But none of them laughed. None of them did more than look mildly amused.
Dex finally smiled, gesturing toward his bike with a tilt of his head. “I’ll get you a root beer then.”
Well that wasn’t at all what I expected.
~ * ~ *
There were a lot of things that bothered me about Dex. He was moody, bossy, and overbearing. He could be thoughtless—though to be fair it had only been our initial meeting that demonstrated this. And he was hot.
Not just attractive.
For all of the things about him I disliked that he could fix with a different attitude, the man breathed in oxygen and breathed out sexual masculinity at its finest when he was being a dick and even more when he wasn’t. It was everything from the way he walked, to the way he clipped his words, ignored his messy hair, and wore the ink on his skin, that screamed at that primal part deep in me.
So it didn’t help that all those things that irritated the shit out of me on a regular basis were displaced and replaced the minute we stepped into the bar.
Charles Dexter Locke—I'd found out his full name after spotting a bill with it on there and got a good snort—was easygoing then. Smooth, bossy even toward people he didn’t employ, but he did it in a way that didn’t scream needy or annoying, but rather confidence. The moment we’d sat down at a booth, a waitress was literally right there with a tray of beers on hand. Dex had cut her a quick glance, said the words, “Root beer for the girl, please,” and when the bottled drink was set in front of me, another slice of eyes to the waitress at Mayhem with a low, “Thanks, Rach,” and I swear to God the poor lady swooned.
The look in her eyes was almost comical. Keyword: almost.
I didn’t know how to react around this talkative, casual man who laughed at a story Blake had about his son getting detention in school for cussing.
And his friggin’ laugh.
Damn it. Damn. It.
I had to force myself to remember that this was the man who had made me almost cry. The man who had called me a bitch and called me an idiot behind my back. The same man who had made me think about leaving the only place I really had left.
But he’d apologized. Genuinely apologized and seemed like he regretted what had happened. Whether it was because he was really guilty or if he'd been bullied into it, it didn't matter. Ever since our little show down in the parking lot, he’d been distant, cordial, and concerned in a mix. Though I got to know the rest of the guys, Dex was still a volatile enigma.
As hot and smooth and relaxed as he was being, that wasn’t the usual guy that I knew. But then again, what did I know about running my own business and having to balance work and personal relationships with employees? Absolutely nothing besides the fact that Sonny, who I trusted and loved, somehow managed to be friends with him. That had to count for something.
“Iris,” Blake called out from across the booth we were in.
I tilted my head up at him, smiling. We’d only been there about thirty minutes and I’d been awfully quiet, more so than normal, soaking in their familiar conversations. “Yes?”
He smoothed a hand over his bare head, holding his beer close to his mouth with the other. “You old enough to drink?”
My mouth flattened. "Yes."
“When did you turn twenty-one? This year?"
I rolled my eyes at him. “Three years ago. I'm twenty-four going on fifty.”
Blake made a face. "You're a damn baby."
"Maybe compared to your old butt." I laughed. Just last week he'd turned thirty-six. No one had bought him a cake or anything, but he'd mentioned it to me in passing. Obligation had me going to the deli next door to buy him a cookie in celebration.
"Where'd you live at before?”
It was Dex who'd asked the question. Dex who suddenly looked very intent across the table, an unlit cigarette nestled between his fingers mindlessly. And Dex who hadn't paid any attention to the paperwork I'd filled out when he'd given me the job. Of course.
“Fort Lauderdale.”
“And you drove all the way over here by yourself?” he asked in that low drawl.
Oh God. “Yes.”
“Babe, that’s fuckin’ stupid. Why?”
I thought for a moment about giving them some vague reason, but what was the point? "I couldn't find another job after I got laid off and my lease had ended."
“Your other family?” Dex asked, leaning forward in his seat as he planted his elbows on the table.
My non-WMC family, he meant. I guess. A certain part of me wasn’t surprised he didn’t know the answer though he was friends with Sonny.
“My little brother’s in the Army. He's stationed in Japan.”
My boss did that slow blink again, those eyes sucking me forward like a vortex. He looked from one side to the other, as if he was thinking about whether or not to ask the next question. “Your ma?”
The iceberg that lived permanently in my chest moved an inch. Shouldn't he know that by now? There were times when I went to Mayhem with Sonny that made me feel like everyone in the club knew all of my history. Then again, why would Dex care enough to wonder and ask? Or heck, even listen if someone mentioned it. Half the time he was wrapped up in his own lonesome world.
My voice was lower than usual, tender tissue paper in a wind storm. "She passed away a few years ago."
Slim, who had talked to me and asked me things, didn’t know that specifically, so I wasn’t surprised when he reached over and patted my hand. “Sorry, Iris.”
Dex did this gradual nod in agreement. There was something about his face that looked stricken. Maybe I was imagining it though. “Sorry to hear about your ma, babe.”
I did what I always did when someone found out about her, I shrugged. Not that I told very many people because I didn’t. Over the years, I’d only met a handful that I had any reason to share that information with. Most never asked because so many people took their families for granted, but these guys had. “It happened a while ago but thank you.”
The silence that followed was a little too thick. A little too long. It made me a little too uncomfortable.
“So…” I forced a smile onto my face. “Who really spilled the mayonnaise in Seattle?”
~ * ~ *
“I did not!”
Slim had his forehead to the table. “Yeah, yeah, you did.”
“You’re such a liar.”
Dex was sitting directly across from me and on his fourth or fifth beer, I’d lost count after the awkward second one, and he was laughing. Laughing from deep within his chest, the richness of it vibrating from every pore in a way that had me swinging my eyes to him each chance I got. This Dex, the one who had been joking around with our group, messing with the guys was just… a completely different person from the one I’d seen at Pins night after night.
The good mood in the booth was so contagious, I couldn't find it in me to be the quiet vibe kill. They'd pulled me out of the normally reserved nature I had around them, and had me relaxed. I felt like normal Iris—the Iris I was around Sonny, Will, and Lanie—for once while in Pins' shadowy hands.
“You were, Ritz,” he agreed with Slim. “I thought you were gonna pass out.”
I guffawed, tossing back the Shirley Temple he’d ordered for me on the waitress’ last trip. “My face turned red, but I didn’t friggin’ gasp when I saw it.” We were referring to the penis piercing incident earlier. The incident that pulled us through the last topic the guys had been laughing at: the customers who cried or screamed when they got something pierced.
Blake shook his head in denial. “No, ma’am. Your face went red right after you gasped. I thought for sure you were gonna faint."
“Whatever,” I scowled at all of them except Blue who was sitting back smiling. “I don’t even understand why the hell you guys would show me that. You did it on purpose to embarrass me.”
None of them denied it, confirming that I was right.
“My virgin eyes are scarred for life," I adde
d. Why? Because I was a moron.
Also because I was an idiot, I glanced over in Dex's direction immediately after the words came out of my mouth.
"You serious?" And of course, he would say something now of all times.
I flashed a grin. "Just joking." Liar, liar, pants on fire. God, Austin was ruining me.
He raised a thick, black eyebrow but the look in his eyes made me feel like he could smell my lies a mile away.
"You're blushing," Blake chuckled. "Blue, why don't you ever blush?"
Blue, who was sitting on the same seat as me, shrugged.
"Either way, your face turned red when you saw the cock on the screen," Slim reminded everyone of the conversation we'd been having just moments before.
I grunted and waved him off. “No offense, but you three kind of suck,” I said but I said it with a smile. “Just a wee bit.”
Dex looked at Blake over his shoulder, one side of his mouth curled up. “She says no offense before she says we suck, can you believe that?”
I rolled my eyes at them. “I have manners.”
Slim patted my hand like he had when I’d told them about my parents. “That you do.”
The sound of a cell phone ringing faintly over the music in the pub had each of us fishing to look at our phones. It was Blake who pulled his up to his ear, frowning at the screen. It was close to two in the morning already and the bartender had already announced last call, so I couldn’t blame him for looking confused when his phone rang unexpectedly. A second later he was pushing Blue out of the booth and stepping outside.
“I think it’s his baby mama,” Slim suggested in a hushed tone.
The mood shifted in those moments that Blake was gone. None of us said anything until he came back in, looking somber and flustered. He stopped at the end of the table, jaw tight. “I need to get going. Seth is in the emergency room. He’s been running a high fever that his mom hasn’t been able to keep down,” he explained quickly, already taking a step back.
“Go, man.”
Blake nodded, taking another step back before looking at Dex. “I’ll call you in case something happens.”
I forgot that they were supposed to be leaving the next day for Houston.
“Hope your son is okay!” I called out before Blake left. He shot me a grateful smile, tilted his head at the guys and took off.
Almost immediately, we all unanimously got up. Dex waved down the waitress and spoke to her briefly before handing a card over. Guilt washed through me as the waitress took off with his card. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, folding it neatly while we waited around.
Before the waitress came back, I closed the distance between us, watching him focus in on one of the screens mounted over the bar that was showing a baseball game from earlier in the day.
“Here you go,” I told him, handing him the bill as discreetly as possible.
Dex’s gaze flickered from the screen to mine in a second, eyes widening as he looked down to see what I was trying to pass him.
“Here,” I whispered.
He just kept looking at me, making me feel awkward for holding the money in my hand. Money he wasn’t taking.
“Take it.”
Dex did that slow blink again, the one that consumed planets entirely. “No,” he said simply.
“I’m serious,” I whispered, shoving the bill closer to him.
“No, babe. I said it was on me.”
That was exactly what he’d said, but I felt bad. He’d drank anywhere from four to five beers. The other guys probably had as many, and there weren’t friggin’ happy hour specials going on. The bill had to be more than what I made in a day.
“Just take it,” I insisted.
Dex plucked the bill away, holding it between his middle and ring finger, keeping those bright blue eyes on mine. “You serious?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Dex, can you sign here for me?” the waitress asked walking up to us with his receipt and card.
Relief flooded through me that he’d at least taken the money to cover something. Not like I thought he was hurting for it. He'd accidentally left the business' online checking account open a few days back, and I'd taken a peep before logging out. Needless to say, the figure in the checking account was impressive.
The moment I took a step away to head back where Slim and Blue stood, I felt a faint pressure on my butt and turned to look over my shoulder to find Dex’s fingers creeping out of my back pocket.
Uh... what?
His fingers were in and out of my pant pocket so fast I almost wasn’t sure whether it actually happened or not, and before I could complain about him giving me back my money—and sticking his hand where it didn’t belong—he leaned his chest into me.
“Thanks for offerin’, babe,” he whispered, all hot breath on my skin.
It was unavoidable for me to shiver but at least I think I did it discreetly. Damn it, this laid-back Dex was something I didn’t know how to handle. It was almost possible for me to forget the shit he said and did on a daily basis.
It was right there, I could feel it. I could sense that draw in him that made people put up with him and his insane mood swings and temper.
Looking up at him towering over me all relaxed, face loose, tension gone, I nodded. “Well, you’re welcome at least. Thanks for inviting me.”
And he smiled at me while we made our way out with Slim and silent Blue.
I had to mentally tell myself to stop looking at the strange man I didn’t seem to understand, to focus on my slightly drunk coworkers. I had to physically shake myself awake to survive the next hour. Inspecting all three of them, I sighed with just a hint of exhaustion nipping at my shoulders and neck. “You suckers need a ride?”
Chapter Eleven
The last thing I expected to do the next day was to go to Costco.
With Dex.
In my car.
I mean, Costco, Dex, and my car shouldn't even belong in the same sentence, right? Dex and Costco?
But somehow that's where I found myself at five in the afternoon. Following Dex around the massive store, stocking up on toilet paper, paper towels, and random stuff like plastic utensils for Pins.
I'd shown up to work fifteen minutes early to find Dex outside—smoking. Gag. He'd given me that long, leisurely look that I didn't quite understand and tipped his head back, blowing a thick cloud of smoke from his lips in the opposite direction of where I stood. "We're openin' late," was exactly what he'd said before dropping the bomb on me.
Like I was going to complain. "Okay."
Dex had pushed off from the wall, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot. "Is your trunk big enough for a Costco run?"
In my head, there were tires squealing in protest to his comment. He wanted me to go with him? "Umm...I think so."
He smirked right before leaning down to pick up the crumpled butt. "All right. Let's go."
Crap.
I kept repeating crap over and over to myself as we walked toward the lot. I'd worked out most of the tension I felt toward Dex over the course of the last few weeks, and especially after seeing how nice and understanding he could be... well, I didn't feel that same resentment. That didn't mean that I was mentally prepared to hang out with him.
Or you know, go buy stuff together.
Twenty minutes later, Dex was pushing around a massive cart and heading toward the food section.
It should be said that the couple of times I'd been to the megastore, I'd seen plenty of men. Usually, they were always husbands or boyfriends, ranging from twenties to sixties or seventies. Some were good-looking, others were not. Some had tattoos, most didn't.
But I had never seen a man like Dex pushing around a cart. With his full-sleeved tattoos, peeping red ink on his neck, and Levi's that had broken in perfectly around his thighs—and butt, too—he was a sight. Then again, maybe I hadn't pictured men like Dex at all. Ever. They were like abom
inable snowmen.
Yet there he was with his little scrap of paper that he called a list, hunched over the lip of the cart, tossing in enough paper towels to last three months, and massive packages of toilet paper.
The first and only thing he said in the time between us parking and winding through the aisles was, “Grab whatever you want.”
“Thanks,” had been the response I gave him.
Under Locke Page 13