“I bet his mom is livid,” she says, still giggling. I had a facetime session with my mom, she wasn’t impressed and stressed that Paisley most definitely was not. They want to have an intervention for him. It’s like I told her, you can’t fix stupid, we can only lead the horse to the open water. We can’t hold his hand throughout life. Something will happen to bring him to his knees, we just need to be there for him when it slaps him in the face.
“Hell, we’re bikers and I’m sure that our dads have their own stories that are as bad if not worse.” Even if I knew them all, I’d only share a select few with her. Especially if the stories have Smokey, Bandit or Hatch, well more DJ than him, because those four are crazy as fuck. DJ has been an aunt to me my entire life...not by blood, but that of the heart, just like I view Ralynn as a sister. It was horrid growing up with her and Lily conspiring against me. They made life interesting, that’s for damn sure.
“Still, no mom wants to see her grown-ass son’s dick waving around the internet because even though I’m sure he took it down, someone still has it,” she says. “Nothing is completely deletable. I hope he never has a daughter than runs across it on YouTube or something.”
“Very true. I hate to think of what the brothers have in store for him for the holidays. They already play pranks but what he did gives them fodder for years to come.”
We finally arrive at the restaurant and once I’ve parked, I help her off before locking our helmets up in the saddlebags. As we walk in, I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and place a kiss on her temple. She raises startled eyes to me, and I wink at her as we finally arrive at the hostess stand. “I’ve got reservations for two,” I tell the hostess who is eye-fucking me as if I don’t have a woman on my arm standing next to me.
“Right this way, sir,” she replies, grabbing two menus and walking through the restaurant to a booth in the back. When Gypsy sits down, I slide into the booth next to her and throw my arm over her shoulders. I’m trying to ignore the hostess, who hasn’t quit eye-fucking me, and show her I already have what I desire most. My Gypsy, the woman I dream of each and every night when my eyes close. My dreams consist of nothing outside of her. “Your server will be with you in a minute,” the hostess finally says. She shoots Gypsy a snide glare and I make a mental note to either speak with a manager before we leave or call back and advise them of how their hostess acts. This one is most certainly not a class act that you’d think would greet you as you enter the establishment.
“Do you know what you’re going to want?” I ask Gypsy, who’s busy looking at the menu. She’s given me no indication at this point that she’s even noticed the way the stupid bitch was acting. I’m not sure if she’s really that blind to her surroundings, or if she’s working hard to not let it affect her.
“Luca, this place is too expensive! We don’t have any real business yet,” she hisses. I really have to work hard to not roll my eyes. I feel like we’ve had this conversation daily. At this point, she sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher… wah, wah, wah...wah, wah. I’m not sure if I should even be paying attention anymore or ignore her so she’ll drop it and not make it a bone of contention between us.
Deciding I should say something, if nothing more than to just pass the time I open my mouth and speak. “Honey girl, I’ve got this. You order whatever you want, okay?” I grab the pitcher of water and pour us each a glass. I know she’ll want lemon, but at least we’ve got something until our server arrives. Any time she drinks water, it has a flavored shaker in it, or an entire lemon. Apparently, water is the devil’s work that our bodies must have. She lets everyone know that it sucks because it’s not flavored. I personally needed it for my body’s survival while overseas, so flavored or not, it doesn't bother me to drink.
“If you’re sure,” she replies, her teeth biting her lower lip. I hold back my groan because seeing her do that has my dick hardening. A-fucking-gain.
“Positive. Trust me, Gypsy, I’ll always be able to take care of you.” She doesn’t need to know that I’m basically financially set for life. She could stay home, knit, raise the kids and join a book club and we’d still have money to leave behind when we leave this earth.
Gypsy
This is the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to in my entire life and I’m worried that I’ll say or do something that will embarrass Luca. He might be a biker, but he has a presence about him, probably from his time in the military as well as the manners his mom forced upon him growing up, that exudes from him. I discreetly glance around and notice that many of the people sitting around us have their napkins on their laps, so I pull mine out and lay it gently and gracefully across mine. Fuck, what do I do with all of these forks that are sitting here?
The server arriving interrupts my inner monologue and before I know it, we’ve placed our drink and dinner orders. As our server leaves, he says, “I’ll be back with your wine and some lemons for your water in just a moment, miss.”
“Thank you.” I use the manners that I taught myself.
“You’re so beautiful, Gypsy,” Luca says out of nowhere, catching me off guard.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I shyly respond.
“We make a good-looking couple,” he teases.
“Yeah, about that. Aren’t we due a particular conversation?” I bring up. I’m tired of waiting and feel as though I’m walking a thin line.
“Not sure this is the place, exactly,” he responds. He’s been avoiding this discussion for weeks and I feel uncomfortable. Every time I bring it up, he changes the conversation and I’m done with waiting. I mean, he holds my hand and will occasionally kiss my forehead or the top of my head, but what exactly does that mean? I need some clarity, I need to know if I need to put some walls up to protect my heart, or if I’m free and clear to let him have a place in it.
“Just trying to clarify what we are to one another is all,” I say. “I mean, I know we’re friends and I’m beyond grateful for that, but if that’s all we are, I don’t want to keep you from finding someone else to date.” My throat feels tight and I will myself not to cry. He’s come to mean so much to me that just the thought of him with another woman is devastating.
At my words, he turns slightly so he’s facing me and says, “You’re mine, Gypsy. Have been since I pulled into that convenience store you and Lucy were at.” This doesn't exactly explain things so that I understand the meaning behind the words.
“But what does that mean, Luca?” I need him to define this like the dictionary would for a word. I need to be taught his biker type lingo, his whole general ‘you are mine’ isn’t working for me.
He tilts my chin up so I can’t avoid his stare and states, “What it means is that we’re a couple. I know you don’t fully understand what it means for a biker to claim an old lady, but in my world, it’s the same as being married. And, for your information, eventually, you’ll wear my rings.” What the fuck! Isn't this just a bit too much too fast? We’ve literally known each other a handful of weeks.
I am floored by his words. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that anyone would want me on a long-term basis. My mother always told me that I wasn’t good for more than a one-night stand. I believed her since every man I looked at ran far away as fast as they could after being in my company longer than two days...maximum. I just figured I’d be that old cat lady, sitting on a front porch swing, petting each one with all the love and care only their momma could provide. “I feel like I need a thesaurus here, Luca. I’m not comprehending everything the way you’re hoping I am. I understand the whole ‘old lady’ thing, I just don’t get why. I’m nothing like your mother and the other women. My mother has ruined me, I’m a broken shell of a woman.”
“You absolutely are fucking not!” he shout-whispers, his nose firmly pressed to mine. The frustration is clear on his face.
“Luca, you have no idea,” I murmur. “None at all.”
“Then you need to share it with me so I can help carry that burden and show y
ou that what you learned was false.”
“I’m not ready yet. I need more time, Luca. I’ll get there, I will...just not right now okay? Don’t you think all of this is sudden?” I blurt.
“I’ll be here when you are, Gypsy. That’s a promise,” he whispers in my ear. “And no, I don’t think it’s sudden. If you ask me, we aren’t moving quick enough.” I go to reply, and he winks at me and wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“Not quick enough? You basically just Tarzaned me, married me without a ring, and beat your chest for all to see! That is the definition of moving too fast in my book, Luca. What if...what if we’re not, you know, compatible?” My chest is heaving up and down with the heavy breaths I’m taking.
“Tarzaned you?” he questions with mischief in his voice. “What does that mean?” he repeats my earlier query.
“Luca!” I sigh out a hot breath. “You know what it means. Me Tarzan, you Jane.” I beat my chest to prove my point.
His eyes never leave my bouncing chest before he says, “I missed some of that, could you show me again?” I narrow my eyes to slits and give him my best fuck-off look. I know he saw that display. Especially seeing as his eyes are still glued to my chest.
“Luca!” I snap my fingers in his face. “My eyes are up here.” I take my forefinger and swirl it around the air in the general location of my face.
“Your eyes are beautiful; I’m not denying that. But, I’m quite enjoying my current view too.” I find myself annoyed by his statement...it’s such a man thing to say.
“If you’re trying to impress me, Luca, you need to try a little harder.” I hold my fingers up and have a small space left between the two.
“Do I really need to impress you, Gypsy? I could’ve sworn I’ve proven to you over and over again how much I want you in my life and I’ve not been subtle about wanting you in my bed.”
“No, you most certainly have not,” I emphatically respond. “We haven’t even kissed yet!”
“We can remedy that tonight if you’d like.” He playfully smacks his lips at me. I have to place my hand over my mouth so he doesn’t see the smirk and hidden laugh on my face. I don’t want him to think this is all jokes and games. I need him to be completely up front and honest with me.
“We’ll see. Depends on how the date goes, after all.” His eyes widen at my words but in reality, there’s no way in hell I won’t let him kiss me later. I’ve been dreaming of how his lips will feel against mine and I’m pretty sure that the actual event will far surpass anything my imagination has conjured up.
“Guess I need to up my game then, huh?” he questions. I start to feel a little bad and decide I’ll throw him a bone.
“Luca, honestly, this has been one of the best dates I’ve ever been on. I’m just worried that we’re moving too fast is all. We’ve become good friends and I don’t want to fuck that up.”
“The way I see it, I find something new to like about you every single day. I don’t see that changing, even if I find something I don’t particularly like, if that makes sense. I’ve come to care a lot about you, and I want to see where it goes. I can’t say that I love you, at least not yet, but I know enough right now to say I want you as my old lady.” I feel like I’m dreaming because this is not my reality, at least not one I ever thought I’d have. I would reach over and pinch myself, but I’m afraid that if it turns out this is just a dream, I’d hate to wake myself up.
“So you’re saying this won’t fuck our friendship up?” I need him to say it out loud and not just imply it.
“I’ve always heard that friends make the best lovers. Guess we’ll be testing that theory out,” he replies before opening up the bread basket that the server just brought, pulling out a breadstick, putting it on a plate and putting it in front of me. I stare at his offering for a few minutes before I react. I’ve never had anyone take care of me the way that he does.
“What if we’re not compatible? Like I said a few minutes ago, we haven’t even kissed.”
“Baby, I’ve been in control of myself since I figured out what it meant when my dick got hard. You defy that control every single time I’m around you.” Giving in, I decide that I should go with my heart instead of my head and mentally agree that this is something that should be explored. I don’t want to look back one day and think about what could’ve been.
Chapter Eight
Gypsy
The rest of the date was, in a word, something dreams are made out of and as we ride back to the motel, I’m excited about what’s finally going to happen. He pulls into the parking lot and parks, then helps me off. We walk over to my room and he holds his hand out for my key. Once he’s unlocked the door, he turns and says, “Let’s walk Lucy really quick.”
Lucy, hearing her name, rolls over from where she was sleeping on the floor and stares at us. When he clicks his tongue, she wags her tail but doesn’t move. He looks at her and states, “Lucy, come.”
I watch as she huffs then walks over to us. He puts her leash on and then we walk back out and over to her spot. “I see you got smart about her last time out at night,” I tease, as he unclips her leash and tells her to go.
“She’s something else, Gypsy. I swear, she’s a tiny person on four legs wearing a fur coat.”
“She’s been my best friend for eight years,” I murmur.
“We need to talk about that then, because it bothers me that you consider a pet to be your best friend.” I don’t want to tell him that’s one of the most embarrassing things anyone has ever said to me.
“Why? She’s the one who has been with me during the worst times in my life. She never really complains. She listens to my hurts and the good things and all she asks for are a belly rub, a comfy pillow and treats.” I don’t know why I’m so adamantly defending my ‘relationship’ with my dog to him. He makes me feel crazy sometimes.
“You have me now, too, Gypsy. Just saying, though, I may want more than a belly rub, and I won’t promise not to complain if the situation calls for it, but I’m here. How did you get her, anyway?” I know my face turns bright red when I think about other things that may require my attention. Then I remember his question and decide a distraction is in order, so I answer.
I smile as I remember that day. “I was walking home from a babysitting job and I saw a box off to the side of the road. As I passed it, I heard a noise and decided to check it out when a little black nose popped out of the box. Lucy, as well as three other puppies, had been tossed in the box and thrown away like garbage. She was so tiny I was scared that she wouldn’t make it, because two of her siblings didn’t. But one of my neighbors was involved in animal rescue and she helped me get her seen at the vet then showed me how to bottle feed her until she was old enough to eat puppy food.” In a way, I felt like the reason she lived and flourished was because of my love and the way I cared for her and encouraged her to thrive. I never let her feel as if giving up was an option. She is like my child; I love her as much as I would if I’d given birth to her myself.
“How did you come up with her name?” he asks, his hand stroking mine. Oh, this is a story I’m sure he’ll have fun with...especially when I explain what her name was when I believed she was the opposite sex.
“I started calling her Lucifer while walking home the day that I found her, not realizing that she was a girl at the time. I didn’t name her siblings because I had an immediate attachment to her and knew I was keeping her. When my neighbor got me to the vet later that day, the vet told me she was female, so I changed her name to Lucy.” I shrug my shoulders not wanting to see what he thinks about me mistaking her for a he. They do have different parts of the anatomy that determine the difference, only I’d never had experience with animals, so I had no clue how to tell the difference with such a young pup.
I watch as he throws his head back laughing, my mouth going dry as I see his throat moving. “She’s been a faithful companion to you,” he says, still chuckling.
“Yeah, she has,” I agree, my gaze ro
aming to where she’s now nosing around. She’s such a nosey little thing, she needs to take in every scent she passes and is a bossy old lady.
“Lucy, finish up!” he calls out and I swear I see her glare at him. She’s a little shit, that’s for sure. I watch in amazement as she does what he says because she seldom listens to me. Not that she’s a bad dog, she’s just got her own way of doing things.
As she trots back over to where we’ve been standing, he lets my hand go and crouches down to clip her leash back onto her collar. Once he stands, he grabs my hand again and laces our fingers, then walks us back over to my room. I hand over my key, which seems to be his thing, and wait as he unlocks the door before stepping inside. Lucy, now ‘empty’, runs over to the area I’ve been feeding her at and proceeds to take a drink and then eat a little of her dry food. She does this every night, so I don’t bother to say anything to admonish her. I wouldn’t want anyone to tell me when I can and can’t have something to eat and drink; I refuse to give her certain ‘meal’ times. What if at that time I declare she doesn’t want anything. That’s just cruel and unusual punishment in my eyes. Every parent parents their animals differently, I choose to allow mine to get what she needs when she wants it.
“C’mere, Gypsy,” he says, his voice low. I feel my insides shiver a bit as I hear it and sense my body responding.
“Why?” I hesitantly ask, even as I slowly, unconsciously, shuffle my feet to where he stands waiting. Does he have some sort of spell over me? Why in the hell can’t I stop myself from heading in his direction? Maybe I really am losing my mind and going crazy. No one should have this sort of influence over another. And, now I’m talking to myself – I’m checking myself in for a mental evaluation first thing Monday morning.
Luca
Reviving Luca: New Beginnings Page 6