by Jordan Marie
“Nothing you use is going to make my sperm super human so I knock up sand rocks or something right?”
“Sand rocks? Just where in the hell are you sticking your willie at these days, Black?”
“Sadly, nowhere.”
“That’s good enough for you after that coo-coo bird you were living with in Dallas. I still don’t know what on earth possessed you to let that woman in your bed.”
“She had big tits,” Cyan answers as we walk through the door.
I flip him off. He’s not wrong, but he’s too much of a damn know it all about it.
“You boys. I tried to teach you. The good Lord knows I did. Those things are meant to give sustenance to babies. That’s it.”
“They’re a lot more fun than that, Mom,” Cyan mumbles over a full mouth. Looks like I made it home in time for dinner—not that I feel like eating any of it.
“Hate to break it to you boys, but those women you chase after with the tits the size of cantaloupes might look pretty right now, but one day those tits are going to be ankle warmers,” Mom mutters. “Pull up a seat Black and let me find my medicine bag.”
“What happened to you?”
“Got into a fight with a damn bee,” I tell Cyan, reaching over and grabbing a cucumber slice off of his plate.
“Try that again and I’ll stab you with my fork,” he grouses. “Hate to break it to you, but I think the bee won.”
“It was probably a female. It was definitely mean enough to be one.”
“Women aren’t mean, brother. You just have to know how to pet them the right way.”
“Tried that, nearly got my “pet-ter” chopped off. I’m pretty sure I’m done.”
If I sound bitter, it’s probably because I am. Losing a job you loved, a condo you really liked in a town you loved, will do that to a man. I mean, a lot of it was my fault. I’ll admit to that. I’m a trained detective. I should have somehow seen Linda’s crazy. There were signs, I was just too busy enjoying the perks of the relationship to see them. If anything can be said about Crazy Linda, it’s that she is a major pro in the sack—which, looking back, should have been a warning sign all on its own.
“Not all women are looney-tunes, big brother,” Cyan responds as Mom comes hustling back in carrying an old leather bag, which is sure to be full of home remedies.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I have got to get my own place.
“Well not all women are mean when they’re looney-tunes anyway,” Cyan says with a wink, his eyes shifting back to our Mom.
“I never spanked you enough as a kid,” she mutters to Cyan, proving her hearing is still the best of any of us in the household.
“You did Mom and I like spankings. I just like to be the one to give them now,” he says with yet another wink. Mom shakes her head, but she does it smiling. Of all of us, I think Cyan could sweet talk Mom into anything. It’s always been that way.
“Now, let me see if I have that cream for bites in here somewhere,” she mumbles, shuffling through the contents of her bag.
“Wait. Black is actually agreeing to a home remedy? What the hell for?”
“Didn’t you notice the baseball he’s sporting around on his head?”
“No. I was busy eating and you know how I am when I’m hungry… Holy shit you do have a knot on your head. Crazy Linda find you and take a bat to you?”
“Believe it or not, no. I was stung by a bee.”
“Christ man, it must have been hung like a gorilla,” Cyan mutters, shaking his head.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my brain too tired to go where Cyan’s goes—ever.
“The stinger. They sting you with their dick,” he says, like what he is saying is straight up gospel.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m the only sane crayon in this box,” I answer with a sigh. “Mom you swear this shit has no side effects?”
“What do you care if you plan on retiring your coc—”
“Cyan, watch your mouth at my kitchen table. It’s holy ground,” Mom chastises, causing me and Cyan both to look at each other and hide our laughter.
“If you plan on retiring your petting utensil, then,” Cyan jokes.
“There’s nothing in this that will help or hurt your wiener,” Mom mumbles, slapping some of the cream on my face. It’s cold at first, but it almost instantly starts feeling better.
“My wiener is fine the way it is,” I answer before Cyan can say something smartass about it. “Mom, that actually feels good,” I tell her, but I think I’ve spoken too soon. Because a fowl stench the likes of which I’ve never smelled in my life starts hitting me. That’s saying something too, because as a detective in Dallas I’ve done my fair share of dumpster diving.
“What the fuck is that smell?” Cyan asks, almost gagging as he says the words.
“Well the remedy works, but it does have a little stank to it,” Mom defends.
“A little stank?” I cry and I mean cry, because there are literally tears in my eyes from the smell and now it’s starting to burn. “What’s in this crap?”
“Nothing for you to get your boxers in a twist over. It’s all natural, aloe, homemade cow butter, a touch of lemon juice, some cinnamon…” she trails off.
I relax a bit, because that can’t be too harmful, but there’s no way those ingredients can make this smell either.
“What else?” I ask, because I know there has to be something else.
“Just a few more natural ingredients, I swear. You guys worry over everything. It’s feeling better right?” she asks and I think about it for a minute.
“It’s either better, or I can’t feel the pain because I’m too busy dying from the smell.”
“Oh my God mom! I thought I told you never to use that crap again while I’m in the house?”
“Well you weren’t in the house until just a few seconds ago, were you, Marigold? Besides your brother had to have it. He was swelling up like a balloon from a bee sting and was having a lot of pain,” Mom mumbles. She’s apparently satisfied that she has enough on me because she’s already putting her things away. I’m holding my nose, but I’m at least grateful the burning seems to have stopped.
“He must have been in a lot of pain to agree to put that crap on,” Mary murmurs, shaking her head at me. She grabs an apple and instead of turning around, she backs out of the room toward the door, her gaze locked with mine. There’s something in her look, something that tells me she has knowledge that I don’t.
“You know what’s in this junk? Am I going to get a woman pregnant by looking at her?”
“Pregnant? No. No chance in that. Heck, once they find out what you’ve been soaking your skin in, they may never want around you again,” she says, still backing away. She takes a bite out of her apple, and I know she’s waiting for me to ask more questions.
I know it and now I’m afraid.
“That sounds like something he should show Crazy Linda,” Cyan replies and everyone laughs—except me. I’ve lost my ability to laugh where Linda is concerned.
“What’s in it?” I respond, my voice quiet.
“I told you it was all natural!” Mom says, instantly offended.
“What’s in it, Mary?”
Mary looks at Mom and then at me. Something makes her hesitate.
“Mom’s right. It is all natural,” she says with a shrug.
“Told you. Fudge-sickles and handlebars, I get zero respect around here when Jansen is out of town.”
“What’s in it, Mary?”
“Relax, Black. It’s nothing really,” she says with a smile that I do not trust.
“Tell me, or I’ll make sure Teddy Ray down at the station knows you’re sweet on him,” I warn her.
Her eyes go hard.
“You wouldn’t dare. I can’t stand him!”
“I know that, you know that, but Teddy has no idea if you do… or if you don’t. He’s been looking for a good woman to take out frog gigging with him on Saturday nights.”
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“I hate you,” she mumbles. “Fine. There’s nothing in it but a muffin or two,” she says turning around and starting up the stairs.
“Mom, I thought you said there wasn’t any of your home cooking involved that would make me knock a woman up?” I ask, thoroughly confused now.
“She’s not talking about that kind of muffin, Black.”
“What? Then what kind—”
“Meadow muffins dear,” she says, calmly. Then she picks up her bag like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “Now you keep that on for a good hour and then wash it off. If it’s not better in the morning we’ll have to try something a wee bit stronger,” she says, ruffling my hair and then she leaves.
“A meadow muffin?” Cyan asks, sounding confused. He grew up in the country, but honestly he spends very little time at the ranch in any useful form. I stand up immediately, grabbing a dish towel and wiping this shit off my face. I start walking because I’m going straight to the damn shower and then I’m going to find that bottle of Jack, because the good Lord knows I need something to get me through the rest of today.
“Hey! Where you going?” Cyan asks. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to shower.”
“I thought Mom said you needed to keep that on for an hour. If you’ve gone this far you might as well stick to it. Mom’s remedies are strange as fuck, but they always seem to work,” Cyan defends.
“Meadow muffins are slang for cow shit,” I hear Mary explain. The little witch obviously came back down the stairs. I ignore their laughter and head out to the front of the house which is where the living room and the bedroom I’m using are located. If I ever manage to get this smell off of me, I may kill them both.
I really need to get my own place.
Chapter Six
Addie
“Can I help you?” a lady at the front desk asks. I take off my sunglasses and blink as I adjust from the transition of coming inside after the bright sunlight outside. I look around the small lobby area that claims to be the home to the Mason County Sheriff’s office. It’s rather confusing because Mason County has only one real small suburb which is also called… Mason. Honestly, I’m not even sure how that works, but I’d venture to say a man was in charge.
“I’m looking for a Sheriff Parrish?” I respond, pulling on my dress. I’ve been feeling guilty about the way I treated the man. I mean, I don’t know him and I kind of jumped down his throat when I really shouldn’t have. I’ve just grown so accustomed to being made to feel inferior because I’m a woman chef that I leaped before I thought and took it all out on him. It doesn’t change the fact he was kind of an ass, but maybe if I extend an olive branch, he can too. Dad thinks we will like each other and because I want him to be happy, I’m willing to bury the hatchet.
Hopefully Sheriff Parrish doesn’t piss me off so that I bury it in his head…
“I’m sorry he’s not here right now. I’m afraid he’s gone to lunch. I can take a message or you’re welcome to come back. Or maybe someone here would be able to help you?”
I breathe deeply, more than a little disappointed. I kind of wanted this out of my way. Check it off and be done with it, really. It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now—
“What are you doing here?”
I’d know that loud, grouchy snarl anywhere. It’s been two days since our fateful run in. I guess it was too much to hope for that he would have developed a personality.
This was probably a bad idea.
“I was looking for you. Oh wow you look better. I guess you weren’t allergic after all!”
“Uh… yeah. What do you want? I told you I’d turn the paperwork in. Your boss could have handled all of this,” Mr. Grumpy says and I fight to hold onto my temper. That won’t help the situation at all.
“Oh, this wasn’t about the little incident,” I say, waving off his words before he annoys me again. “I wanted to talk with you, I think we started off on the wrong foot the other day,” I begin.
“It wasn’t an incident! You tried to kill me.”
“I did not!”
“Uh, yeah. You did.”
“Listen buddy, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here yelling at me right now!” I huff.
“Did you just threaten an officer of the law?”
“What? Of course not!”
“You did!”
“Oh my God! Why did I think you’d actually be sane today! I just came here to ask if you wanted to have lunch together.”
“Why on earth would we have dinner together?”
“Not dinner, lunch. I thought since you would be working with my… boss that it’d be best if we get along well with each other.”
“Why?” he asks and it was question I wasn’t expecting.
“Why?”
“Yeah, Princess, why?”
“What did you call me?”
“Princess.”
“My dad calls me that…”
“That explains a lot.”
“I’m going to ignore you said that. Are we going to lunch or not?”
“You realize I don’t have any need to hire a landscaper? Especially one that is a menace to society on the back of a lawnmower,” he replies.
He’s so infuriating. I really want to slap him. At the same time, I’m only human—and a female human at that, one who hasn’t even seen a man who clicked all her buttons at once. This guy does that and then some. He’s hot. I can’t pretend he’s not. He has these buttoned up uniforms—that hide way too much. Not to mention, this Texas heat has to be a killer in those long sleeves. I think I’d break protocol and roll them up. I wish he would.
Still, around the collar of his neck and on his hand I can see hints of ink and even when I find myself screaming at him, I want to see the ink. Shit. Who am I kidding? I want to lick it. Then, there are those blue eyes of his. They’re like these pools of crystal blue that make a girl do all over body shivers. Maybe that’s why I ignore the urge to kill him, and put my sunglasses back on, and poke the bear.
Who knows?
“I didn’t realize you were that type of man,” I say with a disappointed sigh.
“What type is that?”
“The type to let fear make his decisions for him,” I say with a shrug, like I’m unaware I’ve hit him below the belt and exactly where I needed to, to get him to do what I want. No man likes to be looked at as weak. I might be young, but even I know that.
“I’m not afraid of you, Princess. Why would I be afraid of you?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s okay. I’ll go to lunch by myself,” I tell him, giving him an understanding smile. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you. You have a good day—”
“Fine we’ll go to lunch. But, we’re going to the diner. We can walk there. I’m hoping you won’t kill one of us just walking across the street.”
“How many girlfriends have you had?”
“What? Why are you asking that?”
“I’m just assuming it must be a staggering number with the way you sweet talk a girl,” I quip. He looks at me for a minute like he doesn’t understand what I’m saying and then he frowns at me and does this little growl under his breath that for some reason makes my nipples hard.
I’m probably playing with fire, but if I’m honest, the reason I sought this man out today has nothing to do with my father and everything to do with me. In fact, I’m not even going to tell him who my dad is. I don’t want it to change how he treats me. I want him to change how he treats me because….
Well I’m not going to think about that right now.
Chapter Seven
Black
This woman can get under my skin quicker than my damn brothers. I had no intention of fighting with her this morning, but it’s like she opens her mouth and I can’t help myself. I was an ass in there however, I know that. It’s just lunch… what could be the harm?
Those are my thoughts when we first start walking across the street. After that, I’m watc
hing her walk in front of me, her ass swaying in a tight skirt. She has a loose silk shirt on too and the hem of it rises as she moves her arm and flashes a small strip of skin between it and the back of her skirt. My gaze lifts from the sway of that bouncing ass, to that piece of flesh. I become obsessed with it. What does it feel like? What would it taste like if I run my tongue over it… bite it?
Or look with my name inked on it…
That makes me jerk my head up. What in the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you okay?”
“What?” I ask, not about to admit that I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all. That thought came out of left field. Did Linda not teach me anything? I need to stay away from crazy-ass women and this woman is crazy. She nearly ran me over with a lawnmower, went ballistic over nothing and probably has trophies made out of men’s balls hidden in her bedroom.
“It’s just…. Wait!” she yells, but it’s too late.
I walk right into a damn light pole.
“Motherfucker,” I groan, holding my nose. My head had been feeling better.
“Are you okay?” she asks again and I wonder how many times a damn woman can ask that, when it’s clear I’m not.
“If you’d quit talking to me while I’m walking, I’d be great,” I grumble, rubbing my damn nose wondering if it’s going to swell now and Mom will want to put cow piss or something on it to match the manure she put on my forehead.
“Wow. You really are a grouch. I was just wanting to tell you to watch out for that light pole. I was afraid you were still suffering from blurry vision or something because you were walking straight for it…”
“Let’s get this lunch over with,” I mutter under my breath, putting my hand on her back and leading her to the diner. I open the door and guide us to the back, waving or saying hi to a few people as we go. Mason is a small place and everyone basically knows everyone.
“You’re like a celebrity.”
“What’s your name?” I ask her, because it suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea what it is.