been one huge pain in the ass. I should be there in a couple of hours.”

  “Oh good. You’ll have time to get cleaned up for your interview, at least. Remember, don’t be nervous. You’ve so got this nailed. They’re going to love you!”

  He seriously doubted it, but she was sweet to say so.

  “So,” she continued, not noticing his silence. “Is that girl you’re traveling with still a piece of work, or did you work a little Oz magic on her?”

  He was saved from answering that one by a little voice shouting, “Uncle Oz! Uncle Oz!”

  “Is that my little buddy?” Tyler was the one and only person who could make him smile no matter what was going on.

  Lena groaned. “He wants to tell you something. Here Ty, but make it quick. Mommy needs to talk to Uncle Oz, too.”

  “Uncle Oz, I got to play at my friend Josh’s house and he had this tree house and…”

  Oz’s mind wandered back to Cherice while his nephew extolled the virtues of Josh’s new tree house, making the appropriate noises of appreciation at the right moments. She was taking an awful long damn time to clean up. She must want to be very thorough. He forced himself to pay attention to what Tyler was saying.

  “That sounds great, buddy. We’ll have to see if we can find a good treehouse tree when I get home, okay.”

  “Okay! Bye Uncle Oz! Love you!”

  Oz smiled. “Love you too, buddy.”

  Hearing that little voice definitely helped get his priorities back in order. He had a family to take care of. Tyler and Lena came first. He needed to get Cherice out of his head so he could concentrate on his interview. Getting that job was the only thing that mattered.

  “You okay, Oz? You sound…off.”

  Uh oh. His sister could always tell when something was up. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a very long trip.”

  And wasn’t over yet.

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  She sighed. “All right, then. I’ll let you go. Iris just got here. Tyler is going to go play with her nephew at her sister’s house so we can have a little girl time.”

  Oz snorted. Lena and her best friend had been getting into trouble together since grade school. A little girl time with Iris was never a good thing.

  “Behave yourselves. I’m not there to bail you out.”

  “Oh whatever. We haven’t done anything that bad since before I had Tyler. We’re just going to a movie or something.”

  “Uh huh. Be good.”

  “Yes, big brother. And you. Drive safe! And good luck on your interview!”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  “Oh stop it. They’ll love you. How could they not? Everyone loves you.”

  Not everyone.

  “Thanks, Lena. I better get going.”

  “Okay. Let me know how the interview goes!”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Bye!”

  She clicked off and Oz put his phone back in his pocket, exhaustion eating at him. And he still had to deal with Cherice for the next hour or two. He silently vowed to drive as fast as he absolutely could without getting pulled over. This trip needed to be over with.

  He got back in the car, started the engine, and rolled the windows down. The car smelled like sweat and sex. A few moments ago, that scent would have had him revved and ready for another round. Now he just wanted to erase it, and her, from his life.

  And he’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oz hung his head out the car window. “You clean enough yet? We need to go!”

  Cherice cringed at the hurt and anger in his voice. Not much she could do about that, though, so it was probably better this way. She took a deep breath and slowly walked to the car. If she was going into enemy territory, she was going in looking confident, no matter how much her insides were quaking. But that didn’t mean she was in a hurry to get there.

  The look on Oz’s face when he’d seen what she was doing would be burned in her mind for the rest of her life. It hadn’t been what he’d thought. Well, in a way maybe. She had been trying to clean the smell of him off her. But not because it disgusted her. Not because she viewed their time together as slumming. Far from it. Their moments together were the best of her whole life. She’d remember them always. Hell, she was counting on those memories to get her through the miserable days ahead of her. Who was she kidding? The miserable years ahead of her.

  And she just prayed to God she never ran into him someday in the future. She really didn’t know much about him, including exactly where he lived. Just because they’d been flying out of the same airport didn’t mean they lived in the same town. Anyone living in a two-hour radius used that airport. She just didn’t think she could deal with seeing him after walking away now.

  But despite that, she was still about to walk into her mother’s house and she didn’t want to smell like sex and latex. What girl would?

  She’d hurt him though, and that was the last thing she’d wanted to do. But maybe it was for the best. It would make it easier to walk away from him if he was pissed off at her. Theoretically. Her throat ached with the need to cry, but she refused to let any tears fall. She didn’t cry over anything, anyone, or any situation. It was one of her mottos in life. A shittier one, to be sure. But it had saved her a lot of hours of wallowing. Hell, if she had given in every time something miserable happened, she would’ve spent her entire life in the fetal position sobbing her heart out. Better to shove it down where it didn’t hurt anymore. Far better to be numb than heartbroken.

  That seemed to be easier said than done in Oz’s case. Her feelings for him weren’t so easy to discard. Maybe because she wasn’t even sure what they were. She just knew how she felt when she was around him. And she liked it. Too much. It had been stupid to let her guard down.

  Cherice barely had time to close the door and fasten her seat belt before Oz sped off down the lane. He didn’t take as much care to miss the potholes as he had going in. After a few minutes of being tossed around she’d finally had enough.

  “Okay, I get that you’re pissed, but I’d really rather you just yell at me than try and shake me to death.”

  Oz didn’t even bother looking at her. “My apologies if my driving skills aren’t up to your stringent standards, Ms. Debusshere. I know all us blue-collar guys look alike to you, but as a janitor and mechanic, chauffeuring isn’t part of my usual repertoire.”

  “Oh, give it a rest, Oz.”

  “Nathaniel. Only my friends call me Oz.”

  “Oh my God, are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is your problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Look, I know it looked like I was—”

  “Don’t.” His voice cracked and the lump in her throat was back with a vengeance.

  He cleared his throat and glared at her before fixing his attention back on the road. “I told you. We’ve got nothing to talk abou
t. Just drop it.”

  “Fine,” she said quietly, guilt flooding through her so strongly her stomach roiled with it. “How soon until we get to New York?”

  “Not soon enough.”

  They rode in angry silence for a full two hours before Cherice recognized where they were and started to give Oz directions to her parents’ house. He turned when she told him, switched lanes when she said to, but didn’t say another word to her. They were about fifteen minutes from her home when she couldn’t take it anymore.

  She was about to walk into full-blown shit fest. Her sister’s wedding was hours away. She’d missed the rehearsal dinner and was definitely throwing off her mother’s carefully laid plans, which was enough to get her kicked out of the family as it was. Considering she’d avoided every major holiday for months, her mother had lots of criticism built up. She was pretty much guaranteed a miserable day.

  Add to that the fact she was going to have to open that car door and walk away from Oz, forever, and the very thin thread holding her together snapped. In her entire life, he’d been the one person who had been able to make her feel like her own person, like a person worth something. Because of who she was, for her, herself. She might not ever find that again. Yes, it was ridiculous maybe to have fantasized even for a second that they might have something more, but they could have at least parted as friends. She would have found some comfort knowing he was out in the world somewhere, thinking kind thoughts about her.

  But now, he wasn’t even leaving that option open to them. He’d been giving her the silent treatment for nearly two hours. She would probably never see him again and that was the way he was leaving it between them. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

  “You’re a real ass, you know that?”

  Oz jerked, his face flushing with anger. “I’m an ass? Are you kidding me? After what you pulled, I’ve been a fucking prince!”

  “A prince? You call sitting there pouting like a pissy sixteen-year-old being a prince?”

  His jaw dropped. “You think I’m pouting?”

  “I know you are! We just spent the entire night and half the morning making love and now you’re just going to drop me off without a word all because of some stupid misunderstanding—”

  “First of all,” he nearly shouted, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly she thought he might snap it off, “we didn’t make love. We fucked. Good and hard. We had an itch and we scratched it. End of story. Making love implies there were some emotions involved and you made it very clear that was not the case.”

  “Why?” she nearly shouted, her anger, hurt and frustration beating against her temples in one continuous ache. “Because I cleaned myself off? Well excuse me for not wanting to walk into my mother’s house reeking of sex and condoms! She already has it in for me and the last thing I want to do is give her even more ammo. It had nothing to do with you. I wasn’t trying to get your filth off me, as you so eloquently put it. I just didn’t feel like announcing to the most critical woman in the world that I’d just had sex!”

  “Why not? You’re twenty-four years old. Are you really that afraid that she might figure out that her little girl isn’t a virgin anymore? Or is it more that you don’t want her to find out you went slumming with some janitor from the sticks? I’m sure if I was some investment banker or real estate tycoon, she wouldn’t care how many times you screamed my name. Hell, she’d probably throw you a parade. But for someone like me, naw, I just get to be your dirty little secret for the rest of your life. The one time you took a walk on the wild side.”

  She shook her head, her vision going blurry with unshed tears. “That is so not true.”

  “Yeah, it is. You know, maybe it’s time you stopped being so afraid of your Mommy and start living your own life.”

  “Oh, what. Like you do? You haven’t exactly been living your dream now, have you?”

  He clenched his jaw, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. “No, I haven’t. But it’s been for a lot better reason than because my parents told me not to. And in case you’ve forgotten, I am going for what I really want. Too bad you are too goddamned chicken to do the same thing.”

  “I am not—”

  “What’s the gate code?”

  She looked around and realized they’d arrived. Panic clawed at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was about to face her family or because she was about to walk away from Oz. No matter what insults they’d been flinging at each other, the thought of never seeing him again filled her with a desperation she couldn’t begin to understand or deal with.

  She gave him the code and he eased the car through, pulling to a stop in the roundabout near the front door. He looked out the window at the sprawling three story Tudor style house surrounded by perfectly landscaped grounds, complete with a huge stone fountain in the courtyard.

  He just shook his head. “Don’t forget your stuff. And don’t take all day about it either. It’s going to take me a couple hours to get back into the city. I can’t be late.”

  Cherice stared at him, her hands clenching in her lap. “That’s it? That’s how you want to leave it?”

  “What I want has never been an option.” He leaned over and pushed her door open.

  She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, trying to keep the tears at bay. She wasn’t even sure why she was so upset. He was right. What she wanted had never been an option for her, either. Ever. Why should this time be any different?

  She reached into the backseat and gathered up her belongings. “Fine. Have a nice life, Nathaniel.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. Been nice knowing you.”

  She climbed out and slammed the door. He was halfway down her driveway before she had a chance to release her pent up breath.

  The front door opened and Cherice closed her eyes, bracing herself for the next few days.

  “Cherice! You made it!”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to find her brother jogging down the stairs. He was almost as tall as Nath…The Ass Who Would No Longer Be Named. He’d started sprouting muscles around eighteen, and now, at twenty-four, he had the broad shoulders and lean, well-muscled body of a swimmer. His light brown hair was spiked and gelled into an artfully messy hairdo that had probably taken him the better part of the morning to achieve. He scooped her up when he reached her and gave her a jostling bear hug.

  She laughed, completely unable to resist his enthusiasm. As usual. Elliot could make a shark victim smile while the shark was still chewing on his leg. Cherice was still half convinced she and Elliot had been adopted. She couldn’t figure out, for the life of her, how her parents had produced kids like them.

  “Put me down, you goof,” she said, swatting at him with her bags.

  He let go of her and took her bags. “Where’d the guy that drove you go? I wanted to meet him.”

  Cherice gritted her teeth. “He had to get back to the city. Doesn’t matter. Not like I’ll be seeing him again.”

  Elliot looked at her, eyebrows raised. He’d always seen through her. Twin intuition, maybe. And he was definitely more curious than she wanted to deal with. Before he could ask her any excruciatingly uncomfortable questions, she grabbed his arm and steered him up the stairs.

  “So, how’s it going in there?”

  He groaned. “You had the right idea not showing up until the last second. The rehearsal dinner was a nightmare. Nothing was up to Mom’s standards. She hasn’t stopped talking about how if she had been in charge she would have fired the caterers and hired a different decorator and chosen a different location. And now she’s on our cases. Dad’s gone through three tuxes and even Grandmother got reamed this morning.”

  Cherice didn’t hide her surprise at that news. Her grandmother was generally the one person her mother never crossed. “What heinous crime did she commit to deserve that?”

  “I don’t know. They were using a lot of really big words I didn’t understand. Like cerulean, and ultramarine, and I swear they said something about a
peacock but I have no clue what they meant. I thought Dad had nixed all the birds. All I know is that Grandmother had the wrong whatever it was and now she’s trying to rectify the situation.”

  Cherice nodded. “And that is exactly why I am lucky to be a bridesmaid and just went with the dress Mom picked out.”

  “Yes, and it was the only smart decision you’ve made concerning this wedding,” her mother said, stepping out of her office off the foyer.

  Elliot gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll go put your bags in your room.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured. Time to face the music. Or the firing squad, as it might be.

  “Hello, Mother,” she said, walking toward her mom.

  Jacqueline Grace Buchanan Debusshere looked her daughter up and down. “You look tired.”

  From a normal mom, that might have been concern. From Cherice’s mom, it was a scathing criticism. One did not ever appear in public as anything less than radiantly put together.

  “It was a long trip,” Cherice mumbled. Long, emotionally, and physically, draining. Not that her mom would ever find out those sordid little details.

  Her mother sniffed. “Saying I told you so would be redundant and I don’t have time for that today. We need to leave for the chapel in…” She checked the gold Rolex strapped to her wrist. “Exactly six hours and twenty-three minutes. I suggest you rest a bit before then. It wouldn’t do to show up at your sister’s wedding looking anything less than your best. You’ve neglected your bridesmaid’s duties enough as it is. The least you can do is look the part. Besides, you never know who you may run into.”

  A bolt of dread sank right into the pit of Cherice’s stomach. She got out of there and escaped to her room. Her gorgeous peacock-blue dress hung from a hook near her closet. If it was one thing her mom had in spades, it was good taste. The dress was incredible, and she’d look fantastic in it. And that had probably been the point.

  She’d be willing to bet more than the entire bill for her sister’s wedding that her mother’s idea of Mr. Right would be sprung on her at some point during the night. And she would be expected to be polite and gracious and warmly welcoming. Bile rose to the back of her throat just thinking of it.