GARRETT (Southside Skulls MC Romance Book 8)

by Jessie Cooke

  Garrett pulled the comforter around him...and then he realized that it wasn’t a comforter. It was the throw rug, on the bathroom floor. What the fuck am I doing on the bathroom floor, and what the hell smells so bad? He went to sit up and waves of nausea attacked him. Groaning loudly, he pressed both of his hands to his head; it throbbed almost in time with the waves. His stomach was gurgling and he felt like he needed to throw up. He lay back down and rolled toward the toilet, and as he pulled himself up he thought, What a glamorous fucking life. He sat on his knees, hunched over the toilet, and began to dry heave. His mouth was so dry that his tongue felt like sandpaper. He almost wished that he could vomit—at least it would be moisture.

  When there was a break in the nausea he turned and put both of his hands on the sink and pulled himself up. He needed water. His arms shook as he used them to hoist his bulk up off the floor, and on shaky legs he stood looking at the large stranger in the mirror. His eyes were completely shot through with blood and his face was covered with thick, dark stubble. His skin was pale and his forehead sweaty. He looked like shit. He moved slightly to turn on the water and the room swirled. For a second he thought he was going down, but suddenly it was stationary again and he was able to turn on the faucet and bend forward slightly to cup his hands. When they were full of water, he brought them up to his mouth and drank...gulped, really. He realized almost instantly that was a mistake. As quickly as he drank the water, that and a lot of bile and leftover whiskey came back up.

  He dropped to his knees, hard, and felt the floor shake underneath him before emptying his stomach into the toilet. It took some time, and then even more time before he was strong enough to pull himself back up to his feet. The whole while his head pounded out a rhythm like someone was striking it with a hammer.

  He turned on the water again, this time using the cup he’d collected to splash across his face. He did it again this time pushing his wet hands through his hair. None of it was helping. He felt like shit. He finally gave up, turned off the sink, and turned on the shower. Throughout the course of worshiping the porcelain god, he realized that stench he’d been smelling all along was himself. Maybe smelling better would lessen his nausea. God, his head fucking hurt.

  While the shower was heating up he took the bottle of aspirin out of the medicine cabinet and shook four of them out into his hand. He popped them into his mouth and stripped off his shorts. Once he was in the shower, under the water, he opened his mouth and caught some and washed them down. His stomach gurgled again in protest but this time he was able to fight through the nausea. He stood there with one hand pressed into the wall and his head bent so that the water cascaded through his hair and over his aching back. How fucking long was I on that cold floor...and how much did I have to drink last night? It must have been a hell of a...fuck! Suddenly he remembered. There was no party, it was more like a wake...his own. Saint was in prison. He was being charged with Garrett’s crimes. For some reason, he’d read the letter Garrett wrote when he planned on killing himself and decided that taking the rap for something he didn’t do was a good idea. Jesus Christ, what a mess.

  The shower didn’t help the nausea, or the throbbing in his head. It didn’t help the ache in his chest either, the guilt he felt for screwing up his brother’s life too. Fuck it all, he didn’t want to think about it. He had three more days before they were going to let him see Saint, so today, he was going to feed this fucking hangover with whatever whiskey he could find left in the kitchen. He grabbed the towel and patted his body down before wrapping it around his waist and opening the door to his bedroom. The smell of bleach and some other kind of cleaner...pine?...assaulted his nostrils and brought back the huge, crashing waves of nausea. Who the fuck is cleaning?

  He stepped out into the hallway when a vague memory tugged at the recesses of his pounding head. Paige was here last night...or was that a dream? No, he remembered going into his room to get away from her. If it was a dream, he would have been all over her. Hell, why wasn’t he all over her last night? He couldn’t remember, but one thing was clear, she’d cleaned the place up while she was there. He followed the clean smell to the living room and saw that the top of his coffee table was empty and the wood shone like it had just been polished. The afghan that hung over the back of his couch had been neatly folded and the pillows looked like they’d been fluffed. Everything was as neat as a pin, —too neat, it made him a little bit nervous.

  He left the living room and pushed open the kitchen door. It smelled a hell of a lot better in there. There was a plate on the stove filled with bacon and a bowl that looked like scrambled eggs. Surprisingly, his stomach growled instead of protesting. Maybe eating would help the nausea. He went over to the cabinet to get a plate and realized there was a fresh pot of coffee on too. Paige must have just left. He would have to send her a text to thank her. He ached to see her, but he didn’t want her to see him like this. He hoped that he hadn’t made too much of a fool of his drunken self the night before. Garrett was so big that it took a copious amount of alcohol to get him drunk...so it didn’t happen often. Today he swore to his aching head that it would never happen again.

  He reached up to the top shelf to grab a plate and felt the towel slip off his hips and fall to the floor. Fuck it, he’d get dressed after he ate. He turned back toward the stove with his plate in his hand and found Paige. She was standing in the doorway that led out back where the stairs would take you down to the alleyway where the trash dumpsters were kept. She had the trash can in her hand, and even with that unlikely accessory, she looked hot.

  Her eyes flitted from his face to below his waist and she smiled slightly. “Good to know you’re at least happy to see me this morning.”

  21

  Garrett looked down at his semi-rigid cock and back up at Paige. He felt his face go hot. She’d seen him naked before, but somehow in his hung-over state, it didn’t seem so sexy. He bent down and picked up the towel, wrapped it around his waist, and said, “Well then, good morning.”

  She had her back to him, tucking a garbage bag into the can, but he saw her shoulders shake in a silent laugh. When she turned back toward him she said, “Good morning. How do you feel today?”

  “As bad as I look.” Once more she let her eyes roam the hard planes of his body, pausing on the tattoos on his chest and then again on the lower part of his belly that disappeared into the towel. She ran a tongue across her lips and said:

  “Not a good comparison.” She cleared her throat then and her cheeks pinked. “Anyways, are you hungry?”

  “Yeah...thanks for all this.”

  She raised an eyebrow and took the plate he had set down on the counter over to the stove. He watched her ladle on scrambled eggs and bacon, and then she took it over to the table and set it down. “You want coffee?”

  “Yeah, I can get it.”

  “I know you can, but I’ll get it for you. Go ahead and have a seat. Do you take anything in it?”

  “Whiskey,” he said with a chuckle. Paige didn’t look like she thought that was funny. She poured the coffee into a mug and set it down in front of him. He was about to thank her again when she also slammed a bottle of Crown Royal down next to it. He cleared his throat. “I was kidding...but thanks.” She didn’t say anything and as he picked up his coffee and sipped it, the silence actually made him uncomfortable...which was strange. Usually, he wanted people to shut up. “So, you must have gotten here early...”

  She groaned and looked at him like he was crazy. “First off, it’s nearly eleven a.m.”

  “Damn.” Garrett couldn’t remember ever sleeping that late, even with a hangover.

  “Yeah, and second, I got here last night. You don’t remember ordering me to leave?”

  He smiled as he scooped eggs onto his fork. Without looking up at her he said, “No, but obviously your listening skills haven’t improved since I met you.”

  “Ha-ha, you think you’re funny? You drank three bottles of whiskey last night and God only know
s how much weed you smoked. Were you trying to kill yourself? I thought we had a deal...”

  “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Paige, and do you mind not yelling? My head hurts.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. He honestly wasn’t sure why she was so pissed. “I just won’t speak at all,” she whispered. “That’s how you like it, right? Your world is falling apart around you, but don’t talk about it. Heaven forbid you lean on your friends and talk about it. No! You just light a joint and open another bottle of whiskey. Fantastic coping skills, by the way.”

  He sighed and set his fork down. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Paige.”

  She stared at his face, silently for a while and then she said, “You know what? Neither am I. I guess I’m embarrassed is all. I’ll clean this up and then I’ll leave.”

  “Embarrassed?” She turned her back to him and started washing dishes in the sink. When she didn’t answer him he said, “I appreciate you being concerned about me. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.” She still didn’t answer him. She was scrubbing a pot like her life depended on it. “Paige? Talk to me.” He regretted that. She threw the heavy pot down into the stainless-steel sink, and it was like a sledgehammer struck him upside the head. Turning around and putting her hands on her hips she said:

  “Why should I talk to you? I should tell you all my secrets? All my fears? All my hopes for the fucking future that a week ago I didn’t even think was going to exist? And in return I get what, Garrett? I know more about you from spending half an hour talking to your friend than from anything you’ve ever told me.” She had a tear running down her face as she said, “I thought you and I were friends. I was wrong.” She reached up and wiped the tear away and said, “But no big deal. I’ll get out of your way.” Garrett didn’t know what to say. He’d never had a woman in his life that was a “friend.” Sometimes he talked to Claudia, but that was more like getting maternal advice. He hadn’t spoken to Vivian in three years and when he did, that was always awkward...and all the women in between, well, they’d just been about sex. He was surprised at how ashamed he suddenly felt to admit that, even to himself. As Paige stormed past him, he put his arm out without really thinking about it. He stopped her and pulled her down into his lap. “Stop it!” she said. “Let go of me.”

  “Just calm down, please. Give me a second, okay?” He was surprised when she did. She sat silently in his lap and there was nothing between them except the towel and her jeans and against his will, his cock was responding. He had a feeling that would only piss her off more...but it wasn’t his fault that she was so fucking sexy. If any other woman had yelled at him like that, especially when he had a hangover and his life was in pieces, he wouldn’t have only let her walk out, he would have helped her go. Taking in a long, slow breath he said, “I’m sorry.”

  Paige stared at his face, into his eyes. He wanted to kiss her so fucking bad...but he was afraid she’d start yelling again, and his head couldn’t take it. Finally, she said, “For?”

  He groaned, and then he made his worst mistake yet. He grinned and said, “For whatever it is you think I did wrong?” In a matter of seconds, she slammed her shoe down onto the top of his bare foot, causing him to yelp in pain and let go of her...and then she was gone.

  “No sir, I’m sorry. I don’t know her.” Garrett was at his fourth dentist’s office of the day. How fucking many dentists does Vegas need anyways? He was beginning to think it must be the tooth fairy’s home base.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled. He could feel the girl at the reception desk watching him as he left. He knew he looked like shit and coupled with his size, going uncombed and unshaven only made him more intimidating to people. As he was going out the door, a woman was coming in with a little boy. Garrett smiled at him and the little boy smiled back. His mother pulled him close to her and looked at Garrett like maybe she was afraid he was going to eat the kid. He sighed as he made his way to his bike...just another reason he didn’t like people. They looked at him and judged him by his size, or his kutte...he chuckled as he straddled the bike. In his case, their judgment was right, so technically he had a lot of nerve being bothered by it. He took out his phone before he started the bike and looked at the list of addresses he’d pulled up. There were still seven more dentist’s offices in Vegas. Why the fuck didn’t he ever ask Paige which one she worked for?

  After she left a bruise on top of his foot and stormed out of his apartment, he thought about opening the bottle of Crown and saying fuck it. But he couldn’t get the image of the look in her eyes out of his head. She didn’t look angry—angry he could handle. It wasn’t the tears that welled up in them either that had bothered him so badly. What bothered him most was that she looked disappointed. It was like she’d had him pegged for a good man and she’d just suddenly realized he wasn’t. Strangely enough, that made him want to go find her, and talk to her. It was almost a compulsion as he got dressed and ruminated over it. He kidnapped her. He took her to a motorcycle clubhouse. He left her in the care of men that drank and smoked too much and, if not for fear that he’d kill them, would have fucked her in a heartbeat. Then he’d killed a man and told her about it, but his being drunk and moody and not wanting to talk about his feelings was what disappointed her?

  Still confused but feeling like he needed answers, he’d gone after her. He’d gone to her little house first. He’d never been there before, but he texted one of the prospects who’d taken her home the day before and got the address. He could have picked the house out of a lineup. It looked exactly like what he’d picture in his head. It was small, with a neatly trimmed lawn and lots of flowers out front. The porch had a “Welcome Fall” flag flying from it and a pumpkin and candle arrangement. It was so...normal. He stood on the porch for a long time before he finally convinced himself that he’d gone that far, and knocked. When she didn’t answer he thought she was still mad and just ignoring him, so he knocked again, and again.

  “She went to work.” The sound of the voice startled him and he jerked around to see an old man with white hair and a little white dog on a leash standing on the sidewalk.

  “Oh...okay, thanks.”

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “No, thanks.” The old man watched him walk down off the porch and over toward his bike.

  “You a friend of hers?”

  Garrett really didn’t want to have a conversation with the nosy neighbor, but he did have enough social skills to know he had to respond. “Yeah,” he said. “New friend. I knew she was on vacation last week. I was hoping I could still catch her at home today.”

  The fact that Garrett knew Paige had been on “vacation” seemed to make the old man relax slightly. “She went into work late today,” he said. “They might’ve called her in. They do that sometimes. Did you try calling her?”

  Garrett smiled and almost said, Yes, eighteen times. But instead he said, “Yeah, I did. I suppose since she’s at work, that’s why she didn’t answer. You don’t know where...”

  “No,” the old man said, shutting him down. Garrett was glad she had protective neighbors, but it would have saved him a hell of a lot of time if the old man had told him where the office was that she worked. “You have a good day now,” he had said instead, turning and walking away with his ugly little dog. Now, over an hour and four offices later, Garrett hadn’t found her. His head still throbbed. His neck and back hurt from sleeping on the floor. He couldn’t drink enough water; he was still so dehydrated that his tongue and throat still felt like sandpaper. He wanted to curl up in a fetal position somewhere and sleep it off. But instead, he pointed the bike in the direction of dental office number five.

  This one was just off the Strip, and Garrett breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the little car with all the big-eyed animals in the back. He parked next to it and then sat there on the bike, thinking about what he would say...if she would even talk to him. Finally, he adjusted the bandanna on his head to cover his messy hair and ti
ghtened the ponytail in back. He got off the bike and started to head inside but then with a sigh, he pulled off his kutte and went back and stuffed it in his saddlebag. The plain white t-shirt and jeans didn’t exactly scream “respectable,” but it was a small improvement. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and pulled open the door. The lobby was packed, and he felt like all eyes were on him as he approached the reception desk. The girl looked up at him with a prepared, “How can I help you?” look on her face, but when she saw Garrett the words seemed to freeze on her tongue.

  “Um...hi...” She cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

  Garrett smiled and hoped it made him look less threatening. “Yes. I’m looking for Paige...”

  “Garrett?” He looked toward the sound of her voice. His stomach did a somersault at the sight of her. She’d changed out of her jeans and t-shirt and she was wearing a flowy green skirt and white bohemian blouse with long sleeves. She’d pulled her long hair over to the side in a ponytail and small, curly wisps framed her pretty face. He was speechless and when he didn’t answer her she said, “What are you doing here?” He glanced back down at the girl seated at the desk. She seemed enthralled by the scene.

  “Um, sorry to bother you at work, but I was hoping you had a few minutes, to talk.”

  She narrowed her pretty hazel eyes at him and looked like she was about to say something sarcastic, but she stopped herself. Looking at the interested girl she said, “Callie, can you call Dr. Meadows’ four o’clock and see if they can come in early? He needs to get out of here by five.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” Looking back at Garrett finally, as professional as she was with the girl, she told him, “I’m going to buzz the door. Come on back. We can talk in my office.” She stepped out of sight again and the door to Garrett’s right buzzed. He grabbed it and had to duck to walk through. The girl at the desk was still watching him and as soon as he stepped in the back, another woman coming down the hall stopped to take stock. Paige almost rolled her eyes at that one and said, “Lisa, did you need something?”