N9ne: The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King, #9)(56)

He’s right, and I find myself caring about him even more for it.

I care about him?

Filing that tidbit under CAN’T DEAL and moving on.

I clear my throat. “Uh, ready for that ice cream?” I ask, trying to distract from the heaviness of the moment.

Nine’s gaze darkens. He sucks in his lip ring then releases it, his eyes on my lips. “Not yet, but I’m ready for you.”

He pulls me toward him, and my heart races as he lowers his head and his lips...buzz?

But it isn’t his lips buzzing, it’s his phone. He pulls it from his pocket and checks the screen.

“Shit, I almost forgot I got to be somewhere.” He grabs my hand and tugs me toward his truck which is parked behind the garage.

And just like that, the moment is broken.





“So, you’re really going to trust me to be here all by myself?” I ask as we pull back up to the RV. We get out of the truck. “I mean, because that makes you a terrible kidnapper, just so you know. Did you skip that day of abduction school?”

Dre, Preppy’s wife, emerges from inside the RV and waves to us.

Nine chuckles and waves back.

I slap his hard bicep and point an accusing finger at the smug-looking bastard. “You got me a babysitter?”

He places his hand on the small of my back and I pretend it doesn’t send shivers to other jealous parts of my body that long to feel his touch again. He guides me toward the door. “No. Dre’s not your babysitter.” He points to where Pike is sitting on a lawn chair at the front of the RV with his legs crossed and resting on top of a red cooler. “He’s your babysitter.”





As much as I didn’t like the idea of Nine arranging a playdate for me, Dre and I get along fantastically. Having only spoken to her for a few minutes when we met last time, distracted by her adorable children vying for her attention, we didn’t exactly have a chance to get to know each other at her house, but after talking with her today for only a few moments on our own, I feel like I know her enough to conclude that I like Dre. I like her very much.

Plus, we have a lot in common.

Dre works on renovating old houses, restoring them to their original condition before selling them for a hefty profit, which gives us a lot to talk about with my past in real estate. Not to mention that I’m in love with the whole red-lipped, fifties pin-up girl vibe she’s got going on that totally works for her. Dre might just be the coolest chick I’ve ever met besides Yuli, and since Yuli is a billion miles away, it feels really good to have a girl around to talk to again.

“I think I might have a girl crush on you,” I tell Dre.

She smiles brightly. “Ditto, Lenny. You’re a breath of fresh air, but honestly, even if you turned out to be a terrible human, I’m just happy that Preppy’s got the kids today and to be out of the house on my own for a few minutes.”

Speaking of out of the house…

“You don’t, by chance, know where Nine went running off to today?” I ask.

Dre is unloading a wardrobe full of clothes and spreading them out on the bed. Dresses. Tops. Jeans and an assortment of sandals and sneakers.

“I do know, but I think it’s better if he tells you,” she says. “Besides, it’s not my place to tell other people’s secrets. Lord knows I’ve had a ton of my own I wouldn’t be happy if people went blabbing them when I wasn’t ready to tell them myself, but I also don’t want to lie to you. Can you understand that?”

I nod. I can understand that and I appreciate her honestly and her reasons. “I just hate secrets. I don’t even know why he’s kidnapped me or why he cares that there are men after me. It doesn’t make any sense!”

Dre offers me a small smile and places her hands on my shoulders. “For the record, I’ve been kidnapped, and this—” She twirls her index finger around in the air at the walls of the RV. “—ain’t it.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” I offer, plopping down on the bed. “I didn’t know.”

She holds up her hand. “No need for apologies. I’ve been through much worse things than a kidnapping, and most of those things, I did to myself.”

When I scrunch up my nose in confusion, she clarifies, “I was a heroin addict.”

“Ah, got ya.” I take the most ladylike sip I can from my solo cup of vodka. I look into the cup. “Does this bother you?”

She laughs. “No. I drink on occasion. And I honestly don’t even crave drugs at all anymore. I think it was more situational than anything, but I don’t indulge in anything to extremes just to be safe.” She smiles. “Except, of course, for my insatiable husband.” She plucks a short-sleeved, off-the-shoulder top from the bed. “Here, I think this will work for you.”

My eyes go wide. “Wait, these clothes are for me? I thought you brought them over so I could help you pick an outfit for something.”

She looks over the clothes again. “Nope, Nine told me that you only brought a small backpack with you and there wasn’t much in it. He called and wanted me to help you get some clothes. So, here I am, the magical wardrobe fairy at your very service.”

I look over at all of the options. I want to be appreciative but I can’t get to that emotion because there’s a question blocking my way. “See, this is what I mean. WHY is he doing this?”