A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds

by Melissa Foster

  You hesitated that night, sweet thing. That’s why I left…I’ll never force myself on you.

  She looked at the picture again, feeling like a heel.

  Her worries about Justin didn’t even seem fathomable. She had never been a sucky friend to anyone. Why had she let her mother’s crazy life change that? Justin wasn’t Tony, and he wasn’t Drake. He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known, and she felt horrible that she hadn’t texted to see how his grandfather was doing. Lord knew he’d checked on her for far less important reasons. He was the only man who had always been there to help her and to protect her even when she didn’t want protecting. He’d held her when he’d found her sitting in her car crying in front of her house after work one night because a resident of LOCAL with whom she’d been friends had passed away. He’d even attended the funeral with her. He might be overly flirtatious and pushy, but he was the very definition of a good friend, and she wanted to be that for him, too.

  Her phone dinged with a notification from one of the dating apps she used.

  She huffed out a disgusted breath. Using dating apps had been an experiment, one that she had never been very comfortable with, but knew she might have always wondered about if she hadn’t tried it. It was time to put that part of her life away. She was not a serial dater.

  She set down the picture she was holding, picked up her phone, and proceeded to deactivate her accounts on the two dating apps she’d tried.

  She felt better.

  Sort of.

  She looked at the picture of Justin and the guys again. She’d thought Justin was jealous of Beckett that night, and maybe he was. Beckett was definitely worthy of jealousy. He fit all of the pros on her dating list. He was professional, clean cut, and safe. But he didn’t make her pulse race in that dangerous way Justin did. The way that made her feel like she might lose her mind—and her panties.

  Her belly fluttered at the thought of losing her panties with Justin.

  But her fluttery belly twisted uncomfortably, knowing she hadn’t been a good friend to the man who she finally realized put friendship above all else.

  She snagged her phone and texted Justin. Hey. She added a smiling emoji. How’s your grandfather? Her pulse quickened as she waited for him to respond.

  The phone vibrated as a message bubble appeared. He’s great. I’ve been with him all day.

  She sighed with relief and texted, I’m glad to hear it.

  His response was immediate. What are you doing?

  She thumbed out, Making a wedding album for Harper and Gavin. Don’t tell Gavin.

  When Justin didn’t reply right away, she set her phone down and tried to concentrate on the album, but her eyes kept drifting back to the phone.

  A few minutes later his response came through. Sorry, had to tell Gavin about the album. He’s stoked!

  She laughed and texted, Remind me not to tell you any more secrets.

  He replied, I’m going to learn them all.

  She typed, In your dreams. Her pulse raced, knowing his reply would be fast and dirty—and it was.

  They’re fantasies, and you star front and center in all of them. Send me the pics from the other night.

  God, she loved his brazenness as much as she feared it.

  Did that make her like her mother?

  The thought soured in her stomach.

  She texted, I’m not going to be one of your spank-bank girls.

  His reply was immediate. You’ve been my only spank-bank girl since the day we met. I’ve got pics of you burned into my mind in your sexy bikini, in those fancy outfits you wear, and in the skimpy shorts that make me want to bite your hot little ass.

  She swallowed hard against the tug of desire low in her belly.

  Rose’s voice trampled through her mind. Every woman should have a man who makes her tummy tingle as often as he makes her feel safe, valued, and loved.

  Another message appeared with a picture of Justin lying on his side in a black tank top, his muscular, tattooed arms on display. His head was propped up with his hand. His hair was sexily messy, and his eyes were at half-mast, clearly conveying, Come on, heartbreaker, you know you want me.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. How could he make her feel hot and bothered with only texts and a picture? And why did she want to play so badly when she worried it was the absolute wrong thing to do? Rose was a wise woman. Maybe she was right about not keeping such a black-and-white list of must-haves for the men she went out with. Chloe had come up with that list more than a decade ago, after the awful incident outside the Salty Hog her second year of college. She’d been dating only men who fit that list for so long, she was afraid to live any other way.

  Another message bubble appeared. Dream about me tonight, sexy girl, because I’ll be fantasizing about you.

  Good Lord. This was a terrible idea. There was no way she would be able to think of anything but him for the rest of the night.

  Well played, Wicked. Well played.

  Chapter Seven

  THE DAYS FLEW by, peppered with a mix of lustful anticipation and anxiety caused by a certain hot biker with a filthy mouth. Justin texted Chloe every night with something flirty and dirty, like Know what time it is? When she took the bait, he’d responded with Chloe o’clock. I’m sifting through my mental images. What are you in the mood for? An ass bite or something more sensual? Or he’d text something less blatant, like Busy? When she said she was working on the wedding album, or anything else, he’d texted, I can feel you thinking about me. Can you feel me touching you?

  The man knew exactly how to get to her. Not only couldn’t she stop replying to his messages, but she looked forward to them. She’d been wrong about texts and foreplay. It was a very effective method. Thank goodness he hadn’t texted her when she was meeting with the board earlier in the day. That would have been embarrassing. She’d have had to lock herself in her office with his picture and finish herself off. What was happening to her? She’d never been a sexter. She knew she needed to put a stop to the texts, or he’d probably think he could jump her bones the next time he saw her. But it was Thursday afternoon, and she was still at work. With the start of the new Junior/Senior Program, and the rest of Chloe’s administrative duties, she had no time for hot or bothered. Now was not the time to think about, much less try to disengage from, the dirty talker who was weaseling his way into her every thought.

  As she made her rounds that afternoon, talking with residents and checking on the men and women who were taking part in the Junior/Senior Program, her thoughts turned to her mother. Years from now, would she and Serena be making decisions about putting their mother into a facility like LOCAL? Chloe had been hurt and angry enough Sunday to answer that question with a complete and total shun of those responsibilities, but it had been several days, and she’d had time to calm down about the fiasco that had been their morning. The truth was, she knew herself better than that. When and if that time came, she couldn’t turn her back on her mother. Just because her mother sucked at parenting didn’t mean Chloe had to suck at daughtering.

  She stopped by the community room, where Owen Crenshaw, one of the teenagers taking part in the program, was reading to Samuel Warren. Samuel had first arrived at LOCAL five years ago with his wife, Alma. Samuel had suffered an accident as a child that had left him with limited vision. His wife used to read to him, but she’d passed away earlier in the year. Chloe had made a point of reading to him over her lunch breaks as often as she could fit it in.

  When she’d first come up with the idea for the Junior/Senior Program, she’d imagined being one of the teenagers given the gift of an elderly friend who could share some of the wisdom that came with age. That was one of the things she enjoyed most about working with the elderly. She had hoped the program would be well received by both the teenagers and the residents, and she was overjoyed to have heard only positive feedback so far. And based on the smiles on Owen’s and Samuel’s faces, it looked to still be holding true.


  On her way back to her office, she made a mental note to stop in and visit Samuel when he was alone, just to make sure her observation was correct.

  “Chloe?”

  She turned at the sound of Darren Rogers’s voice and found the distinguished CEO heading her way. She had a lot of respect for Darren. He was a fair and tactful man who evaluated all sides of situations before making decisions and took the time to get to know residents and staff. “Hi, Darren.”

  “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said kindly. “I wanted to pass along how impressed the board and I were with your ideas this morning.”

  “Thank you.” She had told them about the puppetry program she was looking into. “I’ve reached out to a local puppeteer to get more information. If all goes well, I’ll prepare a formal proposal for Alan.”

  “Excellent. Your continued commitment to this facility and our residents has not gone unnoticed.”

  With a friendly nod, he went in the direction of the executive offices. Chloe headed to her office with a little extra pep in her step.

  Shelby waved her down as she passed the reception desk. She put a call on hold and said, “It’s Madigan Wicked. Do you have time to talk to her?”

  “Absolutely, thanks.” Chloe hurried into her office and picked up the phone as she walked around the desk. “Mads, hi. I’m sorry for all of the telephone tag we’ve been playing.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Madigan insisted. “I’ve been running all over the place. I’ve got a conference call in about five minutes, and I’ve got to prepare for a show I’m doing tonight, but I wanted to try to catch you. I was thinking, since our days are so busy, would you mind trying to get together in the evening?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Great. I know this is short notice, but I’m meeting my friend Marly at the Salty Hog later tonight. Do you want to meet me upstairs in the bar after my show? Around eight thirty? Marly isn’t coming until around ten, so we should have plenty of time to talk.”

  Chloe’s nerves prickled. The idea of sitting in that particular biker bar after what had happened that awful night all those years ago made her skin crawl. She knew the Salty Hog was owned by Justin and Madigan’s aunt and uncle, and if Madigan was comfortable there, then Chloe should be, too. But it didn’t take away those memories. She couldn’t tell Madigan she’d rather not go to her relatives’ bar, so she agreed to meet her there and hoped for the best.

  After ending the call, Chloe pulled up her notes and program ideas and tried to lose herself in those rather than the anxiety prickling up her spine.

  LATER THAT EVENING, Chloe changed into skinny jeans and a sleeveless blouse and put on her favorite dragonfly anklet to give herself a little extra courage. Dragonflies symbolized transformations and new beginnings. With a little luck, she and Madigan would have a great meeting and maybe even lessen her bad feelings about the Salty Hog.

  She headed out the door with high hopes.

  It was a clear night, and as she climbed from her car, she was greeted by music from the bar and the scents of the harbor. All the makings for a nice evening were there, if only the bad memories trying to bully their way in would abate. Chloe decided to avoid the busy restaurant and climbed the steps to the outdoor entrance to the bar, feeling more nervous by the second. She reminded herself that what had happened when she was in college was not going to happen tonight, and used all the tricks she’d relied on over the years to give herself courage to push past the bad memories: lifting her chin, breathing deeply, and most importantly, believing in herself.

  She stepped into the crowded bar and scanned the room for Madigan. The rustic bar had a rougher vibe than Chloe’s usual hangout, with marred wood walls and scuffed floors. The clientele seemed edgier, too, but that might have to do with the dozen or so men, both bearded and clean cut, wearing leather vests with Dark Knights’ patches and giving off a tough vibe. There were plenty of other men who weren’t bikers and were dressed in button-downs and slacks, shorts, and jeans, and dozens of women decked out in cute summer outfits. Conversation and laughter filled the air, but still a sense of heightened awareness engulfed Chloe.

  “Chloe!” Madigan waved from a high-top table. Her mahogany hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders as she stepped off the chair, looking young and beautiful in a short, flowy aqua-and-white sundress. “I’m so happy you made it.” She hugged Chloe enthusiastically.

  “Thanks for making time to meet.” Chloe climbed onto a chair. “I love your dress.”

  Madigan took her seat across from Chloe and said, “I got this when I was in Spain last spring. I bought it in three colors because I loved it so much.”

  “You really are a world traveler. The puppeteering business must be booming.”

  “I have no idea what is going on, but all of a sudden I’m getting all sorts of offers, and not just for puppeteering. I also play guitar and do storytelling gigs, and I write the Mad Truth greeting cards.” The Mad Truth About Love line of greeting cards made light of the harder aspects of relationships.

  “I had no idea you played guitar or created those cards. I love them. How do you come up with so many new ideas?”

  “Having your heart crushed to smithereens makes it easy to poke fun at love. Needless to say, I’m firmly rooted in the true-love-doesn’t-exist-for-Madigan-Wicked camp.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Madigan leaned forward and said, “Let’s keep the whole heartbreak thing between us. That’s a long, painful story that my brothers know nothing about. And trust me, I don’t need the men in my life getting up in arms.”

  “Don’t worry. I would never say anything.” Chloe wondered what up in arms really meant. “It must be hard having such overprotective brothers.”

  “Brothers, father, uncles, cousins.” Madigan shrugged and said, “When you’re the daughter of the Dark Knights’ president, you’re considered the club princess. Everyone watches out for me.”

  “Is that why you travel so much? To get away from their eagle eyes?”

  Madigan shrugged. “Not really. They might be overprotective, but I miss them like crazy when I’m away. I just love to travel and meet new people. That’s why I’m not sure what I’ll do about the offers I’ve been getting. There are some cool storytelling gigs, and of course puppeteering, but I’m also being wooed to expand my Mad Truth line into other areas. The trouble is, most of the offers require pretty heavy travel. My grandfather fell recently and landed in the hospital. He’s okay, but it made me realize that I may not have much more time with him. I think I’m going to be sticking around here for a while.”

  “Justin told me about your grandfather. I’m glad he’s all right, and I’m sure your family is happy that you’ll be sticking around.”

  “They are. I’ve been looking forward to talking with you all afternoon. I can’t wait to hear what you have in mind.”

  “I’m on a fact-seeking mission,” Chloe said. “As the director of LOCAL, I’m always on the lookout for new programs for the elderly. I’d like your insight on using puppets to help patients with dementia. Have you ever heard of that, or worked with the elderly?”

  “Yes. Puppetry has been used with the elderly for quite some time. Other countries seem to have a better, or more widely recognized, grasp of how beneficial puppetry can be for a host of issues, not just with the elderly. I studied overseas, and I’ve worked with the elderly in a couple of different countries, but oddly enough, not here in the US.” Madigan looked up as a tall strawberry-blonde with tortoiseshell glasses and a warm smile approached the table. “Hi, Aunt Ginger.”

  “Hi, Mads. I thought I’d see if your friend wanted a drink and if you gals were hungry.” Ginger placed her hand on her jeans-clad hip. Her maroon top revealed small tattoos on her upper arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

  “This is my friend Chloe Mallery. She’s the director at LOCAL. Chloe, this is my aunt Ginger,” Madigan said. “She and my uncle Conroy own this place.”r />
  “It’s nice to meet you,” Chloe said.

  “So you’re the infamous Uptown Girl.” Amusement danced in Ginger’s eyes, and she said, “I wondered when I might finally meet you.”

  “Uptown Girl?” Chloe had no idea what she was talking about.

  Ginger touched Chloe’s shoulder and said, “Oh, honey, it’s meant as a compliment. But I just got myself in trouble and let the cat out of the bag, didn’t I?” She winced and looked at Madigan.

  Madigan’s eyes widened. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m as confused as Chloe is.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Ginger’s face turned serious. “My nephew Maverick—Justin—has had one heck of a crush on you for a very long time, and his brothers and cousins tease him about you being out of his league. You know how guys joke around.”

  Chloe had been so swept up in her conversation with Madigan, she hadn’t even realized her nervousness had dissipated until now, as her nerves prickled to life and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “It sounds like they think I’m too stuck-up for him.”

  “What? No. No way,” Madigan exclaimed.

  Ginger shook her head. “No, honey. I assure you, stuck-up has never been mentioned. Sexy, beautiful, smart, yes, but never stuck-up. The guys think you’re hot stuff.”