by Joanna Blake
“Yeah, I did. But I knew. I knew it was a lost cause. That’s what pissed me off.”
“Alright, I’ll bite. Is she hot? When can we get a look at her?”
“Lucky, if you even look at her, I will sew your fucking eyeballs shut.”
He thought that was hilarious. To soothe my pride, I took another swig of tequila. Then I pulled out my phone. I had taken a couple of pictures of Molly. I showed the guys.
“Is she sleeping? I thought you said you didn’t hook up?”
“That’s creepy, man.” Lucky snickered. “She is hot though, stalker.”
I shrugged, staring at my phone. Molly looked so pretty curled up on her bed. I hadn’t been able to resist. I found another shot of her I’d taken through the glass when I was outside the garden center.
“Here she is at work.”
“You followed her to work?”
“Hell, no. I was waiting to pick her up.” I sat up straight. “But that’s a good idea. I know where she works. I could go there now and—”
“No. No, no, no.”
A chorus of nos rang out as heavy hands pushed me back into my seat.
“How about tomorrow? Go and see her tomorrow, okay, champ?”
“Yeah, go tomorrow, stalker.” Lucky was snickering again. “Man, how the mighty have fallen. I heard you were the king of dicks around here.”
He looked around, waving Mac over.
“This guy has been swimming in it since day one.”
Mac grinned. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Callaway, what happened, man? I thought you had your pick of any female in a twenty-mile radius.”
Donnie snickered. “More like fifty.”
“Yeah, man, just move on.”
“No! Who cares about other women? Nothing matters without her.”
I leaned my head against the bar again.
“Man, I hope I never sound that pathetic over a chick.”
“Shut up, Lucky.” Lucky ducked, sensing another slap. Instead, Whiskey rubbed his hands together. “Callaway needs our help. Who’s in?”
Everyone except Lucky said yes. I glared at him, bleary-eyed, until he said he was in. I felt marginally better, though I didn’t understand how they were going to help me. Even Mac was in, and he was the coldest bastard I’d ever met.
“You said she didn’t have time for you, man?”
“Yeah, she works two jobs to help pay for her little brother. He’s in the same home as Bonnie.”
“A kid?”
I nodded at Dev, who looked concerned. He got like that about kids. All the guys did.
Jack’s deep voice boomed out.
“What’s wrong with him?”
I shook my head.
“You know what? I don’t even fucking know.”
Chapter Six
Whiskey
I whistled softly to myself as I pulled into the driveway and looked at the house. It hadn’t been much to look at at first, but I’d worked it over to my lady’s specifications. It now had white trim and blue shutters, with a black front door. It did look sharp, I had to admit. My Becks had excellent taste.
I smiled.
She had damn good taste in baby daddies to start with. She’d picked me, and I was doing my damn best to make everything perfect for her and our baby, and the baby-to-be, of course.
Starting with the house.
My house.
Our house.
Coming home had a whole new meaning since Becks. Since the baby. This was our place, and we were a family. I was a lucky sonofabitch and I knew it.
I opened the door slowly, careful not to make a peep. Not only was our daughter, Eliza, mostly likely asleep, but my pregnant wife most likely was too. She’d been taking lots of naps lately, which I found adorable. She’d be reading a book and doze off where she was, usually curled up in a chair. Sometimes, she made it to the bed. One time, I’d found her dozing with her head rested on her hands, right there at the kitchen table.
So I was expecting some cute little snoring sounds when I walked in. Maybe a dirty diaper to deal with. But that was it.
I hardly expected the shoe to come flying past me, less than an inch from my head.
I turned to see my beautiful, caring wife holding a shoe in the air, an angry look on her pretty face.
“What in the world?”
“Pig!”
“Becks?” Another shoe came flying toward me and I ducked. “You okay, honey?”
“I’m stuck here, starving, and you didn’t even bring me anything!”
I stared at her, blinked, and then started laughing. Our house was full of food. She was talking about something else.
She was talking about ice cream.
My Becks had gone absolutely coocoo for ice cream since the second trimester started.
“Now sweetheart, just hold your horses. I have your ice cream. I just forgot it outside.”
I slid my boots back on and hustled out to the bike, where I had stashed a pint of chocolate ice cream for my woman on the way home from the club. I grinned as I hurried back in, taking my boots off again before I set one foot on the carpet.
Becks was adamant about no shoes in the house, and I had to agree. Anyone would, once they though about it. Especially with the little ones underfoot. We already had one baby crawling around and putting every damn thing in her mouth. Plus, it cut down on the need to sweep, mop, and vacuum.
Not to mention, I liked seeing my girl’s cute little toes.
My Becks was full of ideas.
She was a dynamo. Even pregnant and sleepy, she did more than most people did in a day. She was in nursing school part-time and I couldn’t be prouder. Sure, she was frustrated that it was going to take her twice as long to make it through the program and start working, but I told her it was okay to slow down.
She couldn’t handle that class load with a bun in the oven. Soon, we would have two little ones underfoot. It was better to take her time and do things right. By the time she was finished, the kids would be ready for school, part-time at first, but I could handle the drop offs and pick ups. I had it all planned out, I told her. She’d reluctantly agreed to go part-time, and a good thing too, considering how many naps the woman was taking.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” I held up the pint and she glared at me. “How about a kiss?”
She narrowed her eyes for a second and then whoosh, there was my pretty girl, smiling at me and offering up those sexy lips for a kiss. I held her tight, her hard belly pressing into me.
“You didn’t forget.”
“I didn’t forget.”
I squeezed her bottom and breathed into her ear before biting it.
“You want to thank me now, or later?”
“Later!”
She grabbed the ice cream and swooshed into the kitchen. So much for having a quickie before ice cream. I chuckled as I followed her in, taking off my jacket and grabbing a bottle of water. We filtered our own and used refillable bottles. It wasn’t all that hard once you got the hang of it.
My woman was very concerned about the environment, as well as all of our health. She even had me taking a multivitamin and skipping meat a couple of days a week! I had to admit, I didn’t really mind Meatless Mondays. She made everything fun.
I sat down across from her, watching her dig into her ice cream. She moaned in ecstasy at the first bite. I hadn’t worried about keeping it cold. She liked it when it started to go soft.
“Nice and melty, right?”
She nodded happily and took another bite. I knew my woman. I chuckled to myself, pulling off my jacket.
“You’re never going to guess what happened.”
“What?”
“Never in a million years.”
“Omg, what, Whiskey? Tell me already!”
She was getting cranky, even with the chocolate. She was pretty far along, so I cut her a lot of slack. Plus, I thought she was cute when she was cranky.
“Callaway met someone.”
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Her eyebrows shot up. She stared at me, a spoonful of chocolate ice cream paused in midair.
“Someone?”
“A girl.”
“He meets girls all the time.”
“No, not a club girl. A civilian.”
Her eyes got even wider.
“And?”
“And she blew him off.”
“You’re joking. I thought Callaway never got turned down.”
“He doesn’t. He doesn’t even have to try. Or ask.”
“But this time . . . ?”
“He asked. Apparently, he asked her out on a date.”
“Who is this girl? I feel like we should give her a medal. Or a parade.”
“Cal said she’s real sweet. She works at the nursing home his gran is in. He said . . .”
“What?”
I hesitated a minute and then forged ahead.
“She’s a virgin.”
“Callaway and a virgin?”
I nodded. My woman sputtered at me. Then she sat back in her chair and started giggling. She held the spoon aloft, the ice cream forgotten for the moment.
“Poor Cal. Oh my goodness, that is too much. How’s he taking it?”
“Not good. He’s a mess.”
“What else? What’s she like?”
“He said she’s a good girl. She’s got a lot on her shoulders.”
“And she didn’t like all the tats?”
“No. She liked him, tats and all. But she has two jobs and her brother’s in the nursing home. She doesn’t have time to date.”
“Wow. And he’s onboard with signing up for all that? Wait!” She gave me a suspicious look. “Does she have fake boobs?”
“I don’t think so. She looked very sweet in the photo he showed us.”
“Cal took a picture of a girl? On his phone?”
“Yeah. A couple.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t porn? Or a sex doll?”
I laughed and nodded.
“Yes, Becks. It was a candid photo of a real person.”
“Jesus, that sounds so mature of him. What’s he going to do about it?”
“Right now, he’s three sheets to the wind. I don’t think he’s going to give up though.”
“Good. I hope he settles down and has five babies. Then maybe he’ll stop trying to corrupt my husband.”
“He doesn’t try to corrupt me!”
“He doesn’t get shitfaced in our garage and try to keep you up all hours?”
I cleared my throat sheepishly. I didn’t go out to party anymore so Callaway tried to bring the party to me. He’d even offered to babysit, though he was almost always a little bit drunk as far as anyone could tell. Becky had wisely said no.
“What’s this girl’s name?”
“Molly something.”
She dug her spoon deep into the ice cream. I was pretty sure I heard her scrape the bottom. Good. The sooner she finished, the sooner I could take her to bed. My woman got cranky if I didn’t love on her at least once a day.
I got a little cranky too.
“Well, I sure hope Molly doesn’t get serenaded tonight. I know what you boys like to do when you’re drunk and heartbroken.”
I smiled and didn’t argue. If she left me again, I’d do more than serenade her. But knocked-up like she was, I didn’t have too much to worry about. Becks was mine, and she knew it.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’m taking you to bed.”
Chapter Seven
Callaway
“Ugh.”
I rubbed my face, wondering where the jackhammering was coming from. I realized it was just my head and opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. I was home, though I had no idea how I’d gotten there. I looked up at my legs, which were somehow above me.
I turned my head and saw the legs of my coffee table beside me. I was on the floor with my legs up on the couch.
Click.
“What?”
I heard snickering as a flash filled the room. Then another. I covered my eyes, flailing with my hands to block the light.
“I need a picture of this shit.”
“Lucky, you motherfucker!”
He was above me, snapping pics on his phone. I growled, ready to tear his throat out. Well, metaphorically speaking. I wouldn’t actually murder the fucker, tempting as it was.
I was going to trash his phone, however.
That’s when I realized I was cuddling one of the couch pillows against my chest.
“You look so sweet with your woobie.” He chuckled to himself, still snapping pictures. “Or should I say, your Molly? You said her name about a thousand times last night.”
“That’s it!”
I jumped up and threw myself at him, fists flying. He was laughing when my fist connected with his jaw the first time. He stopped laughing when I hit him the second time. And the third time.
He fought me back, and we wrestled, finally breaking apart to lie on the floor a few feet apart. I stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
“You hit like a girl.”
I started laughing. Lucky was a fucking bastard, but he always made me laugh. I loved the sonofabitch, even though he was a pain in my ass.
“I’m hungover, even for me. You got off easy.”
He leaned up on one arm and wiggled his eyebrows at me.
“Oh, I am easy. Ask the ladies you turned down last night. I gave all of them a ride.”
I shook my head.
“I hope you wrapped your sausage.”
“’Course I did. I’m a Marine.”
He saluted me and leaned back against the TV stand. I forced myself to sit up and moaned, grabbing my head.
“Goddamn, why did I drink so much?”
“You were bitching about that girl, remember?”
I did remember. And if I wanted to do something about it, I was going to have to clean up my act.
“I need to shower. Make yourself useful and brew some coffee.”
He nodded.
“Two Bloody Marias coming right up.”
I shook my head and laughed. He really was a fucker. But he was my fucker.
Thirty minutes later, I was riding toward the other side of town. I was clean and looked slightly less hungover. I wanted to check on Molly before I headed to the clubhouse. Most likely, I’d work at the club a few hours if anyone wanted ink and then I’d drink myself into a stupor again.
But I needed to see her first, even if it was just at a distance.
Lucky had gone off to do whatever bastards did during the day. He was starting a job as a contractor next week, but for the moment, he was freewheeling. I was almost always freewheeling, though suddenly, that didn’t seem like a good thing.
Yeah, I made my own hours. Yeah, I was paid well for my skills with the tattoo gun. Yeah, I was even saving up to buy a house somewhere, hopefully in the woods with lots of room around it.
It was probably weird for a party guy to want a secluded house, but that’s what I wanted. What I’d always wanted. A rustic place I could fix up. I pictured cold beers on the porch, maybe a deck of cards or my guitar in my hands.
I hadn’t played in forever, and I never played in front of others. I’d never wanted to be a rockstar like every other teenager alive. I just liked doing things with my hands. And I liked music.
I’d let that get away from me, I realized. I hadn’t started a project in years, let alone finished one. I used to do things around the house for my granny, but that didn’t count.
All I did was drink, party, ride, tat, and fuck.
And now, I wasn’t even doing that.
I’d flushed the drugs in my apartment the night I met Molly. I didn’t want her to come over and see that shit. Of course, the likelihood of her coming over had taken a nosedive yesterday when she called things off.
I clenched my jaw and sped up. I wasn’t the kind of guy girls blew off. I was the guy they begged for.
And I would really, really love to see Molly beg.
>
A few minutes later, I was pulling into the parking lot. I assumed she was working the same hours today, though how she was on her feet after weeks of this, I had no idea. I was going to have to insist that she give up one of her jobs . . . or ask them to pay her more and take fewer shifts.
The other solution I’d come up with was even better. I’d have her move in with me so her expenses would be less. Then she’d only have to worry about her brother, and I could help with that too.
Yeah, that was a brilliant idea. Get her to move in. I could say it was just to help with money, but she’d be there, close at hand, sharing a bed with me every single night.
I was practically smiling as I stepped off my bike. I’d talk some sense into her. I’d take good care of her and she’d never want to leave. I’d finally buy that house, and she’d decorate it with her cute little girly things.
Maybe I could even convince her to give me a baby.
I could see it now, my beautiful girl holding a baby to her breast. I could watch her breastfeed for hours. And I would, I decided.
I stalked to the front door and pulled it open, scanning the place for her. There was a bored-looking teenager working one register, then nothing. No one else.
Maybe she’d taken the day off.
Maybe she was at the nursing home.
More likely, she was in the back, taking a break.
I knew she didn’t want me interfering, but I had to see her. I’d been out of my mind last night. And now I felt like I was gonna die if I didn’t see her. Talk to her. Change her mind.
Kiss her.
I pushed open the door with the big sign on it. The sign I ignored.
EMPLOYEES ONLY
Fuck them. They were asleep at the wheel anyway. The damn store was empty. I’d go wherever the hell I pleased, especially if it meant finding Molly.
I looked around, wondering where to start. It was a big fucking store. I remembered that she sometimes slept in the stock room with the cleaning supplies. She said paper towels made a decent pillow.
There were rows and rows of supplies, some of them reaching to the ceiling. The place was huge, and this part wasn’t even open to the public. I walked down a long aisle to the right, my eyes peeled for sleeping angels.