by Bijou Hunter
“Do I even need to be involved?” he asks, sounding angry.
Scolded by his tone, I feel my confidence slipping away. How did this man gain so much control over me in such a short amount of time?
“I thought you’d be happy.”
Oz suddenly smiles. “I am,” he says and gives my nipple a squeeze. “Just messing with you.”
“What the fuck?”
“You didn’t really think your sneaky shit would work, did you? I knew all along what you were up to, but I let you think I didn’t. Pretty baller lying, huh?”
“Dickhead.”
Laughing, Oz pulls me against him. “My mom has a big fucking mouth, Ginger. She can’t help it. She has to blab to me.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah. Maybe she’ll learn to share her secrets with friends once she’s in town and I’m no longer the only adult she talks to.”
“Mama’s boy gotta mama boy, I guess.”
Oz lifts my chin and kisses me tenderly. When his lips leave mine, he smiles. “I love you too, Ginger Snaps, warts and all. Wanna see how much?”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “There’s no time for a quickie.”
Still grinning, Oz pulls a ring box from his pocket and kneels in front of me. For a surreal moment, I think I’ll pass out. How is this romantic gesture happening to someone like me? I almost take off running down the stairs, but what’s the point? No matter where I run, I’ll always end up back with Oz.
“Will you be Missus Savo?”
“Yes,” I mumble and force my hands out of fists. “Of course. Like duh.”
“Yeah, that’s the Ginger Snaps who’ll ride my dick raw tonight.”
Oz stands and places the ring on my finger.
“It fits,” I mumble, struggling between the urge to either laugh or cry.
“Of course. It was Mom’s engagement ring, and she went with me to get it fitted. Clove told me your ring size.”
“Well, aren’t we all the sneakiest fuckers,” I say, smiling up at him.
Oz wraps me in his arms and kisses me so deeply I start considering the possibility of a quickie. We don’t rip off our clothes. Not right now anyway. Later, though, the future Missus Savo plans to screw this man senseless.
➸ Oz ★
I shouldn’t be surprised Ginger says yes. I know in my heart she loves me. We’re meant to be together, yet I still worried.
Now Ginger wears the same ring my father gave to my mother over thirty years ago. Though fate tore my parents apart, I refuse to believe it’ll do the same with Ginger and me.
Downstairs, Ginger shows off her ring. Mom hugs her tightly, whispering something I hope is supportive. They share a devious look once they part, and I suspect I might be in trouble if these two get along too well.
Standing nearby, Yarrow shoots hateful daggers at me. I know she’s having trouble adjusting to living alone. Each night, Yarrow comes over and sleeps on Ginger’s couch. I wonder if she thinks the couch is off-limits now that the kids and I are moving in.
“Do you like cats?” I ask Yarrow.
Her blue eyes widen as if shocked that I’d dare speak to her. Ginger steps closer to Yarrow.
“Yes, she likes animals.”
“Well, we’ll probably bring a few with us when we move in. Since you sleep here a lot, I wanted to make sure you weren’t allergic.”
Yarrow narrows her gaze, hating me for existing. Despite her glare, she relaxes as soon as I mention her living with cats. Yarrow isn’t dumb, and she knows I understand she belongs with Ginger just like my kids belong with me.
“You can take care of them since I don’t want to,” Ginger tells Yarrow, who reveals a small smile.
Ginger grins at me, and I see how much she appreciates how I’m trying with Yarrow. Duffy is the one we warned the kids about, but the kid doesn’t pay much attention to anyone. Yarrow, though, is very aware of what she can lose if Ginger has a family.
“Want to swim with the kids?” Ginger asks Yarrow and gestures for me to follow them. “I think Cayenne and Tana can handle dinner.”
Ginger glances back at the women, who nod before returning to talking about casseroles.
We join the kids in the backyard. Pepper throws two sets of keys to separate sides of the shallow end, so Alani and Makoa can race to see who returns theirs first. Seeing me, the kids smile for me and shake the keys triumphantly.
“I won the most!” Makoa announces.
“That’s my boy.”
Ginger tugs off her shirt to reveal a sporty red one-piece swimsuit. She removes her shorts and tosses them both on a chair. She joins the kids in the water. Yarrow walks to the hot tub where she sits next to Clove and watches Duffy.
“Come on, Daddy,” Ginger says to me after dunking her hair in the water.
Despite frowning at her wording, I admire how she still messes with me. Falling in love hasn’t turned her into mush. Ginger’s still the tough broad who walked into the Rusty Cage with the goal of making me her bitch and ended up with a husband, kids, and a mother-in-law.
➸ Ginger ☆
The kids bunk at my townhome for the first time on the night of the housewarming party. They’re exhausted from swimming by the time they see their rooms. After that point, they’re in a state of euphoria. They shower and brush their teeth in their private, Transformer-themed bathroom. Alani loves having her own sink while Makoa just runs from room to room until he flops into his sister’s bed and falls instantly asleep. They bunk together for the night, accustomed to having someone close. Oz checks on them every hour and insists on leaving open our bedroom doors so he can hear if there are problems.
“No one is getting into this house,” I tell him while half-asleep. “The alarm’s on and Yarrow’s downstairs on the couch. It’s like having a guard dog that can shoot a gun.”
“I hope my mom’s okay,” Oz mumbles in the dark room. “She’s never been at the house alone.”
“Soon, she’ll move to her new place, and we’ll install a badass alarm system. It’s also only a few blocks away, so we’ll always be there if she needs us.”
“You love her.”
“I love everyone.”
Oz’s laughter is the last thing I hear before sleep takes me. The next morning, Oz takes the kids home with the plan to slowly move them into the townhome. Weekdays, they stay at his house where the bus picks them up. Weekends, they stay at my place where they can play and swim. This plan goes to shit quickly.
“They don’t want to go home,” he says the following Sunday.
“Then let them stay here.”
“But how will they get to school?”
“We’ll drive them like we do with Duffy.”
“We?”
“Fine, someone who gets up early will drive them,” I admit, having a habit of sleeping late now that I’m at the townhome. “We usually take turns, so Duffy can deal with different cars and drivers.”
Oz rubs his jaw as if he’s deciding a life and death situation. I stretch out on the couch and look out the back door where Alani and Makoa kill whatever the hell the bad version of Transformers are. Duffy walks nearby with a dandelion she found at school and has held since Friday. Watching them, Yarrow is in full mama bear mode.
“They’re so adorable,” I coo. “Look at how happy they are.”
“It’s too fast.”
“You should bring a cat over, so I can get used to one.”
“Are you listening to me?”
“Of course. You’re very loud, Oz,” I say, glancing at him before turning my gaze to the kids outside. “You’re scared of change, but this townhome is our home. The kids feel it already. Soon, your mom will have a place of her own. Change isn’t bad when it makes everyone happy.”
“Things were good the way they were.”
“Except I can’t fit in that house, Oz, and you don’t want to sleep without me anymore. At least, that’s what you said last night after I fucked you stupid.”
“Maybe my s
tupidity is why I said it.”
“Are we arguing for real or is this foreplay?”
“Well, I could go for a fuck.”
“Of course, you could,” I say, smiling at his expression. “This is your home now. If you want the kids to spend time overnight with Tana, maybe it’d be easier for them on weekends. That way they can skip the bus, which they don’t like riding, and spend most days in their new home. Then on the weekends, you and I can debase ourselves in peace.”
“What about Yarrow?”
“She can spend the weekend with one of the other girls.”
“I guess,” he says, joining me on the couch. “So can we go upstairs and fuck?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” I say, standing up and tugging him along. “We don’t have the place to ourselves tonight, so this is our best shot at quiet time.”
I text Yarrow that I need to ride Oz for a while, so can she keep the kids busy. She texts back with “yuck” and follows up with “yes.”
“Our life is here,” I tell Oz once we’re frantically stripping out of our clothes and he stops kissing me long enough to get a word out. “Your attachment is to your family, not that house, and your family will never leave you.”
Oz stops tweaking my nipples and stares into my eyes. “I don’t have the words to say how much your words mean to me.”
Brushing his lips with my fingers, I whisper, “Show me with your dick. That’s how you write music, Oz.”
His luscious lips curve into a glorious smile and I know I’m about to be fucked senseless. More than sex, Oz needs to know where he stands in life with his family, club, and me. I can’t promise his kids won’t grow up and move away, or his mother won’t one day join his father in heaven. I can’t even promise his club won’t crash and burn. The only promise I can make is that I’m his—body, mind, and soul.
Epilogue
pau
➸ Oz ★
Two months after Ginger enters my life, I’m living near the center of Rawlins with my kids while Mom takes up residence in a house nearby. I’m bummed to tell the tiny, yellow house goodbye, but there’s no denying my family’s moved on to bigger and better things.
Three weeks after they see their new rooms, the kids begin sleeping alone. That is until the first stormy night when they share a bed while Yarrow sleeps on the floor in a sleeping bag. The next morning, I find Makoa with his arm resting across his sister’s back and Yarrow under at least one cat. That’s when I know we’re home, and there’s no going back.
Not that I really want to live in a small house away from Ginger. Everyone’s happier with our new arrangement, but that was the house where we made a million memories. As Ginger points out when we move the final box from the yellow house, “Now you’ll make a million new ones in our home.”
Our wedding is a quickie affair at the justice of the peace. For a reception, we have a barbecue out back, and my club brothers bring booze as gifts. Ginger insists on keeping the event very small to avoid half of Little Memphis showing up.
“If we invite one person, we’ll have to invite a hundred,” she warns. “No fuss or fanfare, okay?”
“You do understand that it’s never the man who wants the big wedding, right?”
“Good.”
“What about a honeymoon?”
“We’ll have the kids stay the weekend with Tana while we bang against every wall in the townhome.”
“You’re the perfect woman.”
Ginger loves how agreeable I am, though we still argue just to argue at least once a day. Sparring keeps me on my toes, and she views it as foreplay.
Then six months after our wedding, Ginger announces she is ditching her birth control. No discussion, not a single question about my feelings. I’d be irritated if I didn’t expect her turnabout to happen. The woman thrives with the kids in the house. The prostitute turned madam turned crime lord turned businesswoman naturally takes to motherhood. That’s what Ginger does whenever she puts her mind to something. She makes it happen, and raising children is no different.
“We’ll have a son,” she announces. “It’s preordained.”
“Boy or girl, I just want a baby with the woman I love.”
“As compared to the hussies you barely knew and forgot to use a condom with.”
Narrowing my gaze, I lean closer. “I didn’t forget. My sperm was too powerful to be stopped.”
“Notice how I didn’t get pregnant these six months? I’m just saying.”
“Do you wish I hadn’t knocked up those hussies?”
“Of course not,” she says and throws a box of tissues at me. “Those children are so perfect that I want you to make another one just like them inside me. Oh, but maybe aim for a smaller size. Tana said Alani and Makoa were both over eight pounds.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I say, pinning her to the bed. “I’ll have a long talk with my sperm on your behalf.”
“That’s not how that works,” she mumbles before I kiss her.
Ten months later, Ginger gives birth to our nearly ten-pound son. We know the baby will be big, but I’m still proud as fuck to see him stretched out in his bassinet.
“Now that’s a baby,” Ginger says, stretched out in her bed. “We made Bay’s little man look like a preemie.”
“That was my plan all along.”
Ginger smiles, looking exhausted, pale, and more beautiful than ever. “My little Rock looks just like his daddy,” she says, gesturing for me to bring the baby to her.
“His hair is pretty light,” I point out. “And we’re not calling him Rock.”
“Pika on the birth certificate, and Rock everywhere else. Just be happy I didn’t pick a long name that’ll get tattooed on your ribs.”
We’ve replayed this disagreement about a hundred times since the pregnancy test came up positive. She wants to name him Rock, and I think it’s dumb. She reminds me how I go by Oz and she’s Ginger. I remind her how it’s still dumb. Sometimes, I win the battle. Other times, she does. There’s no denying who wins the war, though. That would go to the foxy lady who pushed a nine pounder out of her crotch.
Not once during the pregnancy or afterward does Ginger try to run from the new emotions she’s feeling. Where can she run anyway? Her family is here. From me to the crew to the three cats, everything Ginger needs is in Rawlins now. The past still lingers in her thoughts, tempting to drag her back into the darkness, but we hold strong and keep her in the present where everything she deserves is at her fingertips. And my woman deserves the world; something I’ll spend the rest of my life giving to her.
➸ Ginger ☆
So this is what it feels like to be normal. I’m a wife and mother. Baking, cooking, bouncing a baby on my hip, folding laundry, helping my kids with homework, and fucking my husband senseless. This is my life now.
Well, I still threaten people, hunt them down, and finish them off, but that’s more like a part-time job these days.
Fully domesticated, I don’t think I could stand the normalcy if it didn’t come with the non-average Oz. He’s no normal man, and I never feel stuck with him nearby.
I finally relent on the baby talk after having a vivid dream. My son and I were on the run, shooting monsters and surviving natural disasters. All crazy shit, but I woke up missing the way I felt when I held my little man.
That’s when I decide to make a real one, and Rock is better than a dream. I never hesitate to hold him. Touching him is addictive. He’s mine, and I worked hard to carry him for nine months. No one can keep us apart, not even the damaged kid still hiding in my head.
To say I underestimated Oz when we met is an understatement. I knew he was sexier than sin, but I couldn’t have imagined everything else the walking muscle-bound sex-crazed biker had to offer. He can be so sweet and gentle that I worry he’s becoming the girl in the relationship. Then he fucks me with a demanding appetite that proves he is, in fact, the man.
Rumor has it bad
men piss themselves when they hear my name, but Oz isn’t one of them, and I thank my lucky stars every day for that fact.
About Bijou
Living in Indiana with my three sweet sons, three wacky cats, one super mom (and her ugly dog), I love cats, 1970s rock, Bubble Witch Saga, Red Letter Media, and sitcoms canceled before their time.
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