by MK Schiller
“Too many cooks in the kitchen. Besides, I wanted to finish putting up the shelves. What’s this?” Adam asked staring at the box in my hand. “What do you need so many triple A batteries for?”
“You never know when you might run out of batteries,” Stevie said.
Adam looked around before picking up the level and a pencil. “Do you even own anything that takes those batteries?”
I do now.
I cupped my hand to my mouth, but it didn’t matter because Marley and Dillon exploded with laughter.
“Why are you all so giggly?”
“We were just talking about how much fun we had skiing last year,” Dillon said.
Adam looked at Stevie shaking his head. “You told them.”
“Adam…it just slipped out.”
He nodded. “Is anything sacred between you guys?”
“Not really,” Dillon offered.
Adam placed the pencil behind his ear and started slapping the ruler against his palm. Stevie squirmed next to me.
He arched his eyebrow, his face frozen in a stern expression. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m happy you told them.”
“You’re not upset?”
“More like disappointed, but it’s nothing we can’t overcome. I’m looking forward to it.”
Adam was my brother-in-law—the cute, nerdy boy-next-door who was like an older brother to me, but in that instant his voice got deeper and muscles I didn’t know existed stretched against his shirt. I got the feeling we were seeing the side of Adam that Stevie had described.
She swallowed, almost a gulping motion, next to me. “Looking forward to what?”
“Your punishment. Make sure you lock the window tonight.”
When he walked out, the rest of us let out a long, sharp breath. “Shit, that was hot,” Dillon said.
“I know, right?”
Chapter Twelve
When everyone finally left, I poured myself a glass of wine and walked around the place, taking in every scratch and scuff of the hardwood floors. We had shined them up, but the imperfections remained. I loved them. These were my scratches and scuffs. They’d been someone else’s history once, but now they were mine and I would make more, adding my own history.
I wanted to dance around the place, to christen it in a way. I had to find the perfect song for my mood.
But for some reason, when I scrolled down my extensive playlist, there was one song I had to hear. Hot in Herre by Nelly wasn’t exactly what fit my mood, but sometimes a girl’s just gotta hear a certain song.
And I discovered a few things. My floors were made for dancing. This song made my hips swing, my ass involuntarily twerked and I rubbed against the wall.
Damn… Nelly’s a talented man. I thought about the vibrator and all those packages of batteries. What a shame to let them go to waste.
A partial groan…almost a growl, halted me.
“Howdy, neighbor,” he said.
“What the hell, Evan. You can’t just barge in on me.”
He grinned, kicking the door so it opened all the way. “Your door was ajar.”
I stomped over to him. “It’s not a jar. It’s a door.”
“Funny. What are you? Six years old?”
“Sometimes. I can’t believe you spied on my slutty dance.”
“Did you do that at the club the other night?”
“No. I only do it in private.”
“That’s good, because your private dance is liable to cause a lot of public hard-ons.”
“You’re pretty gross.”
“And you’re pretty.”
“Pretty what?”
“Just pretty.”
I tried to hide my smile but it wouldn’t yield to my mental command.
“I came by to return this,” he said, twirling my wig around his finger. “I keep forgetting.”
I took it from him. “I was looking for you earlier.”
“Well here I am. I was helping Mike unload the truck.”
“I wanted you to meet my family.”
He held up his hands. “I’m not the type of guy you introduce to your family.”
“Whatever. Your loss.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Looks like you’re all moved in.”
“Why are you standing there?”
“You haven’t invited me in yet.”
“What are you? A vampire? Get in here. Want something to eat?”
“Nope, I’m good.”
“You have to take something.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my first place and you are my first real guest. It’s a big deal.”
His eyes crinkled, the invisible wicked thoughts behind his expression held no mystery. “What are you offering me, Price?”
I ignored the flash of heat that travelled down my body as a result.
“I have fruit, potato chips, cheese and chocolate. I need to go shopping.”
“That’s not much.”
“Hey, I never said I’m Martha Stewart. Besides, I’m willing to share my chocolate with you. It’s a huge sacrifice for me.”
I tried to ignore the thud of his work boots, the nice fit of his jeans, and the I-dare-you-to-touch messy-hotness that was his hair. I busied myself with cutting and unwrapping.
I searched the cabinets looking for my knives. “Can you bring me that box in the corner? I think it has a knife set in it.”
He brought it over to me, carrying it as if it weighed ounces. But the masculine gesture was cut short when he let out a blood-curdling scream after opening it.
“Did you cut yourself?” I asked, running toward him.
“What the fuck is this, Price? You trying to give me a heart attack?”
He held my gorgeous doll. Well she was gorgeous to me anyway, but I got his reaction. Her neck, stitched with a zigzag of heavy brown thread, held up a floppy tuft of fuzzy hair. One of her eyes was crystal blue while the other was mossy green and much larger. She wore a metallic red dress with a little bow in the front. I took her from him, trying and failing to stifle my laugh at Evan’s shocked expression.
“Evan, this is Lady Lulu.”
“I can’t believe you have a doll.”
“She’s not just a doll. She’s a symbol.”
“Of what? Terrifying horror?”
“Of love.”
He leaned against the counter. I sat on it, next to him, placing the doll on my lap. He tried not to look in our direction. It’s like he didn’t know if he should be amused or freaked out. Poor Evan…a little of both was appropriate.
“I got her for Christmas when I was little.”
“Your mama bought you that?”
“She didn’t look like this. She was brand spanking new, fresh out of the box and the hot toy that year.”
“You must have been happy to get her.”
“That’s the thing, Evan. I wasn’t. I mean I wanted her, but I wanted something else more that year.”
“What did you really want?”
I tried to recall it as I had many times in the past, but I came up short. “I can’t remember, but that’s not important to our story. Anyway, although I didn’t love her at first sight, I pretended I did. After all, my mom waited in line four hours to get her for me. I think my sisters even told her to get them less so she could buy this. I made the best of it. I even brought her to school for our weekly expression session.”
“Expression session?”
“Show and Tell. It was mistake on my part. You see, an evil troll haunted the school. He came from a long line of villains who feasted on little girl’s tears. In other words, he was a bully—Bruce Tompkins.”
“He was responsible for that?”
I swept my hands across, telling the story with a healthy dose of high drama. “Not exactly, but he did snatch her right out of my hands and said I probably wet my pants like the doll did. Then he twisted off her head and threw each part of her into the forbidden forest where dragons roam.”
&n
bsp; “Dragons?” He smirked.
“The woods behind the school. I’m going for theatrical here. Stay with me.”
“You have to be one of the weirdest girls I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but do you want me to finish the story?”
“Yes, you have my complete attention. I have to know who rescued the doll from these…dragons?”
“My sisters did. I don’t know what Marley said to Bruce Tomkins but I swear the next time I saw him, he almost wet his pants. Stevie looked for hours until she found Lady Lulu’s head and body. She took them to our mom, who cleaned and stitched her up. One of her eyes was missing so they had to find the closest match. Once they were all done creating her again, they decided she was scary as hell and not to give her to me. But I’d already seen her. I fell in love with her then. Years later, when Dillon came into our lives, he saw her in my room. He had a similar reaction to you. He bought her the dress. He said if I was going have an ugly doll, at least put a pretty dress on her.”
“That’s a nice story, Price.”
“Yeah, I’ve kept her all these years, not because of the doll itself, but what she represents to me.”
I slid off the table and set her in a prominent place on my center shelf. “She’s a symbol of sacrifice. Sometimes, that stuff is scary or ugly, but if you look hard enough, it’s always beautiful.”
I expected him to laugh, but he clapped instead.
“I’m sentimental, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I can see that.”
I found the knives and started rinsing them.
“So…why is it a big deal to share your chocolate?” he asked, his masculine scent covering me like a cloak I never wanted to take off.
I threw an orange to him. “Make yourself useful. Peel that, please.” He washed his hands. They were huge hands, but his fingers were long—masculine but elegant.
“Are you gonna answer the question?”
“Huh?”
“Chocolate,” he reminded me.
“Oh yeah, I’m addicted to it. It’s good you’re here or I’d eat all of it.”
We worked together, him peeling oranges and me slicing cheese. I held up the plate with the artfully arranged oranges, slivers of dark chocolate, wedges of cheese and a few potato chips.
He opted for the chocolate. Couldn’t blame him there, but why did he have to move his mouth so seductively? Or lick his bottom lip, mimicking the exact thing I wanted to do…to him. “There’s nothing wrong in indulging once in a while.”
“There is if you can’t stop yourself. If you want it so much you ache for it and it consumes all your thoughts.”
“Maybe you should just give in. It’s the only way to stop the cravings.”
“Giving in is a form of surrender.”
“Giving in is a form of release,” he whispered.
The plate shook in my hands. He took another piece of chocolate and held it against my lips. My mouth parted, awaiting his offering. His thumb rubbed against my bottom lip. It tasted good…rich, dark, bitter and sweet. Wait…was I talking about the chocolate?
I took a piece of fruit, hoping the burst of citrus would cool me off.
“That’s not what you want. You can settle for it but it’s not going to satisfy you in the way this can,” he said, feeding me another piece of chocolate.
“It’s healthier for me.”
“It’s a poor substitute.”
I took a segment of orange and fed it to him. “You should try it. You might like it.” His tongue flicked against my finger.
“Anything you offer me, I’m willing to try.”
“I think you get bored easily and prefer a variety. You never cultivate any true preferences that way.”
“Fair enough. I can make a sacrifice too. If I promised to be faithful to one type of chocolate while I’m here, would that make a difference?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“It’s delicious enough to keep my mind completely distracted. There’s something about it that appeals to me and I want to give in to it.”
“Wait, this is getting confusing. What are we talking about?”
He backed away a few steps. “Chocolate, right?”
I chuckled, the laugh a little too high-pitched to sound natural. “Yes, of course.”
He took the plate from me and set it on the counter. “When you’re ready to have a real conversation, you let me know. In the meantime, want to come out and play with me?”
“What did you have in mind?” I snagged another piece of chocolate because I needed to freely give in to one temptation to keep my mind off the other.
“Let me take you to the candy shop.”
I almost choked on the chocolate. “Um…Evan.”
“They have really quality stuff. I think you’d like it.”
Fuck…he was talking about a real candy shop.
“Okay,” I said, leaning against the counter so my knees would stop shaking.
He took my hand. I ignored the spark that started in my pulse and worked its way down my spine. He kicked the third step a few times.
“My stepdad fixed it,” I explained.
“Nice,” he said.
We went out to the back, where his gleaming bike stood.
“Here, it should fit,” he said, handing me a helmet. It looked new and it was definitely made for a woman’s head.
“We’re going on your motorcycle?” I asked, suddenly excited and nervous all over again.
“Hell yeah, you think I want to take the bus?”
I gulped, running my hand over the seats.
“Are you okay with this?”
“I’ve just never ridden on one before.”
He put the helmet on my head and secured it before putting on his own. “Just hold onto me as tight as you can.”
He hopped on and I got behind him. “Tighter,” he said in a commanding voice.
The throttle between my thighs, the feel of his muscular back and wind circling against us made it difficult to concentrate.
“Who is this?” I asked when we stopped at a light, taking in the tune that poured from his speakers.
“Big and Rich. You never heard them?”
“No, but I like it.”
The song boasted the importance of saving horses and opting to ride cowboys instead. Definitely an important public service announcement.
“Looks like there is some music I can school you in.”
The candy shop didn’t disappoint. They served coffee in edible chocolate cups and featured jellybeans from around the world. Thankfully, Evan didn’t try to feed me.
“It’s dangerous to bring me here.”
“I’m a dangerous man, Billie. When you roll with me, be prepared to live on the edge.” His mouth quirked at the corners before he finished the sentence.
I burst out laughing, taking in the sight of his muscular, tattooed frame against the backdrop of pink polka dot walls and the glass jars of peppermint sticks.
“I think this is my new favorite place. Thank you for taking me.”
“Want to see my favorite place?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Guess.”
“I’m going with a motorcycle shop, a record store or a tattoo parlor.”
“All good guesses, but none of them right.”
When we pulled up to his favorite place, I was happy for the helmet because it shielded my shock. “The library is your favorite place?”
“I haven’t been here in a long time, but my mom used to bring us every weekend. I’ve been wanting to get a card.”
“My mom worked here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Our arms bumped a few times as we walked into the building. I wondered if I’d ever seen a young Evan here, since we’d spent many weekends at the library too.
“What did you look like in high school?”
“Like this, with shorter hair, minus the tattoos and piercing.”
“You’ll have to decide if you’re curious enough to find out for yourself.”
I stopped in my tracks and crossed my arms. “Just give me a clue. Is it what I think it is?”
“No can do, Price. You’re not getting it out of me.”
“You’re playing a dirty game, Evan.”
“Never said I played clean.” He put his arm around me. “If you want to play with me, be prepared to get dirty.”
How could you respond to that?
“What did you look like, Billie?”
“Glasses, braces and a mild case of acne…my awkward phase. You wouldn’t have given me a second look.”
“Probably not.”
I elbowed him.
He grabbed my arm and spun me around. “You were in eighth grade and I was a senior in high school. What kind of creepy asshole would I be if I gave you any looks?”
“You make a good point.”
Mom’s buddy Arty was working the circulation desk. He ran around and embraced me.
“Billie girl, so nice to see you.”
“Always a pleasure, Arty.”
“You just missed your mother.”
“Really?”
“She brought the triplets in for story time. Damien came at the end and did a reading.”
“What did he read?”
“Bob the Builder, I think.”
No surprise there.
“What’s going on?” I asked, gesturing to the signs and velvet rope cordoning off a room.
“You don’t know? Damien built a new children’s wing for us. We’ll be cutting the rope tonight.”
“That’s great.”
Arty adjusted his glasses, peering at Evan. “So who is this ruffian you’ve brought me?”
“Arty, this is my friend, Evan Wright. He needs a library card.”
“I think I remember you,” Arty said. “You played football and ignored the quiet signs.”
Evan gulped. “That’s some memory you got.”
“I hope you’ve learned to be quieter.”
“Yes sir, I have.” Evan shuffled nervously, a strange gesture for him.
“Well, let’s get you fixed up then.”
“I think this might be an issue,” Evan said, handing Arty his license and a piece of mail.
“You have a permanent address. That’s all you need.”