by Cat Mason
Getting Bristol to agree to go out with me was easier than I thought it would be. So easy, in fact, that I had no actual plan once I got beyond that. At best, I was going to be winging it. But, in my defense, when Uncle Felix walked in on us and I saw the cut and run look in her eyes, I knew I was losing my shot. I couldn’t let her leave my office without fully making my move.
Problem is, I don’t know what to do now.
All I do know is that I want to impress her.
I have no clue where to take her and no idea what to say. Nearly every time I have opened my mouth around her, I very quickly end up sticking my foot in it.
Except when I kissed her.
I have never had something go so wrong, only to end up feeling so right.
The high from kissing her last night still lingers, brewing under my skin. The thought of doing it again has me so wired, I spent nearly the entire night tossing and turning. Her body was warm, so soft beneath my hands, that it took everything in me to keep from running over there, snatching her up out of bed, and taking her mouth again.
When I did drift off, my dreams were filled with her. And all the other, more exciting, places I could put my mouth. And what I want her to do with hers. Sadly, instead of lips wrapped around my dick, I ended up in a cold shower at three am, yanking one out with Felicia the Fist.
At some point, Felicia is going to start cramping from overuse.
“Moo, you ready for a walk?” I ask, stepping into the kitchen where he lies sleeping at my uncle’s feet.
“Muggy out this mornin’,” Uncle Felix announces. “Leave him be in the air conditioning where it’s cool.” Taking his eyes off the sports section long enough to look me over, he shakes his head. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I reply, heading straight for the coffee pot. “I needed the boost in my confidence this morning after not sleepin’ for shit.”
“You don’t need me sweetenin’ shit up for ya,” he chuckles, returning his eyes to his beloved newspaper. “Caught you divin’ face first into the sugar bowl last night with my own two eyes. Just seein’ that had me takin’ extra insulin.” His eyes peek over the top of the page, meeting mine. “I suspect you’ll be courtin’ that one now. Jo’d like that.”
“Courtin’?” I ask, downing a mouthful of the caffeinated slop my uncle calls coffee. The thick sludge looks more like motor oil, and I’m willing to bet the oil would taste better. But, at this point, it’s stomaching this shit or walk around in a haze all day like some kind of zombie. “Don’t think I’ve heard that term used. Ever.”
“Mhm,” he nods. Folding up the paper, he sits it down on the table. “Take ‘er flowers, show the girl a good time. Women love knowin’ they’ve got all your attention. Boy, they’ll hem and haw for hours about everythin’ if they think you’re listenin’. The secret is to let ‘er talk a bit, then shut ‘er up with some smoochin’,” he teases, puckering his lips. “Best you stock up on chapstick and get yourself some mints.”
“Wow, Unc,” I chuckle. “Sounds like you were a real lady killer back in the day.”
“Back in the day?” he scoffs, smoothing a hand over his thinning white hair. “Boy, don’t let my age fool ya. There’s still plenty of spice left in this sliver fox. It’s time for a ride on the hog,” he says, referring to the electric scooter he bought after his old Cadillac convertible took a shit nine months ago.
It totally makes sense to buy a mode of transportation that is nearly impossible to drive five months of the year, since we live in fucking Northern Michigan. But, I didn’t say a word when he pulled up with it. Arguing with him would have resulted in him buying two just to drive the point home.
Pushing to his feet, he straightens the front of his bright blue track suit. Stepping over a snoring Moo, he heads for the door. “Lock up your ladies, Frisky Felix is on the prowl.”
“You ready to go?” I ask my lazy ass dog. When he doesn’t move, I sit down my coffee mug and clear my throat. “Moo, I know you hear me. Get the hell up and let’s go down to the water.”
Cracking one eye open, he grunts. Standing to his feet, Moo turns his back to me before dropping back to the floor and sprawling out his legs. “So dramatic,” I say, making my way around the counter toward the backdoor. “Maybe we should cut back on the chicken biscuits and go visit Doc Denton.”
Moo groans loudly and pushes to his feet. Slowly making his way over, he sulks like a kid being sent to bed without dessert. “Big baby,” I scold him as we step out onto the porch and make our way to the shoreline. “It’s the lake, not the electric chair.”
“You hide your secrets well. Tucked safe behind the lies you tell.” Bristol’s voice echoes, grabbing my attention. Looking up, I spot her sitting on the third level of the porch, where I first spotted her days ago. Her bare feet propped up on the railing as she strums an acoustic guitar. “Where is my chorus? This song will fucking suck without one. What a waste of time. The label will be pissed as hell. Be lucky if they don’t fucking sue us.”
“Sounds like a number one!” I shout, tossing her a thumbs up.
Sitting up, she scans the beach, smirking when she spots me. “Thanks,” she says, pushing to her feet. Leaning the guitar against the chair, she braces herself on the railing and stares down at me. “It’s called, All Washed Up. I’m pretty proud of it.”
“You should be,” I agree, shoving my hands in my pockets. My feet move closer, inching my way toward her. “Missed you last night.” Her eyes widen immediately, and I freeze, realizing how that just came out. “Uh, that’s not what I meant. When I got back from delivering orders you were gone; so, I missed you. I missed you leaving. Not that I missed you. It wasn’t like I was missing you, you know, like that or anything. That would be weird, right?” Scrubbing a hand over my face, I blow out a breath. “This is weird. I’m sorry.”
For shit’s sake, Tage. Get a fucking grip.
“I know what you meant,” she replies, making her way down the steps. “This doesn’t need to be one of those awkward moments,” she informs me, moving closer. “Thick with tension. Unanswered questions lingering in the air. Will they? Won’t they? I thought last night dealt with that.” Stopping on the last step, her face is nearly level with mine. Shaking her head, she arches a brow. “Didn’t kissing me get me right where you want me?”
“Not even close,” I mumble, making her laugh.
“Then take me somewhere, Tage,” she says, before running her tongue along her bottom lip. While she probably has no idea she is even doing it, the seemingly innocent action has me about to come out of my skin.
Or maybe that’s her plan.
“Right now?” I ask, knowing she was just up there trying to work on a song. “Aren’t you busy?”
“That future chart topper will still be waiting when I get back,” she giggles, leaning in closer. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do than get out of my own head for a while and have some fun. Just give me time to clean up and tell Evan.”
“Okay.”
Bristol presses her lips to my jaw. Instead of grabbing a fist full of her long dark hair and slam my mouth to hers, I watch as she turns her back to me, moves back up the steps and disappears inside.
Chasing down my dog turned into an unexpected workout. By the time I drag his ass away from the family picnic he decided to crash, hose off the sand and food he is covered in, and get us back in the house, I am dirtier than he was to start with. Cleaning myself up quickly, I fill Moo’s bowl with food and top off his water, along with leaving a note for Uncle Felix, letting him know that I will be back before it’s time to head to work.
Instead of navigating the mine field of holes Moo has turned the front yard into, the moment the ground began to thaw in the spring, I climb into my Jeep and drive over to pick up Bristol. The front door swings open the second I shut off my engine, Evan’s large frame taking up nearly the entire doorway. His long black hair hangs loose around his face, making him look intimidating as hell.
/> “Hey man, what’s up?” I ask, climbing out and heading his way. “Is Bristol ready?”
“She’ll be right out. First, you and me, we’re gonna have a little chat.” Crossing his arms over his chest, his face hardens as he sizes me up. “What are your intentions?”
“My what?” I ask, confused.
“Your intentions,” he repeats, rolling his eyes. “She isn’t your normal girl, man.” Turning his back to me, he moves toward a set of wooden loungers with deep red cushions and flops down onto one. Meeting my eyes again, he points at me. “Bristol is special. Most guys your age don’t understand that.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-eight,” he blurts, then stops and shakes his head. “Not the point here, boy.”
“You do realize that means I’m older than you. Right, Evan?” I ask, leaning against the porch railing while resisting the urge to flip him off for calling me ‘boy’.
“Age is just a number, asshole. Don’t get shit twisted. I’m makin’ it real simple for ya,” he mutters, waving me off. “Don’t put yourself in a situation that requires me to have to come up with a creative way to kill you. Hidin’ a body in this heat isn’t my idea of a good fuckin’ time,” he says arching a brow. “Ya feel me?”
“Thank fuck all your splooge gets sprayed into latex. I can’t believe you,” Bristol says, shoving out the door and shooting him a glare. “Did you already tell him about my extra toes on my left foot or the third eye in my belly button?” she asks, smirking. “I usually save the really juicy secrets for after I drug a dude and sell his kidneys; but, you know how I hate showing up late to story time empty handed.”
“I was just gettin’ to that part,” Evan says, his lips twitching with amusement. “Change slower next time.”
Bristol looks up at me, giving me a smile. “You ready?”
Saying goodbye to Evan, we head for my Jeep. While most people usually take one look at my topless, doorless, extremely raised machine and give me shit, Bristol’s eyes light up the closer we get. Grabbing onto the side, she pulls herself up and pushes off the running board with her foot, sliding in almost effortlessly. “This is awesome,” she says, excitedly. Buckling her seatbelt, she meets my eyes. “Where are we going?”
“I was thinking lunch,” I reply with a shrug. “Although, we should probably scratch that if you’re plannin’ evasive surgical procedures.”
“Evan’s a shit,” she laughs, brushing the hair from her face. “Keep your kidneys. You’d just bleed on me; then I’d faint. Or puke. Probably both. Nothing ruins a good time like a seeping abdomen wound.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I chuckle, shifting gears as we move through town.
Parking in the town square, Bristol and I head up the sidewalk toward Foster’s Coffee Shop. “That’s Dave’s Movies and More,” I point to the blue and white trimmed storefront. “Not sure what the ‘more’ is, but if you ever need to rent a VHS tape, there ya go. Next is the post office. Across the street, there, is the police station and firehouse.”
Slipping her hand into mine, she laces our fingers. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing up the street with her free hand.
“All the Rage Roller Rink,” I reply, glancing down at her. “And Arcade.”
“Is that where we’re going?” she asks, squeezing my hand. “I should warn you, Tage, with balls or a joystick in my hand, I’m pretty lethal. Especially if there’s a prize corner waiting for me to cash in my tickets.”
“It’s closed right now, actually,” I say, stopping in front of Foster’s. Looking inside, I see most of the tables are filled and people are chitchatting freely while enjoying their lunches. Being that this is a small town, walking in there will no doubt complicate our easy and comfortable conversation. It ends our privacy. I don’t want to share this time with her with others. Turning back to Bristol, I see her studying me, trying to read my thoughts.
All I can think about is being alone with her for as long as possible without any interruptions.
This is now the last place I want to be.
“You know what,” Releasing her hand, I wrap my arm around her, tucking her into my side. Moving further down the street, I dig my keys out of my pocket, fumbling with them one-handed until I find the one I need. “Come with me.”
Chapter Seven
Unlimited Sniffage
Bristol
“Hang on a sec,” Tage says, fumbling with some switches on the wall. “I always forget what switches do what over here.”
Random lights turn on, illuminating the large room. A concrete half wall with, what looks like a worn out bumper cushion along the top, runs nearly the entire length, separating some ugly bright green carpet from the wooden rink. Lockers and benches line the opposite wall, leading to several shelves of skates that stop shy of a concessions area and small arcade set up in the far corner.
The walls are painted a deep blue with bright murals of skating cartoon dinosaurs and music notes. It’s like a flashback to my elementary school gym and the ridiculous exercising dinosaurs on those walls that gave me nightmares in the first grade.
“You own this too?” I ask when I feel him come up behind me.
“No. All this belongs to Bob Burleson. He’s one of the cranky old bastards I’m sure you’ve seen at the bar. He’s always there. I’ve been helping him out with overseeing the remodel.” Taking my hand in his, he brushes thumb over mine. Every time he does that simple gesture it has my heart skipping a beat. It also feels like I am holding my breath until he does it again. “Can you skate?”
“When I was a kid, our elementary school had these skate nights to raise money.” I laugh. “You know, that Limbo thing where you had to skate under the stick without falling, The Chicken Dance, even The Hokey Pokey. My ass saw more of that damn floor than my skates ever did, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t forget the couples’ skates,” he adds when I sit down on a bench.
“Cheesy rock ballads, spotlights, and the occasional horny teenage boy’s hand slipping down onto my ass to cop a feel; how could I forget?” I gasp, smirking up at him. “Good times.”
Tage’s eyebrows waggle, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Bristol?”
“Tage?”
“Take off your shoes.”
“Oh no,” I say, waving him off. “Not a chance in hell. You’re not getting me out there on skates.”
“Come on,” he says sweetly. “I’m willing to bet Bob has a stash of cheesy rock ballads.” Kicking out of his sneakers, he heads for shelves filled with dozens of ugly ass brown roller skates. “You said you wanted to have some fun.”
“Okay,” I surrender, toeing off my shoes and heading over to search out a pair of rolling death traps in my size. “You asked for it. But, when I break my ass, you’re carryin’ me all the way to back to the Jeep.”
“I won’t let you break your ass,” he informs me with a wink. “I’ll watch it very closely.”
Shoving into his skates quickly, Tage heads for the sound system to start the music. “Oh, look at that,” he shouts, holding up a tape in one hand while giving me a thumbs up with the other. “It’s a couple’s skate mixed tape.”
“It’s a mother rolling miracle,” I mutter, returning his hand gesture, instead of the one I would rather give him right now.
Shaking my head, I slip my feet inside the skates. Tightening the laces as much as I can, I tie them off and tuck the excess inside so that if they loosen, I won’t trip on them. Can’t Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon starts playing through the speakers just as I look up. Tage skates towards me, his entire body moving as if he were walking on air.
Stopping inches in front of me, he holds out his hands. “Ready?”
Blowing out a breath, I place my hands in his, along with my trust. With a tug, Tage has me on my feet, and nearly face-planting into his chest in seconds.
Holy son of a cockwomble, how on Earth does he always smell this good?
�
�It’s soap and fabric softener,” he says, releasing one hand to wrap his arm around my waist. Steadying me, he chuckles, the vibrations damn near have me panting. Blinking several times, I look up and catch him blushing. “And Tom Ford.”
He looks so damn cute when he blushes and gets all awkward. I want to grab him by the ears and kiss him stupid.
Even though I am pretty sure I am about to break my ass, I do believe I found a plus side to this skating shit.
Unlimited sniffage abilities.
Totally worth it.
Looks like my backside is gonna have to suck it up and take one for the team.
“Okay,” he says, helping me steady myself. “The trick is to keep your knees slightly bent, but don’t let your legs spread too far apart. Flow with the groove of the wood and give yourself enough room for turning. I’ll skate backward so you can see where we’re going. Trust me,” he says, winking again. “Your ass is safe in my hands.”
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, scowling at him.
Pulling me against him, he grins. “We’ll need to be closer.”
Resting his hands on my hips, his fingertips brush my ass. Chuckling, he shifts his body, skating backward and pulling me with him. My body stiffens, but I quickly remember what he told me. My ass is in his hands. Literally. Forcing myself to relax, I bend my knees like he said, allowing his body to guide mine through the opening in the barrier, and onto the rink.
“You’re good at this,” I say, noticing how easily he moves us. It’s like my added weight and unsteadiness on my feet doesn’t affect him at all.
“Not much different from the ice. Takes a bit of adjustment is all,” he replies. “When Uncle Felix couldn’t get me time to train on the ice in the next town over, I’d come here and spend hours running drills with Bob. Then I’d usually stay for the all-skates. I guess that’s why he trusts me with the remodel. Not many who know this place better than I do.”
Looking down, my eyes lock on my feet, sucking in a breath when I wobble. “Eyes up here, gorgeous.” His left hand leaves my hips. I stiffen instantly, positive that I am going to fall at any second since he has partially let me go. Tipping my face up, he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Focus on me, Bristol. Your body knows exactly what it needs to do, you just have to trust it.”