COLD KILLJOY
By Esther E. Schmidt
Copyright © 2020 by Esther E. Schmidt All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, places, characters and other stuff mentioned in this book is the results of the author’s imagination. Cold Killjoy is a work of fiction. If there is any resemblance, it is entirely coincidental.
This content is for mature audiences only. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.
Cover design by:
Yoly at Cormar Covers (and Esther E. Schmidt)
Editor #1:
Christi Durbin
Editor #2:
Virginia Tesi Carey
Dedication
A huge thanks to Jordan Marie.
You rock, woman!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
– KILLJOY –
I should have left the clubhouse sooner, is the first thought entering my brain when I ride through the main street of my hometown Mistletoe Montana. It’s not because I like coming home, it’s about the fact it’s almost dark and the Christmas lights are shining bright.
Where this ignites a warm and fuzzy Christmas feeling for most, it only triggers annoyance and aggravation inside me. I ride past Mistletony, a florist shop where my dad used to buy flowers for my mother. On my right sits Morton’s Department Store where my mother used to buy my damn clothes. Memories I left behind when I joined the army many years ago, right after my mom’s death.
Snow is starting to fall again. Thank fuck the road is still clear and I’m almost to my father’s house. Leaving the cheerful street behind me, I head left and ride the last few miles through the lone road where snow covered pine trees left and right are keeping me company as the darkness of the night settles in.
Coming home was inevitable. The timing sucks but I guess everything in life gets thrown at your feet without asking first. It’s been this way my whole damn life. Though, my childhood was the perfect sappy shit I was just reminded of when I rode through town.
Fond memories swirl inside my head at the mere thought. They crash and burn just as hard. Darkness always overshadows light, it’s just the way it is. I haven’t been home since my mother died over six years ago. She loved living here, enjoying the everlasting Christmas spirit all year round.
My mother was so full of life. Fucking hell, it made losing her twice as hard. One moment she was standing in the kitchen fixing Christmas food, the next she was on the floor, ripped from us by a heart disease my dad and I didn’t even know she had.
Another thing hitting both me and my dad besides losing her, the question of why the fuck she would hide such a thing from us. The light in our lives who always hammered on honesty and trust. Our old next-door neighbor–who was my mother’s best friend–turned out to be her co-conspirator.
The neighbor would drive my mom to all the hospital appointments and made it seem she was the one needing fucking doctor’s appointments. At the funeral the neighbor kept telling us how my mother didn’t want to worry my dad and I, and wanted to enjoy the days she had left with us unchanged.
Unchanged. Well, no such fucking luck because death changes everything. It changes people and it sure as hell turned my father into a grumpy man, lacking all happiness. And me? I chose to run out of town when my father turned all his emotions off. I joined the army at the age of eighteen. A tour in Afghanistan later and my head was more fucked-up than when I joined. After being honorably discharged I ended up prospecting for Trigger Pull MC.
I went from prospect, to member of the California chapter, and eventually I switched to nomad. I’ve been traveling from state to state ever since. Until I received a call from the hospital last night. My father took a bad fall. He has a broken arm and leg, a concussion, and loads of bruises and scrapes but thank fuck he’s alive. He’s supposed to be out of the hospital today but he won’t be able to do much himself for at least six to eight weeks.
We might have pulled apart since my mother died, but we did keep in touch every now and then. I didn’t think twice and got on my bike to head home. My father owns a garage, Killjoy’s Automotive. He has a few employees to keep things going, but he’s stuck healing for a few weeks.
His company is the only thing in life he has left besides me, and I’m sure he’s stressing about not being able to work. So, I’m going to take over for him to keep the business fully up and running.
I called a few of my brothers and they’re on their way as well. It’s the reason I left the California clubhouse later than I wanted to due to my talk with Stone, the president of the founding chapter. Since I’m moving here indefinitely–and don’t intend to give up my brotherhood–we’re going to set up a whole new chapter of Trigger Pull MC.
Hence the reason a few of my brothers are coming to stay as well. Always good to have a few loyal pairs of hands handy in case I have to be there for my father and handle the company at the same time. They might take a few days to get here since they’re coming from all over the country. At least I was merely a day away when I received the call.
It could have been worse; I could have been at a few days traveling distance. A nurse from the hospital called me this morning with an update, telling me my father was picked up and brought home by his neighbor. It was good to know he would be taken care of until I got there, though I hate not knowing who the hell the neighbor was.
Following the road, I take the turn and come to a stop in front of my father’s house. I risk a glance to my right and take in the only house next to my father’s. I wonder who moved in since I know my mother’s friend died four years ago. I should be thankful the neighbor was kind enough to bring my father home from the hospital, but still it annoys me.
Unfair, I know, but the reminder of the last neighbor conspiring with my mother still rubs me the wrong way. I grab my saddlebags and head into the house. The front door is unlocked. The scent of home cooking assaults my nose and the hallway is still exactly the same as when I left all those years ago. I instantly notice the keys to the garage.
Snatching them up, I head back out and put my bike in the garage right next to my father’s truck. Strolling back inside I hear the faint sound of a TV but the scent of food enters my nose again and makes my stomach rumble. Following the sound of the TV, I find my father sound asleep on the couch, leg propped up with some pillows and his arm in a sling, resting on his chest.
A soft voice fills the air. The sound is cock stroking and it’s insane to feel the blood rushing down my groin from a mere voice. Even more when I realize a woman is singing a fucking Christmas song. Following the enchanting tune, I end up walking straight into the kitchen. And holy Christmas balls, the shit I’m seeing cannot be real.
On the floor in front of me is a petite, curvy woman–head down, ass up–cleaning the floor. She’s wearing red and green flannel pajama bottoms, but it’s the thong flossing her ass cheeks, peeping out from underneath, that catches my full attention. Who the hell wears shit like that?
I mean, I’ve seen many–and have ripped a few to shreds–in my life, but this one? It’s got fucking jingle bells practically dangling above her ass cheeks. Strangely it makes me wonder what they’re made of. Soft fabri
c or plastic? What the fuck am I thinking and why is this chick in my father’s house looking like a stripper but cleaning the floors?
“Get up, and get out,” I snap, but the chick continues to scrub the floor, ignoring me completely and is still singing a Christmas song.
Stepping closer, I reach out to snatch her arm and pull her up. That’s when shit happens simultaneously. I notice the snowman earplugs while at the same time a wet cloth hits me right in the damn face, and a squeal momentarily raptures my eardrums.
Shoving the woman back, I wipe my face with my hand and let my eyes find the floor to see what gross shit hit me in the face. Anger overtakes me and I’m about to give her hell but when I take in the beauty standing in front of me there’s a buzzing sound overtaking my brain.
Chestnut hair with copper highlights, and her face? The red lush lips combined with the paleness of her skin…she reminds me of my mother’s cranberry breakfast cake. It makes me wonder if she would taste the same way.
“I’m so sorry. You scared the bejezus out of me. Wait. Who are you?” She pulls out the earbuds and glances around as if the answer is hiding somewhere in this kitchen, until she finally adds, “Do you work in the garage? Miller came to the door earlier, but I told him as I’m telling you, Clark isn’t up for visitors. He needs all the rest he can get.”
“Miller?” I grunt in question.
Her silver eyes speckled with green narrow, sliding down to take in my leather cut covered with patches.
“Miller Beckander, he works at the garage. You’re not–” She swallows hard and lets her eyes dance through the kitchen again but this time she’s looking for a quick exit. Or maybe a weapon to defend herself.
A sly smile spreads my face. I love it when people realize I’m not one to fuck with, but to see this little deer planning to dart out of harm’s way is intriguing. She surprises the fuck out of me when she doesn’t dart around me but instead pulls the biggest knife from the magnetic knife block on the counter and points it right at me.
“Leave,” she snaps, her voice surprisingly steady and harsh.
I glance over my shoulder to see if one of my brothers is coming in with a camera to tell me this is a damn joke because I’m not believing this shit.
“Don’t even think of harming Clark.” She steps closer, more determined in her moves.
A growl rumbles through my chest as I walk right up to her and let the steel hit my leather cut.
“Why the fuck would I harm my father?” I snap in her face, making the strands falling from the bun on the top of her head move from my breath.
She surprises me again when the knife digs in deeper as she gives me the words, “Clark never mentioned a son. I’ve been living next door for years and have never seen you either.”
Fuck. I’m taken aback by her statement and I have to take a deep breath to shove the hurt and regret down.
“I haven’t been home since my mother died.” The reminder comes with the memory of the former neighbor butting in on our shit and the anger comes back full force, making me growl. “But I see some things don’t change. We had a nosy, good-for-nothing neighbor back then too. Thought you could take over her job? Fat chance I’ll let you interfere with the only parent I have left.”
Her eyes widen and she steps back, letting the magnetic knife block take the knife she was holding.
“I’m not…it’s not,” she stammers, but I’m too damn tired to deal with this shit.
“Get the fuck out. We don’t need your interference. I’m back and will take care of what’s mine.”
She starts to wring her hands. “Okay.” Her voice is back to full strength. Recovered from the monumental fear I put in her she adds, “Show me your ID and I’ll leave.”
Show me your… What. The. Fuck?
I have to give it to this woman; she doesn’t back off quickly and she’s standing up to a damn menacing biker to defend her next-door neighbor without so much as blinking to think what I can do to her. I drag my wallet from my back pocket and flip it open, taking the ID and shoving it in her face for her to read…and maybe weep, but she doesn’t look or act like a shrinking violet.
“Cold Killjoy,” she murmurs. “The name suits you.” Her eyes land on mine. “Your father received painkillers, the prescription is on the counter. Please make sure he doesn’t hurt himself by being stubborn and trying to move around.”
She opens her mouth to add something but she shuts it just as fast. Spinning around she grabs a fluffy red handbag from the counter and brushes past me, walking straight out of the front door while I’m still staring at her ass. I can’t help it, the sight of it is branded into my brain…the jingle bells of her thong ringing in my ears while my dick twitches to the tune.
I don’t know if I’m pissed, annoyed, plain horny, or happy to be home. But I do know one thing; my new neighbor is nothing like the old one.
CHAPTER TWO
– JOYCELYN –
Holy baloney. Did that just happen? I fumble with my keys to open the door, freezing my thong off because I forgot my jacket at my neighbor’s house. Heck, I’ve never ran out of someone’s home as if my thong was on fire.
A contradiction to the whole freezing it off while it’s on fire, but the man scaring the bejezus out of me while I was cleaning Clark’s kitchen made it possible. Cold is menacing but sexy, harsh but warm chocolate eyes, massive muscles while his hair looks soft.
I could go on about how this man triggered my libido and with it a load of new ideas to design a full line of lingerie for my naughty web shop. Ugh. I’m crazy, and I’m pretty sure the man next door thinks so too. Cold Killjoy. The man sure is cold while making me hot.
I lock the door behind me and lean against it, letting my head fall back. What a crazy day. First, I had to swing by the hospital to bring my friend, Mika, her phone because she left it at my house when she stopped for coffee before her shift began.
Then I was shocked to see my next-door neighbor with a broken leg and arm. Mika asked me if I could make sure he got home safe. Clark wasn’t too happy about it. No surprise there since the man always has his mood tuned to grumpyville.
And when I got him home and walked into his house, I found a complete mess. It took me the whole day to clean and throw out what seemed like mountains of take-out trash. I made a quick run to the grocery store to fill his fridge and get some cleaning supplies because I used all of mine.
I ignored Clark for most of the day. He tried like hell to scare me away with curses, angry looks, and his brooding, but I simply don’t scare easily. My father was the same grumpy mess when my mother died, but after three years he found someone who made him smile again. He’s been traveling the world with her ever since.
I guess everyone has their own process to move through life but I’ve found smiling through everything makes my heart open for positive things instead of dwelling in the negative. And wow, talking about negative. I should have known Cold was a frozen version of his father’s grumpiness.
And I can’t believe I pulled a knife on him. I release a deep breath and throw my keys on the tiny cabinet in the hall, placing my bag right next to it. I shake my head at my own stupidity. I’ve watched too many movies for sure. Pulling a knife on a biker. Ugh. I should be glad I’m home because a hell of a few twisted scenarios could have resulted in a different outcome.
I shake my head again and pull my phone from my pajama pants. Taking the earbuds out I place both on the table. A chill flows through me and another sigh rips from my mouth. I should have gotten some firewood this morning instead of getting it now while it’s dark and snowing.
Scolding doesn’t help, and I refuse to let my mood get infected by those two next door. Deep breath and smile, I remind myself and plaster a big one on my face as I head toward the back. I unlock the back door and snatch the basket to put the firewood in as I head out. The freezing cold and snow attacks me from all sides as I stomp through it to get to the firewood until a harsh voice catches my attention.
“I shit you not. A damn stripper with a jingle bell floss ringing her ass cheeks,” Cold growls into his phone, oblivious to the fact I’m standing right here. “But enough about the nosy pussy next door, how far are you guys out? Good. Yeah. Okay. Talk soon.”
My stupid, frozen feet tangle and a grunt rips from me when I fall knees first into a big pile of snow. Great, just what I needed to end the day with; scraped knees. I can feel the stinging and throbbing as I push myself up and try to brush off the snow.
“Are you eavesdropping?” His growl rumbles through the air and makes my spine snap ramrod straight.
Happy thoughts, I remind myself. I will not let his rudeness infect me. Smile. Sleigh bells and cute reindeer shoving their hooves up his ass. I regain my smile with that thought and turn to face Cold.
“I had to grab firewood to warm my house since it’s freezing inside. I would have done it this morning but my day was thrown around when I was asked to take your father home. Then I noticed the mess in his house and cleaned everything up for him. That left no time in my day to do my own chores. Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to get my firewood and get my flossed ass inside.” I stomp off to the shed, throw some wood in my basket and stalk back inside my home.
I swear I hear him laugh the second I close the door. Asshole. Great. Just great. I’m grumpy and he’s laughing. I try to bring back my smile and a sudden image of something flossing Mister Asshole’s cheeks comes to mind. Better yet, I wonder if I can design him a pair of underwear with a dildo in the shape of a reindeer hoof inside.
Scratch that, designing is easy but if my production company can pull it off and make one in time for Christmas to put it under Mister Asshole’s tree…that’s the question. I think it’s worth a call to Kris, my CEO.
The smile spreading my face is filling my body with joy. Much better. I start to hum as I place the wood near the fireplace and get a fire started. I’m back to singing my favorite song by the time the living room is warm and toasty. Grabbing my sketchpad and pencil I start to draw.
Cold Killjoy (Mistletoe Montana Book 17) Page 1