I’d ask the guys—they’d do it in a heartbeat if they could—but they had their own jobs, not to mention actual social lives.
My parents were in Arizona for the winter, so they were out of the picture for a while. Plus, they’d stepped in and helped take care of Chloe for me until I moved back to the States, so I hated asking them for anything. Chloe’s maternal grandparents lived in New York, a hell of a long way from northern Illinois. There’d been talk of them coming and staying here to be closer to Chloe, but that’s all it’d been so far—talk.
What I needed was a miracle.
“Dinner’s ready,” Max yelled from the kitchen. I inhaled, smelling his famous enchiladas.
Chloe was already in bed, and since Mondays and Tuesdays were my only nights off, Max had skipped a date to stay home and try to help me figure some of this shit out. Gavin would be by later too, depending on when he got off work.
“So, what’s the plan?” Max sat across the table from me, wearing a red-checkered apron with the words “Kiss the Cook” written across the front.
“Don’t know.” I rubbed a hand over my mouth. “Call some sort of service, maybe?” Like that would work. I wouldn’t be able to trust a stranger with my girl. “Maybe ask to be switched to weekends?” But that wouldn’t help either. Both of my buddies worked on weekends and nights like I did. Max and I just happened to have the same nights off.
“What you need is maybe one of those little, old grandmas with saggy tits so you—”
“Max.” I slammed my fist down on the table. “Enough with the tits. Focus, damn it.”
“Lighten up.” He reached over the table and slugged my shoulder. “I’m just as worried as you are. But the difference between us is I know we’ll find someone.”
I wished to hell I could think positively like he did, but with the way things were going, I wasn’t gonna hold my breath.
Right when we finished dinner, a knock sounded at the door. “You expecting someone?” Max wiped a napkin over his mouth and stood, already heading to answer it.
“Nah. Unless it’s Lia coming by for leftovers.”
Deciding to be useful, I grabbed the dinner plates, headed into the kitchen, and shoved them into the dishwasher. Then I ran some sink water to wash Chloe’s bottles.
Some days it was hard to believe my life had come to this—all Martha Stewart, Brady Bunch. From the dirty deserts of the Middle East to dirty dishes in Carinthia, Illinois. Nothing I’d ever done could’ve prepared me for any of these things. Even when shit looked bad though, I knew I had it better than a lot of my brothers-in-arms. PTSD, lost limbs, some not even making it home…
Damn straight I was lucky. All three of us were.
“Collinator!” Lia danced into the room, smelling like the coffee shop she worked at.
I spun around, still pissed at her for quitting on me, not to mention that irritating-as-fuck nickname she used, but I loved her enough to accept a side hug.
“What’re you doing here?” I dried my hands on a towel.
She leaned back against the refrigerator. “Nothin’.”
“Liar.” I propped myself against the counter, folded my arms, and waited.
“Okay, fine. I was hungry. Knew it was enchilada night, all right? Sue me.” She tugged on my arm and yanked me out of the kitchen. Girl couldn’t sit still. “Now, come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Ah, hell. You bring a douchey guy over again?” Last time she’d done that, Max didn’t let up on the sex jokes for days—or the whiskey. I frowned, thinking about the connection.
“Nope.” She skipped her way down the hall, her orange stockings like flashlights lighting the way. “Brought a girl this time.”
“Oh yeah?” I laughed, not surprised. My sister had a love-the-one-she’s-with policy—male or female, didn’t matter.
“Not like that.” She rolled her eyes at me when we entered the living room, then shoved her hand toward the couch. “I want you to meet my new friend.” She bounced in place as I took in the back of some chick with a black ponytail. Before my sister could explain, the girl turned around to face us, her dark-brown eyes wide. My mouth dropped open, and my gut went rock hard. Holy shit. It was Bar Girl, here in my house.
“What the…?”
“Number Six?” She jumped up, stumbling around the coffee table.
Speechless, I could only stare as she righted herself and moved to stand in front of me. She tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear and then brushed both hands down the front of her outfit. Nervous, it seemed.
“You’re the one who lives here? You’re Lia’s older brother?” she asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Sorry to destroy your serial killer fantasies.”
She cringed, then opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Lia.
“Wait…you two know each other?”
“Yeah, we know each other.” I shrugged one shoulder, trying to play it off as nothing when it was anything but.
For the past two nights, ever since her taillights flashed in that parking lot, this woman had been the star of my dreams. Dark eyes, dark hair, pink lips always pressed to mine… She was just as stunning as I remembered. I hated that she affected me so much when no woman had for a long, long time.
“Well, this is great then.” Lia tucked her arm through the girl’s, her excited voice damn near squeaking.
Ignoring my sister’s chatter, I glanced down at Bar Girl’s dress, struggling to keep from busting up laughing as I blurted out, “What’re you wearing, a muumuu?” All flowery, big print with pockets along her waist. The girl was practically swimming in the thing.
Her dark eyes flared with anger, meeting mine. “It’s called a sundress, thank you very much.”
I grinned, already loving her sass—and hating myself for it.
“Collin.” Lia smacked me across the back. “Quit being an ass.”
Not bothering to apologize, I studied every inch of Bar Girl I could take in, going deaf to the conversation around me as Lia talked about my daughter. This woman was a piece of art, all curves and lines, and everything my body suddenly craved. Yeah, I didn’t have the time or energy to be with a woman, but this one was like water after an eighteen-month drought, food at the point of starvation, and everything dangerous I’d sworn to stay away from.
My gaze darted to her neck, my favorite part of a woman’s body. I couldn’t help myself as I took in the length, the texture, the color… It was long and smooth and exposed, tantalizing, even. I licked my lips, knowing it was messed up that I could easily imagine running my nose up and down the base of her neck while I fucked her slowly, steadily… All. Night. Long.
But then my sister spouted three words that changed it all.
“She’s my replacement, Collin.”
My smile fell.
“No way… This is getting good.” Max laughed from the couch, but shock kept me from yelling at him.
“Replacement.” The word played over and over in my head, as well as on my tongue, yet nothing was clicking. Replacement, replacement, replacement.
Until it just did.
“Yes, you big idiot. Why else would she be here?” Lia shoved me once, but I didn’t move.
The first woman in years to make my body sing was also the only prospect I had for Chloe’s new nanny? Fate was one big motherfucker.
“No way.” The words were out before I could stop them. I couldn’t have this woman in my house, under my roof, every day, knowing I couldn’t have her like my body craved. How the hell could I trust myself with her? Chloe might get attached, and then one day—when her daddy messed it up by not being able to keep his hands to himself—Bar Girl would be gone, leaving Chloe worse off than she was now. Not that she was bad off. “I’m not hiring anyone,” I finally said.
Bar Girl stared down at her shoes and I followed her g
aze, my eyes popping at the view. What the heck? Rain boots? I shook my head, wanting to laugh again. Wanting to rip the whole outfit off her at the same time to see what she hid beneath. But most of all, wanting to bash my head into the wall for even thinking thoughts I was in no position to think. This girl was a distraction I did not need, plain and simple.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She pressed her hand to Lia’s shoulder. “Thank you for the opportunity, but this isn’t something I—”
“Oh no.” My sister glared at me, then at Max, then at the girl. “You are not even thinking of backing out of this, Addison.”
Addison… Sweet, sexy, sassy Addison. My Bar Girl. The name fit her to a T—every clean-cut, straitlaced, muumuu-covered mysterious inch of her.
Not mine, never mine. I jerked my head once, pushing that thought into my thick, stupid skull.
“Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m going to go now.”
“She’s perfect, Collin.” Lia tugged at my arm as Bar Girl headed toward the door. Because I was a masochistic ass, I said nothing and watched her go, getting my fill while I could.
“She’s an ex-preschool teacher with a four-year degree in kid stuff. Don’t let her go.”
“No.” One word. That should’ve been enough.
“Dumbass.” Max snorted and went back to watching TV.
I glared at the side of his head.
“Well…if you don’t hire her, I will.” Lia hissed and stomped her combat boot on the floor.
My jaw clenched as I met my sister’s stare for the first time since Bar Girl Addison had stepped into the room. “Chloe is my kid, and I will hire who I want to hire, got me?”
Lia rolled her eyes and pressed one hand to her hip and the other to her chest as she ripped into me.
I tuned her out because I couldn’t listen when my greedy mind needed another look at the beauty by the door. There I found her—slipping on a pink coat, her long, black ponytail falling down the middle of her back. My chest grew hot, watching as she pulled on a pair of fingerless, pink gloves. She tugged the sleeves of her coat down over the tops of the gloves and muttered something under her breath, all the while captivating me with her movements.
As much as I wanted to stop her, I knew it wouldn’t be for the right reasons. Addison was an obvious hazard. The last thing I needed right then was to hire her as Chloe’s nanny, especially when all I wanted was get her in my bed.
* * *
Addison
Mortification hit me hard as I fled Number Six’s house. There was no way I would’ve shown up tonight if I’d known he was the potential employer.
Fate must have had it in for me. What had I ever done to deserve the bad hand that life constantly dealt me? As a kid, I’d gotten baptized. I’d always gone to church and done my homework, community work, and such throughout the years. Went to college, was a good friend to anyone who needed me. Granted, I’d made my fair share of bad choices in life, but not on purpose. And, really, who didn’t make mistakes?
“Whoa there.” Strong hands grasped my upper arms, halting me as my feet slid along the sidewalk, preventing a collision.
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” I blinked and looked up. In front of me stood a familiar, hulking beast of a man. The Duhamel-Tatum look-alike, Gavin.
“I know you.” He took a step back, tapping a finger against his lips. “Collin’s bar girl, right?”
My face grew warm. Part two of my mortification for the night—I wasn’t anyone’s girl, least of all this Collin guy’s.
“Nope. But I recognize you from the bar too. Good to see you and all, but I’ve gotta head home.” And as far away from this house as I can get.
Refusing to acknowledge anything other than my Volvo sitting parallel to the curb, I dipped my chin and took off.
“You messed with his head,” he called after me, his cold voice thick with animosity. “Nobody does that.”
I froze like a deer in headlights, my hand hovering over the door handle. The smart thing to do would be to ignore him and find not only a new job, but also a new coffeehouse to visit. Avoid all things Number Six and his family, as well as his friends. Still, something about this Gavin guy’s words gave me pause. Made me wonder in a way I couldn’t help. Because, again, curiosity. “What were you doing inside my house?” He walked toward me, his eyes slit in accusation.
“Doesn’t matter what I was doing.” I blinked twice, going for uncaring but coming across as paranoid, I’m sure.
Gavin stood on the other side of my car and settled his elbows on the roof. “I think it does. This is my house.”
My lips pursed. “For your information, I was invited by Lia. She told me there was a potential job for me here, but it’s not going to work out.”
“Huh.” He tapped his fingers against the metal, the sound like the heavy pitter-patter of rain. “Why’s that?”
Was it any of this guy’s business? I think not. But, again, what did it matter anyway? It’s not like I was going to be seeing him again.
“Because said employer seems to think I’m not right for the job.” Which was just a theory, but the only one I had.
Truth was, I thought my asshattery the other night at the bar was why he turned me away. Taking off on the two of them after they’d helped me out. It’s just that I’d been overwhelmed by Kenna’s drunken state and my own bad week. Add the fact that my unfamiliar attraction to Number Six was chart-topping, and I was screwed with a capital S.
“Then good riddance to you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
One half of his mouth tipped up into a sly grin. “I know enough.”
“Enlighten me then, please?” I sucked in my cheek, biting down on the inside.
“You’re not a fighter. You run when something scares you. Shows me enough.”
“I don’t run.”
“Aren’t you doing it now?” He backed away, laughing.
“I’m not running.” Hell, if anything, I was simply trying to escape the crazy of all these men—this entire group of people, in fact.
Okay, fine. I was running. That didn’t mean I liked to be called out on it.
“You are.” He shrugged. “And if you get scared easily, you’ve got baggage, and what my family inside there does not need”—he jabbed his thumb behind him toward the house—“is some chick with issues hanging around.”
My lips parted in shock. Who did this guy think he was? “I…” I had no words. No retaliation fit for human ears at least.
“Now do yourself a solid and leave.”
Well, then. “Asshole.”
And with what little snark I had left in me, I did what any respectable woman would do. I flipped him off and then got in my car and left.
Screw it. I didn’t need the headache of dealing with these men, not when I had enough issues in my life already.
Chapter 6
Addison
I crunched the pink eviction notice in my hand, only to set it back down on the table to smooth out the wrinkles. Two days late with my rent, and I’d already been served the papers.
In simple terms, if I didn’t get some money rolling in soon, I would be screwed.
The waitressing gig hadn’t worked out, mainly because they needed someone with experience—experience I did not have—and my unemployment check wasn’t set to come for another week.
What I needed was some seriously fast cash.
I’d beg for some leeway on the rent with my landlord today and dip into my meager savings to cover what I could, but what about next month? Or the one after that? What about paying for groceries? What about paying my water bill and my cell phone bill, along with buying gas for my car?
“Ugh.” I lowered my head to my kitchen table, knocking it against the wood three times.
Before I could get too worked up, I needed to
eat. Like, real food that wasn’t poor man’s pizza (a.k.a. bread with ketchup and melted cheese) or bread, butter, and sugar (which surprisingly filled me up longer than anything else I ate). Oh. And coffee. I desperately needed that to kick-start my day, whatever said day promised to bring.
Futilely, I hunted through my cabinets, lip pulled between my teeth. I prayed for a miracle that consisted of the coffee bean variety, yet it did no good. Annoyance revved through me as I settled my hands along the edge of the counter. Knowing I’d have to visit Java Java Hut this morning to feed my early-morning addiction was pretty much the icing on my crap-cake.
“Stupid coffeehouse.”
Things would turn around soon. They had to. Someone out there in the universe owed me something other than a kick in the ass. At least I kept telling myself that as I headed out to indulge in my single necessity.
Coffee: it made everything better.
As I pulled into the parking lot, the first thing I saw was a huge truck taking up two of the three parking spaces. All fancy hubcaps, black and sleek and shiny—a rich man’s vehicle. I frowned at the audacity that some people had. Wasn’t one parking space enough? I wondered if I could pull a Carrie Underwood and dig my key into the side…
Woah. Bitter pre-coffee me did not like people.
I jarred open my door, fighting against the rusted hinges while secretly hoping I’d accidentally smash the edge against Fancy Pants Truck. But that idea was struck down when I realized how not so good that’d be, since I hadn’t paid my car insurance in close to six months.
Brisk, cold rain stung my cheeks, and I cursed the God of Winter for taking my warm sun so soon.
The front doorbells jingled, announcing my arrival. I shook out my hood as I pulled it off my head, droplets of ice dribbling down my neck along the way. Shivering, I yanked the thing off for good before I dropped it on the table of my usual booth—the one in the corner under the picture of a steaming cup of coffee with the quote below it saying: If life gives you lemons, trade them for coffee. Wishing the sentiment was factual, I headed toward the counter, flexing and unflexing my fingers to try to warm them.
Reckless Hearts Series, Book 1 Page 4