“Come on, you guys!” Garrett calls from across the pond. Shit. I didn’t even realize he’d moved.
Wordlessly, we follow Garrett until he picks the perfect patch of grass for us to eat on, next to a row of trees. Then the guys pull two blankets out of the baskets and stretch them over the land. Zoe, Garrett, and I take one while Wes and his babes use the other.
My mothering instincts kick into full drive as soon as we’re seated. I dive into the baskets to dish out the food until everyone is settled and happily eating. Then I purposely sit with my back to Wes and his chicks, so I don’t have to see them. I’ve already caught him running his hand up one of their legs. It’s better this way. Especially since he’s still shirtless, and I can’t control my eyes. Those abs are ridiculous. It can’t be held against me that I want to lick them from top to bottom, swirling my tongue along those tight ridges. It’s a natural reaction. You wanna do it, too. Don’t deny it.
“So how are you liking the house, Ms. Gwen?” Garrett is the first to speak as a dash of mayonnaise cakes his cheek. I rub it away with a napkin, and he grins hugely at me, his mouth still full of food. He’s so freaking cute. Before pulling away, I ruffle his wild hair, and he laughs a little as his body twitches. Beside him, Zoe smiles at us.
Not sure of how I should respond, so I play it simple. “It’s pleasant.”
“I saw that you added a crab, and some pillows to your room,” he notes, and I nod, taking a bite of my turkey sandwich.
I swallow down my food. “Yup. Zoe helped me shop for it yesterday.”
“How do you know Gwen has new stuff in her room, bud?” Wes inquires sternly, and I visibly watch Garrett clam up, his eyes shifting weirdly and his hands twitching so badly that he drops his carrots. I pick them right off the blanket, grab Garrett’s shaky hands, and give him back his food without letting go. I meet Garrett’s blue eyes that are bouncing every which way.
“Garrett,” I coo, and his eyes finally stop twirling as they settle on mine. “Your dad is just asking a question. It’s okay.”
Everyone is unusually quiet while Garrett and I get his reaction under control. Slowly, his body calms, and he stops twitching. Kindly, I grin at him to convey that everything’s going to be alright. It must work because it doesn’t take but a few minutes to get him back to his level of normal. Once I release him, he takes a bite of carrot.
Wes clears his throat. “Gwen, I—”
“This morning I … I went into Ms. Gwen’s room to wake her up. I saw her crab and pillows,” Garrett flings his words next to his temple using his fingers, as he looks at his dad. Then his gaze shifts to me. “They’re very pretty, Ms. Gwen. I like the blue and orange. Blue’s my favorite color. I’m glad you didn’t pick green.”
A giggle slips from my belly. “Is this because you don’t like to eat green things? So you don’t like the color either?”
Garrett blinks rapidly for a few moments, looking deep in thought. He chews his lip. “I … No, Ms. Gwen. I don’t mind the color green. But green isn’t your color. You’re too pretty.”
“Garrett,” Wes warns lightly.
“What, Dad? She is very pretty. I’ve always loved Lara Croft, but you’re even prettier than she is. Gwen kind of looks like Mom, doesn’t she, Dad?”
Garrett’s words are innocent enough. However, the eerie silence that descends upon the group tells me that mentioning Garrett’s mother is a bit of a sore subject. Although, Garrett doesn’t seem to notice the uncomfortable mood when he merely takes another bite of carrot then keeps talking.
“My mom was real pretty, Ms. Gwen. She left when I was six, so I don’t remember her. But Dad has pictures of us. And some of them that he showed me are of them when they got married. My mom wore a beautiful dress. Too bad Dad doesn’t still have it. I’m sure it’d fit you.”
“Garrett, that’s enough!” Wes snaps like a twig, shooting up from his blanket and moving across the yard to pace. Garrett looks at me like he doesn’t know what’s going on.
I’m not sure what to say, so when Zoe comes to the rescue, I’m relieved. “Hey, Garrett. I think it’s time we get you cleaned up for work.”
Doubting her, Garrett frowns then checks his watch. “It’s only one, Zoe.”
“Yes, but I have to get Ms. Gwen’s gift for you from her bedroom before you go to work. I think you’ll want to wear it,” Zoe says, glancing at me to back her story.
“Oh, right. Yes. Garrett, go with Zoe and get your prize.” I grip his hands, holding them tight as I beam at him, showing my teeth in an attempt to be more convincing. “You did a great job today, reading to me. We’ll read some more tomorrow.”
“Outside?” He sounds hopeful.
“Outside,” I agree.
“More comics?”
I nod. “More comics.”
“Deadpool ones?” He smiles brightly, showing off that crooked bottom tooth. I noticed it earlier today, and I’ve decided it makes him even more adorable. It’s all Garrett.
“Is that your favorite out of the ones we read today?”
Garrett bobs his head. “Yes. He’s funny.”
“Then more Deadpool, it is.” I squeeze his hands once more before letting them go.
Zoe chaperones him back to the house, throwing the blondes an evil eye before giving me a knowing wink. Shaking my head, I grin, and give her a little wave as I mouth, ‘thank you’.
Over in the side yard, close to the mountain’s ledge, Wes still paces, rubbing the back of his neck. The blondes who I’ve never met before stay seated on the blanket, too busy talking to care that their boss is in serious turmoil right now. Standing up, I move toward him and stop a few feet away.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I mutter, squishing my toes in the soft grass.
Wes doesn’t break his broad gait back and forth as he speaks. “I can’t believe he brought her up. And that I was such a dick to him. I’m gonna have to apologize later. I shouldn’t have snapped. He’s such a good kid.” He shakes his head in disbelief, visibly distraught. I ache for Wes. I know dealing with this can’t be easy. Being a single mom wasn’t easy for me. I can’t imagine being a single dad to an autistic son.
“I’m sure he’s okay, Wes. Don’t worry,” I soothe, trying to cleanse some of the guilt from the air. You can’t always beat yourself up. It’s tough being a parent.
A few beats of silence ensue before I softly ask, “Is Garrett not allowed to talk about his mom?” I hope that’s not the truth. No parent should force their child not to talk about their mom. That’s wrong. Even if she did leave. My birth dad died when I was little. I don’t remember him, but Mom and Dad have always encouraged Nash and me to talk about our biological parents, should we want to. I haven’t done it in years, but when we were kids we did.
Halting, Wes closes his eyes and takes an audible breath before blowing out a long sigh. “I’ve had plenty of teachers for Garrett. None of them who could make him read. None of them he talked with personally or raided their bedroom in the morning. He’s never like that. He usually understands boundaries. The very first tutor I hired for him was a nice blonde woman, and Garrett hated her. He refused to do his work or talk to his counselor about why he disliked her so much. And to this day, I still don’t know why.”
I get it. Garrett being friendly and sharing with me is a tremendous gift. It makes me feel a little fluttery inside. I like it … a lot. He’s a great kid.
When Wes doesn’t carry on, I tread lightly and ask, “Why’d his mom leave?”
“Because he’s autis—uniquely perfect. She didn’t want to deal with it. It became too much for her.” He snorts, staring off into the distance. The bright sun glimmers off the golden flecks in his hair and the stubble on his face. He still hasn’t shaven. Wes is a beautiful man. I wish I had a camera right now to capture him like this. Distraught or not, he’s a chiseled masterpiece.
“Did she think it was easy on me?” he snips. “Garrett didn’t talk until he was four. He wasn’t potty tra
ined until he was six. It wasn’t easy then, and it was even harder after Angelica left. Garrett started acting out, not understanding why his mom disappeared in the middle of the night. We’d had another fight about him. About how tired she was. How tired we both were. The next morning, I woke up hearing Garrett scream in the kitchen. She’d left a note along with signed divorce papers on the shelf by the front door. And we haven’t seen her since.”
Every word that imparts Wes’s lips breaks my heart more and more. I don’t think twice when I close the distance between us and pull him into a much-needed hug. Wes is taken aback at first when he stands stock-still as I embrace his middle. Then he wraps his arms around my shoulders and lays his head against mine, expelling a calmed sigh. It isn’t lost on me that my cheek is resting on his toned pec, the tattooed one. Or that his body is warm, soft, and smells like heaven. I throw all of those observations to the back of my mind and just be. He needs this. Hell, after hearing his story, I need this, too.
“Your ex was a fool to leave you both. Garrett’s a great kid,” I divulge, and you’re a great dad, I internally add, unable to say the rest. It’s not the time. It feels too personal.
Wes’s broad palms flatten on the middle of my back, holding me closer. I have to force myself to keep breathing. Sweet Jesus, he’s too damn much. And it has nothing to do with his looks. It’s him. Every time I turn around, there’s another facet of Wesley King that keeps me on my toes.
“Thank you for all of this, Gwen. I mean it. And about last night—” he begins.
“Water under the bridge.”
“You’re sure?”
I can hear the echo of his words in his chest as he speaks them. It’s terribly intimate. Though I can’t seem to tear myself away. This, right here, feels wonderful. It’s been forever since anyone has hugged me just to hug me without an agenda. Or perhaps it merely feels that way. Nash and I together, hugging, laughing, being family, seems so distant. Like another life when I’m standing here with Wes.
Nodding, my cheek shifts along his smooth pec. “I’m sure.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing here is invaluable to me, Gwen. You’re a special person.”
Nope. No. I can’t hear that. That’s too much emotion. Savoring one final moment of our touch, I pull away and take a few steps back to give us some distance.
Using my thumb, I point toward the house. “I think I should head in. Make sure Garrett got his socks.”
“His socks?” Wes rubs his pec, the same one my cheek was just resting on. It’s distracting. I wonder what he’s thinking. No … No, I don’t.
Head tipped down, I kick the grass with my heel to focus on something else. “Yes. I told him if he read the comics that I’d give him a prize. I bought him a pair of Tetris socks yesterday. Don’t worry, I spent my own money on them.” Woo. That came out smoother than I thought it might. I’m getting flustered. Why won’t he put a shirt on?
“Gwen, I don’t care if it was your money or mine. I’m sure he’ll love them.”
“Yep. Me, too.” I speak fast so I can get out of here, and away from him. Those eyes are searing through me. I can’t take another second of it. Waving a brief goodbye, I jog around the pond and into the house in search of Garrett.
He’s in his room getting ready when I arrive.
As suspected, he’s beaming when he shows me his socks. “They’re awesome!” he praises, lifting his pant leg to show me.
“Perfect fit,” I grin as Garrett walks across the room toward me and surprises me when he wraps me in a too-hard hug. I pat his back and kiss his cheek like I do Trish. It feels natural.
He’s the first to pull away. “I’ve got to go to work, Ms. Gwen. I hope Dad was okay when you talked to him outside. He doesn’t like it when I share about my mother. I think it bothers him that she left us because I’m like this.” He knocks the side of his head, twitching.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Garrett. You were made the way you are for a reason. Just as your dad was made the way he is for a reason. Your mother leaving has nothing to do with that.” I hope he realizes this and doesn’t blame himself. It’s not right to feel guilt over someone else’s bad choices. He can’t help the way he is any more than the sun can help the way it shines.
“You like my dad, don’t you?” He sounds hopeful. Too hopeful. I don’t want him getting any weird ideas. This is temporary. Then I’m going home to spend time with my family again. I miss Trish like crazy.
“Your dad’s a good man. Now it’s time you get to work.” I grab the crinkled collar of his shirt to flatten it before sending him on his way with another peck on the cheek. “Have a nice day, Garrett.”
“You, too, Ms. Gwen. I’m glad you’re here,” he states on his way out the door.
“Me, too.”
Now it’s time for me to take a long bath since I didn’t get a chance to this morning. Lots of hot water, here I come.
Day 7
“Okay. Let’s go over my duties again.”
I glance to Wes, who’s seated in the limo with two of his blondes beside him. Each of his hands are resting on their exposed thighs as another one of his blondes sits across from me. It’s Candi. We’ve been chatting it up for the past twenty minutes, so I can cool my jets. I’m not looking forward to tonight. Not at all.
The bitchy blonde from earlier this week—I think her name is Amanda? She reaches down to cup Wes’s junk over his slacks. With considerable effort, I ignore her to comprehend his explanation. “We’re going to go into the back of the strip club. I will escort all of us to a private room where three men will be seated. You, Gwen, will serve their drinks throughout the night, while the rest of the ladies give them lap dances and whatever else they desire.”
“And why will I be delivering them drinks all night?”
I know we’ve discussed this twice already. I just can’t seem to grasp any of it. When Wes said that I’d be attending functions with him, I didn’t think he meant waitressing at a strip club for a private party. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to be wearing tight leather daisy duke shorts and an equally tight leather, backless top. I’ve got so much cleavage going on that it looks like two mountains have sprouted out of the top of my shirt. If that’s even what you can call this leather contraption.
Wes eyes me sternly. “You lost a bet, Gwen. Remember?”
Somberly, I nod.
Oh, right. A bet. Sometimes you forget about that little thing when your week has been like mine. And by that, I mean great. It’s been simply amazing. I’ve enjoyed every minute up ‘til this point. This entire week I’ve tutored Garrett outside. Well, aside from Thursday since it rained, and we watched The Avengers in the living room instead. I lied and said it was comic book research. Either way, we had a blast eating popcorn and laughing at The Hulk. The nicest part of this week has been Garrett’s significant improvement in his reading, and we’ve just begun writing. That’ll be more difficult, but I think we’ll do just fine. Wes has been eating lunch with us every day. Zoe’s been my sidekick around every corner. It’s been a seemingly perfect week. Like I said … until now.
When I’d woken this morning, Wes told me we were going out tonight. So I spent the day sunbathing on the beach with Zoe and Garrett. It was pleasant, and I even got half of my JR Ward book finished. Then … the bomb dropped. I’d showered, shaved, and all of that girly stuff after all of us had eaten a late dinner in the dining room. Zoe, in the midst of me putting my face on, laid my outfit on the white marble vanity in my bathroom. I nearly fainted at the damn sight.
“Just put them on, Gwen. You’ll look hot,” Zoe cooed as I sneered, shoving them to the floor.
“No way,” I argued, and lost minutes later when Zoe practically begged me to take one for the team. Like always, I caved. Only because I adore that woman.
Honestly, the only time I’ve worn anything remotely similar to these clothes is when I go to my monthly fuck fests at Nowhere. Any other time, I wouldn’t be caught dead i
n this shit. Even then, I only wear them because they give me a false sense of confidence to follow through with my needs. It somehow awakens my inner whore long enough to allow me to fuck a roomful of men without imploding from suffocating shame.
Now, here we are, seated in the back of Wes’s limo, and I’m miserable. What a way to let a single part of a day ruin what turned out to be a perfect week. I could almost slap him for it.
Refusing to glance toward Wes as Amanda unbuttons his pants and goes to town between his thighs, I stare at the opposite side of the limo and talk to Candi instead. She babbles about her son and the apartment they live in. I pretend to listen, although it’s difficult with the loud slurping and hushed moans flooding the air as the windows steam. Just when I think Wes is a good guy, a nice guy, a guy I might want to get to know, a blowjob goes and wrecks that image for me.
Truth be told, Wes and I have grown closer this week. We’ve talked a lot, even about stupid stuff like who our favorite actor is. I said Johnny Depp, while he argued Robert De Niro. I’ve even learned how he takes his coffee, that he loves everything bagels for breakfast, and has a scar on his right arm from playing hockey when he was a kid. Aside from Nash, I’ve never spoken to another man like I have Wes. First of all, Nash would have never allowed it. And the men I’ve hidden from him bored me to death within the matter of a few dates. Wes is different, though. He’s unique, and as I’ve said before, keeps me on my toes. I like that. It’s kind of endearing.
My belly concurs when it flips as we park behind a brick building in a dimly lit alley.
Wes taps Amanda’s head that’s busy working in his lap. “Time’s up.” His voice is husky, and I squirm at the erotic lilt. God, I bet he sounds even better after he’s fucked. “We’ve gotta go inside. I can’t leave my clients waiting.”
Amanda tilts her head back, staring at Wes’s face. “I’m not done,” she whines, wiping her mouth.
Oh, please.
Internally, I roll my eyes.
“Sorry, babe,” he taps her chin with one hand as he folds his still erect member back into his pants. “I’ll let ya finish me off later.”
Nowhere (Crimson Outlaws MC #1) Page 14