by Shandi Boyes
“Gun purchasing isn’t less obvious.”
He continues talking as if I never spoke, but the tugging of his lips gives away that he heard me. He likes when I’m sassy, which sees it occurring more times than not. “What’s the one thing you want more than anything in the world?” I’m about to say my dad, but he beats me to the punchline. “Excluding your dad.” When the hope in my eyes answers his question on my behalf, he whispers, “I can’t give you that if we stay here.”
“But your family.” I want to say more. I should say more. I just can’t. If I talk, my voice will crack, and then I will cry. I cried on my last seven birthdays. I don’t want to cry today.
Maddox brushes my dry cheek, expressing that he understands my struggle before he pulls me into his chest. “My family will understand, Demi.”
The way he says ‘will’ exposes his family is unaware of his plans. If they were, I doubt they would help him as much as they have. They’re close because no one has intruded on their dynamic as I have. Caidyn will never say anything, he’s too polite, but I’ve noticed the more times he ‘babysits’ me, the shorter our chats are becoming. Even Saint was a little reserved today. I could blame the conflict between him and Sloane for that, but that would be the cheat’s way of explaining the knot in my stomach.
When silence reigns supreme for several long seconds, Maddox says, “Will you at least think about it?”
I take a moment to contemplate a reply. When several seconds of deliberating get me nowhere fast, I take the coward’s way out. “We will talk about this more when we’re not paying ninety dollars an hour for a booth at a firing range.”
“Sounds like a solid plan.” Maddox kills me when he drags his index finger down my nose for the tenth time the past two hours. “It’s your birthday. We can do whatever you want on your birthday.”
It’s wrong to admit my first thought is to take him up on his offer, so I won’t mention it. Maddox is who he is because of his family. I don’t want to force him to learn who he is without them. It will kill him more than the other title he doesn’t deserve to have.
Waterworks fill my eyes for an entirely different reason when Maddox whispers, “Make a wish.”
We resembled novices at the skating rink, pros at the firing range, purchased boots and cowboy hats at a real-life working ranch on the way to a late lunch, then ate at the cutest little diner in the middle of the boondocks after skimming rocks across the freshwater creek at the back of the café. It has been a perfect day, and Maddox has made it more divine by finding the only cupcake in a hundred-mile radius with a candle on the top.
The trickling of diners in the café breaks into rapacious applause when I blow out the candle as requested. I think that’s the end of the embarrassment, but Maddox has other plans. With him taking the lead on vocals and the dining staff harmonizing his ballad, he commences singing happy birthday.
I wish I could declare the Walsh brothers can do anything. Unfortunately, Maddox must be tone death. Otherwise, what excuse does he have for his horrendous singing voice?
“Okay, okay,” I say with a laugh when Maddox’s fourth ‘hip, hip, hooray,’ thunders through my eardrums. “That’s enough.” I drag him into our booth before planting my mouth on his. “Thank you,” I whisper over his quirked lips. “Today has been perfect. My best birthday by far.”
He nips at my bottom lip before muttering, “But…”
I hate doing this, but I don’t have a choice.
My uncle’s schedule waits for no one.
“We have to go.”
“We don’t have to go.” Maddox inches back before he drifts his baby blues between mine. “We could stay here forever. Can’t you see it?” He drags his hand across the funky-looking café. “You could be the head chef, I’ll be your apprentice, and everyone will soon learn to only dine here on the days you’re rostered on.”
I laugh even when I shouldn’t. “You’re not that bad of a cook.”
I toss a dirty napkin into his face before barging him with my hip, demanding he scoot out of the booth. Even with a much bigger fight on his agenda at the end of next week, his fight tonight is the feature. If he’s late, there will be no chance we’ll escape with a set of fake IDs and the hope for a fresh start.
“When you win, dinner is on me.”
The sexual innuendo in my comment guarantees Maddox won’t deny my underhanded demand I attend tonight’s match. It’s my birthday. He said I can do whatever I want on my birthday. Although I hate the idea of seeing him get hurt, I want to support him as he has supported me for the past six weeks. He’s a fighter, so my ‘job’ as his girlfriend is to be a ringside cheerleader.
“Last chance, Demi,” Maddox says when we reach the dusty lot at the front of the café. “Demi’s café is for sale. Who knows how long it will remain on the market?”
After taking in the ‘for sale by owner’ sign stuffed in the front window, I drag my eyes over the delipidated building, tube-lighting that no longer works, and the wonky ‘D’ at the front of my name on the sign hanging above the entryway door before lowering them to Maddox. It is ridiculous for me even to contemplate what he’s suggesting, but I’d be a liar if I said it hasn’t piqued my interest. “Can I sleep on it?”
“That’s close enough to a maybe for me.” With his smile as big as the low-hanging sun and his arm wrapped around my shoulders, he guides me back to Saint’s car. I won’t lie. I wish we were still on his bike. His hand barely left my thigh during the second half of our travels today, but there’s nothing like snuggling up to his back and cocooning him with my warmth.
I smile like a fool when the reasoning behind Maddox’s thirty-minute bathroom break between lunch and dessert makes sense. He picked wildflowers for me. They’re spread across the bench seat in Saint’s car, along the dashboard, and a handful of wayward ones made their way to the floor.
“The day’s got away on me. I didn’t have time to get you a pres—”
I stop his apology by kissing the living hell out of him. He has nothing to be sorry for. My day has been perfect. He woke me up by going down on me, cooked me an amazing breakfast I only cringed at twice while eating, spoiled me at the rink, then showed me that although he can protect me, I can also protect myself.
He was right. I feel safer knowing that.
“Thank you. I love them.” I almost tack another three little words onto the end of my statement, but mercifully, the lemonades I downed with lunch catch up with me. “Do I have time to pee?”
“Again?” Maddox laughs before he nudges his head to the outside washrooms.
If that isn’t proof how crazy he is thinking we can restore this place, I don’t know what will convince him.
“You good?” I stray my eyes from Maddox making his way to the ring to Rocco, who despite his constant stirring, was requested to stay by my side by the very man he uses me to annoy. “You keep wiggling and shit. Like you’re not a big girl who knows how to use the potty.”
My eyes roll skyward. “It’s nerves. I’m nervous.”
“Nerves… right.” Rocco scrubs a tattooed hand over his bristle-covered jaw while asking, “Who gets nervous when they’re backing a winner?” Before I can tell him to shut up, the expression on his face shifts from teasing to shocked. “Do these nerves make your stomach a little queasy? Are you super tired? Or better yet, can you remember the last time you had your period?”
“What the hell, Rocco! Why are you asking me that?” My words have barely left my mouth when the truth smacks into me. “No… I’m not… pregnant. Why in the world would you think that?” I pant even faster as a confession I shouldn’t be telling anyone tumbles out of my mouth. “We’ve never used protection. Not once.”
When my endeavor to fill my screaming lungs with air overtakes the crowd’s chant excited the fight is about to begin, Rocco gives lying a try, clearly unaware he’s crap at it. “All right, calm down. It could be nerves.” He bumps me with his shoulder before smiling a huge grin. “Wh
en I cruise by on Tuesday, I’ll bring some special supplies.” He whispers his last two words. “They’ll tell you one way or another if it’s nerves in your stomach or something else.”
I’m grateful for his assistance. However, I’m still confused. “Tuesday? Why are you coming over on Tuesday?”
“Ah…” His jaw hangs long enough for the referee to announce the commencement of Maddox’s fight without interference. “It’s the only day I have free. Thought I’d help a girl out.” He pivots me to face Maddox prancing around the ring before muttering, “How about you coach your boy. The crap you ate at lunch will make him a little slow off the mark.”
I’m not going to ask how he knows what we ate. Maddox spent the thirty minutes before his fight warming up while glaring at Rocco, so there’s no uncertainty in my mind that he didn’t update him on what we ate for lunch.
Rocco is a snoop, and I’m reasonably sure I know who he’s snooping for.
Dimitri became more family-orientated a couple of months back. Not enough to give me the full pardon I’m seeking, but sufficient for him to stick his nose where it isn’t wanted.
“Come on, Maddox. It’s late, the restaurant is almost empty…” And I know the perfect recipe that will suffocate your urge to have a panic attack when I tell you we may have created more than fireworks the past six-plus weeks. “My uncle is in Europe. He can’t come back in an hour.” When pleading doesn’t work, I remind him of the fantastic day we had, which grew even better when he took down his opponent in the second round. Although the loser’s ‘owner’ refused to hand over the money he lost when he placed his fighter against Maddox, it was a lot of fun seeing Maddox in his element. It reminded me he isn’t as saintly as his brother’s nickname and that the Walsh brothers have a reputation for a reason. “It’s my birthday. I want to cook for my boyfriend in my favorite restaurant for my birthday.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Demi. When you say it like that, how can I say no?”
I scoop his hand that should be more battered than it is into mine before replying, “Don’t say no. Say yes. I’ll make it up to you. Remember that kiss we almost shared in here? It won’t be an almost anymore.”
“Bribing me with sex. I should have known.” While smiling to assure me his tone has no malice whatsoever, he leads me into the back entrance of Petretti’s.
A sense of coming home filters through me when the sound of overworked staff booms in my ears, and the sweet smell of tomatoes and garlic lingers in my nose. My dad loved this place. That alone means I’ll never see it in a negative light.
“Demi!” Ty wraps me up in a hug before half my name leaves his mouth. “Where the fuck have you been? We thought you had dropped off the face of the earth.” He stops, arches his brow, drags his eyes up and down Maddox’s body three times in slow motion, then whistles air between his teeth. “Can’t say I blame you.” He twists his torso to face Jude, who’s preparing the last of the meals. “What did I tell you, Jude? If only he were gay.”
Jude doesn’t deny Ty’s claims. He just shifts the focus by asking if we are here to eat.
“I was hoping I could whip something up for old time’s sake. If that’s okay, of course?”
“Sure, it is. This kitchen was yours long before it was mine.” He nudges his head to the industrial fridge. “Fresh snails just arrived. From what I’ve heard, they were a fan favorite.”
I laugh at both Jude’s witty comment and Maddox’s screwed up face. “Thank you. We will stay out of your way as much as possible.”
When I twist to face Maddox, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. In a weird way, today has been almost an exact replica of what I envisioned my life would be once I left this place, except it’s occurring here, in the last place I thought possible. “Anything in particular you feel like eating?” I smile wider when his sultry grin answers my question on his behalf. “You can have that later, for now…”
“What about that dish you whipped up almost two months ago?” Maddox fills in when I leave my reply hanging wide open. “The Maddox special.”
“Okay,” I mumble while wracking my brain to remember exactly what I put in his dish that night. I went all out, hoping to impress him even when it should have been the last thing on my mind. “One Maddox special coming right up.”
I don’t even make it two steps away when Maddox seizes my wrist and tugs me back. “If I recall correctly, it’s your birthday, right?”
“That it is,” I reply, even knowing too well he’s aware today is my birthday.
Tears mist my eyes when he says, “Then aren’t I supposed to cook for you?”
Torn between smiling in excitement and cringing with worry, I ask, “Under my guidance?”
“Of course,” Maddox replies as he paces us toward the large industrial refrigerator he crowded me against all those weeks ago. “I don’t want you dying on me.”
Many many hours later, I breathe through the ache of an overstuffed stomach while dragging my tongue across my suddenly bone-dry mouth. Maddox and I cooked, flirted, and ate more carbohydrates than I’ve consumed in my life, then we washed up like a regular, everyday couple.
It was only when Maddox handed me the final dish to dry did the simplicity of my life the past six weeks smack into me hard and fast. I’ve craved this very thing for so long, knowing my every wish had been granted saw me muttering three little words I never thought I’d say to anyone. You can love in my family industry, but you must never openly express it
But I did.
I declared my love out loud for the world to hear.
And for once, not an ounce of fear encroached me. It actually felt relieving, which is stupid when you truly think about it. We’ve been together almost twenty-four-seven for over six weeks, and we dealt with the good and bad within the first three days of our relationship, so telling Maddox I love him was the next logical step.
I’m pleased as hell to tell you he responded better than hoped. He didn’t immediately say it back. He whipped my backside with a damp tea towel, made a remark about how hard I made him work for it, then he pinned me to the fridge that tried to commence my downfall weeks ago before he kissed the living hell out of me.
Only once he had me on the brink of climax did he say it back—multiple times. In my ear, along my collarbone, and as he trekked his succulent, kiss-swollen lips over the thrusting curves of my breasts. He even says it now while kneeling before me, drinking in the damp panties his last five minutes of attention caused.
We’re in public, in the very town my uncle makes sure women feel worthless in, yet I feel as if I have the entire world at my feet.
“Ohh…” I gargle out with a long breath when Maddox’s impatience gets the better of him. He didn’t wait until he had my panties pushed aside to drag his tongue along the crevice in my pussy. He did it through the moist, cotton material, causing it to cling to my aching sex even more than it already was.
“Put your leg over my shoulder, then bring that sweet pussy to me.”
I do as instructed without additional prompting.
“Now tilt your hips forward. Show me how bad you want this.”
My pussy is practically shoved into Maddox’s face when the heat of his breaths cause my hips to naturally gyrate. Their movements can’t be helped. I’m not in control of anything when his head is between my legs. Mercifully, I somehow have Maddox convinced I’m a pro in the bedroom. He has no clue I watch him for prompts.
I bite back a groan when his tongue circles my clit. There’s no doubt it is extra sensitive. I just have no clue if that’s because I’m pregnant or because of the fantastic day we’ve had. With his hands gripping my ass, he plants a bunch of sloppy kisses on my pussy. He’s teasing me, taking it slow, knowing I’ll soon beg him for more. I love making love to him, but I also like when he loses control.
“Please,” I beg a short time later. The pressure he places on my clit with his tongue is perfect, and my knees are shaking from his tongue exploring every inch of my
dripping sex, but I need him to loosen the reins to lose control. I need him to eat me how only he knows how.
“Yes…” I hiss out with a moan when my every wish is answered with only one plea.
Maddox buries two fingers inside of me before slowing curling them, finding the spot only he can. He flicks the sensitive bud in my clenching sex while his tongue hits my clit with rapid-fired hits.
When my thighs shake, I brace my back against the fridge. I feel like I’m spiraling. My head is dizzy and filled with a crazy lust haze.
“Come on, Demi. Give it to me. Come on my face.”
His voice, the scruff on his chin, and his heavenly fingers are the perfect trifecta. I shimmer and shake as tingles activate over every inch of me. “I’m so close.”
Maddox is so focused on me, I’ve completely forgotten where we are, how we got here, and why his knuckles are red. Nothing but climaxing is on my mind.
“Rock against me, Demi. Take what you fucking need. I’m right here to catch you when you fall.”
The roughness of his voice has me imagining how hard he is. He’s wearing jeans. The zipper is still done up. His cock must be in agony.
“You, Maddox, please. I need you.” The sensation is overwhelming, I can feel myself coming undone, but I still want more. I need his thick rod filling me with the heat of his spawn. I want it all, and I want it now.
“Whoa, slow down,” Maddox pushes out with a chuckle after rising to his feet. After wiping away evidence of my excitement from his lips with the back of his hand, he says with a smile, “Your legs are a little unstable.”
His smirk during his confession unleashes a side of me I’ve never seen before. I yank at his shirt like a madwoman, uncaring that I pop several buttons. “You… in me… now!” Big, needy breaths separate my words. I’m panting out of control, my body equally pissed with the intermission and thrilled by it.