A Nice Boy
Rocklyn Ryder
Magpie Press
Copyright © 2016 Rocklyn Ryder
All rights reserved worldwide
No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.
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A Nice Boy
An Arranged Marriage Romance
by
Rocklyn Ryder
Chapter 1
Joshua
Fucking bitch! I don't yell it at the top of my lungs like I want but it echoes off the inside of my skull as I look at the mess she left.
I've already yelled enough that the neighbors think I'm the one who's the fucking lunatic. Mrs. Conway wouldn't even greet me when I pulled in the drive way. She acted like she didn't notice me and hurried inside to shut her door and close her blinds.
It kills me that the whole fucking neighborhood thinks I'm the reason the cops were here twice last week. I lived here for 6 years before I bought the new place and rented this one out, I would have thought they knew me better than that. But when a screaming woman wakes the whole block up at 2 AM to the sound of broken glass and cries for help everyone assumes it's the inked up bartender that's responsible. Including the cops.
I do a walk through of the place before I get started and I haven't even made it into the second bedroom before I know I'm going to need a professional crew to get this place ready to rent again. By the time I see the shower in the master bathroom I've given up.
I don't have the time or the fucking patience to clean this place up. Not to mention seeing what she did to it has me pissed enough that I almost-- almost-- wish I'd made the night in jail worth it.
I force myself to calm down as I lock the door behind me and get back in the car. It's Saturday and I won't be able to call for a cleaning crew till Monday. The place is just going to have to sit till then, I'm so mad I can't even look at it right now.
Throwing the stick into reverse I let my foot off the brake and see Mrs. Conway peeking out from behind the little flowered curtain over her kitchen window. That tears it, I hit the gas and let the GT scream out of the driveway with an ear-splitting screech.
You want dangerous bad boy, old lady? I'll give it to you.
The heel of my hand contacts the leather wrapped gear shift more forcefully than I'd normally touch my baby and the car jumps into 1st gear. I let off the clutch almost as fast as I slam my foot down on the gas pedal.
There must be 300 feet of rubber on the quiet, tree lined street behind me for Mrs. Conway to worry over as I scream out of the neighborhood.
To think, there'd been a point when I thought about putting a ring on Nicole's finger. The thought turns my stomach now. I just wanted her out of my house. Or to pay her damn rent. Either one would have been fine by me.
Thank God the Chief and I go way back. George knows me better than that and I'm lucky I managed to catch some of Nikki's tantrum on video to back up my story or I could be facing a lot more than a couple grand on a professional crew to do damage control on the house.
I let the Mustang open up outside of town as I head for the hills.
I've got the windows open and the tunes cranked but it's not one of those days when I'm singing along. I'm concentrating on taking the corners and by the time I get off the valley floor my jaw is aching from being clenched so tight.
All I wanted was something solid. Something real with a girl that I liked sleeping next to, ya know? Someone who wants to fill my ears up with stories about her day when I get home. Someone to curl up against me on the sofa after the kids are asleep so we can sneak in some grown up time before heading to bed. Someone who wants to use the bed for more than just sleep.
Sure, getting hitched would be great for all the reasons guys agree to it. Never having to troll the bars for pussy, enjoying home cooking instead of living off of fast food and gas station burritos, someone else to hand the phone off to when my mother calls.
I can't admit it to anyone except maybe Maureen, but I want all that mundane shit too. Grocery shopping and arguing over which toilet paper to buy and standing next to each other at the sink doing dishes after dinner. I know it's corny as fuck but I want that corny shit in my life.
Just someone to hold on to and build a future with.
Someone who isn't batshit crazy and won't wreck my fucking house and get me arrested.
Chapter 2
Caitlyn
I finish the last book and stare at the phone blankly. I still haven't adjusted to ebooks. I love that I can put about a million of them on my phone all at once and never run out of reading material when I'm waiting for the dentist or whatever. I've gotten used to charging my phone twice as often and it certainly has gone a long way in decreasing the clutter in my apartment, but I don't get the same satisfaction from simply closing the reading app as I do from closing the back cover of a book and then turning it back over in my hands before replacing it on the shelf.
It's just not the same.
I have to stop reading these things though. That's another problem with ebooks, as soon as I finish one, there are all those other books that are suggested based on the one I just finished. It's an addiction. There ought to be a law that prevents the company from taking advantage of me when I'm vulnerable like this. Still reeling from book boyfriend hangover.
The problem is that I keep reading books that are all pretty much the same story. Which isn't surprising, that's just the way it works, but for the last 14 days every bedtime story I've read has been some crazy mail order bride thing. Sexy as fuck men who are desperate to get married and make babies with a woman that they are head over heels in love with.
I am so glad I live alone so I can go to my grave in denial of that wistful sigh that just came out of my lips right now. That was not me.
Except it was, I think as I set my phone back on the night table and turn off the light. Too bad mail order brides aren't a real thing and, if they are, I'm pretty sure they don't end up like the couples in those books.
If only happily ever after was something I could order on line. That would solve a lot of problems, wouldn't it?
My whole life has gone according to plan. Oh sure, a few hiccups here and there but that's life. For the most part, though, I've been sticking to my plan. High school, college, career... and that's where I seem to have stalled. I'm supposed to be getting married right about now. Married now, kids in another year or two.
Problem is-- getting married requires a second person and my Prince Charming doesn't seem to have gotten his save the date card.
I lie in bed and stare at the moon crossing the sky outside my window.
Meeting men the traditional way hasn't yielded the best results. I laugh in the dark room while I turn on my side and pull the covers around me, that's one way of saying that I suck at meeting men. I've had two
boyfriends in my whole life-- unless you count Timothy Rourke in the 1st grade, which I don't...usually.
I've always told myself, and anyone else who asks, that I've just been too busy for a relationship. I needed to keep my grades up while I was working on my degree so I could qualify for the best internships. I needed to do well in my internship so I could get the best references. I needed to work on my resume so that I had the best shot at the job I wanted. And so on and so forth.
Really, it's just been one long domino effect and everything was going just fine until now.
Now I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be and I have no one to share it with. No one to celebrate my achievements with, no one to comfort me through my defeats, no one to pep talk me back on to the top again.
Right now I could really use someone to talk me back on top if you know what I mean.
I fumble in the dark for the drawer of the night stand and pull out my vibrator... no one to do a lot of things for me, I think as I let the soft hum and the image of my favorite book boyfriend erase my worries from my mind.
Chapter 3
Joshua
"So what are you going to do about it?"
Technically Maureen's my boss but she's more of a mom than my own mother. A really cool mom that doesn't make me feel like everything I do is poor reflection on her.
I'm at the bar early, helping her wash glassware and making sure the bar is stocked. The Wild Boar is Maureen's baby since her husband passed away last year after a hard fight with cancer. Bill went down swinging, that's for sure, but he still lost. Now Maureen runs this place as much on her own as she can.
Running the only real bar in town isn't easy though, that's why I help out on the weekends. I'm mostly help behind the bar but if things get rowdy I'm also here to make sure the bar stays in one piece.
I shrug in answer to her question. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she expects me to open up about Nicole. Shit, I'm the one that started talking, after all. Still. Doesn't mean I want to talk.
"Com'on, Josh," she hits her shoulder against mine, "I get it, sweetie, I'm not accusing you of being in love with that whore. I don't think you were ever that into her anyway."
I'm surprised to hear her say that. Nicole and I were hot and heavy for a while there. After she left her ex and ended up in one of my rentals. Then she started hanging out down here on the nights when I worked until one thing led to another and we ended up dating.
"Sweetie," Maureen is giving me that look that tells me she knows me better than I know myself, "that woman was never right for you. You're just such a soft touch. You want someone to take care of and Nikki was a trainwreck. I'm sure she appealed to your inner knight-in-shining-armor, but you were never happy while you were together. Not once."
I keep my mouth shut and let Maureen talk. I've known her for years now. She and Bill were like the parents I should have had and I've learned that Maureen sees something inside me that no one else does. It's smart to listen to her when she starts in on me like this-- and pointless to try not to.
"You need to find yourself a good woman," she's going on as she hands me glasses that came out of the washer spotted up so I can clean em right, "someone who looks at you like you hung the stars, because you deserve that, Josh. You deserve a wife and a yard full of kids."
She gives me one of her trademark looks that tells me she's about to fire me again and I resist laughing, "You need to find yourself a woman to keep your bed warm at night so you stop wasting your time down here at the bar."
I go ahead and laugh. That's the nicest way she's found yet to tell me to stop coming down here.
I know Maureen thinks I'm just down here to keep an eye on her, and maybe she's not entirely wrong, but she's right about one thing-- I don't have any reason not to be here. So I give her a peck on the cheek and head to the kitchen in search of lemons and limes to get sliced up for the night.
"I'm serious, Josh," she started in on me as soon as I'm behind the bar again, "why don't you get yourself a wife and settle down?"
I tense my jaw and remind myself that she's just needling me because she cares.
Maureen knows me better than probably anyone else, but she doesn't know everything. She can't possibly know how bad I want exactly what she's going on about but she also has no idea how hard it is for a guy like me to find it.
"They aren't pressing charges are they?" Maureen surprises me with a sudden change of subject-- I think it's a change of subject, can't be sure with Maury.
I shake my head as I slice the limes into quarters and dump them into their bin.
"Josh?"
I realize she's prodding me for more info.
"You know it's not up to them, it's an automatic thing once they got called out," I say quietly, "The chief got it straightened out so that should be the end of it. Charges should get dropped, no problem, just gotta wait till the judge signs off on it."
It's embarrassing as fuck, getting hauled off and spending a night behind bars on a domestic violence call.
I recall Mrs. Conway's spying eyes at her kitchen window this morning. I'm pretty sure I know where that call came from too.
My shoulders lift and sag heavily as I take a deep breath to try to steady the rage building inside me, I can't blame Mrs. C-- I'd have gotten involved if I heard a woman screaming like that too. It just feels like such a fucking betrayal. The neighbors all saw the kind of shit Nicole pulled while we were together, I thought they knew me better.
Maureen is waiting for more info. I oughta know what it is she's waiting to hear but fuck if I know what else to tell her. I look at to see her cock an eyebrow at me and I go back to slicing citrus.
"You know I didn't lay a finger on her, Maury," I hate that I have to say it out loud, "I never touched her."
Maureen's nodding sadly, "I know Sweetie," she pats me on the arm, "I'm sorry things didn't work out with Nikki, but you needed to see that side of her. You were never going to let go for good until you saw what the rest of us saw long ago. I'm just so relieved to hear that it's not going to follow you."
She slides the cutting board out from under my hands and I let her take over. Moving to the opposite side of the bar I take a seat on the stool across from Maureen and pinch the bridge of my nose.
"I'm serious about finding a wife for you, Josh."
"I can tell, Mar," I give her a lopsided grin as I lean my elbows, "but I don't know how I'm supposed to do that?"
Maureen looks up at me with an expression that can only be described as pure meddling woman, a smirk pulling her mouth to one side and a twinkle in her eyes that spells trouble, "You're not. I'm going to do it for you."
I'd argue but she's suddenly engrossed in slicing up the lemons and I recognize the sort of silence that indicates that she's spoken and she won't be swayed.
I've got no idea what she's got in mind but I can tell she means it.
Maureen's dead set on marrying me off.
I'm not going to argue. Maybe it's time to let someone else do the picking for me.
Chapter 4
Caitlyn
"It makes the most sense," I tell Veronica as I show her the site on my phone.
Ronni chews her microwaved lunch a little more thoughtfully than I think is strictly necessary. I'm pretty sure she's using the time to prepare her response.
Finally, she nods slowly and swallows. Taking a drink of water to wash down what I can only imagine must taste like chemicals and sawdust from the look of the stuff in the tray in front of her, she answers slowly.
"Kay," I'm not sure if she's shortening my name or dropping the 'O' off an acknowledgment of my proposal, "I'm not sure this is your best idea ever."
She takes my phone from me and scrolls through the site I've narrowed it down to.
"I mean, this seems drastic," she mumbles as she skims over the testimonials, then her eyes widen in horror and I know she's on the pricing page, "and expensive!"
I snatch the phone back and set my mouth in a d
etermined line, "Did you see her success rate?" I demand, "Did you see the happy families on the gallery page? She delivers happily ever after on a silver platter wrapped up in a bow and all I have to do is provide three references to help her interview."
Ronni's eyes register my meaning, "Oh hell noes!" She waves her hands at me, "I am not picking out a husband for you!" Her nose wrinkles and her face scrunches, her eye brows lower over her nose as if she's reconsidering, "At least, not from some crazy new age witch's data base. If you want me to help you pick out Mr. Right, I'll go to the bar with you anytime."
I shake my head emphatically, "I'm not going to find Mr. Right at the bar. Look, Ronni, I'm serious. I haven't had a boyfriend in 5 years. I haven't been with a man in--" I silently count, decide I don't want to divulge that number and quickly go on, "-- a long time. I want to get married. No!" I correct myself before she can speak, "I want to be married."
The look on Ronni's face softens.
"I want to be married. I want to have a husband to come home to at night." I hear myself getting a little emotional. Ordinarily I'd choke that back and change the subject but I need Veronica to understand why I'm going through with this, why I need her to help, "I don't want to be the one they ask to work late because I have no one waiting for me at home, Ronni. I'm tired of trading off my vacation time or selling my sick leave because the employees with families 'need' it more."
"You don't have to do that, you know," Ronni says sympathetically, "no one's telling you you're less important just because you don't have a family."
A Nice Boy: Arranged Marriage Romance Page 1