Dirty Bastard

by Jessica Clare

  Laura scribbles a note down on her order pad and studies Knox a moment longer before turning back to me. “I’ll give y’all a moment to look over the menu and I’ll be back with your drinks.”

  I sit back in the plastic diner chair and cross my arms, gazing at Knox. I’m silently praying for Laura to leave the room so we can talk in private, but she lingers nearby, adjusting ketchup bottles. Wasn’t she supposed to get our damn drinks? I drum my fingers on my arm, waiting.

  Knox glances over his shoulder at Laura, his mouth crooking with a hint of amusement. He clasps his hands on the table and leans forward, talking in a loud whisper that Laura’s sure to overhear. “So, like I told my brother, the best way to get rid of bedbugs is with incense.”

  “You don’t say.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at how quickly Laura jerks upright, her back to us.

  “Yes. He said it was bullshit, but I told him it worked for me.” As Laura turns away, he makes sure to scratch really hard at his chest, then takes his trucker cap off and shakes it out.

  I can practically feel her horror. God, I’m dying inside with laughter, but I manage to keep a poker face. “I have some incense you can borrow.”

  “That’d be great. Patchouli? They really hate patchouli.”

  “Oh yes. Patchouli’s the best.”

  He glances back toward Laura, but she’s disappeared behind the swinging door into the kitchen. “Nosy around here, aren’t they?” Knox murmurs to me.

  “You can say that again.” I nudge him with my flip-flop under the table, because I don’t know how to react to his presence. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, I tried calling but someone never answered. Phone calls or texts.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.” He says nothing else, just waits.

  I trace someone’s carved initials on the linoleum table. “So, right after you and I, ah, met”—I glance back at the kitchen, but Laura’s still hiding, no doubt telling everyone about my “filthy” lunch companion—“I lost my phone. They wouldn’t let me keep my number, so I had to get a new one.”

  “Nat mentioned something about that,” he says agreeably. “And I asked Nat to get me your number.”

  I nod slowly. “I know. I told her to give me your number instead. But then your brother passed and . . .” I shrug. “I’m sorry. I should have said more or done something, but I’m not good with that.”

  “It’s all right.” He looks at me with understanding, and I feel like a jerk because I imagine it’s been harder for him than it was for me.

  I hide how flustered I am. “So yeah . . . it’s just been an awkward time.”

  “Until . . .” He gives me a leading look.

  “Yeah.” Until I got pregnant. We leave it left unsaid, though.

  He studies my face, and then picks up one of the Luka Diner printed coasters, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. Before he can respond, Laura comes out with our coffees and my water. Neither of us speaks while she hovers, but I notice after a moment that she puts down a new coaster for Knox. The one that was in his hands a moment ago is gone.

  When Laura leaves again, I nod at him. “Souvenir?”

  It’s like I just gave him a compliment. A slow smile curves his mouth and he looks at me with so much heat in his eyes that I feel like my vagina just caught on fire. Holy fucking Christ, but this guy is amazingly hot. “You noticed that, did you?”

  “I notice what you do.” And then I feel a flush coming on because that sounds incredibly sexual and now I’m thinking about his beard as it scratched between my thighs and oh god, I really, really want to get out of here and ride his face for hours. For some reason, I am incredibly horny today. But I can’t do that. I just cross my legs and clamp my thighs tightly together.

  Knox just grins at me. “That’s one of the things I like about you. I . . .” He pauses and straightens, studying his menu, and I realize Laura’s swinging by again. Damn, it’s like she’s never had a fucking customer in her life the way she’s hovering. I hope Knox gives her the shittiest tip ever. I glance at the menu and then put it aside.

  “Y’all ready?” she asks, all chirpy attitude.

  “Pancakes,” I tell her.

  Knox make a big show of scratching. Chest, neck, then arm. “Chicken-fried steak good?” he asks, leaning toward Laura.

  She subtly leans away from him, frozen smile on her face. “Yep, it’s great. It’ll take about twenty to make it, though. That okay?”

  “Fine with me.”

  “You can bring out my pancakes with his,” I tell her, holding up my menu and giving her a go-away glare. She gets the hint, takes the menus, and hightails it back to the kitchen.

  Knox looks over at me again. “Think she’ll be gone for longer than a minute?”

  “Fingers crossed,” I say, and make the accompanying gesture.

  He studies me for a long moment. “You don’t look it, you know.”

  I’m not sure how to take that, exactly. On one hand, I’m grateful he’s not blurting out about how pregnant I am. On the other hand, does he think I’m going to grow a beach ball in my stomach overnight? Surely not. “Explain?”

  He shrugs and leans back in his chair, scratching at his heavenly beard. God, it’s so arousing to watch him move. “I dunno. I kinda thought something would look different, you know? Like it would tell me for sure, yeah, there it is. But everything looks the same.” His mouth quirks, just a little. “You’re just as sexy as ever.”

  “Well, yeah,” I say lamely. “But nothing visual happens for a while. Still in the early stages here.” I keep my voice low so Laura doesn’t overhear. “Only symptom I have is . . . well, it’s not a big one.”

  “And you’re sure?” His casual demeanor is gone, replaced by an odd sort of tension. He cups his mug with both hands, but I could swear he’s on the edge of his seat.

  “Went to my doctor this week. I’m sure. I have a due date and everything.”

  His hands clench tight on the coffee mug, and I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. He’s going to ask me to get rid of it, I realize. He’s not happy. He’s going to yell at me or bitch about me ruining his life or—

  “Marry me,” Knox says quietly.

  I look up from studying his hands, surprised. “Um, what?”

  “I don’t want our kid to be raised without two parents in his life. Let me marry you.”

  Get married? Again? I think of my first husband from when I was eighteen and stupid, and how miserable I was. No fucking thank you. “Pass.”

  His brows go down and a thunderous frown crosses his face. “Is this just a bid for child support, then?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? It’s okay, I can see how you’re getting there. Okay, let me make this clear. I don’t want child support. I don’t want anything from you. In fact, if it’ll make you feel better, we can sign some paperwork absolving you of any sort of parental responsibility. I don’t have to put your name on the birth certificate. Whatever it takes to extricate you from this. I didn’t send you flowers because I wanted you to come and open your wallet. I sent that because I felt like you should know.” I pick up my water and take a sip. “Now you know. Congratulations. You can go home now.”

  He stares at me. Really, really stares at me. He’s quiet for so long that I wonder if he’s ever going to speak again, but he finally does. “This isn’t a bid for child support.”

  “Nope. I’m happy to sign off on whatever you need to ensure that.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the money, Lexi. I don’t want our kid growing up being a bastard. I don’t want him to feel a moment of shame.” He glances around to make sure no one’s listening to our conversation and leans in. “Or her. Or whatever gender the baby comes out as or chooses. I don’t care what it is. I ju
st know it’s our kid and I want him to have everything. Including two parents.”

  “That’s sweet,” I tell him softly. It is. It really is. He’s trying, I’ll give him credit for that. “But while I appreciate the offer, I’m not ready to lock myself down to anyone or anything. A marriage between us might be what you feel is best for the baby, but I don’t think it’s the best for me. And you’re overlooking the fact that we can always hyphenate if you’re stuck on names.” I take a sip of water.

  His jaw clenches, mouth hardening. “Did I do something wrong? Was the sex bad?”

  I immediately choke on my water. Jesus. Talk about not preparing a girl. “Um, no, it was fine.”

  “Then why’d you ignore me? I kinda enjoyed our night together.” The look on his face is intense, all teasing gone. His hands are tight on that coffee mug again. “Wanted to get to know you better. But after you ignored my texts, I kinda felt like I’d done something to piss ya off and didn’t know what. Then I wondered if you had a boyfriend already. That the case?”

  I shake my head, toying with my own coffee mug. “No boyfriend. No problems with the sex. It’s just all me.” I glance up at him. “If I tell you that it’s not you, it’s me, would you believe me?”

  “Gotta admit it sounds fake.”

  “You’re not wrong.” I want to sniff my coffee, because I’m already craving caffeine, but I can’t. I won’t. I pick up my water and sip it instead, hating every tasteless mouthful. “I’m really not looking for a steady thing. I had that once. Didn’t like it.”

  “That was someone else,” he says confidently. “I’m different. I want to be there for you and my kid.”

  “Yeah, well, the more you push, the less I want it,” I snap back at him.

  Knox stiffens, the look on his face one of pure betrayal and hurt. “The baby?”

  “What? No, you and your money, ding-dong.” I put a hand to my stomach, already weirdly protective of the little parasite. “I knew right away I was keeping this.”

  He pushes back from the table, his expression downright thunderous, and storms out of the diner.

  Well, that went well. He might be upset at me, or at the fact I called him “ding-dong,” or my refusal of his help. I have to admit I’m not being the most helpful right now. I just feel . . . a little cornered. And when I’m cornered, I get difficult. Either way, I already know I’ll be calling him to apologize soon. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

  I’m honestly a little surprised at how violently he acted at the thought of me terminating the pregnancy. Don’t most guys want their side pieces to get rid of any unnecessary problems? He acted as if I’d slapped him. Maybe he does want to be a daddy.

  Just as quickly as he stormed out of the diner, Knox pushes his way back in, his mouth set in a determined line. Uh-oh.

  I sip my water, watching as he sits back down across from me at the table. He’s a little twitchy, but it looks like he’s doing his best to remain calm and cool. I wonder if this is the part where he threatens to take the baby from me even though it’s only a zygote at this point. I immediately tense inwardly. If he thinks he can do that, he’s got another thing coming to him.

  Knox puts his palms together, almost like he’s about to do yoga, and gives me a patient expression. “What would it take for you to go out with me?”

  Go out with him? He wants to woo me despite all this? I don’t understand. “Blackmail?”

  Instead of being insulted, he looks thoughtful. “That’d work?”

  I shrug. What else am I supposed to say? Yes, please blackmail me?

  “That’s not a no.” His eyes narrow. “How come you won’t go out with me? I thought we got along.”

  “We did.” And I can’t stop thinking about his beard. “But right now you’re too young and feeling too obligated at the moment.”

  “Too obligated?”

  “Yes. If you wanted to be with me, you’d have shown up earlier, before you knew there was a baby.”

  He blinks at me. “You mean I should have skipped my brother’s funeral to come and beg you to go out?”

  I flinch. Shit, I forgot about that. “Okay, that was crappy of me. Look, when I said it was me and not you, I meant it. You haven’t done anything wrong. Our timelines have not exactly meshed, I realize that. But listen, Knox. This is a kid that deserves two invested parents, not two assholes that can’t figure their own heads out.” When he continues to give me that watchful look, as if waiting for me to make an argument that he agrees with, I continue. “We aren’t even dating.”

  “That’s not my fault. I want to date you.”

  “No.”

  He doesn’t look intimidated by my surly expression. “I can show you a good time.”

  Fuck, now I’m thinking of his beard between my thighs again. I know he can show me a good time. That was never the problem. But I’m determined to hold him at arm’s length. “Prove it.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Knox crosses his arms over his chest and watches me. “Fancy dinner and a movie?”

  Ugh. “That sounds like hell to me.”

  That gets a chuckle out of him. “Kinda does to me, too. What do you want to do, then?”

  What do I want to do? My hormones want his mouth between my thighs again. My brain is screaming for me to run, run far away because me and relationships don’t work out. I’m conflicted. Part of me wants to launch myself into his lap and wrap my arms around him, but I see Laura peeking out of the kitchen, spying on us.

  And I think of Keith. Ugh. What do I want? I want to be left alone, I think. I put my water down and stand up, giving Knox my sweetest smile. “You think of something. You’re the one that wants to get in my pants. If I give you all of the answers, I make it too easy on you.”

  The look he gives me is downright predatory. “So you want this to be a challenge? Game on, baby girl.”

  I’m pretty sure he can’t call me “baby girl,” since I’m five years older than him. I’m also pretty sure my nipples perked up at hearing that, though. Dear god, I am in so much trouble.

  Chapter 9

  Lexi

  I am so rattled right now.

  I go back to my studio and turn on the music, slip off my shoes, and start to go into a few warm-up poses for yoga. There’s no one here but me, but I need to clear my mind. Unfortunately, no matter how many asanas I go through, my mind is full of garbage and worry.

  It feels like I’m eighteen years old again, being forced out of my house with no option other than to marry my boyfriend. I think of my rigid, religious parents, who had just caught us sleeping together. How shocked and appalled they were and how they went on and on about how I wasn’t the girl they raised, and how I couldn’t stay there for fear of corrupting my younger sister. My boyfriend, Jonas, was five years older and was about to be shipped out for active duty in the army. He had offered for us to get married, and since I didn’t even have a job at that point, it seemed like my only option. I married him, moved halfway across the country with him to Texas, and lived in base housing for a year. It was miserable for both of us. He wanted to control me way more than I wanted control after breaking free from my parents. By the end of the year, we were ready to kill each other if someone so much as put a dish in the sink wrong. It was awful, and I hated being so dependent on him.

  I filed for divorce within another month, and lived on a friend’s couch while I worked two fast-food jobs. It was during that I discovered two things: I’m really not a people person and I really loved yoga. The friend was super into fitness, and when she couldn’t cancel a yoga class she’d signed up for, she had me go instead of her so she wouldn’t lose her spot. I ended up loving the peace of mind it gave me, the challenge of stretching my muscles, and the way people groaned and bitched but the teacher pushed them to work harder anyhow. Within a few months, I got certified to teach, apprenticed at a trendy studio fo
r a while, and then a few years later, moved out to Luka just because with the ultra-cheap rent I could start my own studio.

  Of course, I’m not great at running a business. It involves being super schmoozy to people, and I’m not great at peopling. I scare off more clients than I keep. But I like being my own sort of person. I like not having to answer to a supervisor. I really like not having to answer to a husband or boyfriend who wants to know where I am and what did I spend my money on and did I make him dinner. Screw that. So while being single can sometimes be lonely, I wouldn’t trade it for another Jonas.

  Jonas was about the same age as Knox is right now when I married him. Jesus. They’re like night and day, of course. Jonas was a weed-smoking man-child even when I met him, and being in the army didn’t change that. He only cared about money when it cut into his pot habit, and since I liked things like groceries and a car, we usually clashed over money.

  Knox . . . doesn’t seem like that? So far. But I don’t know him that well. I sure don’t know him well enough to marry him. I already did the impulsive-marriage thing once. I’m not ready to do it again.

  I move to the floor and cross my legs into a lotus pose, putting my hands on my knees and closing my eyes to think. I wish I had someone to talk to. I want to call my best friend, Nat, but I feel bad for bugging her with my love troubles lately. She’s been so happy with Clay that I hate to bring her down.

  And okay, I’m a little wounded that she eloped last weekend to the JP and didn’t invite anyone. I get it. I do. She wanted to get married and she didn’t want a big wedding at all because then she’d have had to invite her father, and Clay and her dad don’t exactly get along. She told me none of the other Price brothers went, either—it was just her and Clay and the justice. It makes sense . . . but she couldn’t have squeezed in a best friend? Somehow?

  Plus, she still doesn’t know I slept with Knox. I’m not sure how to bring that up casually, so I haven’t brought it up at all. Besides, Natalie’s so love-struck right now she’d tell me to marry Knox and make babies with him (ha). I need a salty friend that will tell me to key his car and make him hate life. But that doesn’t seem quite right, either.