Rooter (Double H Romance)

by Smith, Teiran

  “I don’t mean to be condescending,” he recovers and kisses my lips reassuringly. “With what you’ve been through, I didn’t know if you’d freak out or…”

  I nod, understanding his meaning.

  “You didn’t seem scared or nervous at all.”

  “I wasn’t. I trust you.”

  He smiles. “I love you, babe.”

  I want to say it back because I love him so damn much. I want to scream it from the rooftop so that everyone knows. But he doesn’t want me to yet. So instead, I say the next thing that comes to my mind. “I wish you had been my first.”

  “I was.” He pulls me snug against him. “I was the first man to make love to you.”

  His words comfort and touch me deeply because what we did was indeed making love. It wasn’t just sex. With every touch and every kiss, he gave as much as he took. He gave more.

  “Yes, you were.” I brush my lips across his chest.

  “And I’ll be the last.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head. After a moment he speaks again. “You’re the only one I’ve ever made love to, Sophie.”

  Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I keep them at bay. Once the emotion subsides, I pull back and look at him. “You surprised me when you told me to call you Jace.”

  He clears his throat and pauses before responding. “I surprised myself.”

  “Did you like it when I called you Jace?”

  His adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows. “Yeah. A lot.”

  “Should I call you by that name all the time?”

  He shakes his head. “Only when we’re making love, babe.”

  God I love it when he says making love.

  I prop myself up on my elbow. “If you don’t like the name, why do you want me to use it when we’re making love?”

  He rolls onto his back and rests a hand on his chest. “It’s not that I don’t like the name. It just represents a different side of me.”

  “A different side?”

  “Jace is the person I want to be for you. Rooter is who I am.”

  “That’s confusing.” I pull my brows together.

  He turns to face me with a sincere expression. “Jace is pre-club. Innocent. Good. Like you.”

  “I don’t need you to be innocent.”

  “I know.” He strokes my cheek and gazes into my eyes.

  My mind goes back to a conversation we had on our first date when he said I had to earn the right to know the story of how he got his road name. “So, are you ever going to tell me how you got the name, Rooter? Have I earned that,” I make air quotations, “privileged information?”

  He chuckles and sweeps his hand through his hair. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

  “No chance.” I giggle and playfully poke him in the side.

  “I don’t think this is the time for that discussion.” He pulls me onto his chest and plays with my hair.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to lay here and bask in the afterglow of making love to my woman.”

  “Yeah right,” I cackle and push away to look at him. “You don’t want me to know how you got the name.”

  He closes his eyes and grumbles, “You’re right.”

  My curiosity just shot up a hundred percent. “Now you have to tell me.”

  His face turns bright red, and he sighs. “Keep in mind this was years ago.”

  “Okay.”

  He clears his throat. “Bear’s dad is Australian and in Australia rooting means fu—having sex. When I first got into the club, they were always finding me in the back room…” His voice trails off and he scratches his head. “One day, Bear was looking for me and he asked his pop where I was. His pop told him I was in the back room pouring the root to some girl. Bear knocked on the door and said, “Hey, Rooter we need to get going.” It stuck with the guys and I’ve been Rooter ever since.”

  “That’s not the story I was expecting.”

  “I bet not.” We’re both quiet a moment. “What were you expecting?”

  “Well, when you say Rooter the first thing that comes to mind, for me anyway, is Roto-Rooter. So I always thought you got the name because you caused a lot of plumbing trouble.” I burst out laughing.

  Rooter is clearly mortified. “What? Please tell me that’s not what you’ve been thinking this entire time.”

  I laugh even louder.

  “Oh my God,” he groans. “I should’ve told you the truth a long time ago.”

  “I think I prefer the Roto-Rooter story,” I admit.

  He rubs his face. “Sophie, I’m not the same guy I was back then. You believe that don’t you?”

  “I do. But if you’re not that guy anymore, why continue to go by the name?”

  “It’s a part of me now. And while it may not have the same connotation it used to… Let me put it this way, what we just did, I plan on doing a lot more of.” He winks. “Therefore, I am, in fact, still Rooter.”

  “And yet, you don’t want me to call you Rooter while we do it. Makes sense,” I say sarcastically and we both laugh.

  For the next two days we do nothing but make love, only pausing to eat and shower. It turns out I like sex. A lot. No, I don’t like it. I. Love. It. The more I have, the more I want. Forget the pool, the beach, the boat, and the jet skis. I have no interest in any of that. The hot tub, however, has definitely come in handy. If I had it my way Rooter would live naked, ready and willing to fulfill my every desire.

  After cleaning the cottage and putting fresh sheets on the bed, we get in the truck to make the trip back home. I don’t want to go back. With every mile tension builds in my neck.

  We’ve spent the last three days in a perfect little bubble of happiness. Now we’re on our way back to a very complicated reality. The good thing is, I feel closer to Rooter than I ever have. We finally feel like a solid unit. It’s us against the world and all it will try to throw at us.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” Rooter adjusts himself in the seat next to me, “but babe, I think I need a couple days off. My junk feels like hamburger.”

  I giggle. “What about your tongue? That still intact?” It got just as much of a workout as his dick.

  His eyes go wide. “Do you ever get enough?”

  “I’m thinking not.”

  “Damn woman,” he chuckles. “Am I not doing the job well enough?”

  I recall last night when he had me bent over the kitchen counter, pulling my hair as he slammed into me as hard as he was able. My clit throbs at the thought. It was the fourth time we’d had sex that day.

  “The problem isn’t you not doing it well enough. It’s that you do it too well.”

  “Well, that I can’t help.” He winks.

  I point at this face. “See that right there is what gets you in to trouble.”

  He smirks. “Dually noted.”

  He takes my hand and I lean back into my seat. I lay my head back and take a deep breath. We’ll be home in a little over an hour. “I don’t want to go home.”

  “It’ll be okay, babe.”

  “I just don’t…”

  He brushes his thumb over my knuckles. “Don’t what?”

  “We’ve come so far these past few days. We’re in a really good place and I’m afraid something will ruin it.”

  “Look at me,” he commands and I turn to face him. “Nothing can ruin this. It’s you and me, Sophie. I won’t let anything come between us.”

  Candace is a force to be reckoned with. And being that she hasn’t seen or heard from him in days means she’ll probably be completely smacked out of her mind when we return. He’ll likely have a thousand messages demanding he get his ass over to see her or else.

  When we pull into his parent’s driveway to pick up Dopey and get his phone, Candace’s car is there.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan, none too happy.

  Rooter slows the truck to a stop and closes his eyes. It’s obvious that he’s no happier about
this than I am. “Here we go.”

  We walk hand in hand into the house. The moment we cross the threshold Candace is in our faces. Rooter steps in front of me to keep us separated. As per usual she’s in her typical slutty attire, shorty shorts, tank top and a pair of clog heels. She might as well tattoo the word “stripper” on her forehead.

  “What are you doing here Candace?”

  “I’ll answer that as soon as you tell me where the hell you’ve been!”

  Rooter’s family leaves the room to give us privacy. Isa turns and looks at me sympathetically before disappearing through the doorway.

  “It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” he tells her.

  She takes a small step forward and holds a hand to her chest. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few days?”

  “Oh, please,” I groan and roll my eyes.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” She points at me. “This is none of your business.”

  “The hell it isn’t!” I lunge forward but Rooter grabs my arm and pulls me to his side.

  “Stop it!” He snipes at us both. After a moment he speaks again. “What’s going on Candace?”

  “If you’d been here, you would know,” she gripes and crosses her arms.

  “I’m here now,” his tone is gentle. “Tell me.”

  She sticks a hip out and shifts her weight to one foot. “I’m not talking to you with her around.”

  “Well, she’s not going anywhere,” he tells her. “So either talk or leave.”

  “That’s how you talk to the mother of your unborn child?” She scoffs. “The child she almost lost yesterday because of the stress she’s under?”

  “What?” He freaks out.

  “Yeah, that’s right. While you were holed up in a hotel somewhere fucking your little princess,” she waves in my direction, “I’ve been here trying not to lose our baby.”

  “What happened?” His concern is evident.

  “I got fired because I’ve been too sick to work. Now I’m going to lose everything and be homeless. With all the stress I started cramping really bad and had a little spotting.”

  For some reason, I don’t buy a single word of what she’s saying, and it’s not just because I don’t like her. Everything about her screams liar. I knew she’d pull something like this when we got back.

  “Jesus Candace.” Rooter rakes a hand through his hair. He guides me over to sit next to him on the couch. Candace sits in a nearby chair.

  “Did you go to the doctor? Is the baby all right?”

  “You don’t even give a shit about this baby. All you care about is her.” Her voice is laced with venom.

  “Of course I care about the baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  Great, now he’ll regret going away with me. Well played, bitch.

  She laughs, sarcastic. “Yeah, right.”

  “I mean it. I shouldn’t have cut contact with you. It was wrong of me.” His voice is cloaked in guilt. He sits hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

  “Rooter,” I start, “she’s playing you. Do you really not see that?”

  “You seriously need to mind your own business,” Candace spews through gritted teeth.

  “He is my business,” I snarl and Rooter interrupts me before I can finish.

  “Sophie, stop,” he snaps.

  But I don’t listen. “You better stop with your fucking games!” I jump up from the couch and charge over to her. Rooter shoots up after me and grabs me by the arms.

  Candace leans over and clutches her belly.

  Chapter 40

  A Bad Day

  “Get her away from me!” Candace shouts.

  “Goddamn it Sophie!” Rooter yells. “What are you doing?”

  He rushes to Candace and crouches before her. Camilla, Isa, and Mick all come back into the room.

  “What’s going on?” Camilla asks looking back and forth between me and Candace.

  Candace points at me with one hand and keeps the other on her stomach. “She started to attack me!”

  Everyone gapes at me, shocked. Everyone but Rooter. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Candace. I clutch the sides of my head unable to believe the scene before me.

  “Get her out of here!” Candace shouts.

  Rooter stands and Candace grabs him by the arm. “Don’t leave me.”

  There are actual tears in her eyes. Man, she’s good.

  “I’m not leaving,” he tells her and hands me his keys. “Take the truck home. I need to handle this.”

  I cross my arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sophie,” he whispers, “you need to go. Your being here is making things worse.”

  “How have I become the bad guy?”

  “No one said that.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply. “I can’t have this conversation right now. Please, go home. We’ll talk later.”

  I snatch the keys out of his hands. “Fine. But do me a favor and consider the fact that this is all an act to get your attention.” I turn and glare at Candace. “Like everything else she’s done.”

  Hours pass and I still haven’t heard a word from Rooter. I’m dying to find out what happened after I left; what kind of bullshit guilt trip she’s laid on him. About an hour ago I texted him asking him what’s going on but didn’t get a response. I keep analyzing the way he looked at me when I left. He was upset, for sure. But with me or with the situation in general?

  I wasn’t going to hit Candace. As much as I hate her for what she’s done, I’d never hit a pregnant woman. But even I must admit the way I lunged at her would make anyone think I was going to. I groan and fling my head back on the couch.

  Bear and Miranda are at my house so I’m waiting for Rooter at his house. The last thing I want to do is rehash the situation with them and I’m definitely not in the mood to see them all happy and lovey dovey with one another.

  I turn the television on but can’t concentrate on it. Rooter once told me he works out whenever he’s angry or stressed out so I decide to give it a try. I go into his workout room blast some hard rock and step onto the treadmill. After running two miles I’m bent over panting for breath. Yet I’m still as on edge as I was beforehand.

  I look around the room in search of something else to try. His free weight bench sits across the room in the corner. Next to it is a set of hand weights ranging from ten to fifty pounds. I pick up the ten pound weight and do curls with my right arm. I get to ten and that arm wears out so I move to the other. So far I’ve found no relief and decide to do some of my regular exercises: three sets of twenty lunges on each leg, three sets of ten push-ups and my squat routine.

  As luck would have it I’m more energized and pumped up than I was before working out. I turn off the stereo and go into Rooter’s room and lie on the bed. I check my phone and still no call or text.

  Come on, Rooter, call me already.

  I turn on the television in his bedroom, but I don’t know why. It has the same effect on me as before. Unable to sit still, I get up and mosey around his room. I’m not nosey nor am I one to snoop, but I’m bored as hell. I open the drawer to his nightstand and inspect the contents: a box of Magnum condoms, a motorcycle magazine, and a mystery novel. He always surprises me. I’d fully expected to find smut magazines.

  I open the mystery novel and read. It doesn’t take my mind completely off of the situation, but it helps. Somehow I simultaneously follow the story and think about Rooter, wondering when he’s going to call.

  By ten o’clock I still haven’t heard from him which isn’t like him at all. Either he’s pissed at me or something bad happened with Candace and the baby. I’m not sure which is worse. I don’t want him to be angry with me, but if something happens to the baby the guilt will eat him alive. He may not have planned on having a kid, but it would devastate him if something happened.

  I text him: Please call me. I’m worried.

  I hold the phone and stare at the screen praying f
or a response that never comes. By midnight I give up and turn out the light.

  My eyes flutter open at seven twenty in the morning. The bed beside me is empty. I check my phone for a message even though I know there isn’t one. I would’ve heard if he’d called or texted. Which he didn’t.

  This is bad.

  I ponder whether to call him and decide against it. I’ve already left two messages. He knows I want him to call me. If he hasn’t already done so there’s a reason for it.

  I decide to go to my house for a pot of coffee and a shower. When I get halfway down the stairs I hear snoring and snap my head toward the noise. Rooter is asleep on the couch. I stand and contemplate waking him up, but decide against it. Besides, I’m irritated he didn’t get into bed with me.

  He must be mad at me otherwise he would have.

  Not wanting to wake him I try to tiptoe out of the room to the back door, but Dopey lunges at me and knocks my keys out of my hand.

  “Sophie.” Rooter jolts upright.

  “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you up.”

  “Are you leaving?” He rubs his face.

  “Yeah,” I shift from foot to foot, unsure what to do. “I was going to get showered and let you sleep awhile longer.”

  “I’m up.” He swings his legs over the side of the sofa.

  “What time did you get in?” I ask and walk closer to where he sits.

  “About three.” He checks the time on his phone. “I didn’t want to wake you so I stayed down here.”

  “You know I wouldn’t have cared,” I call him out on his lie.

  He nods. “I was exhausted and didn’t want to talk about what happened with Candace.”

  Great. So he was avoiding me. “How about now?”

  “We should talk.”

  That doesn’t sound good. I take a breath and sit next to him. “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She’s really stressed out. Scared of losing the baby.”

  I roll my eyes. He can’t be that gullible. “Don’t you think she’s exaggerating a little?”

  He clenches his jaw and looks at me like I’m an asshole. “She’s been sick, she’s lost her job, and she’s been cramping. So no, I don’t think her freaking out over me being gone is exaggerating.”