Mick'sology (The Flynn Family Book 2)

by Kayt Miller

  I wait a couple of minutes until my phone chimes. When it appears, it takes my breath away. Mick is holding a baby that looks just like him. She’s got white, blonde hair and big brown eyes. I know Mick’s are blue, but they have the same shape. She’s beautiful and seeing him with that baby made my ovaries explode. Not good.

  Me: OMG! She’s so beautiful! How old is she?

  Mick: She was born in June so almost five months.

  Me: She’s perfect.

  Mick: She is indeed. Hey, I need to put her down for the night. Can I call you after that? I want to ask you about something.

  Me: Sure.

  Mick: You sure you can stay awake for a few minutes more, old lady?

  Me: Just call me asshat.

  Mick: Sure thing, asshat.

  Mick: Commas are important. ;)

  **Groan**

  I busy myself with mindless tasks like picking out my clothes for tomorrow. I brush my teeth and my hair, twice. I’ve started straightening my sock drawer when my phone rings. Finally. I was about to match socks.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me. Sorry, it took so long. Katie wasn't very helpful in the sleep department. She wanted to talk instead.”

  “Talk? She’s only five months old.”

  “Well, I talk. She listens. It’s our deal.”

  “She listens to you? You do realize that she has no idea what you’re saying, right?”

  He laughs, “Yeah, I know. She reacts to the tone of my voice, though, so it’s fun to watch her as I talk. Someday I’ll be the one listening to her tell me things. I can’t wait for that.”

  “That’s so sweet, Mick,” I say with a little awe in my voice.

  “What can I say? I’m hot and sweet.”

  I snort at that, “So, what did you want to ask me?” Please say you want to take me on a date. Please say…

  “Well, there are two things. The first thing is, I want to invite you to my annual Halloween Party. It’s the 30th this year, and it’s a blast.”

  Yes! “Um, would I have to wear a costume?” I dislike Halloween. For one, I eat too much candy and second, I look terrible in costumes. But, I did wear a halfway decent costume my senior year of college. I wonder where that is?

  “Of course you have to wear a costume. It's fucking Halloween, woman!”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Oh, I’ll never tell. You’ll have to show up to see.”

  “I’ll think about it. So, was there another thing you wanted to talk about?” The sooner we move on from Halloween party talk, the better. I’m sure I’ll go because I’m a glutton for punishment. I won’t be able to turn down any invite from Mick.

  “Well, the second thing relates to your job.”

  “My job? How so?”

  “I have an idea for a product, but I’m not sure where to start with it. Can I tell you what it is and get your feedback?”

  “Sure.”

  Mick proceeds to tell me about his idea for bottling some of his own alcoholic drink recipes––drinks he came up with on his own.

  “I’m what you call a mixologist.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fancy name for a bartender,” he says with a laugh. “Actually, mixology is the art and science of mixing drinks. Some mixologists even have degrees in chemistry. Some go to culinary school.”

  “Do you have a degree? How did you learn to be a mixologist?”

  “No degree, just years of practice. Trial and error. I’ve created six original drinks that are on the menu here at Chrome.”

  “And do those recipes belong to the club now?”

  “No. It’s in my contract––any new drink recipes I develop are mine. I’ve researched patenting those, and it’s possible.

  “Yeah, you can patent almost anything. Interesting. Does your product have a name?”

  “Not yet. I know I want to bottle at least four of my recipes initially. I’d like to have one primary brand name for them so I can develop more recipes under that name.”

  “Okay, you have the drink names, you just need a brand name? Let me think for a second… forgive me if I talk out loud. I talk to myself when I work.”

  “No problem, I…

  “Okay, these are cocktails, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You’re a mixologist,” I say absently. I laugh, “It’s funny. Your name is Mick, and you're a mixologist. You’re an M-i-c-k apostrophe. s-o-l-o-g-i-s-t.”

  There’s silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Hello? Mick? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, babe.” He chuckles, “You’re a damn genius.”

  “I am?”

  “Mick’sology? Using my name instead of m-i-x? Fucking perfect. That took you five minutes to give me a brand name. I’ve been brainstorming for two years. I kid you not. Thank you so much! I’ll pay you for this when I actually get going, okay?”

  “Mick. No. It was nothing.”

  “It was everything. You 're incredible, Roni,” Mick says with sincerity. “God. Thanks so much,” he sighs in the phone. “I can’t wait to tell my sibs. They’re totally sick of me asking for ideas,” Mick laughs.

  “I’m glad I could help.” Right after I say that I hear the cry of a baby. “Uh oh, is little Katie up?”

  “Yeah, that was her baby monitor. I guess I didn’t get her to sleep. I need to go check on her and try again. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Night, Mick.”

  “Night, babe.”

  Chapter 11: Mick

  Rocking Katie to sleep, I think about Roni and my new brand name for my drinks. “It was unbelievable, Kate. It took her five minutes to think of a name, and it’s a genius idea. Mick’sology. Isn’t it perfect?” I coo at the little beauty in my arms. “I should do something nice for her, right Katie Did?”

  “Someday, I’ll be rich, and I’ll buy you a pony,” I whisper. “We just won’t tell your daddy. He probably won’t let you do anything that he thinks as dangerous. I suspect he’ll carry you to school every day himself. Oh, and good luck getting a boyfriend. That’s never going to happen.”

  “Damn straight it’s never going to happen!” grumbles my big brother.

  “Honey? You’re home early,” I say sarcastically.

  “Can’t do anything else tonight on my latest case. It’s cold as a dead hooker.”

  “Gross, dude. Now that’s all I see in my head. Asshole.”

  He laughs at me. He’s used to sick cop humor. “Has my girl been good?” He reaches out to take her from my arms. I’m always a little sad to let her go, but she is his daughter. I stand from the rocker and gently put her in his arms. She gurgles at her daddy.

  “She’s been perfect. She just doesn’t want to go to sleep.”

  “She’s been doing that lately. She wants to stay up, or she wakes up in the middle of the night and wants to party, unfortunately. Soph and I are exhausted.”

  “I bet. Hey, listen to this…” I tell him about Roni’s idea for my brand name.

  “That’s fucking genius,” Hank says laughing.

  “I know! Why didn’t we think of that?”

  “Because we’re not creative. At all.”

  We both laugh. I pat him on the back and head out. Done early, I head out to my car. “What do I do now? It’s only eight thirty?” I say aloud. My first thought is of Roni. I’m not sure why but I wish we could hang out. I could call her. Nah, I’d better not. She was tired tonight. Plus, she’ll get the wrong idea.

  Maybe the Cubs are on television. Decision made, I head to my shome away from shome. That’s cool. I like my apartment. I call it a shome because it’s actually right above my dad and brother’s workshop. They own a construction company together. When they needed a building to house their equipment, and for custom carpentry work they purchased a building that came with an apartment on the second level. So, shop plus home equals shome. Clever, huh?

  My place isn’t far from Hank’s ho
use in Edgewater. It’s pretty big with an open loft vibe. The only walls in the place are around the bedroom and bathroom. Otherwise, the two thousand square feet are taken up by a small galley-style kitchen and an area, I call Manland, that houses my television and a huge leather sectional that used to belong to my brother David. It was in his bachelor pad. His girlfriend––now wife––hated it, so his loss is my gain because it’s a kick-ass couch.

  You can’t beat the rent either. I only have to pay utilities on the place, which aren’t cheap. But, it’s cheaper than paying rent somewhere else. My dad and Keith think free rent is the price you pay for having live-in security. The tools they have in the shop are worth a fortune and thieves love to steal tools. This arrangement works for all of us.

  When I get to my place, I strip down and throw on a pair of athletic shorts and an old Blackhawks t-shirt. Grabbing a beer and some leftover take-out, I launch myself onto my couch and tune into the Cubs in the bottom of the seventh. I made it in time.

  I eat, drink, and watch the game. I think about my day and night. Before long I start to doze off. I’m thinking about my new brand name as I fall asleep. Sleep soon turns into a dream about Veronica. It’s a sexy as fuck dream too.

  We’re in the pool at the gym. It’s just the two of us. The ceiling lights are off, but the lights underneath the water are on, so the place glows. She’s glowing like a beautiful sea nymph as she does the backstroke in her lane.

  My eyes follow the line of her body starting at her feet and moving up to her face. Her eyes are closed, and she has a smile on her face like she’s enjoying herself in the water. My eyes make their way back down her body stopping at her chest. Fuck. The woman was built.

  I stalk toward her through the water. I need to get to her faster, so I dive under the water toward her. She’s startled when my head breaks the water’s surface only a foot from her.

  “Mick? What are you doing here,” she says with a husky whisper.

  “I saw you swimming, and I thought I’d join you.”

  She’s backing away from me, but I keep moving closer to her. She stops by the edge of the pool. She’s backed herself into the corner. I move in front of her and cage her in with my arms. “Veronica, what are you doing here? This is my gym. Are you following me?” I ask hoping the answer is yes.

  “No. This is my gym too. Are you following me?”

  “Yes.”

  She gasps at my answer.

  I move in closer so I can feel her. We’re chest-to-chest; close enough to feel hearts beating fast and furiously. Her breathing speeds up, and she’s looking away. I reach my hand up and take her chin in my fingers and turn her to me. “Look at me, Roni.”

  “No.” She pulls away again.

  “I said, look at me.”

  She turns her head and looks up. Our eyes meet. “Baby, you’re fucking beautiful,” I say leaning down. The kiss is hotter than the one in the taxi. Her arms move around my neck as she pulls herself closer. Her legs wrap around my waist. Now she knows what she does to me. I’m rock hard.

  I deepen the kiss, so it’s all tongue. Fuck, this girl is hot. I move back, so she’s pinned between the wall and me. I shift myself, so my dick is pressing into her center. I thrust upward. Goddamn, that feels good.

  I pull away from the kiss, “Take the swimsuit off. Now.”

  She nods and reaches toward the straps on her Speedo. The thing is damn tight. I help her pull it down past her breasts, and as they pop from the confines of her suit, I gasp. “Magnificent,” I groan. I’ve got big hands, but they’re no match for her tits. I slide my thumbs over her nipples, she arches into my hands, and I’m done for.

  I lean down and take her left nipple into my mouth. I suck and lick and suck again. I pull her areola into my mouth and use my tongue to tickle her nipple. She’s writhing in my arms. I need more. I move to her right breast while using my hands to push down the suit the rest of the way. Once it’s past her hips, it slides off easily and floats to the bottom of the pool.

  She slides her tiny hand into my board shorts pulling them down until my dick is finally free. When her hand meets my cock, all hell breaks loose. “Baby, I need to fuck you. Now.”

  “I need you too. Now Mick. I need you so bad.”

  Damn, I love it. I love how she says my name. I love that she told me she needed me. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She wraps her soft thighs around my waist, and it feels like heaven. I grasp her hips and thrust up into her tight pussy. We moan in unison. “So tight, babe. Fuck.”

  “Don’t stop, Mick. Please.”

  “I won’t.” I fuck her hard. She’s taking my thick cock like a champ. Her softness feels so good against my hard plains. I’m pumping into her so fast I come like a rocket inside her. She’s screaming my name as she comes all over my cock. Her walls are squeezing so hard I may black out. “Fuck, that was good!” I say taking in big gulps of air.

  She sighs, “It was perfect. God Mick, we’re going to make such beautiful babies together.”

  What the fuck?! I jerk awake; pun intended. I launch myself off of my couch. I’ve got come all over my hand and stomach as I sprint to my bathroom. Fucking babies? I ruined my own wet dream with fucking baby shit. God, I’m such an idiot.

  Chapter 12: Roni

  So far, Tuesday at the office is much better than Monday. At ten o’clock, my meeting with my boss and Chris is interrupted by a call from the security desk in the lobby of our building. My boss answers the call, “Yes?” he says gruffly.

  “Delivery for Veronica McGonigall, sir.”

  “Send whatever it is up and leave it in her office.”

  “Yes, sir.” The receptionist hands up quickly. It’s no wonder, the boss sounded irritated. He gives me a look that I read as anger.

  “I’m sorry, Bill, I didn’t have something delivered. I have no idea what that’s about,” I confess.

  A few minutes later, we’re dismissed. Chris follows me to my office chatting about the research and plans for our newest client, EnerSport. When I reach my desk, I see the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. It’s a mixed bouquet of pink and yellow roses, lilies, carnations, baby’s breath, and a tall, purple, cone-shaped flower I’ve never seen before. It’s gorgeous. I pluck the card from its plastic holder. I gingerly open the flap of the little envelope and read:

  Thank you for last night.

  You’re amazing, Veronica!

  P.s. I had to search but I finally found a florist that carried

  the flower called Veronica. They’re the purple ones in your bouquet.

  I hope you like them. Talk to you soon. M

  Oh my, gosh! That’s so sweet. There’s a flower called Veronica? I had no idea. But, what did I do last night that was deserving of such a gift?

  As I’m thinking to myself, Chris interrupts my thoughts. “Wow, who sent you flowers? A client?”

  Why would he assume they’re from a client? That’s a douche thing to say. “No, they’re from Mick.”

  “Who’s Mick?” he stares at me for a second, “Oh wait. The bartender?” he asks sounding smug.

  “Yeah. Him,” I say with a smile.

  “What does the card say?”

  “Um, that’s none of your business, Chris. It’s personal.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Say? Veronica? Would you like to have lunch with me today? I meant to ask you but, well, we’ve been so busy with this product launch.”

  “Um, sure. That sounds great. Noon?”

  “I’ll pick you up,” he makes a snorting sound after he makes his little joke.

  “I’ll be here. See you then.”

  As soon as I see Chris’ back disappear down the hall, I pick up my phone and type:

  Me: OMG! The flowers are beautiful! Thank you, Mick! You didn’t need to do that. But I have it say, it worked!

  He responds minutes later.

  Mick: What worked?

  Me: Chris saw the
m and immediately asked me out.

  Mick: Well, that’s terrific. I’m glad it made him get off his ass.

  Me: You’re a genius.

  Mick: Well, I sent them to thank you for coming up with my brand name. But, if you think I'm a genius, then it’s a win-win.

  Chapter 13: Mick

  Well, fuck. I sent Roni the flowers to thank her for helping me with my brand. Its intention wasn’t to make that idiot Chris jealous. I guess I should be thankful, though. I was getting a little too cozy with her, and it’s best if she gets herself a man, so she doesn’t fall in love with me. That would suck––for her.

  On Thursday, I wake up at ten o’clock with a plan. I know that sounds like I’m lazy, but I worked again last night. My Wednesday bartender calls in more than he works. It’s time I let him go. There are other people who want the gig, and I’m sick of having to cover for his ass.

  I dress in my best pair of jeans. They’re dark and aren’t torn or ripped. I also don a shirt that has sleeves and buttons. Yeah, fancy. I tie on my best black leather Vans, grab my wallet and keys and head out so I can get there by eleven.

  As I enter the impressive building the huge vaulted ceilings in the lobby, make me feel insignificant. Its walls are paneled with warm, dark wood. The shiny, marble floor has veins of grays and brown running throughout. The October light illuminates the entire space thanks to the floor to ceiling windows. It’s a beautiful space––inviting and warm. I make my way to the reception desk and stand, waiting for the attractive young woman answering calls to help me.

  As soon as she finishes, she looks up and smiles, “Well, hello. What can I do for you?”

  I should be interested in this girl, but I see her every night at Chrome. Sure, she’s dressed more demurely for work, but I recognize a party girl when I see one. She’s got on too much makeup, her auburn hair is sleek and shiny, and her dark red dress is just a little too tight. She’s a petite thing, and on any other day, I’d have her in my bed before nightfall, but not today.