5. Spencer

CHAPTER 5

SPENCER

I woke to the sound of the front door slamming. The sky was still dark, the yard birds still sleeping. The clock on the dresser read half past three. Leon called out softly.

"Spencer? You home?"

I tensed where I lay, hardly daring to breathe. Could he hear both our breathing from out in the hall? Could he sense us both here? And what of our clothes? I tried to remember if we'd shed any outside, or if we'd waited till we got to bed.

Leon paused for a moment outside Izzy's door, then he trudged on and into the kitchen. He made a disgusted sound and I remembered our hot chocolate, the bowl going crusty where Izzy had left it. She'd used one of his bowls. I'd meant to remind her. Leon hated when we used his bowls and didn't at least soak them.

I listened to him banging around in the kitchen, rinsing his bowl out, and likely our mugs. Putting the pot away. Unloading the dishwasher. He must've had a bad night, to be doing all that. When Leon got frustrated, he liked to clean. Most of the time, I loved him for it. Having a clean house, who wouldn't want that? But now, I lay stiffly, grinding my teeth.

C'mon, enough dishes. Get your ass to bed.

Leon sighed loudly, maybe hoping I'd hear him — hear him and know he'd cleaned up my mess. I heard the squirt of a spray bottle, the sound of the garbage can opening and closing, and then he came plodding back down the hall. He passed Izzy's door again and turned down to his own room, and a few seconds later, I heard his door close.

Finally.

I kissed Izzy's head, all fragrant and sleep-warm, then slid out of bed and into my pants. I found my shirt in her hamper and shrugged that on too. Then I crept out and down the dark hall. I was easing past Leon's door when it cracked open.

"I thought I heard you," he said. "You left my bowl out."

"I know. I'm sorry. I was just going to grab it."

His brows beetled. "Now? Hold on, where did you come from? I was just in the kitchen, and?—"

"The laundry," I said.

"What, in the dark?"

"Who are you, the cops?" I threw up my hands in mock-frustration. "I didn't want to wake Izzy, so I left the lights off. I was just there a second, changing my shirt."

Leon glanced past me. "Weird I didn't hear you. I was right in the kitchen. Why didn't you say hi at least?"

"Because you looked mad."

He blew out his cheeks and leaned on the doorframe. "Not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking. Work was just crazy, and that new guy quit. Pitched a whole fit over the mushrooms, thought he could… fuck it. Never mind. It's just been a day is all. How was your game?"

"We won," I said.

"No kidding? That's great." He clapped me on the shoulder, but I shrugged him off.

"You gotta act so surprised?"

"Not surprised. Happy."

"Your brows are surprised."

"My brows? Go to bed." Leon gave me a shove and I headed off, chuckling. I jogged back to my room and shut the door softly, and let out a long breath as I leaned up against it. I'd almost blown our puck-buddy cover, the very first night of our secret affair. From now on, we'd have to be a whole lot more careful. No falling asleep again. No bending the rules.

I came home after practice a few days after that, and Izzy was in the garage changing her oil. I don't know what the hell was so sexy about that, her legs sticking out from under her bumper, but I dropped my gym bag to watch her work. She must've heard me or spotted my boots, because she called out to me.

"Did you need to get in?"

"Nah, you're okay." I crouched down to watch her replacing her filter, oiling the gasket to make a tight seal.

"I can do yours if you want," she said.

"Do mine, huh?" I smirked. "What, lube up my workings? Check my dipstick?"

Izzy kicked out at me, but her feet couldn't reach. She tightened the filter and checked it was snug, then screwed her undertray back into place. I took the bucket of old oil and jugged it up for recycling while she jacked her car down and refilled the tank. She checked the level and wiped off her dipstick, and our eyes met. Her tongue flickered out.

"You look good," I said. "Greasy mechanic."

"Who are you calling greasy?" She came around the car and thumbed grease down my cheek. I caught her wrists and took her hands prisoner, and crowded her back into the house. We blundered down the hallway caught up in each other, her hands on my ass, mine up her shirt.

"You smell like the garage," I murmured into her neck.

"Yeah? Well, you smell like the locker room. Dirty man-sweat."

"You like it."

"So do you." She rubbed the sleeve of her work shirt up in my face. I took a deep sniff of it and smelled her underneath, her light, floral body wash, her warm, clean skin. We found my bedroom somehow and stumbled inside, and Izzy froze against me.

"Did you hear that?"

I slid my hand up her side. "Hear what?"

"No, stop." She caught hold of my arm and stood listening, head cocked. I heard nothing at first, then I heard a car door slam.

"Shit. Leon's home." Izzy pulled back. I followed her, wanting her, but she pushed me away. "C'mon, no, we can't. The rules, remember?"

"He wasn't home when we started. We're grandfathered in."

Izzy muffled a laugh. "Seriously, get off me. He's going to hear."

I stepped back, but she leaned up and stole one more kiss. I kissed her back, pinched her ass through her jeans. She ground up against me and the front door clunked open.

"Izzy?" Leon called out. "Your car's taking up the whole garage."

She dropped her head down and giggled into my shirt. I smacked her to quiet her and she snickered some more.

"Izzy, where are you? I'm parked in the street."

She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip. "Crap, is he coming?"

I listened, then frowned. "He's checking your room. But when you're not in there, he'll come ask if I've seen you."

Izzy started for the door, then paused to listen. She doubled back and scrambled across my bed. I grabbed at my covers to save them from oil stains, but she was already over and wrestling with my window. She heaved the sash open and clambered out, and she waved and winked at me as she darted away.

"Dammit, Leon," I muttered, and wiped the oil off my face.

I took a sudden interest in Leon's schedule, when his days off were, when he worked late. He thought I was pissed he'd missed a few of my games, my last one especially, where I'd scored big.

"He thinks I'm all butthurt," I told Izzy, in bed. She was curled against me, her head on my chest, and I had my fingers in her thick hair. I loved the feel of it, all silky-smooth, the way her loose curls sprang back when I tugged them. Her hair wasn't coal-black, like it looked from a distance. It was all shades of chocolate and mahogany and russet, black in the shadows, burnished in the light. When she tipped her head back to look at me, it streamed through my fingers.

"I don't think he's mad at you. Just weirded out. He asked me this morning if you were doing okay."

"I'll talk to him," I said. "First thing tomorrow. I'll tell him, I don't know, I'll blame it on you. Say you've been lonely in the stands by yourself."

Izzy flicked my arm, and we both sighed.

"Tomorrow's Monday," she said.

"How's things at work?"

"Ugh, those two douchebags, you know Mark and Jim—" She cut herself off abruptly and shook her head. "You know what, let's not. I like our little nest in here. Our douche-free haven."

"You can talk to me if you want to. If you need to vent."

"I don't," she said. "I just need to focus. If I play my cards right, I'll soon be their boss. Or at least a step up from them in the food chain." She was drawing with her finger on my bare chest, a little habit she had when she was anxious or frustrated. She'd "draw" on the tabletop, on my arm, on her knee, whatever was handy, little boxes and whorls. I watched her draw a triangle, then a fish, then a heart.

"You coming this Thursday? I mean, to my game?"

"I hope so," she said. "Depends on work. It's a big week for us, so I might be stuck there till late."

I caught her fingers and kissed them to ease my own tension. Izzy missing a game was no big deal, but it'd be the first one she'd missed since my losing streak broke. In my head, I knew I'd been playing better — hell, we all had, the team pulling together. But a deep, worried part of me still believed it was Izzy. She was my rabbit's foot. My luck in a bottle. If she wasn't there watching?—

"I'll still watch," she said. "If I'm stuck at work. I can still stream it when nobody's looking."

I leaned down and kissed her and pulled her in closer. Her hand wandered, teasing, over my hip. She'd had me twice already since Leon stepped out, but the way her breath quickened, she still wanted more. I rose to the challenge, cock standing proud.

"I could do this all night."

"Gonna hold you to that." Her hand wandered lower. I shivered, delighted, as her nails scored my thigh. All night sounded fine to me. All night sounded perfect.