by Lane Hart
“What?” he asks, when I apparently do a horrible job hiding my expression.
“Nothing. Maids are great,” I say, attempting to suppress my smile. “I think we have several movies in stock, along with the outfit.” I try to let it go at that but can’t stop myself from asking one follow-up question. “Why maids?”
“The outfits are sexy as fuck,” he answers simply. “And they’re always eager to please their masters.”
“Right. Of course,” I respond as I push off the chair to give myself a few seconds to process that information. “Maids are submissive and sexy. Got it.”
I see the little bit of leftovers sitting out and get to work putting them in a plastic container for him to take home, as requested.
“I should’ve just kept my mouth shut,” Reece grumbles before his chair legs screech across the linoleum floor as he pushes it back, most likely to make a quick escape after sharing something so…intimate.
“What? No,” I tell him without making eye contact. How can I ever look at this stern, quiet man again without thinking about him touching himself while watching porn stars in sexy black and white maid outfits? My mind is officially blown. “Your naughty maid secret is totally safe with me.”
“Uh-huh,” he mutters, sounding unconvinced. His voice is closer, as though he’s now only standing a few feet away in my kitchen. “Tit for tat. Let’s hear your kink. And don’t even try to say you don’t have one after you assured me everyone does.”
“I said all men have a fetish,” I correct him when I finally get the courage to face him again, offering up the dish of leftovers.
He takes the container and then stares at me, waiting oh-so-patiently for my response.
“Fine,” I huff. “Construction workers and men in leather.”
“Huh. I thought women hated pervy men in hard hats cat-calling at them,” Reece responds with his brows meeting.
“Maybe most women do. But I think the hard hats and utility belts on a sweaty, hardworking, blue collar man is pretty hot.”
“Hotter than a man in leather?” he asks.
Wait. Is he referring to himself because he’s in leather? No, Reece is not a man who flirts. Ever.
“Depends on the body wearing leather,” I eventually reply, finding it incredibly hard to believe I’m having this conversation with the most introverted and serious Savage King. “Anyway, just heat that up in the microwave for a minute and it’ll be good to go,” I instruct him, happy to change the subject to leftovers.
“Thanks,” he says. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Ah, yeah, from opening to close.”
“Then I’ll be by to set up the surveillance cameras and security system before noon.”
Instead of arguing that he doesn’t have to go to all the trouble or make a snide comment about him leaving his dungeon two days in a row, I simply smile and say, “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Six
Reece
There’s no way I can order online and get any good security equipment in by today, so I guess that means I’m going to have to do the one thing I hate most in the world – go shopping.
I grab my cut and slip it on as I head up the stairs. I’m walking out the bar’s front door before I even remember that I need someone to watch the surveillance cameras here while I’m gone.
Jesus.
I sit down on one of the stools at the bar to call Eddie on my cell phone and ask him if he can come over again today.
“You’re leaving the clubhouse two days in a row?” he asks after I’ve confirmed that he’s not busy. “What is that? Some sort of record for you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “Can you cover today or not?”
“Sure, sure. I just enjoy giving you shit. Give me five minutes.”
“See ya then,” I say before hanging up.
It takes Eddie nine minutes, not five, to get to the clubhouse, and then I’m off. It’s early, so at least I don’t have to deal with any crowds at the local tech shop.
…
Cynthia’s car is one of the few vehicles in The Toy Box’s lot, so at least I know she’s here. If I had ever driven by the place before I would’ve realized it’s not a toy store for kids with the windows tinted and the cartoon woman with a pink boa wrapped around her neck on the sign. Fuck, I feel stupid that I didn’t know and made a fool of myself.
With my bag of products in one hand and my tool box in the other, I manage to pull open the door with my fingers and hear the tingling sound of a bell. Cynthia stands up from behind the counter situated in the middle of the big, open room…filled with slutty outfits and walls of movies. The next thing I notice is the fact that there’s a cloud in front of my face when I blow out a breath.
“Hey. You’re early,” she says. That’s when I notice that she’s wearing a thick, black coat with a purple sweater around her neck and matching gloves.
“Is the arctic chill a retail technique I’m not familiar with?” I ask.
“Ah, no. The building’s HVAC unit went haywire and the air conditioner won’t shut off. A repairman is on the way.”
“I could look at it.” I offer.
“No. The building manager told me not to touch it on the chance I’ll make it worse, so you can’t either,” she says. “It’ll be fixed soon.”
“Fine,” I huff.
“I put together some goodies for you,” Cynthia says, holding up a bright pink girly bag with a white handle. “Make sure you take it with you when you leave.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say. “Your building manager gonna be okay with a new security system and cameras?” I ask before I get to work.
“Oh yeah, he was thrilled that we were getting an upgrade that wouldn’t cost him a penny.”
“Good,” I respond. “Then I guess I’ll start with the keypad and alarm first.”
“Sounds great. Let me know if you need any help.”
Over the next few hours while I work, it becomes obvious that around ninety-five percent of Cynthia’s customers are male.
The other five percent are women planning a bachelorette party.
And it doesn’t take a genius to see why the guys keep coming back. Cynthia is a beautiful, voluptuous redhead with amazing tits who provides them with porn. What’s not to love? They all have the same disappointed looks on their faces when they come in today and see her wearing a thick coat.
Jackasses.
…
Cynthia
Watching Reece work so diligently with his various tools on the top of a ladder for hours could be considered soft porn for some women, myself included. He looks so strong and capable, like he could fix anything.
“Yum,” Vicky whispers to me when she comes in to pick up her paycheck. We’re both facing the back of the store where Reece is installing the final camera. “Now I’m mad I wasn’t on the clock today for this show.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” I respond without looking away from the way his jeans cling to his tight, round ass.
“Is it just me or does the bearded skull king patch up the hot factor a few more notches?” she asks.
“Not just you,” I agree since I’ve always had a weakness for the men wearing those damn patches.
“Makes me miss the good ole days when I was single,” Vicky says with a sigh of nostalgia. She was the reason I first showed up at the Savage Asylum. Back then, the two of us would spend our weekends there together with the guys, that is, until Vicky got pulled over by a sheriff deputy for an expired tag. Her and Wyatt have been inseparable ever since.
“Do you really miss being single?” I ask her seriously.
“No,” she answers with a laugh. “Those weekends partying and drinking were so damn exhausting! Now I get to curl up at home with a good movie and my hubby on our days off. That’s so much better than waking up with a killer hangover and vague memories of the night before.”
“I can see that,” I agree. It’s actually what I wish I had.
�
�But there’s nothing wrong with taking in the view when it’s stretched out before you,” she adds as we continue to watch Reece work. Fanning her face with her hand, Vicky adds, “It was freezing cold in here when I walked in, but now I’m starting to melt a little.”
“The repairman is on the way,” I inform her. “Although, you’re right. It doesn’t seem as cold as it was earlier.”
“So,” Vicky says when she steps into my line of sight to talk to me. “How was your date last night?”
“It got cut short,” I tell her.
“Short? Why?”
I nod my head toward the man on the ladder.
“Oh, really?” she asks.
“Yep. He said he was checking up on me since I stopped coming to the clubhouse,” I tell her softly. “Then he insisted on adding security here and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Both of Vicky’s brown eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in surprise. “Did you and he ever…”
“No,” I answer. “Not even close.”
“So why…”
“No clue,” I respond, knowing she’s wondering the same thing I am, why the sudden protectiveness from the man who barely spoke to me for years.
“Well, isn’t that an unexpected turn of events?”
“It’s nothing,” I say dismissively.
“You sure about that? Not many men would go to all this trouble unless they wanted something in return.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her. “He’s made it perfectly clear that he has no interest in women who have been…shared.”
“Seriously? Well, that’s a crying shame because he is big and yummy.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Besides, I’m done with MC guys. It’s time to move on to men who have boring lives and want normal things like families.”
“Right. Normal men. Ones without rock hard bodies. The good guys.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “Good guys with dad bods are the way to go.”
Chapter Seven
Reece
I’ve just gotten back to the clubhouse and made sure all the feed from The Toy Box cameras are coming in clear when a young guy wearing a utility belt strolls in like he owns the place.
Oh, right, he must be the heating and air repairman. I probably could’ve fixed that shit, but Cynthia told me not to touch it.
He must get things warmed up, because Cynthia soon removes her jacket. When she fluffs her hair while talking to the fucker, it becomes obvious that she’s flirting with him. It doesn’t help that he nearly fits the mold for her admitted construction worker fetish. All he’s missing is the hard hat.
I turn up the sound in my headphones to listen in on their conversation without a second thought.
“Thank you so much for getting our heat back on,” Cynthia says. “I thought we were gonna freeze to death.”
“No problem. Sorry it took so long for me to get here, but it’s a busy time of year,” he replies. “If I had known how pretty you were, I would’ve come by here first.”
“Oh, come on,” I mutter aloud to myself at his cheesy line.
“Aww, well thank you,” Cynthia replies, flashing him a bright smile that makes me think she’s falling for the asshole’s bullshit.
“Do you have any plans Friday night?” the fucker asks her, and I stop breathing to hear her response.
“No, I don’t.”
“In that case, you have to come with me to the Gaslight Lounge in Wilmington. Hank Williams, Junior is playing.”
“Oh, wow, that sounds great,” she exclaims, and I can’t tell if she’s serious or laying it on thick because she’s into this dickhead.
“Nice. How about I pick you up here at seven? The show starts at nine.” At least he’s not asking to go to her house yet.
“Perfect,” Cynthia responds. “I’ll see you then, Parker.”
Parker? That’s his name, huh? He looks young, too young for her if she’s trying to settle down. She doesn’t even know his last name. How can she agree to go out with a man who could have a criminal record a mile long?
No, this unexpected date she’s agreed to is a bad idea.
But it’s not like I can just bust into the Gaslight Lounge in Wilmington to crash this one.
Or can I?
…
“Is there any other business we need to discuss?” Torin asks from the head of the Savage Kings table at the end of our meeting that evening.
“Actually, I think we should have a sit-down meeting with the Wilmington charter soon to discuss our South Carolina distributions.”
“I thought we were back on schedule with SKW now that the shit with the feds has died down,” Sax says.
“Right, the feds were just up our asses,” I mutter. “I think it would be smart to talk things over and make sure that they understand the new procedures for getting our product out to the counties. I want to make sure there are no risks either side has missed.”
“Okay, yeah,” Torin agrees. “We haven’t seen those guys in a while. I can get them up here next week.”
“Or,” I start. “We could go to them. I mean, why should they always have to come up here to meet with us?”
“Because we’re the mother charter,” Chase responds simply. “They do what we say, when we say to do it.”
“Yeah, but Hank Williams, Junior is performing at the Gaslight Lounge in Wilmington on Friday. We could all go down early, knock out the meeting, and then both crews could head over to party together.”
“You want to leave the clubhouse?” War asks me.
“Yeah.”
“To see Hank Williams, Junior?” Maddox asks, his words heavy with disbelief.
“Yes.”
The questions stop but then the whole table is staring at me like I’ve grown two heads. “What?” I huff. “The lot of you are always bitching about me needing to get out more!”
They still don’t look convinced.
“For fuck’s sake, bring your old ladies if you can’t dislodge their hands from your balls for even a single night!” I grumble.
Finally, some heads start nodding their agreement with this plan of mine.
“It’ll be a voluntary event, but I would like at least half a dozen men to sit down with SKW, especially you, Sax,” Torin says. “Significant others are welcome to…shop or whatever the women want to do during our meeting. Then, we’ll all head to the Gaslight Lounge. Sax, put out the word to SKW, get a head count for both groups, and then call the venue to put them on notice that all our rowdy friends are coming over Friday night.”
“Will do, pres,” Sax agrees with a smile.
“All in favor?” Torin asks.
“Yea,” the table agrees in unison.
“Hope to see you all then,” Torin says before he slams down the gavel while side-eyeing me suspiciously.
Fuck if I’ll tell him or anyone else my real purpose in getting everyone down to Wilmington.
I’m having trouble just admitting to myself that I want a chance with Cynthia. Being with a woman like her is a risk. A huge risk, really, since sleeping with her once could make me even more obsessed with watching out for her.
But I don’t want to regret not taking the leap yet again.
Chapter Eight
Cynthia
Friday night I’m closing and locking up The Toy Box just as Parker pulls up out front in what looks like a brand-new Toyota Tundra. He even gets out and goes around to open the passenger side door for me.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he drawls, putting on a heavy southern accent that matches his cowboy hat.
“Well, good evening to you, too, partner,” I laugh while climbing in. “Thanks again for bringing me along to the concert. I’ve never seen many people live before!”
“I haven’t either, to be honest.” Parker replies once he climbs up in the driver seat and starts the truck. “It’s usually not my kind of music, but it was the only thing I knew of coming up that I thought would stand out to you. You know, something tha
t was more than just dinner and a movie.”
“So, what do you usually like to listen to?” I ask him as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Oh, stuff that’s more upbeat, happy, you know…like this,” he says as he reaches over and turns up his radio. A song from The Black Eyed Peas blasts from the speakers, the bass actually rattling the seat behind me.
“Whoa!” I say as I reach over to turn the stereo back down a little bit. “What station is this, one of the local top forty channels?”
“No way, baby girl, I got the CD. You like it? We can rock out to this for a while, before we go big country tonight.”
“Let’s keep it in the background for now, maybe talk a bit on the trip,” I tell him, glancing over to take in his outfit. He’s wearing a brand-new pair of jeans that are a bit too blue, a fresh white button-up shirt, and the cowboy hat looks just a little too large for his narrow head. I can’t help but think it looks like he borrowed someone else’s clothes. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“Well, you know I do HVAC work. I grew up around here, went to the local community college to get my degree, and went to work for my cousin. That’s what I’ve been doing the last eight years. I’m afraid it’s nothing exciting or fun like the store you run. Steady work though; air conditioners are always breaking around here.”
“What do you do for fun? What kind of stuff do you like to do in your spare time?” I ask him. When the guys in the MC weren’t busy, they were always working on their bikes, drinking, and shooting guns. It was usually loud, but fun.
“When I’m not working, I mostly hang around the house, watch movies, play video games, you know. Normal guy stuff,” Parker says. “I just got this awesome virtual reality set-up in my basement. You should totally check it out.”
“I never really played many video games,” I reply. “Virtual or otherwise. I like the games I play to be up close and personal, with other people, like poker. It’s neat that you set up something like that in your basement, though. You have your own house?”