Dirty Bastard

by Jessica Clare

  It’s really going to break me when things go south this time. They always do.

  I bury my nose against his neck, my face hidden by his beard. He slides a hand up and down my back, not saying much. Eventually, he says, “Is it the ex? Do I need to rearrange his face?”

  “So violent,” I murmur. “Stop, you’re turning me on.”

  “I don’t like the way he treated you.” I can feel him shrug. “Makes me a little punchy.”

  “If you’re going to punch out everyone in my past that treated me badly, you might want to brace yourself for the long haul, because that’s going to be a lot of punching.”

  “I’m ready for it.”

  So stubborn. It’s like he’s unwilling to admit I might be the problem. He’s not willing to accept that my poor life choices might be the cause of my problems. That’s . . . really kind of sweet. It makes me ache inside with how good he is. I don’t deserve his confidence in me. “I’m just stressed.”

  Knox rubs my back, and I hate how good it feels. “Why are you stressed, sweetheart?”

  “Oh, you know, a little thing like giving up on my business and moving somewhere that I’m basically depending on the goodness of friends, having no income, and being knocked up. Those little things are known to be stressors in a girl’s life.”

  “You hate the loss of control,” he guesses. “I don’t blame you. So what are you going to do to fix it?”

  Strangely enough, just hearing him ask that makes me feel better. He’s not offering to fix it for me. He’s just wanting to listen while I vomit out my feelings. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. “Well, I can’t fix being pregnant, but I can fix having no income and giving up on my business, I guess.”

  “All right. How?”

  “Another studio?” Of course, the moment I say it, I grimace. “Except that didn’t work so well for me last time. I’m not a big people person, and the rent for a studio will just drain whatever income I make. I’d need an exceptional location to launch well, and exceptional locations aren’t cheap.”

  “You’d need an investor,” he guesses. “You want one?”

  “Not sure I do,” I admit. “Because when things inevitably fail, I’m going to be on the hook to them and feel even more guilty. Let’s not even discuss all the credit cards I have maxed out and lingering over my head from trying to keep my last studio afloat. I could apply to some local studios, I guess.”

  “Would they hire you?”

  “Depends on how perky I pretend to be.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Exactly. No one wants a dark yoga teacher who’d rather quote Lovecraft and Poe than Maharishi.” His neck smells so good and the skin underneath looks so tempting I can’t help but flick my tongue against it, tasting him. “And they probably won’t let me be cruel to them by making them do really hard poses.”

  Knox chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Exactly. They’ll stick me with all the newbies and I’ll be doing basic asanas all day long instead of the really tricky things that make people hurt in all the right ways.”

  “Maybe you need to do truth in advertising,” he tells me, his hand caressing my butt cheek. “Cruel Yoga. You can have a business only for the truly masochistic.”

  I freeze.

  Oh my god. That’s perfect. “Cruel Yoga,” I whisper. “God, I love it.” I can even see the advertising now. Something dark, with skulls. Ultra-challenging workout plans designed for the hard-core who need to push themselves and want that delicious, tormenting burn. Maybe not a studio, then. Maybe one-on-one sessions. Or better yet, online classes. Instruction videos. I clench my hands in his shirt because my brain’s firing with a million different concepts on how I could go about it. Rock music instead of Enya. No beginner shit. Black clothing.

  I can still be my own boss. I can still do yoga the way I want to. I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been trying to make myself fit the brand when I should have made the brand for me. It’s perfect. “I . . . might have some ideas for Cruel Yoga. But I’d need some advisors on how to do websites and marketing. I’m not sure I have the money for that.”

  “I might know an investor who’s willing to take a chance on that sort of thing.”

  I rub my nose against his neck. “You do, huh?”

  “Yeah, an oil guy. Heard he’s into bendy women.”

  I snort and then move up to nip at his ear. “He’s just horny and likes to be punished.”

  “Also true.” He squeezes my flank. “I know you don’t like to be dependent on me, though. We can write things up as a typical investment scenario and you can set up guidelines for paying me back. If you’re able to do that, I won’t keep a share in things. It’ll be all you.”

  And with that, he’s taken care of all of my worries. It’ll be more like a start-up loan. I’m not crazy about the idea of borrowing from him, but I don’t want to borrow from Natalie, either, and I know a bank would laugh in my face. I’m kind of energized about the idea of Cruel Yoga, though. I can do local classes, too. If hot yoga’s a thing, ultra-challenging yoga can be, too. And San Antonio’s not so far away. Neither is Austin. Both of them would be bigger markets for the occasional class than Luka was. I can do an online video channel. With the right marketing, there’s tons of possibility.

  I’m . . . actually excited. I press a kiss to Knox’s cheek and then nip his ear again, just because I can’t help it. He smells good and it’s making me all turned-on. “How is everything so easy with you?”

  “Because all I want is your happiness? All I want to do is take care of you?” His mouth quirks. “Gage says I’m going about you and me all wrong, by the way.”

  “Oh? What’d he say?” For a moment, I kind of want to punch Gage. I’m the only one that should have doubts about us, not Knox’s flirty brother.

  “He says I’m not makin’ you chase me enough. That I need to make you thirsty.”

  “Mmm. Well, that’s where he’s all wrong,” I say, and lean in to lick Knox’s earlobe again. “I’m already thirsty.”

  I love his delicious little groan, and he puts his arms around me and carries me to my bed—a mattress on the floor. Painting can wait.

  Chapter 15

  Knox

  Havin’ Lexi nearby is both amazin’ and torturous. Amazin’ because it means I get to see her pretty face on the regular, and she can sleep over at my trailer every weekend. Amazin’ because I get to spend as much time as possible with her between Price Brothers Oil meetings and my own appointments.

  Torture because she still don’t wanna say anything about me and her to the rest of the family. I’m going along with it for now . . . but I ain’t a fan. I don’t see why we can’t tell everyone we’re together. Gage knows, of course. And Boone knows something’s up. But Clay—and Natalie—have no clue. It sits weird with me considerin’ that Lexi’s living in Natalie’s guesthouse, but she’s very firm in that she wants to keep us and the baby a secret for now.

  I’ve gone along with it for now, but as weeks pass into a month, I start wonderin’ when we’re going to do the reveal. When she’s showin’ and her baby belly is enormous? Or when the baby pops out? Or never?

  Startin’ to wonder if it’s gonna be never.

  Other than the fact that us bein’ together is a big secret, Lexi is amazing. I love her cleverness and her wicked sense of humor. I love that she’s always makin’ me think, and she’s a fan of the unusual. She makes me have to work hard to impress her, and I love the challenge. Our dates are always out of the ordinary, and I go out of my way to keep her on her toes. Some girls like to go out to dinner or to the zoo.

  I took Lexi on a speed-dating session, and we both pretended to be strangers with bizarre personas. I was the owner of an alpaca farm who had recently discovered cologne. Lexi pretended to be an ex-nun who had recently “divorced Jesus” and was lookin
g for a new husband. Pretty sure we scared everyone there, especially when she reached over the table and started makin’ out with me like our lives depended on it.

  That was pretty great. I think we made it to a nearby hotel before we tore each other’s clothing off and fucked each other senseless.

  After that, it became a challenge to one-up myself. There was the picnic in front of the local prison. Even had a baker make her a cake with a file in it, just to hear my girl laugh. The time we went ice-skatin’ at the local mall and wore matching outfits just to make people stare. And there was the time we put a strap-on on a statue at the local courthouse overnight, and stayed until dawn waiting to see how long it’d take people to notice. Some of it’s stupid, harmless prank shit. Some of it’s stuff we do to each other. Like when I shaved my chest to see if she’d notice (she noticed) and she retaliated by shaving her pussy clean (sexy as fuck). Mostly we just love surprisin’ the other.

  Nothin’ gets my Lexi hotter than a good surprise. Most of the time, our antics make Lexi laugh, but every so often, she gets all pensive.

  “Why are you putting so much work into romancing me?” she asks, and she seems genuinely puzzled. Like she doesn’t understand why I’d put effort into being with her.

  It makes me want to knock the hell out of any guy she’s ever had in her past for makin’ her think that she’s not worth every bit of attention I give her. That they’ve somehow convinced her that she’s not worthy of love. But then I’m glad that they fucked up, because that means I get her.

  And I plan on keepin’ her.

  I’ll tell her that, too, once she relaxes a little about us. She’s still skittish, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. I tell myself that a lot of it’s the baby. That she doesn’t want to be a burden on me.

  So every time she asks that, I tell her, “Can’t I just like you for you?”

  But my answer doesn’t satisfy her. It’s like she’s waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. For something to go wrong so she can point to it and say, See, that’s why we can’t be happy. Almost feels like she’s waitin’ for an excuse to ruin things before I can hurt her, which only makes me more determined to never do so. Of course, it’s kinda hard to keep my promise to keep things low-key and casual when Natalie catches me and Lexi in bed the next day. Lexi plays it off casually to her friend, as if she’s surprised that Natalie didn’t know we were hooking up.

  She doesn’t say anything about the baby to her friend, though, and that makes me uneasy. If anything, Lexi gives Nat the impression that we’re fuckbuddies and it’s no big deal. I let it sit that day. I don’t confront Lexi about it. But it eats at me slowly overnight, especially when I text Lexi and suggest she stay over at my place, and she tells me she’s gonna go out to dinner with Natalie and chat. I don’t mind that, because I’m glad that she’s got Natalie to support her like I have my brothers.

  But I ain’t so keen on the smirk on Clay’s face when he comes in for our weekly Price Brothers Oil meeting. “Someone’s been busy,” he tells me as he sits down in the boardroom across from me.

  I just arch an eyebrow, though inside I’m dyin’ to know what Natalie said to him. Does he know about the baby? Or does he think that we’re just bangin’ for shits and giggles? For some reason, that really bothers me. Ain’t sure who I’m mad at, either—Lexi for being secretive, or Clay, because he’s married to his girl and I’m not married to mine.

  His baby ain’t gonna be a bastard. Just the thought makes me grit my teeth. I think of all the times I was called that as a kid, how many times I swore I’d never let that happen to any kid of mine . . . and here I am, repeatin’ history.

  Maybe I should press Lexi harder, let her know how important it is to me that our baby has married parents. She’s stubborn, but she’s also reasonable. I need to make her realize how much this means to me.

  How much she means to me. Because I can tell myself it’s just about the baby all day long, but I know in my heart it’s about Lexi, too. I need to know how she feels about me. I need to know that she wants me as much as I crave her. It’s hard to push her when I know how much she fears it, though. But maybe I ain’t pushin’ hard enough.

  “No answer?” Clay asks, still jokin’ around. “Ain’t much like you.”

  “What do you want me to say? Yeah, I’m with Lexi.” Yeah, she’s pregnant with my baby.

  “She don’t strike you as weird?” Clay asks.

  “No more than someone waitin’ seven years for her high school sweetheart to roll around again,” I say flatly, taking a direct stab at him and Natalie.

  That hits the mark. He scowls at me, all brotherly playfulness gone. I feel like a dick, but talkin’ about Lexi right now is hittin’ below the belt. He needs to back off. Clay means well—I don’t think he has a cruel bone in his body—but I’m a little touchy about this right now. I keep thinking of my baby. Our baby. If he’s ever gonna wonder—like I did—if his parents didn’t love him enough to get married. Hits me right in the gut.

  “I’m gonna ignore your shitty attitude,” Clay says, flipping open the folder in front of him, “and just pass along what Natalie told me to say: if you hurt her friend, she’ll castrate you.”

  I kind of have to smile at that. Soft, fluffy Natalie couldn’t harm a flea. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  A moment later, Boone enters the room with a coffee in one hand, and paperwork in the other. A couple of suits—the lawyers and financial guys—are close behind him, ready to update us on the inner workings of Price Brothers Oil. It’s the shit I don’t care too much about, but it’s important. To my surprise, Gage comes in last, dressed in one of his nicest suits and with his hair neatly groomed, his eyes clear. He doesn’t look like the drunken mess he’s been for the last month, and I’m wonderin’ what happened to pull his head out of his ass.

  Whatever it was, I’m thankful for it.

  Gage sits down next to me and plops his folder in front of him on the conference table. It’s thick with paperwork, which I also find interesting, and it pulls me out of my gloomy thoughts. He leans over to talk to someone else, and I slide his folder over to me, switching mine with his.

  “All right, if everyone’s here, let’s begin,” Boone says, and takes a sip of his coffee. “We’ll start with oil prices this week.”

  One of the suits begins to speak, and I fully admit I tune out. It’s been hard to care since Seth died, and I know Gage has struggled, too. It’s hard to look over at his empty seat at the meeting table and realize it’ll never be filled again. Makes it hard to give a shit about fluctuating oil prices or how many barrels we pumped this week compared to last week. I flip open Gage’s folder and page through the documents, curious what he’s up to. First time he’s shown any initiative since Seth died.

  I read on. Gage apparently has investment ideas for a taco delivery service, much like pizza delivery. I admit, it ain’t a bad idea. A hand thumps down on the paperwork before I can read much more. “Nice try,” Gage tells me, and I grin over at him. That was faster than normal. He’s on the ball today.

  “What’s with the turnabout?” I ask him. “You’re showerin’ and everything.”

  He just grins at me, and looks so much more like his old self that it feels like this tense knot in my gut I didn’t know was there unraveled. “Had a long talk with someone that convinced me I had my head in my ass.”

  “Must have been a very wise person, considerin’ I’ve been telling you that for forever and you ain’t listened.”

  “Very wise,” he agrees, flipping through his pages. “And pretty.”

  Ah. Ain’t it always about a girl.

  “If you two are done jawing, I’d like to get back to business,” Boone says, and Clay smirks at us.

  “I was just asking Gage about his new lady friend,” I say smoothly.

  “He should be askin’ you about yours,” Clay retorts, and then
all hell breaks loose with the four of us. Between the shouting and paper-wad tossing, business is completely derailed. Some of the suits look terrified, especially when I put Gage in a headlock. Me, I’m kinda happy. This is the first time the Price brothers have had a knock-down-drag-out brawl over stupid shit in months.

  It’s almost like we’re gettin’ back to normal.

  * * *

  * * *

  The meeting isn’t a particularly productive one, and other than teasing my brothers, I don’t have much to share. I’m too preoccupied with Lexi, and all of my creative efforts have been focused on wooing her. Gage is watchin’ me curiously as we leave, though, and when I head out into the parking lot, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside.

  “What’s eatin’ you?” he asks.

  “Funny, I could have asked you the same for the last few weeks,” I deflect, but I know what was eating at him. He was depressed over Seth’s death. I ain’t a fan of the fact that I’m suddenly the fucked-up one.

  “I know you, Knox. You may think I don’t pay attention to what you do, but I do. I notice when you’re off your game, and you’re definitely off it right now.”

  “That so?” I reach over and pick at a piece of imaginary lint on his fancy suit. He’s the only one of us that dresses the part, his beard groomed and hair meticulously styled, his clothes designer. Today I’m wearing my favorite trucker cap, work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, just like I do every day. It doesn’t scream billionaire, but I’ve never wanted to call attention to that.

  “She’s makin’ you miserable, ain’t she? Darth Yoga.”

  I’m irritated he’d dare to ask me that. “More advice from you? You’ll forgive me if I ain’t all that interested.” It ain’t that Lexi isn’t thirsty for me. The heat between us seems to be never-ending. It’s that she doesn’t want to share her life with me.