by Riley Murphy
His hand stilled and he shot a look at her. She couldn’t be serious? Out of the two of them, she thought he was the weird one? “I am?”
“Yep. What guy in his right mind turns down a below-job.”
He finished with the towel and grinned. “Is that what you call it?”
“Sure, me and everyone else who knows the origin.”
“A saucy showoff. I like that.”
“Yes, well, no need to be too impressed. I googled it once because—” she stood and stumbled a couple of steps back, “—I mean, I was just curious.”
He finished doing up his belt and chuckled. “I promise I won’t ask. Which is probably worse than you telling me as I’ll be dreaming up all kinds of kinky scenarios that prompted you to do a search about that.”
He moved to sit and she rushed forward. “No, don’t get up.” Grabbing the towel from him, she asked, “Do you like The Three Stooges?”
He nodded. She was nervous. Did she think he was going to leave now? He should, but he didn’t want to and clearly she didn’t want him to either.
“Great.” In less than a minute the TV was on, she’d ditched the towel and was now rummaging through a kitchen drawer.
“What are you doing? Are you going to come and watch the show or what?”
“I’m coming.”
As she approached she had a cheeky expression on her face. It was silly really, and it made him smile. “What do you have behind your back?”
“These.” She plopped down on the couch and held the bunch up as if they were flowers.
“Twizzlers?”
“Perfect, right?”
“Oh yeah.” But he wasn’t talking about the licorice. Although he loved the vines, he loved being with her like this more. And when she lay next to him and snuggled her ass into the cup of his lap, he knew how special felt.
Then when she laughed at Mo hitting Curly over the head with a dumbbell, special wasn’t special enough to describe what else he was feeling.
“Another?”
He sighed and hauled her in close. “I love Twizzlers.”
“Do you have a drawer?”
“Of?”
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “A Twizzler drawer. Every home should have one.”
“No.”
“No? That’s just sad.” She turned back to watch the show and he silently agreed with her. His life was pretty pathetic now that he thought about it. Before this weekend he’d had no holidays, no licorice and no Sidney Capp.
“My plan was a bust, by the way.”
“What plan?”
She moved her cheek until it rested against his forearm. Then she let out a contented sigh. “The one where I was going to keep letting you get me off until your balls exploded and you lost control and eventually dove on me.”
He blinked down at the top of her head, and then when it sank in he laughed. Deep. Genuine. The kind of laugh he remembered from better times. When he was younger and things weren’t so complicated and he wasn’t so serious. It felt good. Too good. His every instinct was to leave. Go before the good turned bad, like it always did.
“I figured I’d mention it now as another plan is in place.”
That got his attention. “A different one?”
“No.” That came out as casually as if she were speaking about the weather. “The same one. Only this time I’m not going to cave by sliding my hands down your pants and grasping your beautiful cock. I figure if I can keep my palms off your to-die-for body and refrain from licking every square inch of you from top to bottom and back again, maybe stopping to pay some serious attention to certain parts of you by sucking them in real deep, I—”
He squeezed her so hard she gasped. Then he playfully growled in her ear, “Did I call you an angel? I think I was mistaken.” But as he tickled her breathless he knew he wasn’t wrong about that. He also knew he was going to stick around for a while and see where this went. Fuck the bad shit for a change. It was time for some good. And good right now was spelled Sidney.
Chapter Eight
Sidney slipped out from under Riker’s arm and eased off the couch so as not to wake him. It was nine already. She usually never slept in, but after staying up half the night fooling around it couldn’t be helped.
She crept toward the hall. Quiet as a mouse and already planning what to leave in the note after she had her shower and dressed. It wasn’t as if she was going to be gone all day. Three hours tops. Maybe when she got back they could have lunch?
“It’s early.”
“Oh.” She spun around. “You scared the crap out of me. And no, it’s not. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry up.”
“Late for what?”
“I thought I told you.”
He shook his head and she inwardly groaned as his hair fell in an appealing mess and his dark stubble-roughened cheeks and jaw merely added to the delicious sight of him.
“I’m going to Dunedin. The city is hosting its annual Santa Claus parade and I’m volunteering.”
His expression was dubious. “You’re going to be in the parade?”
“No, I’m chaperoning one of the craft tables for the kids. I won’t be long. I have the shift from ten thirty to twelve. Then I’ll be back.”
He stretched and his washboard stomach was weaving a gorgeous pattern. What she wouldn’t give to call Harry and tell him she was sick so she could get back on the couch with Riker. It was only a pipedream of course, because she’d never let anyone down, especially big-hearted Harry.
“Can I come?”
“But I’ll be working.”
“I could help.”
He said this so enthusiastically she laughed. “Nah, you don’t want to do that, trust me. But—”
“Come on. I can be shaved and showered in ten.”
“I suppose so. I get the good table this year. No glue or glitter. Just markers and plastic ornaments for the kids to color. If you don’t want to sit in the shade and people watch you could always check out the market vendors. They sell some pretty cool stuff. Then maybe we could go for lunch.”
Speaking of glue. Her eyes were glued to his naked back as he walked to the door. The polite thing to do would have been to offer him back his T-shirt that she was currently wearing, but she wasn’t ready to give that up. It was her first man-trophy and if she got her way, she’d never return it.
“Hey,” He stopped and turned. “I thought you had to stick around here for the weekend?”
“Not today. It’s Sunday. There won’t be any mail delivered and if someone gets locked out they can call me. I’ll direct them to the r-rock.”
When he walked back to her, she stuttered over that last word. God, he was so gorgeous she got all jittery inside.
“I forgot,” he whispered as he tilted her chin up with a finger.
“What?” she whispered back.
“Good morning, darlin’.”
The kiss he gave her, although light, managed to touch her deeply. She was still recovering from it when her eyes fluttered opened and she saw him leave. Then, just as she’d done yesterday morning in the laundry room, she fell back against the counter and fanned herself. The guy was a dream and if he had any faults she had yet to see them.
She held onto that fantasy until she got in her car with him. Riker Mitchell was the worst backseat driver she’d ever been in a vehicle with. When he wasn’t telling her which way to go he was slamming on the imaginary breaks. Geez, even after she executed a decent parallel parking job he was still griping about the ride. It was beyond annoying and prompted her to toss him her keys when they got out.
“Hallelujah.”
“I wouldn’t be throwing down the praises so fast. I’m not doing you any favors letting you drive us back,” she said as they threaded through the crowd toward the cordoned off craft area in the center of the park. “This place is a madhouse come noon. As to that, I like to get a few standards before I leave, so you can get the car and I’ll walk up a
couple blocks to Beltrees Street. You can pick me up there.”
“Standards?”
“Yeah. The bee lady is always here with homegrown honey and there’s a guy who makes awesome things out of metal. I usually buy a few things from them each year.”
She didn’t add that the metal artist designs “contractor specific” ornaments. She remembered from last year he had hammers, screwdrivers and drills, all of which would look great on Riker’s tree. No ornaments. Who didn’t have ornaments?
“Sidney!”
She waved to Harry, but her cheerful smile faltered as she looked around and a sick feeling started in her stomach. Where were the other volunteers and why…?
“Harry? Why is that woman setting up my table?”
“She’s a newbie, Sid, I can’t throw her to the wolves her first time out. You’re going to have to take one for the team.”
“Oh, no. Not again. That’s what you said last year.”
“And praise be to Aunt Betty Jacks, you brought help.”
When he smiled up a Riker and went to extend his hand, Sidney stepped between them. “He’s not here to help.”
Harry’s excited expression fell flat until Riker stepped around her and held out his hand. “Hey, man, I’m Riker. I’d be glad to help if you need it.”
She gasped and scowled up. “No, you wouldn’t.”
All he did was smile. Damn him. He had no idea what he was in for. Which did beg the question… “All right, Harry, since I’m destined to be hijacked again this year and I’m bringing a friend along for the ride, what tables?”
She knew this was going to be bad. Harry wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I, ah, have all of them covered but the Reindeer food. You can show him the ropes. We open for business in twenty. Thanks.” He was gone before Sidney got a chance to protest.
“Unbelievable,” she groaned.
“Oh, come on now. Stop being a Debbie Downer. What’s to handing out a few vegetables?”
“Vegetables?” She swatted his hand away when he went to brush her bangs aside. This was serious and all did was laugh.
“Don’t reindeer eat carrots? When I was a kid we threw them, stalks and all, on the roof.”
“No, no carrots. What kind of craft would that be? Today’s reindeer eat oats and glitter packaged in a baggie and fashioned with a festive ribbon on it.”
He took her hand and rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “Sounds kind of metro-sexual, but not hard. Why the long face?”
Why indeed? She could stand there and attempt to explain to him the finer points of children and their penchant for Christmas details, but it would only be a waste of time. Even if he got the fact that the reindeer food was the closest thing to a leg-up all these kids thought they’d have with Santa and his four legged buddies if they had a good bag, she doubt he’d comprehend the level to which some of these children would go to make sure that theirs was better than the kids next to them.
Last year, after rationing out the oats as they usually did, one little boy kept complaining his oats were disappearing. When she determined he was right, her first thought was that maybe the kid or kids beside him were taking them. But after keeping a close eye on the situation she found out the truth. The child was stuffing them in his pants. Bad enough, but what was worse was discovering he’d come to this station more than once during the day when other volunteers were overseeing it. At least Sidney figured he had after she saw the lumpy ass he was sporting. By her guess, he’d been carrying a half-pound of oats in his drawers. She hadn’t wanted to think about the glitter.
“Alrighty, you wanted to help? We have got to get cracking. We need to measure out the oats in little cups. The glitter usually isn’t a problem. And—” she checked her watch, “—if we get through the hour without being slammed, all the better.”
He grinned and shook his head. “You make it sound like war.”
“It is and here are the rules…” She walked him through the basics. She was positive the highlights alone would have him running for the hills, but when they finished up in the supply tent, filling more than a hundred Dixie Cups, she came out of patient instructor mode and realized he wasn’t going anywhere when he pulled her into his arms.
He bent down until his forehead rested against hers and whispered, “I wish I’d had a teacher like you when I was in school.”
Her heartbeat sped. “Why? I’m not much fun.”
“I think you are.”
The look he gave her when he let her go nearly brought her to her knees. It said, “Yeah, I think you’re going to be a lot of fun when I get you alone and fuck your brains out”.
“Are you coming? I’ll carry the tray.”
Good thing he grabbed the oats. Her hands were shaking so bad they’d be all over the place if she had to cart them. “Yes. Yup. I am.”
She practically floated for the next ten minutes until the craft section opened up and their tables got filled. Then it was back to patient instructor as she got her first group organized. She was trying to be quick about it as she heard Riker’s kids screaming and shouting. She could just imagine what she was going to face when she turned. Only…
All his kids were quiet. Too quiet as they put together their bags. Hm.
“Riker?”
He spun around and God, she loved to see him smile. Although she’d probably never get used to the way it affected her. “Hi.”
“How did you get them to settle down? They’re being so good.” She prayed he hadn’t threatened them with bodily harm or anything. That was one of the rules she thought went without saying, but one look at the angels and she thought maybe she should have said it.
“Simple. I told them if they didn’t pipe down and get to making the food, I wouldn’t buy them an ice cream afterward.”
Surely she didn’t hear him right. She’d been ready to hear something that would require quick thinking to divert a possible lawsuit. She’d even kicked around the opposite idea that he was a bright guy, and as such, he might have some pearls of man wisdom to impart. Perhaps give her a new tactic she could employ with her kids and this? This was his secret? “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can.”
His smile widened and he winked. Was he insane? “No, you can’t. What about the kids at my table. They’ll want an ice cream too.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
She drew in a breath and held it there. A thousand things flew through her mind at once before the air escaped in a rush. “You can’t just buy them an ice cream cone. What if their parents don’t want them to have one? What if—if— I don’t know. You have to fix this. Let me think…Oh—” she pushed him toward the entrance, “—buy them tickets so they can get the ice cream you promised them or whatever their parents approve of. You’ll need enough for twelve kids. Hurry. I’ll watch your table.”
Ten minutes later, with that crisis averted and the first group shipped off with their bags in hand, Sidney was breathing a sigh of relief until the second group got seated and she happened to catch sight of Riker’s ass. Or, more importantly, what was tied to the side of his belt. A whole roll of tickets.
Determined to confront him over the find, she got this new group organized and just happened to arrive at his table in time to hear him say, “In my day, my brother and I would pick the best decorated house on the street and steal all their red Christmas lights.”
One of the boys snorted and said, “Cool.” Only it came out as Kew-el.
“Yeah, but the best was after they replaced them we’d—”
“Riker.”
She shook her head and thankfully he got the message, but before she could tackle him over the tickets, her own group needed her attention. By the time the allotted ten minutes was up she’d practically forgotten about the tickets until she saw the screaming crowd around him as he laughingly handed them out. He seemed happy and the kids were happy. So, darn it all to hell, it was a going to be a shame having to take them away from him.
“Hey, mister. You mean every kid that does the reindeer food is going to earn two tickets?”
Sidney gasped and nearly tripped over a little guy who was tying his shoe, in an attempt to get close enough to stop Riker from—
“Providing they behave, yes.”
Too late. She wanted to cry. It wouldn’t take more than five minutes she was sure for the whole park full of kids to be buzzing about the guy with the tickets at the reindeer food table. They’d be buried. “Riker!”
He waved as if he hadn’t just unlocked the proverbial key to the candy store. And that’s when she heard it. A low rumble or rather the ground shaking. Cringing, she turned toward the entrance and wanted to die. It was like a scene from The Walking Dead, only these were living kids. Tall, short, skinny, chunky. Some wearing glasses, while others elbowed their way through the growing hoard to knock the spectacle wearers aside. Suddenly the landscape shifted, her eyes started to blur and she saw everything in slow motion. This is what hell looked like. She tried to not to panic when their cries came to her, low and distorted, but she had no choice because she was in shock.
Riker grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “What’s the matter darlin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She didn’t reply, only pointed in the direction and when he turned and saw the human wave approaching, the bright smile he’d previously been sporting faltered. “What the fuck is that?”
“Kids looking for tickets.”
He snapped his head around. “No.”
“’Fraid so. Nothing we can do about it now.”
For the next half hour it seemed all Sidney did was hand out cups of oats and glitter until finally there was a lull. Their time was almost up, thank God. She was just about to swipe the excess glitter and oats off the table into the waste box when she heard a kid cry.
“Ow!”
She looked over her shoulder toward Riker’s table to see what was amiss. Was someone hurt? That’s when she did a double take. What the hell? Riker was showing two kids how to punch each other.
She didn’t even straighten before she called, “Riker!”