by Anne Malcom
I smiled. Steve might be my boss but he was also my best friend, and the closest thing Lexie had to a grandfather. People might think it was weird being friends with your sixty-year-old boss, but whatever. Steve and his wife Ava took a sixteen-year-old girl and gave her a chance. Saved her life, more accurately. They were the reason I could feed, clothe, and house my child. Not only that, I could actually feed Lexie the superfood shit she grew into and fuel my makeup addiction without going broke. They were the closest thing I had to family. So when Steve announced he had bought a prominent beachfront resort and was making me manager, I had been blown away. I also didn’t want to let him down. He had done so much for Lexie and me already, I didn’t want to screw this up. Hence me deciding to take up residence in my car. There was no responsibility in here and I was sure I had a couple of Twinkies under the seat to sustain me.
“Get out of the car, Mia, and go and start your day being the best goddamned manager that place has ever had,” he demanded.
Something in his tone, maybe the faith, had me abandon the idea of living in my car and existing on Twinkies.
So I got out and walked underneath that arch.
“Mom! Come here quickly” I heard my daughter’s anxious command from the window.
“Mommy’s resting, sweetheart. Unless you’re bleeding from the head I’m not going anywhere quickly,” I told her.
I was lying on the sofa with a trashy magazine and a cold beer. It was late on Saturday afternoon and I was recovering from a long and stressful week of work. Steve was right. I could do it. Be the manager of a hotel and spa without running it into the ground. Well, for the first week anyway. Nothing had burned down and no guests had died under my care so I was calling it a win. Plus, the staff were mostly competent and nice and I got on with them all supremely well. I had a feeling that I actually might do well. It was a good feeling. I also had a feeling I might have to start a cocaine habit. That was the only way I could have enough energy to make it through the next week.
It might be rewarding and challenging, but my job was also exhausting. I was there from eight until six every night and running around doing things the entire day. Lexie came after school to help out and to hang out in the small restaurant attached to the hotel to do her homework. She seemed to be settling well into her new school. We hadn’t had much time to explore Amber or to even scope out the takeout situation, but we intended on starting the recon tonight with Chinese food. Plus, tomorrow we were going to check out the retail offerings. I didn’t expect much, but there was a small store next to the coffee shop that had caught my eye.
“Seriously, Mom, get up now and come and look at this,” she demanded sharply, not glancing away from the window.
I groaned and pulled myself up from the sofa, abandoning the tales of the latest Kardashian scandal. I took a tug of my beer and joined my daughter at the window.
“Has President Obama finally decided to take us up on our invitation to come over for a beer?” I asked. “Because that is the only reason I should be getting off the sofa.”
Lexie grabbed my chin between her thumb and forefinger and pointed my face at the house across the street.
“By Zeus’s loins,” I whispered under my breath.
Our house was at the end of a quiet street where the houses were separated by reasonably large yards. We had a little two-story place, with a large front yard and a separate garage. I loved it already. We couldn’t afford any of the beachfront stuff and this was a little older than a lot of the other ones around town, but it had character. Me and Lexie did good with character. We decorated the house in our signature vintage boho theme and felt at home here already. Thanks to its position at the end of the street, we were removed from the rest of our neighbors and our closest was directly across the street. It was a small, one story house with a sad yard and not much personality. I had thought it was empty since we moved in, thanks to its lack of personal touches and not seeing anyone in or around it the past week. It was most certainly not empty.
A large shiny black Harley sat on the driveway of the house. I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but it looked nice. The kind of nice that made me question why it was sitting in the driveway of the house. But the motorcycle was not the thing I was currently feasting my eyes on.
“We need popcorn,” Lexie said, her eyes glued to the driveway.
I nodded. “And a recording device. Or binoculars.”
I knew my daughter was giving me a sideways look, but I refused to tear my gaze away. How could I? The shirtless man tinkering with his motorcycle was a sight to behold. His muscled chest was unlike anything I had seen before, and it was covered in tattoos. Obviously I couldn’t make out the tattoos, which was why I needed binoculars. Well, maybe it wasn’t the tattoos I wanted a closer look at; maybe it was the six pack and the little v that was visible thanks to low riding jeans.
“How could we not know this was across the street? I know we’ve been busy, but you’d notice this guy if you were trying to solve a quantum physics equation or performing brain surgery,” I remarked, letting my gaze roam over the specimen in front of me.
I probably shouldn’t be condoning my daughter leering at a way older man, but that would mean I would have to stop leering at him. That wasn’t going to happen. I needed to drink this sight in. Plus, my daughter was the most well behaved teenager on planet Earth. Having me as a mother I don’t know how this was possible, but she was happy with a book or a record on a Saturday night, not a party full of meatheads from a football team. She was a teenage unicorn. I had thought such creatures were myths, but she was flesh and blood. And I gave birth to her.
Suddenly, as if he could feel the eyes of a sixteen-year-old unicorn and her voyeuristic mother, the man’s eyes darted over to us. Like we had rehearsed it, Lexie and I both dropped to the floor in a coordinated move, hiding under the windowsill.
“Do you think he saw us?” I whispered. I don’t know why I was asking; the flutter I felt when furious eyes met mine told me he saw us. I didn’t know why I was whispering either, but I felt like he had crazy hot guy powers, which included super hearing.
Lexie glanced at me. “I don’t know. Check.”
I sank farther into the wall, my eyes widening at such an outrageous suggestion. “I’m not checking. I’m staying in this spot for the remainder of my life. Or at least until he’s gone,” I declared.
“How are you going to know he’s gone if you don’t move?”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh, that’s what you’re for. I don’t keep you around ‘cause you’re pretty to look at,” I stated.
Lexie shook her head and smiled. It wasn’t her cute little innocent smile, though. It was one evil geniuses got when they were hatching a plan. “Fine. I’ll check, but you have to do laundry for the next two weeks.”
I glared at her. “You’re an evil little person.”
She winked at me. “Love you too, Mom.”
She slowly rose up from the window, like directly up.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Don’t stand straight up, slither across the wall! Otherwise it’s totally obvious you dropped to the floor after he caught you perving,” I whisper-yelled, still unsure as to why I felt the need to quiet my voice.
My frenzied commands were in vain. Lexie had already straightened and was standing in front of the window, casual as anything, like she was birdwatching or something.
I shook my head. “Wipe spy off your list of potential careers,” I told her with disappointment.
She ignored me and stepped away from the window, walking to the sofa to pick up my abandoned magazine.
“He’s gone?” I asked from my spot on the floor, feeling a tad ridiculous now.
“Yep,” she answered distractedly, reading the magazine.
I let out a breath of relief and stood. I stretched slightly, then glanced back out the window. I let out a little scream as my eyes met mirrored shades. I quickly darted away from the window and snatched the magazine f
rom Lexie, hitting her in the shoulder with it.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you lying gives you ulcers and makes your nose grow?” I snapped.
“Yes, my mother did. But she also told me a little man lived under my bed and he would come and eat me if I ever talked to strangers,” she replied, rubbing her shoulder.
I put my hands on my hips. “That was for your own safety.” Little did she know.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel very safe lying in bed at night waiting for a little man to come and eat me,” she shot back.
“Well, you obviously had been talking to strangers, therefore you should have been scared,” I said, plonking down on the sofa next to her. “Now what are we going to do? Our hot neighbor thinks we’re crazy pervs,” I moaned.
Lexie gave me a look. “Not we. I’m just an impressionable young teen with a Peeping Tom for a mother,” she teased with a twinkle in her eye.
I slapped her with the magazine again.
She crawled away from me with false pain in her eyes. “Stop! You’ll maim me!” she cried dramatically.
I threw the entire magazine at her and she caught it with a grin.
I shook my head. My daughter was a total nut. I, however, was completely sane.
“Ouch!” I cursed as I tripped over yet another ill-placed box. I again managed to catch myself before I ate carpet luckily, considering a trip to the emergency room would make me later than I already was. Lexie and I almost had the house unpacked but there were a couple of rogue boxes that seemed determined to be a part of my demise.
“Lexie! Get you A into G—we are totally late. If we don’t leave soon you’re going to have to have Pop-Tarts for breakfast,” I threatened as I descended the stairs. “Pop-Tarts full of dangerous and delicious things, such as sugar and added preservatives,” I added, feeling hungry.
“Coming!” I heard her yell from her room.
I made it to the bottom of the stairs and scanned the room for my jacket. I spied it lying across an ottoman and slipped it on.
“Ready, ready.” Lexie came rushing into the room, packing her bag full of books.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said, making my way out the door.
“Mom,” Lexie called.
I turned to see she hadn’t moved. I waved my hand, “Come on, kid, I haven’t had coffee yet and I need some in my veins. Stat.”
The plan was to head to what was now our local breakfast spot for a quick caffeine fix and a muffin before work. I hadn’t had time to make some this morning and Lexie had uncharacteristically slept in, which meant we were both running sans caffeine. The Spencer girls did not do well without caffeine.
“You don’t have shoes on,” Lexie informed me.
I glanced down at my bare feet to see I had indeed forgotten footwear. The most important part of an outfit, no less. “I hate Mondays,” I muttered.
“It’s Wednesday,” Lexie pointed out.
I scowled and thrust the keys to the car at her. “Wait in the car. I’ll be down in a second.”
I struggled to think of a pair of shoes that would go with my pencil skirt and floaty blouse. “The blue pointy heeled ones,” Lexie called to me as she walked out the door.
It seriously freaked me out how much of a connection we had sometimes.
With shoes firmly on my feet, I left the house to see Lexie standing in the driveway staring at the car.
“You’re actually meant to get in the car in order to travel places,” I informed her.
She pointed at the back tire. It was flat.
“Drat and damn it all to Hell,” I snapped at the air.
We were silent for a moment, both staring at the flat tire, which I thought was taunting us.
“You know how to change a tire?” I asked Lexie.
“How would I know how to change a tire?” she replied, looking at me with disbelief.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. You could have decided to take a course, watched an online tutorial.”
She turned to face me. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as tire changing courses. I can’t even drive yet—why would I learn how to change a tire?” Her expression had changed from disbelief to regarding me like I may be slightly crazy.
“You’re old enough to drive, yet you don’t seem to have the driving gene,” I pointed out, referring to the many times Lexie had risked my life when I tried to teach her. We were currently on hiatus. “Plus, you like learning things. You might have a tire passion I don’t know about.” I stared at the tire.
“A tire passion?” Lexie repeated. Now I was getting the full crazy stare.
“I haven’t had coffee,” was my answer.
There was silence.
“Do you think we can call AAA?” I pondered.
“That’s like, roadside assistance. We’re not on the road. We’re at home,” my smart daughter pointed out. “I don’t even think they come for flat tires.”
It worried me slightly she had more knowledge than I did. But, as mentioned, I hadn’t had coffee. Who knew what sort of stuff my caffeinated brain would have been able to come up with? It might even have been able to change that tire. The one that was for sure taunting us.
“We could walk,” Lexie suggested after another long silence.
I stared at her. “Walking would mean changing my shoes. Changing my shoes would mean changing my outfit. We’d be way late and I wouldn’t get coffee.”
“You’ve got coffee at the hotel,” Lexie said.
“Yes, but it’s not the good coffee. Shelly makes the good coffee. It sets me up for the day. Without it I’d be lost,” I told her, although this was something she already knew. She had experienced the Shelly coffee in all its glory. She had felt its effects.
“You’ve only been drinking it for a week and you survived before then without it.”
I frowned at Lexie. She was starting to tick me off. “What are you, the coffee police?” I searched my handbag. “We’ll get a taxi,” I decided.
“Keys,” a deep voice commanded.
Lexie and I both jumped. We had been so wrapped up in our conversation, we hadn’t noticed another presence. How I couldn’t notice this man earlier was beyond me. But here he was, clad in jeans, motorcycle boots, a tight black tee and a leather vest. He was scowling at me and holding out his hand. A hand attached to a very muscled arm; the veins were pulsing in it and everything.
“Keys,” he repeated, his voice rough and impatient.
“What?” I half whispered, still staring at the arm. It not only had beautiful muscles, but up close his tattoos were amazing. Works of art. Full of color.
“For the car. I need keys.” He spoke with irritation.
“Why do you want the keys to my car?” I asked, moving my thoughts away from his arm.
“To change the tire. You’ve been standing out here for ten minutes staring at it. I’m guessing you don’t know how to.” He spoke a full sentence and the irritation was even more prevalent. So was the hotness of his low and raspy voice.
Lexie and I both shook our heads slowly.
His scowl deepened. “Then give me the keys.” He was speaking to us like we were slightly slow.
“We haven’t had coffee,” I blurted randomly to explain our mental slowness.
The hard look he gave me told me I didn’t do much to help our case for mental competency.
Lexie wordlessly handed him the keys. He didn’t seem to be expecting her to have them, because his face softened a smidgeon at my kid. I mean slightly. So he went from looking like he might shiv us and steal our car, or he might just hogtie us and take it for a joyride. Not that I would mind being hogtied by him.
I shook that thought out of my head.
He didn’t say another word before turning and going to the trunk of the car.
“Mom, the hot but immensely scary biker from next door is changing the tire on our car,” Lexie whispered, not taking her eyes off him.
“I know,” I whispered back, keeping my eyes
glued on his muscled body and the patch on the back of it.
There was silence as he got some kind of contraption and started to get to work on our tire.
“Talk to him,” Lexie demanded on a whisper.
“You talk to him,” I snapped back.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Ask him how many miles to the gallon his Harley gets,” I whispered. “Or where the best place to get a tattoo is.”
“So,” Lexie said, narrowing her eyebrows at me. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t look up. “Bull,” he grunted.
Lexie and I looked at each other.
“Bull?” she repeated after a beat.
“Yep,” he bit out, fiddling with the tire. I followed the cords in his arms with my eyes, entranced with the strength in them. That strength would translate well to the bedroom. I struggled to keep my mind out of the gutter. My daughter was right beside me, for crissakes!
“Bull’s a unique name. Is it short for something? I cannot picture a little baby called Bull,” Lexie continued, oblivious to my sexual fantasies, thank God.
There was a pause. “Road name,” he said weirdly.
Another sidelong glance passed between me and Lexie. Did this guy have a problem stringing a complete sentence together?
“What’s a road name?” Lexie asked. You could tell she was getting a bit more confident now that the shock of ‘Bull’s appearance had worn off. She had stepped forward to get a closer look at what Bull was doing and was leaning against the passenger door.
He glanced up at her. “Like a nickname,” he clipped. A look passed over his face at Lexie’s casual stance and friendly demeanor. It quickly left and he turned his attention back to the tire.
Lexie seemed to be chewing something over in her mind. I wanted to know why he was called Bull. Obviously he was freaking huge and intimidating. But I wondered if it had anything to do with his downstairs area. I knew bikers had nicknames due to their sexual escapades; maybe this was due to the fact he was hung like a bull.
Luckily, Lexie wasn’t thinking about his nether regions.