by Monica Rush
I trudge back to Paddy’s house, my mind racing a mile a minute. I can’t let Mr. Greaves kick me out—I can’t! And I can’t let him hurt the dogs. I’m going to have to take them back to the shelter, or better yet, find them homes. There has to be some way out of this, I simply need to think.
“Dogs okay?” Dean asks right as I enter through the kitchen door, and I jerk in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to be out here so quickly, and looking so…
Well, so amazing.
All my tension rolls off me at the sight of Dean’s gorgeous body leaning up against the counter, another place in this house I will always remember fondly. He’s pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, but his feet are still bare. He looks absolutely perfect standing there, the hint of a beard furring his jaw, his wild, rakish hair askew, his dark, flashing eyes watching me over his coffee cup. He really is the mighty god of my dreams, and for just a moment, I wish he could call down a thunderbolt from the sky and drop it straight on top of Mr. Greaves’ car.
“The dogs are fine,” I say brightly, as I realize he’s waiting for an answer. “Do you think it’d be okay if I kept them over here today? Paddy’s fence is so much stronger, and there’s so many of them…”
He shrugs. “I don’t think that’s a problem. I figured I’d take a ride up to Sumterville and get some supplies anyway. My panniers can carry quite a lot and it’s a pretty decent day.”
“A ride?” I blink at him with wide eyes, and I can’t wipe the hopeful expression off my face quickly enough, because Dean starts to laugh.
“You’ve never ridden on a motorcycle, have you, cupcake?”
“Totally not a cupcake,” I shoot back. “And there are a lot of things I hadn’t ridden before last night.”
The comment is so quick, so bold, that Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and I can feel the sudden blush scoring my cheeks. But there’s no denying his grin as he eyes me more closely.
“You definitely got a crash course in wrapping your legs around a brand new engine, I’ll give you that,” he says, setting down his coffee cup and rubbing his chin. “But riding my bike—that’s gonna take things to a whole new level. And you definitely can’t ride in those itty bitty shorts.”
“I’ve got jeans and can be dressed in, like, five minutes.”
“Oh…I don’t think we’re in that much of a hurry.” Dean’s grin deepens as he pats the kitchen counter. “In fact, there’s no way I’m going to want to take off with my dick this hard, I can tell you that straight out.”
“Your…” My gaze drops to his jeans, and I can feel my own body heat in response to Dean’s thick and heavy shaft straining against the denim, clearly ready for me. Wanting me. I move almost without thinking across the kitchen, not stopping until I’m close enough to Dean to wrap my arms around his tightly muscled waist. With the promise of two totally different kinds of rides in my future, I grin up at him, feeling better than I ever thought possible.
“I think there’s maybe something I can do to help you with that,” I say.
Chapter Eight
Dean
These past three days have been the best days of my life, and that includes the long weekend when Paddy, Bruce, and I rode our bikes down to the Keys. Bruce then rode his bike into the water thinking he had the power to make it float.
Sadly, the only power he had was consuming an entire fifth of tequila and not passing out. His bike had to be towed back to our hotel and he spent the rest of the weekend draining water out of every place water shouldn’t be before we could ride home.
I sigh as I think about the old days with the three of us. We used to do a lot together, so much more than we do now, but then life happened. About a year after I started working for Paddy’s company, business completely exploded. An intense hurricane season resulted in a shortage of construction crews to fix all the damage, and we were right there in the thick of it. O’Malley Construction built a strong, solid reputation that still holds true today.
I think back further to when Paddy gave me a job when I was at my lowest. I literally had nothing. The gas money had run out, as did any spare change for food. Hell, I hadn’t even showered in days. Paddy caught me sleeping on my bike behind a diner and brought me inside, fed me, offered me a change of clothes, and put me to work.
I glance around the kitchen and chuckle in disbelief. I never figured his generosity would go to this extent. And me, suddenly finding myself with the home, the wife…and maybe one day, the kids? I never thought about that—until now. Now it’s all I can think about. I want Bobbi for more than the here and now. I know that even as she wants to trust me—does trust me, despite herself—deep down she thinks I’m going to let her down. It fucking kills me she has so little faith in me, but I can’t be mad at her for it. For one thing, I haven’t come clean with her yet about Paddy’s deal. For another, people leaving her behind is all she knows. Her dad died when she was just a kid. Then Paddy took her in but was never really there for her. He had no idea how to raise a young teenager. Hell, who does?
My mind rabbits back to the idea of Bobbi as a mother. Now there’s a wish I can’t wait to make a reality. She’d make a great mom, one who wouldn’t let her boys step one foot out of line. I was an asshole as a teenager and could have used a parent who gave a shit about me. Didn’t happen, but that’s not how I’ll raise my kids. I know in my bones that Bobbi’s going to be a great mom, too, based on how selfless and caring she is. It may not be the open road, but a life with Bobbi is looking sweeter all the time.
I just need to tell her the truth, and I will. Soon.
I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room, find my boots, and lace them up. Bobbi is at work and I already miss her. We just saw each other this morning, for Christ’s sake. I kissed her forehead as she stirred in my arms. When she lifted her chin, I couldn’t help but brush my lips across hers. The kiss grew into an impromptu make out session, that turned into me rolling her on top, her straddling my hips and sinking down on my hard cock. She rode me as I kept the pace, my hands on her hips, until we both came at the same time. God, that was fucking amazing.
And now, there’s a churning in my gut, an ache I get whenever we’re apart for more than a couple hours, which makes no sense at all. Before this week, I’ve gone months without seeing her and it’s never bothered me. Now? Now I’ve brought us together in every sense of the word. We’re one, her body an extension of mine. I’ve claimed her and, in return, she’s claimed me right back. I wonder if she even knows how hard I’ve fallen for her. Knowing Bobbi, she wouldn’t believe it.
A knock at the door catches me off guard. No one knows I’m here, so it has to be someone to see Paddy. Until I get all the paperwork for the property transfer finalized with the bank, I’ll have to keep with the lie, that he’s off on a trip he had to take without warning—which isn’t wrong. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back. I’m house sitting until he does. No, I also don’t mind the feisty spitfire who pops in here and there. She’s perfectly harmless—she just has a propensity for digging her nails into my back whenever I’m driving my flesh into her. And we do that. A lot. Oh, and if you so much as look at her in any way I don’t like, I’ll kill you. You’ve been warned.
I open the door and take a breath to launch into my rehearsed speech when the sight forces my lungs to deflate. “Bruce?” He looks like shit. Windblown hair gritty from road dust, scruff beard with even more road dust coating the coarse hairs. His eyes are sunken in like he’s been riding all night.
“Deano!” He walks inside and hugs me hard, slapping my back. From the smell, he’s already tapped into the tequila and it’s barely nine o’clock. “Figured when you didn’t answer your cell, it meant you were still here at the old man’s place.”
That’s because I have no idea where my cell even is and since I gave my crew some much-needed time off, I didn’t have any reason to find it. I force a smile, already knowing this isn’t a social call. Paddy broke the news to Bruce yesterday that I’m
taking over the business here in Florida. Did Paddy also tell Bruce everything else that went with the deal? I think of Bobbi and am immediately ready to protect what’s mine—no matter what it takes. “What brings you down here? Aren’t you finishing a job up north?”
“Got done early.” He walks inside and looks around, checking out the living room.
That’s not what Paddy told me. According to him, Bruce’s crew was over budget and running behind. Another reason why I know this isn’t a social call. He keeps eyeing Paddy’s antique clocks, his giant screen TV, the assortment of antique furniture lining the walls. “Something I can help you find?”
“Nope,” he says and pulls a flask hidden somewhere in his leather jacket and takes a long drink from it before offering it to me. I shake my head and glance at one of the way too many wall clocks Paddy left for me. I originally wanted to remove them all, but Bobbi said something this morning about how the ticking reminded her of beating hearts. Now I can’t get rid of them without upsetting her, and that’s not going to happen.
“Looks like he stuck you with a bunch of junk when he gave you the business,” Bruce declares. “I can take it off your hands. We both know you don’t want to be anchored down by this place. Or the burden of a business, for that matter.”
“You think so?”
Bruce doesn’t hear the warning in my voice—or simply doesn’t give one flying fuck what I think—and grins wide. “I knew the old man made the wrong choice with you.”
And now I don’t give one flying fuck what he thinks, either. I hate that he calls Paddy old man. He’s been good to us, paying us well even when the jobs didn’t. “No, he really didn’t.”
Bruce takes another long pull off the flask. That would explain the smell and the fact he’s already drunk before noon. I don’t say anything or even eye the flask. He’s clearly going through some shit. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t show up unannounced and drunk off my ass, but that’s just me. Bruce walks to the beat of a different drum, as Paddy said when he explained why the business went to me and not Bruce. As if he needed to justify the decision, especially to me.
I walk into the kitchen and pour him a cup of coffee, returning with the mug and handing it to him. “Thanks for coming all this way, Bruce. I appreciate your offer to take some of this off my hands, I really do. But I’m good.”
“Figured you’d say that.” He accepts the coffee and dumps the rest of the tequila into the cup before taking a drink. “Thanks, man. Riding in the rain is brutal.”
“And dangerous,” I add and take a seat in one of the chairs after he does the same. Something is different. Off. Bruce keeps checking the room, focusing way too much on Paddy’s stuff. It hasn’t completely sunk in that this is my stuff now—but I don’t like the way Bruce is taking inventory.
“Looks like you’re pretty well taken care of,” he remarks and my guard edges higher. “What all did he leave you?”
“Only what you see,” I lie and think of Bobbi. “Why? Was there something specific you wanted?”
Something shifts in his eyes. “I’ll let you know.”
“You do that.” I stand and check the time—easy to do in this place. “I have to take care of some things.” Hint: get the fuck out of my house.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Bruce moves to the door. I don’t want him driving in his condition, but I also don’t want him sticking around.
“Can I maybe drop you somewhere?”
“Now that I think about it, if I can just grab a shower and maybe a bite to eat, I’ll be on my way.”
“I can wait a couple hours.” I hesitate, trying to work out a way to take care of the final paperwork with the lawyers without leaving Bruce here alone. I have an appointment and hate to be late to anything, but I don’t trust Bruce. I sure as hell can’t take him with me, though. That’d be like pouring salt in the wound.
“Come on, Deano. I’m not going to do anything to piss off the new boss.” He leans back, making himself comfortable. Another alarm screams in my head and I know better than to ignore it. “Do you mind if I have more coffee? I need to sober up before hitting the road.”
“Make yourself at home.” Deep down, I already know this is a bad idea. I don’t like the way he’s now eyeing me, like I’m in his way somehow. In my own fucking house. “Hey, Bruce?” I stop, my hand on the doorknob, and wait until he looks at me. He does but takes his time doing it. “Keep the place in one piece, would you?”
The flash of his grin doesn’t make me feel any better. I step away from the door, drawing a frown from him. He’s already got his phone out, his thumbs resting on the screen. Just who the hell is he texting? What the hell is he texting?
“Aren’t you leaving?” he asks.
“Look,” I start, walking to him, hating that I have to say anything, but the dread churning in my gut is too strong to ignore. “Don’t do anything crazy, okay?”
“Define crazy.”
“Bruce, come on, man.”
He brings up his hands. “I’m only yanking your chain, Deano. Calm down. You know how I like to fuck with you.”
I want to believe him, but I know better. There’s a reason Paddy gave me the business and not him, and it has everything to do with the fact he tends to get a little out of control, especially when tequila is involved. If the text he sent is inviting his rowdy friends over, I will seriously lose my shit. Those days of partying all night, sleeping all day, are behind me. I have Bobbi now and want to provide for her. I want to make sure she has a house with heat, a safe place for the ridiculous number of dogs she always seems to have surrounding her, and a warm bed to share.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I knew I was falling for Bobbi, but when exactly did I turn into this totally domesticated version of myself? When did I start to put the needs of my woman above my own? Above the needs of anyone else?
I know when and I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to figure it out. It’s when Bobbi started looking at me as more than one of Paddy’s foremen. When she snuck glances at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, then blushed when I’d catch her. She’s why I never stayed in one place and always found my way back here. Always. I realize that now and literally stumble back from the shock of the epiphany.
She’s the horizon I was always searching for, off on the open road. She’s been it all along.
I’m in love with her. I’m in love with Bobbi Tipton. What’s even better—I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me, too.
Oh, hell yeah. I grin at Bruce and slap him on the shoulder, holding my hand in place and squeezing. Hard. He glances at my hand. “I know you won’t. We’re family. You don’t fuck with family.”
“Nope,” he finally answers after pulling his attention back to me. “You definitely don’t.”
Chapter Nine
Bobbi
“I’m coming, guys!”
I throw my beat-up car in park and cut the engine, leaping out of the vehicle almost before it splutters to a stop. The storm overhead is threatening to break any minute, and I pray it holds off for a little while longer. I told everyone at work I was only going to be gone long enough to get coffee, but in truth, I had to come back home and check on the dogs. Over the past couple days Dean and I have been migrating them back to my cottage, since he can’t watch them and do—whatever he does—during the day. And I simply don’t have enough crates to leave them all in Paddy’s house unattended. I don’t mind cleaning up after all the fur babies in the world in my rental—I’m a master of cleaning up after dogs—but I don’t want to mess up Paddy’s beautiful home.
I hear the cacophony of barks as I walk up to the house, and I grin. “I’m coming! Hang in there!” I open the screen door mindlessly as I reach for my keys, but when I try my key in the lock, it won’t work. I try it again, my heart starting to pound, and that’s when I see the handwritten note taped below the door knob.
“EVICTION NOTICE. Effective IMMEDIATELY. Reason: DOGS!” The word dogs is underli
ned several times, and my gaze jerks up as I hear more barks and now whining on the other side of the door. What? That bastard Mr. Greaves left all my dogs trapped in the house—and changed the locks? Is he insane?
Shoving the keys in my pocket, I race around to the back of the cottage, where the stoop is leaning far more precariously than it did before the last heavy storm. The back door is locked tight too, above another snarling taped-up note informing me that I’ve been evicted. The dogs are beginning to howl inside the house now, and I don’t even hesitate. I pull off my jacket and wrap it around my hand, then punch through the pane of glass nearest the door knob.
“Oops, nasty storms we’ve got blowing through these days,” I mutter and quickly unlock the door. I let the dogs out, doing a rapid head count—and freeze. “Where’s Ranger?” I demand of the dogs bouncing around me. “And where’s Lady K?”
Praying the animals’ play will keep them occupied enough not to jump out of Mr. Greaves’ falling down fence, I spend a precious three minutes racing through the cottage, calling for the dogs. There’s no response. When I finally emerge a few minutes later, my gaze snaps immediately to Paddy’s house. It looks locked up tight, but maybe Dean found the dogs and brought them inside, not realizing what was going on next door.
“C’mon guys!” I shout, and with Mr. Doolittle’s help, I herd everyone across the grass to Paddy’s back yard, flipping open his gate. As I let them inside, I pull out my phone and dial into work. I close my eyes in dismay as my boss picks up.
“Oh, Hi, Ann. Look, I’m going to have to take the rest of the day off, I—”
“Trouble at the coffee shop?” Ann asks evenly, in her coldest, frostiest voice. It’s not that I don’t deserve this. I did lie, outrageously. I think for a split second about coming up with a wild excuse, but there’s no denying the sound of barking dogs around me.