Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  I set my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “How do you expect me to drive it if I’m not allowed to touch the controls?”

  For the first time that morning a smile tugs on his lips. I watch as it widens and turns into a grin. “That’s pretty fucking adorable. You thinking you’re going to drive one of my bikes?” He scoffs. “What do you weigh? A hundred and ten? A hundred fifteen?”

  I happen to weigh a hundred and twenty, but the arrogant expression on his face makes me too mad to reply.

  He walks over to the helmets and scans the collection while still laughing. His amusement doesn’t let up and he’s shaking his head, still grinning as he hands me a helmet. I put it on and he buckles the strap. My irritation fades as it dawns on me, we’re about to go climb on a motorbike and try to make it into town.

  “You think we can get out, Nick?”

  He winks at me. “Sure hope not.”

  “What are we going to do if we can’t get out?”

  “Come back home and fuck.”

  My breath catches in my throat and with just one word my body is on fire. Hot, blazing need tears through me. I don’t want to go. I want to come back here, but how would that go? We’d have fun for a while and then he’d grow distant. In spite of that dreary idea, I can’t fight the desire he’s ignited with a simple word. My skin heats. I’m sure I’m blushing.

  If he notices, he gives no sign. He turns away and slips his own helmet on. After he kicks the stand, he swings his leg over the immense bike, settles on the seat and turns the ignition. The engine roars to life with such ferocity, I jump back in surprise. Shit that thing’s loud. The thrum resonates deep in my body and suddenly I’m not so sure I want to climb on. The noise is deafening. It’s impossible for me to hear a word he’d say, but he doesn’t speak. He just looks back at me and jerks his head, gesturing for me to get on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nick

  It took a little convincing to get Bailey to hold on tight but that ends up being the only difficult part of the trip off the property. The trails are a sloppy mess and mud flies everywhere but the narrow bridge, the one I built when I designed the course, is passable.

  We fly over the river, the water churning below us, a torrent that carries debris from the destruction upstream. Boat hulls, children’s toys and parts of a roof flow past. The storm will mean plenty of business for me. Plenty of folks will need new roofs or repairs. At least I’ll be busy while she’s away.

  Not too busy to miss her, of course, but I’ll have time to make a plan. I need to figure out a way to start over with Bailey. To do things normal couples do, like date, hold hands, meet annoying relatives. She’s already met Olivia, but I want her to meet Gran and the rest of the McKinley family. Most of all, I need to tell her that I was in prison and why.

  When we make it to the road, I ease the bike onto the highway. The bike isn’t road legal, but the whole county is a disaster zone and there are going to be people on the road in golf carts and dune buggies. The shit doesn’t hit the fan often, here in Fulton, but when it does, plenty of people lose everything.

  We drive through town, past a news crew filming a spot with the river raging in the background. The high school is full of cars and Red Cross trucks. The gym has probably been turned into a shelter. Dread settles in my chest. How can I let Bailey head into this sort of catastrophe?

  We pull into her drive way. At least it’s not full of stranger’s trucks and bikes. In fact, the house looks eerily quiet. We get down and I turn off the engine.

  Bailey is covered head to toe in mud. She pulls off the helmet and smiles. “That was a lot of fun. Scary as shit, but fun.”

  Her face is the only clean part of her body. Dark clay is spattered across her jacket and pants. I imagine stripping her down, coaxing her into the shower and washing her down.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I gesture to the house. “Where’s everyone?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with Susanna. I tried to call her but it went straight to voice mail. She might be somewhere that doesn’t have service.”

  “Let me walk you in.”

  She parts her lips to give me some bullshit but thinks better of it and starts walking up the walkway. A couple of times she has to hike her pants up because they’re miles too big on her.

  When she reaches the door, she takes out her keys, but her hand is shaking so I pull off my filthy glove and open the door for her. I stand in the doorway, not wanting to come in with my muddy clothes.

  “Why don’t you strip down and give me that stuff so I can take it home and hose it off,” I tell her.

  She bites her lip. “I could wash them too. You know. I’ll be back in a few days. I could bring them to you.”

  “You got to go to work. Let me have them.”

  I tug the zipper down but she grabs my hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you get undressed.” My voice is rough and her eyes widen with surprise.

  “Right here?”

  “You don’t want to walk through the house. Track mud everywhere.”

  “You want me to take my clothes off right here?”

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve seen it all before.”

  I’m trying to calm her but my words just make her madder.

  She pushes my hand away. “Fine, but I’ll do it myself.”

  I watch as she zips off the jacket, revealing a lacy bra I hadn’t seen. It’s the color of raspberries and I watch as she steps out of the pants, and, son-of-a-bitch if her panties aren’t the same color. She shoves the muddy pants at me.

  “You better give me your number,” I say, tugging my phone from a jacket pocket.

  Pursing her lips, she takes the phone from me but doesn’t make any move to punch in the numbers.

  “Don’t get mad. I’m just taking this stuff so you don’t need to bother with it.”

  “Sure,” she says. “I’ll bet.”

  Why the hell she’s mad I don’t know but I don’t give it too much thought because my cock is getting harder by the second. She looks fucking amazing in that matching bra and panties. Both look delicate. The lace of the bra is see-through and from behind the gauzy fabric her nipples tease me. I want to tear the material with my teeth, but I can’t touch her. She’s got some mud on her still, but I’m coated in it from being in front.

  “Give me your number, Bailey, and kiss me good-bye.”

  She enters the number and hands me the phone, but after she folds her arms across her chest.

  I step a little closer. “This isn’t a brush-off so quit pouting and kiss me already.”

  Reluctantly, she steps closer, lifts to her toes and kisses me. It’s just a brush of her lips over mine.

  “That wasn’t a kiss,” I growl.

  She tilts her chin. The air between us sparks with unspoken words. Bailey thinks I’m blowing her off but she’s not saying anything about coming back either. When her work winds up in Leandro she might just go to the next job on the list and for all I know that could be in fucking Detroit. I don’t know anything except she’d better give me a better kiss than that.

  But she’s just standing there, glaring at me. She crosses her arms over her chest and wants to give me a look of boredom, like I should leave already.

  I drop the soggy leather and it hits the tile with a whack. She yelps and instinctively scrambles away as I close the distance between us. She’s too slow and I reach her in three steps and yank her off her feet. Gripping her in my arms, I press her against the wall, and kiss her. Hard.

  She squirms but only makes every part of my body harder. I’m getting her dirty, the wall dirty and even her hair. She tries to wriggle free but that only lasts a few seconds. With a moan, a soft sound of pleasure, she loops her arms around my neck and gives me the kiss I want. Soft. Sweet. Submissive.

  This girl is like an addiction. The more I have, the more I want. Lust coils inside me and my mind travels to some scenarios that involve
kidnapping one sassy, blonde nurse and holding her for ransom. Only the ransom would be something she’d have to pay. The payments would involve a lot of her. Naked. In my bed.

  Her kiss is sweet honey and I can’t believe I’m letting her go.

  When I break the kiss, I lean my forehead against hers. We’re both panting. Slowly I lower her to her feet.

  “You’re really dirty, Bailey.”

  “I am now,” she grumbles. “No thanks to you.”

  Stepping away, I bend to pick up the leather clothes. “If you’d given me a real kiss I wouldn’t have gotten you so dirty. Next time you’ll know, won’t you?” I go to the door, turn the handle. “You be careful in Leandro.”

  She tries her best to look indignant, but it’s hard to pull off considering she’s mostly naked, smeared with mud and her lips are swollen from the savage kiss I just gave her. She looks pretty, so damned pretty that my heart squeezes painfully. But she looks vulnerable too and I want to soothe her, make things better. I’d like to take her back to her bedroom is what I’d really like. Without another word, I walk out, start my bike and turn for home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bailey

  With my job I never really know where I’m going to end up. Leandro is pretty remote. It’s a poor, forgotten little town that has a tiny, thirty-five bed hospital. When the river overflowed its banks and swallowed a neighborhood the hospital was over-whelmed with injured people.

  The time with Nick helped my energy a bit, but after two weeks of working back-to-back twelve-hour shifts, I’m still exhausted. Sydney and I share a motel room and our days involve going to the hospital, picking up dinner and falling into bed after we’ve finished eating. The alarm goes off at four-thirty. We pull ourselves out of bed and do it all over again.

  The town has about twelve-hundred people. The residents are kind and they make a genuine effort to take care of the aid workers. Today the Director of Nursing announced that they’d brought in dinner for all the hospital staff. I wait for Sydney so we can go eat together.

  A text comes in from Nick. Done w wrk. Going home. Miss u.

  My heart thrills. He texts me every day at least once or twice. I always text him back as soon as I get a chance. The storms were destructive. While I’m mending people, he’s mending houses. He’s putting in long days, too. Neither of us say anything about what happens when I’m done here, but each text makes me think we might have something. I miss him every moment of the day.

  Sydney hurries down the corridor and we head to the breakroom. Unfortunately, we’re a little late and there’s not much left. Everyone just came, grabbed a plate and went back to work, probably planning on eating in between duties.

  There’s only one person sitting there and it’s another nurse. Olivia. I draw a sharp breath. Sydney doesn’t know anything about Nick and I don’t feel like explaining. Olivia’s eyes widen when she sees me.

  I heard more staff were coming but it hadn’t dawned on me I might run into Nick’s sister out here in Leandro.

  We exchange a polite greeting and I can see she expects me to say something more but I don’t. I have no idea if Nick told her anything about me. I wonder. If he told his family about me, it would tell me a lot about his feelings.

  “Carbs, carbs, and more carbs,” Sydney complains as she eyes the sandwiches and potato chips.

  “When they said dinner, I was hoping for Italian food,” Olivia says.

  We get our plates and sit down together and eat. A beauty pageant plays on television. The glitz and glamour is a far cry from the quiet desperation of this flood ravaged town. All three of us watch, too tired for much else.

  When they break for a commercial, Sydney gets up to snag a piece of cake from the dessert table. She returns to the table strutting and preening, her tiny piece of cake wobbling on the paper plate.

  “And in the evening gown segment we have lovely Sydney Hatfield, wearing designer scrubs.”

  Olivia laughs. She’s pretty, maybe forty or so, brunette with a little grey. She wears a wedding ring and I wish I could ask her about herself, and about Nick too, but I don’t. Something holds me back. I don’t know what. Clearly, Nick hasn’t told her anything about me. That stings.

  Sydney’s about to take a bite of her cake when they page her.

  “Damn, wouldn’t you know.”

  “Want me to bring it to you?” I offer.

  She sticks her tongue out at me. “Nice try. You think I’d trust you with my cake? I watched you hoover up half a package of chocolate cookies last night. And four cream-filled doughnuts this morning. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

  It’s true. I don’t usually eat like that. Thanks a ton, Sydney. Make me sound like a pig why don’t you. I blush and steal a glance at Olivia, but she just smiles.

  After Sydney stalks out, taking her cake with her, Olivia takes the remote and mutes the television. Maybe now she’ll say something about Nick. Maybe he told her about us and he’s lost without me. Thinks I’m the best thing since sliced bread. Something. Anything. I don’t know but I wait, barely breathing in hopes she might give me some clues. I miss him. Every time I think about him it’s like a punch to my stomach.

  I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. It feels like two years.

  “I wanted to talk about my brother,” Olivia says.

  Instead of looking happy about the subject, she looks distressed and now I’m not sure I want to know where this is going.

  “Okay.”

  “There was some bad blood between me and your uncle. I don’t want to say too much, because it happened years ago.”

  My breath freezes solid deep inside my lungs.

  “Nick went after him. Beat him. Badly. Not only that, but he beat him in front of others, telling him he’d kill him and his family.”

  The door opens and an orderly comes in, grins at us and makes off with a plate of cookies. The door closes behind him. My stomach is tightening and a thread of fear slithers along my spine. I just stare at her.

  “Nick went to prison for attempted murder. While he was there, David’s two sons died and after that David committed suicide.”

  I hear her words but they sound far away as if she’s in a tunnel. A drop of sweat rolls down my spine. Nick, my Nick, went to prison. My mind reels.

  “Nick was bent on revenge. He still can’t talk about it. I think he regrets David and his boys are dead, because he wanted nothing more than to… well, I don’t want to say what he wanted to do.”

  I remember the way he looked at me the first time we met. Like he hated me. I felt it. I thought he was crazy. At first. Then he came after the guy in the dance hall, and I thought maybe I’d misunderstood. All that time he’d been looking at me and thinking about my family. Men I’d never even met.

  “I know this must be hard for you to hear,” Olivia says gently.

  “Yes,” I whisper. I don’t know that anyone’s ever hated me before. Not that I knew. Here I was missing him and I never knew any of this story. Not once did he say a word. Instead of telling me about his past he took me to bed.

  I gave him my virginity. I wonder if he thought that was the best joke. Or maybe he thought it was payment. He was so gentle. Maybe he’d moved past what had happened. I feel stupid. So stupid. But I have to admit I wanted him and I’d never wanted anyone before.

  “He’s a good man. He defended me and paid for it by going to prison. Your uncle left a note when he died. He admitted to hurting me… and other girls. He even killed one girl. The judge ordered Nick’s case to be re-opened. Three months later Nick was released.”

  Nodding, I set my hands on the table to push myself up because I just want to get to my feet, get away from her ugly words and the ugly pictures in my head.

  Olivia sets her hand on mine. “Nick wouldn’t ever hurt a woman, but it might be a good idea if you stay away from him while you’re in Fulton.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Thanks.”

 
I struggle to my feet and I sway a little. The world feels a little unsteady and I grab the chair behind me for support. Black spots fill my vision.

  “Are you okay, hon?”

  The spots spin and my stomach clenches, the contents rumbling. Bile burns my throat. My legs feel like rubber, like they won’t obey me.

  “Bailey?”

  My name on her lips is the last thing I hear as the floor rushes up to meet me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nick

  I grit my teeth, listening to the woman’s voice as she tells me why I’m wrong. So wrong. Are all pregnant women this difficult? Lanie has worked for me since she graduated high school. She’s a pistol. Also she’s my cousin. Both she and her mother work in the HR department of my Fulton company. They do the work of four women and I’m lucky to have them, but ever since Lanie found out she was expecting she’s been hell on wheels.

  “If we have a little daycare here in the office you’ll increase worker satisfaction,” she tells me.

  I can picture her storming around her office filing or organizing while she gives me grief.

  “I don’t want a bunch of babies in the office. I don’t want to hear them. Or see them. Or even think about them.”

  I’m sitting in my Gran’s driveway getting an earful while Olivia peeks out the front door for the third time. All I want to do is go inside and talk to her about what’s going on in Leandro. I just found out she was there for a couple of days to help with a couple of high-risk deliveries. I need to know if she saw Bailey. I don’t know if something’s the matter with her phone or what, but Bailey hasn’t answered my texts in almost a week. It’s been three weeks since we said goodbye. Her silence is making me lose my mind.