Bohemian Law (Traveler Book 1)

by Misty Walker

“Not yet,” he says with a sigh.

  “You’ll figure it out.” I squeeze his hand and change the subject. “You turn eighteen next month. Have Mom and Dad spoken about a bride?” I waggle my eyebrows at him. I’ve never seen Leander with a girl. Granted, there aren’t too many around his age. Kezia is the closest, and she’s a few months older. For whatever reason, it makes a difference to the parents.

  “They’ve been talking about bringing in a girl from the Midwest, but I’m not ready for that.” Leander looks uncomfortable. Usually when a guy hits eighteen, he’s demanding a wife. The Romani are proud men and want to prove their manhood by bringing in a wife and having kids.

  “What about a girlfriend? Anyone you’ve met?” I tilt my head, just happy to be having any kind of conversation with my brother.

  “No, Thea. Drop it!” He shuts his binder a little too hard, and it startles me. I don’t know why it set him off.

  “Fine. Fine.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I was just asking.”

  Leander sighs, looks down at his binder for a second, and then back up at me. “Have you ever just felt like you don’t belong?” he asks.

  I motion up and down my body.

  “Um, have you met me? Have you noticed my current situation?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I guess you do.” He stands up and puts his binder and pencil in his backpack. “I gotta go.”

  “Already? You can’t hang out with your sister for longer? Maybe go to lunch?” I ask hopefully.

  “No, sorry. I’m supposed to be at work.” He swings his backpack over his shoulder and looks down to where I’m still sitting. “Go talk to Mom, okay? And visit your sisters.”

  I give him a weak smile. He walks away and I’m left alone.

  He’s right. I need to go talk to Mom. I need to try to make this better without marrying Wen. I get up and leave the library, heading to the bus stop.

  At the compound, all the little kids sit at tables while their moms serve lunch. Indiana munches on a sandwich, Charity pours drinks, and Mom serves alongside the other women.

  The second Indiana sees me, she throws her sandwich down and jumps up, yelling my name. She doesn’t even slow when she reaches me, knocking me clean on my ass.

  “Hey, Indie. I missed you.” I wrap my arms around her small body and squeeze as tight as I can.

  “Thea! Guess what?” She pushes away from me so she can look me in the eyes.

  “What, firecracker?” I give her my full attention. Really, this question could go either way. Either she’ll tell me she farted on me or she’ll say she gets to eat ice cream for breakfast now. Her enthusiasm doesn’t have levels. Any news deserves sky-high excitement with this one.

  “Mama said if you didn’t come back, I get all your bras and undies!” she yells despite me being six inches from her face.

  “Oh, really?” I scowl. “What do you need with my bras and undies?”

  “Someday I’ma have boobies like you. I wanna be prepared,” she says seriously. This kid has been wanting to be a teenager since the second she could talk. She’s never been into dolls or kids’ toys. She only wants to play with makeup and dress-up clothes. Skanky dress-up clothes, so I guess she fits right in.

  “Oh yeah? Have you been staying out of my stuff?” I mock scold her. I know what her answer will be. She’s always digging through my stuff in her quest to be like me. She completely ignores my question.

  “I’ll prolly have bigger boobs than you, so I don’t even want ’em.” She squeezes my boobs in her small hands and I knock her away, laughing.

  “You’re probably right. Better wait and get your own bras.” I stand up and brush my dusty ass off.

  “Did you come to ’pologize?” She looks up at me with her head tilted.

  “I just came to talk to Mama.” I look over at where Mom is watching our exchange.

  “Mama said you can only come back if you ’pologize.” Tears fill her eyes. “So ’pologize, Thea, okay? I want you to come back. I miss your ass.”

  I laugh at her words, half little kid, half grown adult.

  “I’ll try, okay?”

  She nods and runs off, leaving me to take the walk of shame alone.

  I catch Mom peeking at me through her periphery, but doing a damn good job at ignoring my presence.

  “Mom. Can we talk?” I ask, placing a hand on her arm.

  “You should come back later, when Wen is here.” Her tone is cold.

  “I didn’t come to talk to Wen. I came to talk to you.” I let my hand fall away from her. She drops the bowl of cut fruit she was holding and turns to me, arms crossed over her body.

  “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, Thea.”

  I try to swallow my tears because I wasn’t expecting this level of hostility. I thought she would at least be happy to see me.

  “I don’t need you to do anything for me. I just missed you, missed my family, and wanted to come talk to you about how we can fix this.” I look at the ground, knowing if I see the anger I’m hearing in her voice, I’ll lose it.

  “You know how to fix this. I can’t help you. Braithe is so offended and Wen is, well, he’s pissed the fuck off.”

  I throw my hands in the air, losing all self-control. “What about me, Mom? What about my pain? What about the way Wen treated me? You want me to just ignore it and take whatever punishment he sees fit for his strong-willed wife?”

  “Yes, Thea! Yes. Better yet, I want you to just settle the fuck down. Stop being so headstrong. Accept your place in this family and live a nice, calm life.” She’s yelling now and everyone is watching the show.

  “Excuse me.” Nuri interrupts our shouting match. “I just wanted to ask for a minute with you, Thea.”

  I look at the quiet woman I had always assumed was just shy. Now realizing it’s so much more than that.

  “Sure,” I say. We walk to the drainage ditch in silence until I can’t take it anymore. I turn to her. “What’s up?” I shouldn’t be so clipped with her, but I’m still fuming from my fight with Mom.

  “I need you to keep this between us.” Her gaze is cast down.

  “Okay, I can do that.” Because honestly who am I going to tell at this point?

  “Thea, I would have loved to have you for a daughter-in-law. You are funny, clever, smart, and so pretty.” If this meek woman scolds me, I might lose my shit.

  “But,” I bite out.

  “I would have loved to have you as a daughter-in-law, but my son doesn’t deserve you. If you marry him, you will be marrying a younger version of my husband and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  I freeze. “Nuri.”

  “I love my husband and I love my son, but I have spent so much of my life trying to make them happy and still never quite succeeding. I had to change who I was to fit into my husband’s life and I don’t want that for you. I want you to be the bold and brave woman I had the pleasure of watching grow up.” Nuri holds both my hands in hers.

  “I don’t want to lose my family,” I say through my own tears.

  “I can’t help you with that. Gypsies are a prideful people, you know that.” She releases my hands and wipes her tears away. “I love you, Thea. No matter what you choose, I’ll still love you.”

  I pull Nuri into a hug, more confused now than I was when I left Law’s house this morning.

  “Thank you, Nuri,” I say into her hair.

  “Are you staying somewhere safe?” she whispers.

  “Yeah. I am.” That’s the only thing I know for certain right now. Law is my safe place to land.

  I don’t say goodbye to Mom, but I hug both of my sisters tight and promise to see them soon, even if it’s a lie. Charity tells me she packed some of my stuff while I was talking to Nuri. I accept the duffle bag she gives me and take off again. This time it feels so much more permanent.

  Thea’s been living with me for over a week. She’s slowly becoming more depressed and more introverted. When she came back from visiting her mom, she was a d
ifferent girl. She isn’t laughing, joking, or even smiling. I’m beside myself with worry for her.

  I don’t know what she does all day while I’m at work, but I know she’s mostly been watching TV. She’s discovered Netflix and has taken the term Netflix and chill to a very literal level.

  Every day I come home to dishes stacked in the sink, clothes strewn across the floor, and trash on the counters. My anxiety is spiking so high from seeing my house this way. I spend hours every night cleaning. After everything is clean and in its original order, the maddening girl snuggles up to me, apologizes, and cries. She won’t talk about it, just cries herself to sleep.

  I’m losing my mind. Something has to give. Therefore, on my way home today, I stop by a music store. I know nothing about guitars, so I enlist the help of the clerk.

  “This is a 1964 Gibson Dove. It’s in practically new condition. It’s what I would recommend if you’re wanting high-end.” Matt, the employee, pulls a beautiful acoustic guitar from behind a display case. “It has this trademark mother of pearl dove inlaid on the pickguard. The back and sides are maple and the top is spruce. It has such a sweet, bright sound to it.”

  I take the guitar and inspect it closely. There’s a dove sitting on a branch with red flowers all around and I know this is the one. “I’ll take it.”

  “Sir, this is a four-thousand-dollar guitar.” He takes the guitar from me and puts it back in the display.

  “I said I’ll take it.” I pull the black Amex from my wallet and set it down on the counter. The clerk takes one look and pulls the guitar back out.

  “Well, all right.” He smiles, happy about the sale.

  After he sets it in a black leather case and talks me into a few accessories, I load the guitar in my car and head home.

  When I walk in the door, I’m hit with a pleasant smell, but it’s still a very foreign scent from the usual pine and lemon I’m used to. I look around and see pots on the stove have bubbled over the sides and onto the gas elements. Cutting boards line the counter with half chopped vegetables lying on them. The refrigerator door is open and a very fine, long skirt covered ass is sticking out from inside.

  I tamp my anxiety down by taking a deep breath. At least she isn’t curled into a ball on the couch. Cooking might be an improvement to her slow withdrawal from life. I walk up behind her and grab her hips, pulling her ass into my groin. She startles and bolts upright and I wrap my arms around her waist.

  “Whatcha making, Trouble?” I whisper in her ear.

  “A stew my grandma used to make.” She looks at the giant bubbling pot and sighs. “I tried to half the recipe, but even that was too much.” I turn her around and her arms go around my neck, my arms around her waist.

  “Did you go shopping today?” I left a credit card on the counter for her before I left for work, hoping she would venture outside.

  She scowls. “Yes, Richie Rich. I took your credit card and went to the store. I even brought back receipts, so you’d eat dinner with me.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur before planting my lips on hers. She tastes like rosemary and thyme. After getting my fill, I pull away. “It smells delicious.”

  “I hope you like it. I’ve been missing my family and hoped this would make me feel closer to them.” She pulls away and stirs the pot.

  “I think that was a good idea. I’ll go change and then I can help.” I hear clattering and a few muffled curses as I move away. I shake my head. I must be crazy for this girl to not be losing it over the disaster she’s creating. I change and pick up the mess she’s made in my room. I would get irritated at having to constantly pick up after her if it weren’t for the tiny panties she leaves lying around. Any intimacy we had been working toward has died. If I’m lucky enough for her not to cry herself to sleep, then she’s falling asleep while telling me stories about her family and explaining more about their history. I’m happy to get to know her better, but having her sexy ass prance around my house in barely there clothing is driving me and my dick insane.

  After I inspect a receipt that showed all the ingredients for this dinner, we sit down to eat. It’s very good and I’m once again impressed by her cooking skills.

  “You could open up a restaurant with the way you cook,” I compliment over a bite full of rich meat and potato.

  “My people are very good at large portions, cheap ingredients, and full flavor.” She beams. “There are so many things I love about being Romani. Our history, our family values, our music…” She trails off, losing herself in memories.

  “Oh! That reminds me.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and go out to the garage to grab my gift out of the car. “I picked up something for you today.” When she sees the case in my hand, she jumps from the table and runs over to me.

  “You bought me a guitar!” she squeals, clapping and jumping up and down. I set the case on the sofa and she falls to her knees in front of it. She opens it up, and a gasp escapes her lips. “Law. This is too much. I can’t accept this.” She closes the case and I kneel next to her.

  “It’s not too much. It’s just right. I’ve been dying to hear you play, and you know how much I love when you sing.” I open the case once more and pull the guitar out, handing it to her.

  She holds it out and inspects it closely. “My grandpa had one just like this. He’s the one who taught me to play. He won his in a poker game he cheated on to win, but it was his pride and joy. Probably still is, though I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

  “How come?” I sweep her hair off her shoulders and kiss the bare skin there.

  “He and my grandma retired in Florida. He had a bad back and arthritis from all the years of manual labor and by the time we forced him to a doctor, he was told the damage was irreversible. They left and we haven’t heard from them in a while.” I stand and pull her up too before sitting her down on a chair and handing her the guitar.

  “Maybe we can visit one day,” I offer. “But for right now, I want to hear you play.”

  Her smile lights the room as she puts the guitar in position and starts getting to know it, playing a few chords here and there, adjusting as she goes. I sit on the couch and watch her. She looks every bit eighteen years old with a big guitar dwarfing her frame, her long, curly hair lying over her shoulder and her pink lips pursed in concentration. It should feel wrong for a man my age to crave such a young and wild girl, but fuck if it doesn’t make me want her more.

  The opening chords to “Blowin’ in the Wind” by Bob Dylan fill the room. I’m struck by her musical ability, but when she opens her mouth and starts singing the lyrics? She strikes me deaf, dumb, and blind. Her eyes close as she sings with emotion. I lean forward to rest my arms on my legs and watch her, absolutely stunned at how gorgeous she is.

  The song wraps up and I stand up in front of her, taking the guitar from her hands. I set it back in the case before pulling her up to me, needing to be close.

  “That was beautiful,” I tell her. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you. It was the first song I learned.” She tips her head up and licks her lips. I don’t make her wait long before I’m kissing her. Our lips move together rhythmically. This is a sensation I never want to end.

  “You’re making me fall for you, Trouble,” I murmur in her ear before sucking the lobe into my mouth.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she says, her breath picking up pace.

  We kiss for minutes longer until the kitchen steals my attention and I’m reminded of the absolute disaster she made in there. Thea must sense my mood change because she pulls her lips from mine and looks over her shoulder, sighing.

  “I’m just going to go get that cleaned up,” I say, giving her one last kiss.

  “You have some messed up priorities, Richie Rich,” she jokes, but her eyes are on my lips and I almost give in. Almost.

  I sit on the couch and play with my new guitar while Law cleans up dinner, just thinking about the last week. It’s been a rough one. I’m bored, I miss my
family, and I know I’m driving Law crazy. I can see it in his demeanor every day when he comes home and sees what a mess I’ve made of his house. I want to be good for him. I want to clean up after myself. I want to please him, but I just can’t bring myself to care.

  Then he gave me this guitar. This expensive, beautiful guitar I never would have purchased for myself and it hits me how hard he’s trying. It makes me feel like a brat who’s been taking advantage of him. Here he is adjusting his life to my brand of crazy, and all I’m doing is moping and being sorry for myself.

  I need to figure my shit out before I push him too far. I look over into the kitchen, watching him wash dishes and wipe down counters. He curses when he scrubs the burned on food off the gas element of the stove. I set my guitar down into the case and lock it. He shouldn’t be cleaning up my disaster alone.

  In the kitchen, I grab a sponge and start wiping down counters with the bleach spray he uses, wiping every inch, just the way he’s shown me. I put the leftover vegetables in the fridge’s crisper and put the spices back in the cupboard, lining the labels up perfectly. I close the door and turn around to find him with a hip resting against the counter, arms folded across his chest, watching me.

  “Did I do it right?” I ask, hooking a finger at the cupboard. It’s not that I can’t do things the way he likes, it just all seems pointless to me. It’s not pointless to him, though. I promise myself I’ll try from now on. At least until I find my own place. Then all bets are off. Fuck the crisper. It can’t possibly make a difference, right?

  “Yeah, Trouble. You did it right.” He grabs my hand and starts pulling me to the bedroom. I cover my smile with my other hand. Law has been incredibly patient with me, and I’ve just been a terror. Time to show him how thankful I am.

  Once in the room, he grabs the hem of my tank and pulls it over my head, exposing my tits. A guttural moan comes from deep within his chest. He palms a breast with one hand and the other goes to the back of my head, bringing my lips to his. Before I had this, before I had kissed a man, I pictured it being awkward and uncoordinated. It never is with me and Law, though. It’s like our lips had found their home in each other.