by Bijou Hunter
“No. Next.”
“Did you feel emotional at all?”
“Of course. The first time I held each of my kids; I lifted them into the air and sang that Lion King song. I also mocked other babies in the nursery for not being as cool as mine. But crying, no, that didn’t happen. I only cry when I’m sad, and I was psyched to have my kids outside of the nasty wombs I squirted them into.”
“I don’t think that’s how babies work.”
“As the father of two, I think I would know.”
Ginger shakes her head. “Is your dad alive?”
“He died after squirting me into my mom’s womb but before I dug my way free.”
“How did he die and why were you clawing your way free? Is there something wrong with your mom’s womb?”
“All baby’s claw themselves out, Ginger.”
“But they come out head first,” she says, and I immediately imagine my third kid coming out of her.
“Don’t worry about the logistics.”
“How did he die?”
“Quickly.”
“So your mom raised you alone, and that’s why you’re a mama’s boy. I respect that.”
“I like how you dig women’s power but wish you wouldn’t think all men are toxic and dangerous.”
“I think women are just as toxic and dangerous. Trust no one is my motto.”
“That’s some heartwarming shit right there,” I say and think about copping a feel again.
“What did you expect?”
“I assumed you had a sweet, chewy center underneath your cold, rough exterior.”
“And I assumed you were a sweet romantic underneath your perverted inappropriate exterior.”
“Clearly, we’re not perceptive people.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I’m going to kiss you now, and you’re going to love it.”
Ginger fights a grin and backs away into the counter. “I think I should kiss you first. It’s important for the alpha in a relationship to assert their dominance.”
“You already licked my lips at the store, and I’m the alpha in this relationship.”
“True and nope.”
Rather than respond, I say everything with my eyes. Ginger holds my gaze, accepting my challenge. We peer unflinchingly into each other’s eyes for a solid minute, and then something miraculous happens.
I fucking win!
Ginger’s tough exterior cracks under the pressure of my alpha stare. For only a moment, I discover a fragile woman wary of the world. This is the Ginger who agreed to a date. She’s the one who fell hard for a man unsuited for someone with her power. She’s also the one hoping I’m more than swagger and sexual attraction.
With both hands, I cup her face before stepping closer and allowing her nowhere to run. Ginger looks in my eyes and waits. No first kiss has ever scared me as much as this one. Despite her gentle gaze, she’s looking for any flaw to shut me down.
Fortunately, my lips are a treasure to womankind. I prove this by pressing them possessively against hers with just the right kind of pressure before deepening the kiss and making her moan. Yeah, she won’t find fault with my skills.
I’m completely in control until her hands grip my shirt. The desire behind her gesture sends me into overload. Ginger tastes like my future, and she belongs to me. All I need to do is wear her down until she submits to what I already know.
If only it were that easy.
➸ Ginger ☆
Oz kisses away my confidence, leaving me wondering what the hell I’m doing here with him. The butterflies in my stomach might as well belong to a stranger.
I don’t swoon. I can’t lose my mind over a guy. Even my stalker behavior with Madden only managed to slightly inconvenience me. I never even shed a tear when we ended things. I’m not someone capable of losing herself over a man.
Pushing him away, I stare into his dark, dominating eyes, and wish I could give in to their demands. Why should I think when he can do it for me?
Oz is the kind of man I’ve never faced. No, that’s probably not true. I’ve met men who exuded alpha with their every breath. Those fuckers were threats, though, and I rid the world of them. When faced with a man like Oz, I don’t take any chances. If I can’t out-alpha someone, I end them.
Now I’m faced with a man I can’t destroy. Worse, I don’t want to ruin this fucker. He’s irresistible, and the world is a helluva lot sexier with him in it.
But none of his charms excuse my complete lack of self-control or how I underestimated his power over me.
Setting the tempo with the food and location, I thought I was in charge when Oz showed up. I wanted him, and I would play the game until I felt he’d earned the right to fuck me. Then I’d conned myself at some point into thinking he and I were really dating. Oz and Ginger sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g and all that crap. All that’s left is for me to write his name on my school notebook.
Who am I to play this game? I’d never been a fool before. Every wound I suffered came from a calculated decision to take the blade. With Oz, I lack the control to even realize I fooled my heart into hoping for something I can never have. There is no marriage and baby carriage in my future. I’m a lot of things, but that kind of woman isn’t one of them.
I should never have told him about my family or Madden. The man is a pig-headed filthy-mouth speed bump sitting between me and my goals. Handing him ammo to use against me was a mistake. Oh, and I mentioned the dirty feeling I had when Duffy was born. What the fuck, Ginger? Why not just hand him over your dignity while you’re at it?
I need to get away from him and stay away. Yet I let the kiss deepen and linger. I lean into his embrace. Not once do I think to smack away his hand when it settles on my left ass cheek.
My brain screams for me to take control and set boundaries. My heart begs me to stop running down a path I’m emotionally ill-equipped to handle. My ego promises I have shit handled as usual, and I shouldn’t stress anything. My libido murmurs about how I ought to free the fantastic bulge hiding in his too tight jeans. My common sense says all the right things about how I need to stop this and figure out my goals and other babble, but it doesn’t actually make me stop anything or figure out what to do.
Finally, I relent to the Ginger who took over a criminal organization because she figured someone might as well give it a try. She doesn’t like boys and isn’t certain love is real. Best to shoot a problem, rather than let it fester. That Ginger reminds the rest of the voices in my head how every man before Oz screwed us over and every man after him will too. Everything I feel for him can be fixed by spending a few minutes alone with my vibrator.
“Stop,” I grunt, finally freeing my mouth from his.
“I was wondering when you’d speak up.”
Opening my mouth, I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell him to fuck off. I certainly can’t explain what I feel since I don’t even know.
Staring into his lustful, commanding gaze, I am literally speechless.
Normally, I’d lash out at the person stealing my confidence. Instead, I step around him and walk to the front door of the townhome. Oz calls my name and says something about me playing hard to get. I don’t stop walking until I reach my Harley. My mind only focuses on climbing onto the hog and starting the engine. I don’t think of anything besides the next step to finding relief from the numbing uncertainty plaguing my normally icy heart.
I count the blocks from my present location to the B&B. The closer I get to the house, the safer I feel. The girls are the only ones I’ve ever trusted. They stuck with me when I reached the top and controlled half of Little Memphis. They refused to abandon me even when my arrogance got a young woman named Sabine killed, and I tucked tail out of town.
Hiding away those years, they stayed at my side. Then I said it was time to return to Little Memphis, and they packed up without argument. From the day I became Ginger Snaps to this very moment I return to the B&B like a scared child, they’ve remai
ned loyal.
I enter the house unable to speak or explain why I’m trembling. Like an angel sent to guide me from my panicked darkness, Clove appears from the library and takes my hand. She doesn’t ask questions or expect answers. I’m lost in dark memories, something she knows too well.
We settle onto the Victorian-style canopy bed, too grand for women of our meager beginnings. We are abused, forgotten children grown into scarred, violent criminals. Our dream of a fresh start as legal-oriented businesswomen seems foolish now.
“I’m in over my head,” I whisper with my eyes closed. “Did I really think I was the kind of woman who goes on dates?”
“You are any kind of woman you want to be. No one gave you permission to take over for Cris. Or to bring down Trigger, so Joker could take over the club. You decided to do something, and you did it. Sometimes, you were forced to be patient, and you did suffer setbacks, but you stayed focused, and you accomplished everything you wanted.”
“I failed Sabine,” I whisper, thinking of the girl murdered in my place when the former Little Memphis MC president couldn’t find me.
“Trigger killed her, not you. He wasn’t forced. He chose to end her life. You know that when you’re thinking straight.”
Unable to stop thinking of Sabine tied to two trucks and torn apart screaming, I close my eyes. Oz’s face immediately greets me. I can almost feel his presence. My lips sure remember how his tasted. How they dominated mine. By the time the kiss ended, I was stunned, lost, beyond flustered.
Oz never lost his cool, though. I am a woman to him. No better or worse than any who came before me. The man leaves me wrecked and doubting my every life decision. We’re clearly not on a level playing field and hiding from him is my only option as long as he wields the upper hand.
➸ Oz ★
What the fuck just happened?
Ginger was a junkie for my kisses. Oh, sure, she tried to regain some control, but that’s her gig, and I expected her power move. What I didn’t expect was for her to walk away without saying a single word and then just leaving the fucking location.
I watch her ride away and literally shake my head as if trying to knock loose my confusion. Accepting she’s in fact gone, I walk back inside and look at what’s left of our dinner.
Going through the motions of collecting the food and dumping the half-used beers, I still smell Ginger in the room even with the overwhelming stink of paint. She doesn’t have a floral or fruity scent. She smells like the soap I used growing up. Something simple like Irish Spring or Dial. Nothing to impress me, Ginger offered a raw, unashamed version of her.
Then she ran away without saying a single word.
I think about how she gained her power. Well-adjusted wouldn’t fit someone with her past. No doubt this freak-out is her way of coping. Or her way of making me work harder for what I want. Difficult to tell with Ginger, but I won’t give up even if she might be considering doing so.
My life might not seem like a picnic to some fancy fuck like the mayor, but I’ve been luckier than most. I inherited good looks and an impressive size from my parents, ensuring I wouldn’t suffer the fate of a lot of non-white kids in Arkansas. I gained the attention of the Rawlins Heretics without doing shit. The former president, Cell, more than recruited me. The man mentored me as much as a lazy fuck like him could muster. Then he got killed and caused the loss of most of the club.
Now I’m running things with no members willing to challenge my leadership. Joker offered help when I needed it and the Everything Nice Crew brings money along with power. It all fell into my frigging lap.
Even my sweet kids were ditched by their mothers, meaning I can raise them with Mom rather than sharing custody with unstable women.
I’d always respected my life’s bounty. Though I wonder if I’m now punished for taking for granted that I’ll win over Ginger. I’ve never put effort into seducing a fox into my henhouse. They flock to me, crazy for a taste of attention. Even my kids’ moms were horny from the get-go, and I could barely get my pants off fast enough for them.
With Ginger, I had her right where I wanted until she suddenly changed gears. Now I don’t know if I’m in or out.
I drive past Hildy’s B&B even though the massive house isn’t on my way home. Ginger’s Harley sits between two others, so I know she arrived safely. Is she inside talking shit about me? Or is she laughing at how I thought I was in charge only to end up left hanging? I stare up at the house, studying the lighted windows and wondering which room might belong to Ginger.
A shadowed figure looks out of a second-story window. The hair is too short for Ginger, so I assume one of her super bitchy sidekicks is giving me a dirty look. Pulling away from the house, I ride home in the darkening evening.
I don’t think I’m depressed or angry when I park my Harley. No longer shocked or even horny. My dick quickly accepted Ginger wouldn’t be welcoming it tonight.
Climbing off my bike, I figure maybe I am a little depressed. At the very least, I’m pouty from thinking too hard about a problem I never expected to have with a woman. I mean, Ginger licked my lips at the hardware store. Her engines revved hot for me tonight.
Seriously, what the fuck happened?
I enter my house, hoping my family will distract me from my gloomy confusion.
“I have leftovers,” I announce to the kids who jump up from the floor where they’re watching Power Rangers. “We have fried rice, Chinese noodles, and chicken with broccoli.”
Mom looks up from her book and gives me a frown. “You’re home early.”
I ignore the question behind her comment and set up the kids to eat at the living room table. They bring forks and juice.
“Share, so I don’t have to make you share,” I tell them before they can fight over who gets more chicken and less broccoli.
“How was your date?” Alani asks, smiling up at me with her front teeth missing.
“She didn’t seem too happy and then ran away.”
Makoa laughs with a mouth full of food. “Did you fart?”
“Yeah, but I was real stealth about it. She didn’t notice.”
“She probably did,” Alani says and pats my leg. “She smelled it and ran away to get fresh air.”
They laugh at the thought and then Makoa begins a symphony of fart sounds. His sister shakes her head in disgust before grabbing the rice container and climbing on the couch next to me.
“Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, real pretty.”
“Do you want to kiss her?”
“Sure, but my farting probably scared her off.”
“You can say you’re sorry and give her a flower.”
“No man should apologize for farting,” Mom announces. “Farting is natural, and any woman worth liking would understand that.”
I give my mother a dirty look, and she frowns right back at me. Alani ignores our scowling because she notices Makoa’s discovery of an egg roll.
“Share,” she says, sliding onto the floor. “Dad said.”
Her brother rolls his dark eyes before tearing it in half and handing her the slightly smaller chunk. Alani likely notices his move, but she doesn’t complain. She’s got the big sister routine down.
“I think I’ll send Ginger something to say I’m sorry for farting,” I announce while kicking off my boots and stretching out on the couch. “Something that a girl would like.”
Alani announces, “Flowers.”
“Candy,” Makoa says. “Give her a cat.”
“She’s staying at a hotel right now, so a cat won’t work. I don’t know about flowers. Candy might work. I notice she likes Starbursts.”
“I like candy too,” Alani reminds me.
“Halloween isn’t too far off. Why not wait until then to ruin your teeth?”
“No.”
Smiling at her tone, I close my eyes and rest my feet on the couch’s arm. I know Mom is eyeing me in her all-knowing, mother way. She thinks I’m a fool to chase a woman like Ging
er. She doesn’t understand, though. She is a woman and my father chased her. She can’t imagine the other side of that dance, and how a man like me needs to possess a woman like Ginger. All the dirty looks in the world won’t stop me. Neither will Ginger’s runaway routine tonight.
I’m lucky in life, and she’s the prize I’ve been waiting for.
Chapter Six
‘a‘ole pilikia
➸ Ginger ☆
The day after our clusterfuck date, Oz drops off a glass heart vase filled with Starbursts. Pepper and Yarrow bring it to me. Then the former warns that men are the scourge of society. I helpfully remind Pepper how she wants a kid that might be a boy. She immediately shrugs and claims her sons will be the exceptions to the rule.
“Just for that, I’m not sharing my candy,” I say and hug the vase to my chest.
Pepper gently tugs at my hair and sighs. “He was spying on you last night.”
“Stalking is a better word,” I mutter as my gaze finds Yarrow’s grumpy one. “Spying makes Oz sound like the enemy rather than a sex-crazed maniac.”
Pepper studies me with her bright blue eyes, and I wait for her to give me a cranky reply.
“Cute gift,” she says and walks out of the room.
Yarrow and I watch Pepper go then I set the vase next to my bed. I take out a Starburst and unwrap it. Holding out my hand, I give Yarrow a silent request for her to join me. Like a big kid, she crawls onto the bed, takes the candy, and rests quietly next to me while I think of Oz.
Not once did I mention my love affair with candy to him. The guy’s more perceptive than I anticipated, and I can’t help thinking I’m wrong to shut things down so quickly. After all, I freaked out in an utterly juvenile way, and he still wants me. Plus, rather than mocking me, he sent a sweet gift.
“Romance is tricky shit,” Bay says, entering the room.
“Of course, you’d think that,” I mumble, chewing on a Starburst in my mouth while stroking Yarrow’s dark hair. “You’re in love with Pepper.”
Smiling, Bay joins me on the bed. “Don’t analyze what won’t make sense. Follow your gut. If shit turns rotten, shift gears and deal with the fallout.”