Unraveled (The Monroe Family Book 5)

by Nicole Dykes

  I turn around as he catches up and I wrap my arms around his neck. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

  He gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “Well it’s been a few days since we’ve seen each other. I thought I would come down and try to talk you into dinner.”

  “I would love that! Does that mean you are off for the evening?” Yes! Maybe I can talk him into relieving a little tension. I don’t think I’ve ever been this sexually frustrated in my life.

  Sadly, his head shakes and releases me. He takes my hand. “I have to get back to the office, but I have plenty of time for dinner.”

  His eyes take in my attire. “Although, I guess anywhere nice is out.”

  My hand subconsciously goes up to my hair that is still wrapped up in a messy bun and look down at the pair of jean shorts and plain V-neck tee I have on. “Oh, um, I was really tired when I woke up the morning and decided to go casual.”

  His lips purse. I look at his freshly pressed suit and the tie around his neck. His hair is perfectly styled and I think that we must make an odd pair. “Well that’s okay. We can find somewhere acceptable to eat.” He then adds, “Unless you want to change?”

  I shake my head, “Would we even have time to eat then?” I know he probably only allotted a small amount of time and I still want to manage a quickie somehow.

  He sighs, “Probably not. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  I walk with him, hand in hand, to his car. He opens the door for me like a gentleman and I climb into his Mercedes before he closes the door. He slides into the driver’s seat and we drive into downtown Kansas City until we find a steak place. It’s nice, but fairly casual.

  He parks the car and then turns to me, “This should work.”

  I shake my head, but smile. I have missed him. I know that we do seem like a strange couple, but he grounds me. We are total opposites and we balance each other out, unlike the other guys I’ve dated or fooled around with. With them we were always constantly bumping heads. Too much alike.

  He reaches and undoes the hair tie that held my hair, letting it fall down. “Why did you do that?” I ask as I flip the mirror down and fluff my hair out so it looks decent.

  “I just thought maybe we should cover at least one of these tattoos, Alex.” He kisses my nose and then opens his door.

  I roll my eyes. He really hates my tattoos and my piercings. My hand feels the skin on the back of my neck where I have a tattoo of two black and red hearts I got my sophomore of college. It’s not even that large. I sigh and hop out of the car, taking Stephen’s waiting arm.

  When we are seated at a table and looking at menus, Stephen looks over at me and asks, “So how are things going with Shriller?”

  I think back to the phone call I made when he was in the hospital. When I told Stephen that I wanted to offer to let Shriller stay with me, he was instantly fine with it. He said he thought it was the most logical option. Admittedly, part of me was hoping he would tell me “hell no.” Not that I would have listened to a command from anyone, but the fact that he was totally fine with another man living with me was a little odd. I guess I wanted a little fight.

  That’s something I need to battle against though. I’ve had fighting and screaming in relationships right from the start and, although it can be hot at times, it never leads to marriage and commitment. I’m thirty, I want simplicity and stability in my life.

  “Things are fine. He’s pretty beat up.”

  He nods as he orders and then I tell the waiter what I want. He turns his attention back to me. “It sounded like it, by the way you described his injuries. He’s lucky to have you.”

  I laugh at that as I take sip of my water. “I haven’t done anything. He’s just staying here for a while.” I decide to test the waters again because it’s in my blood to push. “Are you sure you are okay with him staying with me?”

  “Of course, you guys are friends. He needs you. Besides I’ve been busy, so it’s good that you have something to do.” He says calmly, no hint of irritation.

  “I do have a job.”

  He nods his head, pulling out his cellphone, no doubt going though work emails. “Yes, I know, but in the evenings.”

  “Right.” He sees my job as a hobby even though my salon is extremely successful. Although, he has told me he’s proud of me for going after my dream.

  We use the rest of the time at the restaurant to catch up and have a pleasant time. When we leave, Stephen drives me back to the salon and parks behind my car. He leans over and kisses my lips softly before pulling away. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Get home safe.”

  I unbuckle and then turn my body slightly, leaning in for a deeper more intense kiss. I wrap my right arm around his neck pulling me into him. He returns the kiss and I moan into his mouth and whisper, “Or we could go back to your place for a little bit.”

  My lips are still on his as I feel his head shake in a no. “Alex, I have to get back to work.”

  I let my other hand drift up his thigh. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, believe me. I just want to get everything in order before our wedding and our month-long honeymoon.”

  “We don’t have to go for that long.” I shudder at my begging.

  His lips kiss mine again. It’s a chaste quick kiss and then he takes both of my hands in his, holding them in front of me. “It will all be worth it soon. There is a reason people wait to have sex until marriage. The anticipation of it all is thrilling.”

  I scoff, “We aren’t virgins though.”

  He laughs, easily. “I know that, Alex. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

  I nod my head, defeated and get out of the car. He pulls away as I walk to my own car, climbing in. Does that mean he doesn’t want to have sex until we’re married? God, I hope not.

  I drive home, even more agitated than before. I guess it’s another night with my vibrator, instead of my fiancé.

  When I unlock my door and I walk in, I see Shriller sitting on my couch. He has his bad leg propped up on the coffee table and he’s eating Chinese food while watching TV. He turns toward me and nods his head, “Hey honey, you’re home!”

  I briefly laugh at his ridiculousness and sit next to him on the couch. “Hey. How was your day?”

  “Long. Yours?” He looks at the clock, “Damn, it’s nine and you left at nine this morning. That’s a really long day.”

  I nod, “Well, the last part I was with Stephen.”

  “Ah, so shouldn’t you be in a good mood then? What’s the matter? He couldn’t quite get you there?”

  You have no idea. I furrow my brows at him. “I’m in a fine mood.”

  He shakes his head emphatically. “I’ve known you for a long time, Alex. You’re in a pissy mood.”

  It irritates me that he’s right and that he picked up on it so fast. “Drop it.”

  His shoulders go up when he laughs at me and he then winces in pain and sets the food down before his left hand goes to his right shoulder. Kind of serves him right. “Fuck, that shit hurts.”

  “Why don’t you take the pills the doctor gave you?”

  “Because I’ve seen enough people strung out on pills for a lifetime. I’ll be…”

  “Fine,” I interrupt. “Yeah, I got it.”

  He picks up his food again. “If you want to talk about what put you in this spectacular mood, just let me know.”

  I don’t want to talk to Shriller about sex. I know him way too well, too. He will just make fun of Stephen and tease me about how he could do the job or something lame like that. Even though it’s all just talk, and Shriller is just a damn flirt by nature.

  “I don’t. Did you schedule an appointment with a doctor?”

  He groans and I take that as a no. “Why not?”

  “My manger’s assistant sent me a doctor’s information. I’ll get to it, but I have something to do on Friday.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him, “What?”

  “Billy’s funeral in Houston.”

  My
heart sinks when he says that. That poor kid. Nineteen-years-old. “Oh.”

  He nods, his demeanor changing from playful to dark. It’s not a look I’m used to on Shriller. “Yeah. It’s Friday afternoon, so I’m flying out that morning and I’ll be back Saturday.”

  “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

  I see his head shake to tell me no. “Alex, I appreciate it really, but you have the salon.”

  “I own the salon, Shriller. I don’t work every single day, and I have a very capable manager that can look after it while we’re gone.”

  “I can do this alone. I should do this alone.”

  I point to his right leg. “Really? You are going to walk on one crutch the entire time you are in Houston? You can’t push the wheelchair by yourself with your broken collarbone, and you can’t use two crutches for the same reason. I’m going to tell you this one more time…stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and take help.”

  “Pretty sure you will say that again.”

  I smile. I don’t want to, but I do. “Probably.”

  “I already booked you a seat right next to me and a hotel room.”

  I glare over at him, “You were already planning on me taking you and you still argued with me?”

  He shrugs his left shoulder, “Well I can’t make it too easy on you.”

  No shit. See this is the type of man I’m used to. Complicated and frustrating as hell.

  Chapter 8

  Shriller

  F

  riday morning, I give up on trying to sleep anymore and climb out of bed. Today is the day of Billy’s funeral and I’ve been haunted all night with the conversation we had right before the race. I knew when he asked me if I ever get scared, that it was because of his own fear. Maybe I should have talked to him about it more instead of letting him believe I had none.

  Maybe if I hadn’t have egged him on so much he wouldn’t have been so fucking thrilled when he was about to overtake me. Maybe he would have paid more attention.

  I run my hand through my hair and stretch my good arm straight above my head before sitting up and carefully stretch my right arm without the sling, the way the nurse at the hospital showed me. I grimace at the stiff pain in my arm, then grab the crutch next to me and stand up.

  I walk out into the kitchen and see Alex is already awake. She looks good, dressed in a knee length black dress with matching heels. She left her long hair down, so it drapes straight down to the middle of her back. “You look nice.”

  She turns to me, holding one of her smoothies in her hand and reaches up to her hair as if she’s almost shy. “Thanks. Not too much skin?”

  I scan her body, probably a little too slowly. The dress has a sort of v-neck, but it’s classy only showing a bit of cleavage. It’s sleeveless, showing her toned arms with a couple of tattoos spread out on them. It hugs at her waist and then flows out to her knees. I cock an eyebrow in her direction. “Is there such a thing?”

  She just shakes her head and looks down smoothing out her dress. “It’s the only black dress I have. Just making sure his family isn’t crazy religious or something. Don’t want to scare them.”

  Not sure when Alex started caring about what other people think. I shake my head back at her and repeat, “You look nice.”

  She takes a drink and then takes in my freshly out of bed appearance. “Well, you look like shit.”

  I snort a laugh, “Thanks Alex. I’m going to shave.” I haven’t shaved since the day I wrecked and it’s starting to get a little out of control.

  “That should be fun.”

  “Yeah, I probably should have done a trial yesterday, but fuck it.”

  She smiles and then sits her smoothie down on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

  She walks down the hallway, and I walk further into the kitchen and start a cup of coffee on the new brewer that arrived yesterday. Alex walks back in carrying a few bottles and a towel. I look at her, not sure what she’s up to.

  She points to the kitchen sink. “Can you lean forward under the faucet without it smashing your ribs?”

  Realization hits me and I look at her disbelievingly. “You want to wash my hair?”

  Alex sets the bottles down on the counter. “I wouldn’t say want to, but you can’t lift your hands over your head yet and you can’t get your cast wet by getting in the shower. So, this is your option.”

  “Don’t you think that would be weird?”

  She turns the faucet on, looking for the right temperature and then looks at me like I’m insane now, one hand on that fucking sassy hip. “Why the hell would it be weird? You know I do this for a living, right?”

  True. Instead of arguing anymore I sit the crutch down in the crook of the counter and do my best to lean forward so my head is under the faucet. My side screams in pain as I bend and my broken ribs press against the counter. I let out what I hope is a manly yelp and I feel Alex’s small hand on my shoulder encouraging me to stand back up straight.

  I look at her, “Fuck that. I’ll go with dirty hair.”

  Her lips poke out like she’s thinking hard and she grabs the bar stool on the outer edge of the kitchen and sits it down in front of the sink. “There, it’s high enough that you can sit in and lean back. It’s still going to hurt, but hopefully less.”

  “You live to torture me,” I tease.

  She’s not going to let it go, so I sit down and lean my body back slowly, so my head is positioned under the warm stream of water. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad, and this time I let out a soft moan at the feeling of the water on my scalp.

  “Better?” Alex asks.

  I nod my head and she runs her fingers of one hand through my hair, making sure to get every strand wet. Then pours the minty smelling shampoo in her hand. Rubbing both hands together she leans down and over me to massage the shampoo into my hair. I have way too good of a view of her perfect, real tits that are right in my face and I swear her breath hitches for a second. I squeeze my eyes shut, just focusing on her fingers in my hair.

  Damn. I need to get laid or something. Getting your hair washed shouldn’t be a turn on. Alex washes out the shampoo and then does the same thing with conditioner. I should be cracking jokes or something, but instead I lay there frozen in the moment until she rinses out the conditioner and clears her throat, turning off the water.

  I open my eyes as she pulls back, grabbing the towel as I sit up. If I didn’t know better, I would say that affected her too. A little bit of water falls down my back and also drizzles down my chest and I see Alex’s eyes follow the trail of water. She quickly takes the towel and dries my hair, appearing to be frustrated by something.

  Okay, make a joke. Lighten the damn mood. “So, time for my sponge bath then?”

  She must be satisfied that my hair is dry and takes the towel away before nodding her head. “Yep.”

  She looks totally serious and I just stare at her dazed. “I was kidding.”

  She puts a stopper in the sink and runs some warm water, pulling out a wash cloth and some sort of body wash. “I wasn’t.”

  Holy shit. Alex is offering to give me a sponge bath? Am I still asleep and just having some kind of fucked up, yet enjoyable, dream?

  She wets the wash cloth and then rings it out in the sink and I’m pretty sure my heart is going to explode with anticipation.

  The trance I’m in is broken when she rolls her eyes at me and tosses the wet cloth to my bare chest. “I’m not washing you, Shriller. I think you can handle it yourself.”

  I nod my head, almost disappointed. She leaves the kitchen and I do my best washing my arms and chest with the rag. She comes back into the room cautiously and hangs the suit she picked up for me yesterday off of the top of the fridge and then sets down a package on the counter. “I bought you underwear. If you put them on, I’ll help you put your suit on. I have no interest in seeing your dick.”

  I chuckle at that. “Hey, I dressed myself the last two days like a big boy. I think I can handle it, but
thanks.”

  She nods her head and says, “Okay, just let me know. A suit is a little different. I’m going to go call Stephen, but we should leave in an hour.”

  “Sounds good.”

  With that Alex walks back to her room and closes the door to talk to that prick she calls a fiancé. He hasn’t stopped by once this week and I still don’t get what the hell his problem is. Something is definitely up with that guy.

  I’m only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and somehow, I don’t think Alex would appreciate me stripped down in her kitchen so I grab the wash cloth and make my way to the bathroom.

  I go inside and look around under the sink, trying not to put pressure on my leg. I find a pack of pink disposable razors and then grab Alex’s flowery scented shaving cream from the shower before making my way back to the sink. Fuck everything here is girly. Honestly, I didn’t expect that from Alex.

  I shave my face the best I can escaping with only a couple of nicks here and there. Then I hobble into my room with the wash cloth and the suit tucked under my arm.

  I pull the shorts down and sit down fully removing them. I’m starting to get the hang of all of this shit. I can hear Alex through the wall, “Well, maybe when I get back we can have a nice dinner at your place and I can stay over.”

  I wash what I can reach with the wash rag and then toss it into the hamper by the door, the one that Alex has reminded me a few times is there. I slowly pull on the dress pants, easily over the left leg and then really carefully over the cast on my right. It looks a little strange, but not terrible. I smile, feeling oddly accomplished by such a small task.

  “Yeah, I understand that. I know you are really busy.” I hear Alex say with a disappointed tone and then, “I love you too. Bye.”

  Seriously, what is up this guy?

  Now comes the real bitch. I pick up the crisp white button up and stare at it for a moment. I’m no pussy. I take deep breath and slip the right sleeve of the shirt over my hand and move it up, trying to move that arm as minimally has I can. I get it on and then reach around pulling it up on my other arm. There. Done.