Junkyard Dog

by Hunter, Bijou

  “I’m afraid you’ll kiss away all my brain cells,” I murmur, again retreating.

  “Probably,” he says, returning to the chase.

  “Can you talk to Douche and make him let her come home?”

  “If I talk to him, it won’t be about something that minor.”

  “Whatever. If you have to break a few of his bones to make him agree, I’m perfectly okay with that. I just need her to be able to return home. Her staying with me isn’t ideal.”

  “Kick her out.”

  Shaking my head, I dodge him and walk to the kitchenette. “You’re full of shit. If she showed up at your house, no way would you kick her out.”

  “Wouldn’t have to because I’d never let her in the house in the first place.”

  “Cold.”

  “She ain’t my sister.”

  “No, she isn’t,” I say, running out of space.

  Backing me against the wall, Hayes grins triumphantly. “Where were we yesterday?”

  Smiling up at him, I take his hands and place them on my hips. “Somewhere around here.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Hayes kisses me, and I turn to mush. Fuck him for being so sexy. I hate him for possessing the power to make me swoon, yet I love the way he makes my body react. Such powerful lust awakens my every nerve.

  My fingers dig into the rough fabric of his shirt, and I tug him closer. Hayes can’t bow to my will. He pulls me against him, wrapping my body in his strong arms.

  I don’t know how long we remain entangled together. My mind falls away, leaving my body in charge.

  Sliding under his shirt, my fingertips explore his warm skin. Hayes tightens his grip on me, and I know he’s unsatisfied. The kisses are delicious, but he’s hungry for more.

  “Not here,” I say when he finally allows me to come up for air.

  “Fucking duh, Candy.”

  “Why fucking duh, Angus?”

  He runs a hand through his dark hair while my hands tease the seams of his shirt.

  “People show up here unannounced all the fucking time.”

  “Yeah, what’s that about? Aren’t you supposed to be scary? People sure don’t respect you much.”

  “Watch it,” he warns, but there’s no anger behind his words. In fact, he sounds a bit uncertain.

  Feeling brazen, I ask, “Have you ever fucked a woman in this office?”

  “Sure. I did last night.”

  Glaring at him, I ask, “What if I believed you? Do you ever consider how shit might turn out if you keep talking to me like that?”

  “I think it’ll turn out how it was always going to turn out.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Hayes shrugs and turns away to pour me a cup of coffee. “I haven’t decided how complicated I want to make my life,” he says, handing me the cup. “You’re a good assistant, and I’m too smart to go back to those moron temps.”

  “I am a great assistant, and I think I understand what you’re getting at. I’ll try to be less sexy in your presence. You should do the same,” I say, walking to my desk. “You’ll probably want to stop shaking your ass around the office so much. I can’t handle all the temptation.”

  Hayes places his hands on my desk and leans forward until we’re eye level. “I don’t make any promises about keeping my hands to myself.”

  “I wouldn’t believe you if you did.”

  Hayes studies my face. “You’re a good woman. I’m not a good man.”

  “No, you are not,” I say, holding his gaze.

  “I’m not necessarily a bad guy either.”

  “No, I suspect you aren’t.”

  Hayes gaze tears me apart, looking for my every secret. “This is complicated.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you weren’t my assistant, I’d have gotten you in bed by now.”

  “In theory, yes, you would have.”

  “You wouldn’t be able to tell me no.”

  “I can tell anyone no. It’s my gift.”

  Hayes smirks. “Do you worry I’m your curse?”

  “I do now,” I say, frowning at him. “I thought you were a fun fantasy before. Way to ruin the damn dream.”

  Hayes stands up and crosses his arms. “I think I’ll kiss you again this afternoon.”

  “I’ll schedule that in for you, boss.”

  Grinning again, Hayes walks back to his office. “I’ll visit your douche-in-law after I get a few other things done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Remember these heartwarming moments when I forget your birthday or name down the road. Oh, and I’m not giving you shit for Secretaries Day.”

  “I’ll steal some of your emergency cash from the sugar container and buy myself something for Secretaries Day.”

  I hear Hayes laugh quietly. He falls silent while working on plans for new housing units. I’m tempted to peek in on him and see if he needs anything. I know he doesn’t, and he’ll know I know he doesn’t. My lust makes me want to do it anyway. In fact, I’m fairly certain my lust will get me into loads of trouble sooner or later.

  SIXTEEN - HAYES

  The fucking irony is Andrew Mayer is a woman’s safe choice. He has a boring office job, managing a boring company selling boring products. He shoots hoops with his boring coworkers and has pool parties with his boring neighbors. When his pent-up energy needs a release, he grabs for his boring wife and makes her pay for choosing him over a more “wild” man.

  I stop by his office where he sells blinds and carpet. He’s laughing it up with his moron coworkers when I enter. The look on his stupid face when he sees me is fucking priceless.

  Asshole Andrew tries to send one of his coworkers to help me, but I shake my head and point at him. He shuffles toward me like a kid knowing he’s got a beating coming.

  “Can I help you?” he asks as if he doesn’t know who I am and why I’m here.

  “You have a house,” I say, lighting a cigar. “Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  One of his tubby coworkers rounds a counter, sees me lighting up and is ready to tell me to put out the cigar. Then the moron realizes who I am and his mouth clamps shut.

  “Your wife and kids are sleeping in that house tonight. I don’t give a shit where you sleep, but they’ll back in that house this evening. Do we understand each other?”

  “Did Honey talk to you?”

  Exhaling smoke in his face, I shrug out my shoulders. “Are you looking to make trouble for me like you do your woman, Andy?”

  “No. I just…”

  I cock an eyebrow. “I have a direct line into your household. You do something wrong, and I’ll know about it. You keep that in mind next time you overcompensate for your small dick. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes,” he mutters.

  “Just between us men, your wife would make out fine as a widow. You keep that in mind. I know I will.”

  Exhaling smoke in his face again, I pat him hard on the shoulder. He grimaces, fighting the urge to cower. Men like Andrew aren’t fighters. They don’t like pain. I see the fear in his eyes. A little part of me fucking hopes he smacks Honey tonight so I can smack him. Letting him live makes me look like a fucking pussy, but I know Candy wants her sister to make the big play.

  I spot Andrew’s car on my way to my truck. For the hell of it, I pull out a blade and cut one of his tires. I’d rather cut him, but I’m apparently taking orders from my assistant these days. Something has clearly gone wrong in our fucking relationship.

  When I return to the office a few hours later, I find Candy’s children playing soccer in the parking lot. They stop and look at me when I arrive and then return to kicking the ball back and forth.

  I consider ignoring them but decide to give a shit about their frowning faces.

  “Problem with life?” I ask.

  Cricket frowns bitchy at me. “Yeah.”

  “Who’s messing with you?”

  “At our old school,” she
blurts out as if she’s been waiting for someone to ask, “they let me and Chip be in the same class. In our new school, they say because we’re twins we should be separate. They want us to make friends with other people, but other people suck. I want to be with Chip. He gets me.”

  Chipper begins nodding as soon as his sister speaks. They stare at me with dark, cranky eyes. I tell myself these kids mean nothing to me. It’s a lie, though. They belong to my assistant and future fuck partner. So like with Honey, the twins’ happiness is part of the package.

  Besides, Cricket’s disdain for people is admirable. I agree with her hatred for school fucks and their well-meaning bullshit.

  “Which of you has the better teacher?” I ask.

  Chipper isn’t sure about talking to me, but he’s pissed about the teacher situation. “Mine. Mrs. Dover.”

  “I’ll make a call. With that out of the way, are you two aware soccer is a Communist sport?”

  The twins look at each other, and then Chipper picks up the ball and walks inside with his sister close behind. I follow them and find Candy sitting at her desk, reading paperwork.

  “Mom, is soccer a Communist sport?” the boy asks.

  Shaking her head, Candy doesn’t look up. “No.”

  “Yes, it is,” I tell her. “It’s popular in Communist nations.”

  “Baseball is popular in Cuba. In fact, the only truly American sports are football and basketball. Nothing else should be trusted.”

  I can’t tell if she’s making fun of me. The kids glance between us before focusing on their ball.

  “Should we play soccer?” Cricket asks. “And what’s Communist mean?”

  Candy looks at her daughter and gives her a wonderful smile. “Kicking a soccer ball is good practice for kicking people in the balls when you’re older. As for the definition of Communist, grab my phone and google it.”

  The kids take her cell and hurry to a table. I appreciate their enthusiasm. Like them, I was a curious kid growing up. Unlike the twins, I did my shit alone. A team sounds smarter, but people are morons, and I trust no one.

  “Any calls?” I ask Candy.

  “Three but I didn’t take messages.”

  “Why not?”

  “They were all whiny shits being whiny. I told them to fix the problems themselves and call back when they had something positive to say.”

  “Good.”

  Candy’s never sexier than when she focuses her bitchiness on morons.

  “Can I see you in my office?” I ask.

  Candy shakes her head, but she’s fucking with me. I walk to the back, and she follows. I hear the twins babbling about the definition of Communist.

  Candy shuts the door behind her “They get off early on Wednesdays but didn’t want to go home and see their cousins.”

  “Don’t’ care,” I say, wrapping her against me and kissing her hard.

  Somehow, her body fits perfectly with mine. I hate how well we work together. She’s the kind of woman I could care about, and I’m not in the mood to care about anyone. Being nice to Moot, Nightmare, and my dad already takes too much good will.

  Candy smiles up at me when my lips leave hers. “You kiss good enough to last me hours.”

  “Is this your way of saying you’re not putting out today?”

  “Oh, I was never going to do that anyway,” she teases while her fingers play with my shirt buttons.

  My arms remain wrapped around her. “I’m ignoring your lies, but I want you to listen up.”

  Candy blinks rapidly as if trying to focus. “Spill it.”

  “I talked to your douche-in-law, and his pants remained dry. I want you to understand how the next time there’s a problem, Mayer is dead meat. It’s not about you or your sister or some magical potion to break an age-old curse or whatever crazy shit you have in your pretty head. It’s about me and my reputation. I didn’t scare the shit out of this town for nearly two decades, so I could piss it away for a chick.”

  Candy studies me. “Now you say you didn’t make him piss himself, but he was scared, right? I mean, I didn’t want you playing nice with him.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “You know I did. The kids even heard you through the door. You’re very loud, boss.”

  Smiling, I kiss her quickly. My body wants more. Fuck, it does! I want every inch of her. My dick is begging for me to tag it in, but I remain in charge. Life is about more than physical relief. It’s about power, respect, and making my enemies shit their pants. I refuse to allow Candy, and my dick, to distract me.

  SEVENTEEN - CANDY

  The school principal asks to speak to me when I pick up the twins. I assume Cricket’s temper got the best of her. If the blowout happened during recess, Chipper would back her up, and they’d kick kids in the balls. It’s the only move I’ve ever taught them.

  Arriving at school, I’m prepared to fake concern about a schoolyard brawl. When I was growing up, kids fought all the time and called each other names. No one cared. Acting like fools toughened us up. The only thing considered bullying was when a douche stole a kid’s lunch money. Enough of us ganged up on him, and he learned to keep his hands to himself.

  These days, kids need to be sensitive and care about others. Not even fake-caring either, but they’re actually expected to worry about everyone’s every feeling. Children basically have to behave as no adult has behaved ever.

  Hayes didn’t get where he was in life by being nice to anyone. He was an asshole, but he was the asshole in charge. Not the guy who cared and hugged everyone. No, Hayes was the mean guy who took what he wanted.

  I’ll be happy if the twins become as pushy as Hayes without going fully scary mutherfucker like him. A mom needs to dream, and that was mine.

  The principal is a high maintenance lady with perfect hair and flawless makeup. I don’t know how she keeps her shit in gear after a day dealing with snot machines.

  “I wanted to let you know that after discussing placement with the district psychologist, we feel Cricket and Chipper should share a class. We’ll move Cricket tomorrow into Mrs. Dover’s class unless you have any qualms.”

  “No, that sounds great.”

  Principal Lady gives me a curt nod, giving away how a discussion with a shrink didn’t change the twins’ placement. Instead, a big scary man was the reason. Yeah, a big scary man who kisses great and whispers louder than some people talk.

  Hayes is the kids’ hero and not only because he pulled strings for them to share a class. They know he also scared Douche, and that’s why Aunt Honey and the cousins leave our house. While their grandparents’ money bought access, the Eddisons couldn’t intimidate anyone the way Hayes did.

  As soon as their homework is finished, the twins begin working on thank you cards. I sit at the kitchen table and watch them meticulously draw pictures. Every inch of the papers is lovingly covered with crayon and even glitter.

  The next morning when I drop them off at school, they make me swear I’ll give Hayes their cards. I smile all the way to the office. My kids are happier than they’ve been since we moved to White Horse, and much of their joy is thanks to my sexy boss.

  I hurry into the office and find Hayes sitting at his desk. He looks at me as if I’m a stranger. I’m accustomed to his morning grumpy reaction.

  “You called the school and got Cricket moved,” I say, taking in the sight of his handsome features.

  “I know.”

  “That was sweet.”

  “It wasn’t personal. I just don’t like public schools. Mine was awful. I didn’t learn shit there. My mom’s the one who taught me everything.”

  “You’re so damn adorable when you go mama’s boy,” I say, stepping closer.

  “What’s in your hand? I don’t want more work.”

  “The kids made you thank you cards,” I say, handing him the papers.

  Hayes looks at the drawings the twins put so much effort into and then frowns at me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these?�
��

  “Hang them on your fridge with all the other thank you cards you get,” I mutter, losing my smile.

  Hayes gives me a dirty look. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

  “You did something nice. My kids think you’re awesome. They worked hard on their cards. Don’t be such an asshole.”

  “They’re not here so what does it matter? I’ll act really impressed by their crayon crap where they’re around.”

  “Fine,” I say and stomp to my desk.

  A hard, pained sensation grows in my gut that I can’t shake. My kids own my heart. Imagining their happy faces when they talked about sharing a class, I admired Hayes for fixing a problem I couldn’t. When I watched them create their cards, I let myself dream of a future that included the asshole.

  Now I realize he has his tender moments, but they’re fleeting. Hayes doesn’t need to be sweet to anyone. He lives separate from the rest of us. Hayes has no need for friends, girlfriends, and even his father. He is perfectly happy living in his Hayes world where only his needs matter.

  My bad mood worsens as I accept I want something from Hayes I’ll never have. We normally kiss off and on during the day. Each time feels more comfortable yet hotter. I know his touch. I wait for it all day. Now I don’t want him touching me. His reaction to the cards is a wake-up call I shouldn’t need. I’m smarter than this heartbroken dipshit I see in the mirror.

  “Let’s meet a moron for lunch,” Hayes says, walking out of his office.

  I follow him without speaking. I’m hoping if I remain silent for long enough that he’ll never know I’m upset. We climb into his truck, and he frowns at me. I’m too quiet, and I usually talk a lot. Before he can push for an explanation, I turn on the radio and find a song I can hum along with.

  Hayes isn’t fooled but focuses his anger at the moron we’re meeting.

  “The asshole picks Arby’s out of all the places in town to meet,” he grumbles while we wait at a red light. “It won’t take long for him to whine about his bullshit and for me to tell him to fuck off.”

  My voice will betray me, so I only nod at his comments. Hayes frowns for the rest of the drive, remaining silent until we arrive at Arby’s. He blocks my way before we go inside.