Too Strong: Chapter 11

I’M EARLY.

Twenty minutes too early, to be exact.

I park by the curb outside and scan the street for Vee’s Mercury.

She’s not here yet.

There’s still time, but my stomach flips, my mind conjuring scenarios where she doesn’t show up at all. Tapping my fingers against the elbow rest, I distract myself by watching a family enter the diner. A little girl with pigtails giggles as she pushes past her parents’ legs to get in first.

Three more steps and they’re inside, no longer a good distraction.

Minutes tick by slowly, so, slowly. Bang on four o’clock, my leg’s jiggling, my mind so restless I feel fucking stupid. I turn in my seat, looking out the back window, into both side mirrors, and straight ahead. No sign of Vee.

She’s not coming.

Fuck.

Grabbing my phone from the passenger seat, I shoot Mia a text. I’ve spent all morning subtly digging for information, looking for a woman’s point of view. An opinion.

Fine, not that subtly. I straight-up asked what the fuck I’m supposed to do with a girl who thinks I’m an entitled, spoilt, rich ass. A girl I’ve not stopped obsessing about for three weeks.

A girl I already consider mine.

Me: She stood me up.

Mia: It’s one minute past four. Give her time. Maybe she’s stuck in traffic somewhere, or she lost track of time getting ready.

Yeah, okay, that makes sense.

Girls take a while to get ready. I doubt she took a quick shower and threw on her favorite t-shirt and jeans like I did. She’s a girl. Her hair is long, silky, soft, and smells—

Veering off-topic here. Her hair is long, so it takes longer to dry and style than my curly mane. Plus, both times I’ve seen Vee, she wore makeup. That takes time, too.

My internal monologue comes to a screeching halt when I see her, and suddenly the nerves that twisted my stomach a moment ago take a turn for the worse.

She’s riding a fucking bike, her cheeks rosy, hair tossed by the wind as she pedals down the street, eyes locked on my car.

My chest hitches painfully.

I’ve done my research. The nearest trailer park is barely inside the town’s limits, a twenty-minute car drive from here. On a bike, that’s twice as long. And that’s if the closest one is the one where she lives. What if it’s the one next town over?

My teeth gnash between my lips as I shoot from the driver’s seat, closing the door as she halts beside me, scuffing the asphalt the same way I did years ago when I owned a bike.

“Sorry I’m late.” She pants a little, gulping down crisp air. “My uncle came by, and—”

“Why are you on a bike, Vee?”

She frowns, air-bitten cheeks reddening as she looks at the old, rusty bike. “My car broke down.”

I open my mouth to say she should’ve fucking called me and I would’ve picked her up, but my hands ball into fists before I speak.

She doesn’t have my number.

And I don’t have hers.

“So… are we still on for dinner?” she asks, uncertainty painting her face.

I hold the handles of her bike, steadying it while she climbs off and adjusts her jacket. Pointless, considering I grab both lapels in one hand and gently tug her a step closer.

“Of course we’re on for dinner.” I kiss her. Slowly tracing the contours of her lips with teasing pecks before I slip my tongue inside, building momentum until she sighs. The sound low, needy, and all her. “That’s how you say to me from now on. A kiss before you say one word.”

She blinks.

And again.

And once more, like she’s not sure what to say. “I… You seem to think one date equals dating. We’re not , Conor. We’re going out on a . That’s different.”

“Baby, call this whatever the hell makes you feel good, but promise me one thing. While we’re…” I air quote for impact, “…‘not dating but going on dates’ I’m the only man you do that with. The only man you kiss. And you better not let any other fucking man touch you, either. Understood?”

Winning. I’m winning big time. Vee bites back a smile, narrowing her eyes like she’s ready to scold me, but instead, she rises on her toes and pecks my cheek.

“Only if it works both ways.”

“I have no intention nor interest in any other girl, Vivienne. I mean it. Now…” I say, chaining her bike to the stand nearby, “Save my number and give me yours.”

“Why?”

“So you can call me next time your car breaks down. I would’ve picked you up.”

She pulls her cell from her jacket pocket. “You can have my number, but you’re not picking me up.”

Yeah… I’m losing again. She’s so fucking stubborn.

“Why the hell not? Vee, I don’t care where you live or what you drive, but I do care that you biked forty minutes to see me. I don’t want that happening again.”

“It’s exercise. Exercise is good for you.”

“Save. My. Number,” I grind out.

She rolls her eyes, cocking an eyebrow, silently urging me to dictate the digits. I can already tell there’s no way she’ll call if she needs a ride next time, so I have just a few hours to form a foolproof plan and take her home tonight.

If I know where she lives, I can pick her up whenever.

She saves me under , the most emotionless way to save a guy in your contacts, then calls me, so I have her number, too.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” she asks, tucking her phone back in her pocket. “

?”

“No.”

The smile she’s been trying to hold off disappears. Two small wrinkles crease her forehead. It’s all very tentative how she minutely examines the light, boyfriend-style jeans and skin-tight black cami she wears like she’s peeping around a corner of someplace she’s not supposed to be.

she mutters.

That hurts. Fucking me.

With shaky fingers, she combs any tangles from her ponytail and tugs her top, ironing out nonexistent wrinkles.

Every move she makes holds a weight of insecurity.

I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she feels she’s not good enough. It’s evident in her words and her stance: her shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

I planned to take her to Nico’s restaurant. Treat us both to a nice, three-course meal and a bottle of my favorite wine, then hit the Country Club for a couple of drinks and a late-night round on the mini-golf Nico had added earlier this year. It’s been a hit with the older generation bringing their grandkids over.

But now, looking at how unsure she is, I know taking her to a high-end restaurant is the worst idea. We’ve not spent enough time together yet to switch to my turf.

She won’t be herself. Won’t relax. She’s too self-conscious about how she looks and what she wears, which is ridiculous because she’s absolutely fucking breathtaking.

“It’s early,” I say, making new plans under pressure. “We’ll grab something from the stalls on the pier for now and come back for dinner later.”

Doing good on my promise from last night, I grab her hand, lacing our fingers even though it’s less than five steps before I open the passenger side door and let Vee inside.

“The pier isn’t that far,” she says, buckling up as I hop behind the wheel. “We could’ve walked.”

“We’ll spend most of the evening walking, Little Bee. You’ve had enough exercise for one day.” I put the car in gear, making a U-turn in the middle of the road. “What’s wrong with your car?”

She releases a heavy sigh. “The water pump and radiator gave up. I can’t decide whether to fix it or scrap it. It’s probably not worth fixing, but I don’t want to bike to work all winter.”

My hands crush the steering wheel trim, an overwhelming washing over me.

How fucked up is it that I want to take her to the dealer and buy her a new, reliable car?

She’d look great driving a convertible, and Nico’s dealer would hook me up with a good deal on a Mustang.

I also know Vee would freak the fuck out if I’d mention it. We’re not officially together, at least not in her eyes. But to me… she’s mine. The thought is so embedded in my mind I’m already possessive to the point of unhealthy.

I never considered myself that kind.

Nico, Logan… even Colt, they’re the possessive types. The

types. Nico surely takes the crown, though Logan’s not far off, and I bet Colt will be just as bad when the right girl comes along.

But me? I’ve always considered myself pretty permissive. Never once had the urge to stake my claim.

Everything is different with Vee.

Different and unfamiliar.

Especially that primal, fucking feral need to keep her to myself simmering beneath my skin. It’s intense, threatening to choke me whenever I think of anyone touching Vee.

Too bad she’s so cautious. Untrusting. Something deep in her mind saying we’re too different, that she’s not good enough for me.

I’ve never been more determined to prove someone wrong.

Buying her a car will have to wait. In the meantime, I can help fix hers.

“Let me take a look at it. I know my way around cars.”

“Thanks, but I think scrapping it is the smarter option,” she says with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to waste any more money on it. Something else will break down soon enough.”

“I don’t want you biking to work, Vee. It’s not safe.”

She gives me a small, amused smile. “I’ve been biking all summer. Newport isn’t exactly a high-crime area.”

“It’s not the safest, either.”

I want to caveman-style this, tell her she’s not riding the bike, period. That I’ll be taking her to and from work and , but, again, it’s not the best route.

All I’ll do is scare her off, so instead of embracing the new, unhinged part of my personality, I nip the topic, filing the issue away in my mind to come up with a plan later.

I park the car near the beach and take Vee’s hand once we’re both out.

“What do you want to eat? Burgers? Hotdogs?”

“I’m not hungry yet,” she admits, bending to take her sneakers off when we hit the sand. She buries her toes with a quiet, content sigh. “How about ice cream?”

“And a big coffee,” I agree, pecking her head. “What flavor?”

“Surprise me, but no more than two scoops.” She points over to some benches nearby. “I’ll wait there.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No, but I guess you are. People who aren’t allergic don’t think to ask. What is it?”

“Raspberries and asparagus.”

Here’s hoping she won’t sneak either in my food if I piss her off.

I’m back in five minutes, balancing two coffees in one hand and two chocolate vanilla ice creams in the other. “Safest choice,” I say, handing her one of each. “We’re going back to the arcades later. I promised you a teddy, but we ran out of time.”

Vee sits on the sand rather than the bench, legs crossed, fingers drawing various shapes. She nods, taking a long, slow lick of her ice cream, the gesture sending my blood flow downward.

I’m not sure if she does this on purpose or this is how she always eats ice cream, but my dick stands to attention, begging to be touched. Begging to get inside her.

I’ve tried ignoring the desire. The lust prickling my skin, the need to feel her come undone beneath me, on top of me, and around me, but I can only ignore it so long. I’m nearing the limit.

“Do you come here often?” she asks, watching the lazy waves gently ripple the shore.

The beach is relatively quiet, a few people scattered around, most with kids or dogs. The air still feels warm, but a gentle breeze picks up, delivering a salty maritime scent.

“You’d be surprised. We’ve spent a lot of time here since we met Mia. She’s not very outgoing, and at first, she wouldn’t go clubbing with us, so we brought her here.”

“I didn’t know you were so close.”

“She was ours before she was Nico’s.”

‘Of course he likes her. She’s gorgeous.’

I smile, hearing a hint of jealousy taint those whispered words. “She is gorgeous, but I don’t like her. Not how you imagine. She’s like our little sister. Keeps us in check. We kept her safe until Nico took over.” I tell her how we met and about how Cody took the older-brother role too far earlier this year.

“Sounds nice. I always wanted an older brother who’d look out for me, but it’s just Rose and me.”

“She’s a good kid, you know?”

“She’s not. She sold me out when I specifically told her not to mention my date with Brian to anyone.”

Yep, Rose sold her out big time. I didn’t ask for updates or information, but Rose took on the wingman role and texted me of her own volition.

Rose: Vee’s on a date with some idiot. Ruby’s diner. Pull your head out of your ass.

Cheeky little thing.

I finish my ice cream, grabbing my coffee next. “It’d be nice if I apologized for ruining your date, but we both know you didn’t mind. And just so you know, you ever try to go out with anyone else, I’ll find you and ruin that date, too.”

She straightens her spine, looking me over with a heap of reserved curiosity shining in those stunning silver eyes. “You’re moving this along too fast, Conor. I told you—”

“It’s a date, and we’re not dating,” I cut in. “I’ll try to match your pace, but don’t expect me to lie or pretend I don’t want everything right , okay? I want you, Vee. Mine. It’s as simple as that.”

She looks straight ahead, then heavenward, then sideways, and it’s enough of a hint that she’s chasing her thoughts, holding lengthy conversations inside her head.

she finally whispers to herself.

I grab her by the waist, maneuvering her arms and legs until she straddles me comfortably, hands bracing my chest, knees digging into the soft sand.

“It’s only as complicated as you make it.”

She grabs the zipper on my jacket, sliding up and down. “You haven’t once asked why I talk to myself. I know you’ve noticed. You answer me sometimes.”

“Is there a reason?”

She nods, peering up at me. “I always do that, but not as often as I have the past few weeks. I’ve got ADHD. When my meds are right, I’m mostly fine. As in, not talking to myself—”

“I like that you do.”

She pinches her lips together, holding back a smile. “Do you know what Shibuya Crossing is?”

“Yeah. The pedestrian crossing in Tokyo.”

“Busiest one in the world. Three thousand people cross at a time there sometimes.” She grabs my hand, toying with my fingers. “Now imagine it’s not people but cars going anything between five and a hundred miles an hour. No traffic lights. Just intuition guiding drivers to the other side.”

“Is that how your head works?”

She nods, dropping my hand. I immediately curve it around her lower back. “Too many thoughts cross at once. When the meds work well, the traffic’s slow, almost smooth.” She grabs the zip again, smoothly sliding it up. “But when meds stop working, I jump from one dose to another, and everything jams up.” She yanks the zip hard up and down, fast enough to make it catch, stop, then start again. “Thoughts multiply, get stuck in traffic, blare their horns, and some have to rush around others to cross. Some make it, some get tangled. Speaking a few aloud helps decongest my mind.”

She looks up again, silver eyes meeting mine. “Is that… okay, or is it too much? I’ll understand if you want to run now.”

Run? No way. The visual explanation of how her mind works might be the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard.

I move my hand higher up her back, grip her neck, and pull her in for a kiss. A soothing kiss. Designed to calm, and hopefully take the edge off her agitated mind.

She sighs into me, not an ounce of fight in her body. Nothing but pure need as she ghosts her hands across my jaw, opening her lips for me again and again. She’s fucking perfect.

“You’re not getting rid of me,” I say, moving lower to kiss the porcelain column of her throat, desire creeping up on us. “Grab that thought.” Another kiss that becomes a nibble, a soft bite of her fresh-smelling skin, and then I suck the flesh, hard enough to leave a mark. “Imagine it’s an ambulance. Every other thought makes way for it to cross, baby, so let it cross.”