by K Larsen
“You comfortable?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. I am.” She smiles faintly. My thumb moves in slow, small movements over the blanket on her leg and I feel like I’ve gone to heaven. Maybe thirty-five and twenty-five aren’t so different.
It’s past eleven when the movie finally ends and I couldn’t tell you a damn thing about it. I was so caught up in Pepper being in my house, on my couch, legs over my lap, that I couldn’t pay attention to the movie at all. I could feel the heat from her body as my hand rested on her leg.
She yawns while throwing the blanket off her and stands stretching. “I need to use the bathroom before we leave,” she announces.
“Yeah, sure, it’s that way.” I point behind her through the kitchen. I guess she’s not staying over. I was hoping she’d fall asleep. I could just leave her on the couch tucked in. Like that’s not creepy. Hey, fall asleep at my place so I can watch you sleep. Ugh. I need to get this fixation on her over and done with. Creepy me creeps me out.
“You ready?” she asks from the hall near the living room entrance.
“Of course.” I stand, grab my keys, and rub my eyes to wake me up before we head outside.
Her house is adorable. It’s a little cape that probably has two bedrooms and a bath. Perfect for being single. The yard is well maintained and there is a small front porch with a cute little “Welcome” sign over the door. Flowers line the house in colorful masses on either side of the porch. I shut the truck off and hop out before she has a chance to undo her seatbelt. Opening her door, I hold out my hand.
“Friends, eh?” she says and chuckles.
“I’m a considerate friend!” I say, feigning disdain.
“I wouldn't have it any other way!” she says, mocking my tone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you at your car?”
“Nope. I'll walk to the gym tomorrow and drive it home then. No biggie,” she says.
We walk side by side to her front door and pause. I want to kiss her. Friends don’t kiss, though. She turns to me after her key is in the lock. Her lips curl upward in a half smile. Our eyes bore into each other’s and I dip my head until our lips are a whisper apart. Her breathing picks up and she intently watches me. Her eyes trained on mine and mine on hers, both of us puffing breaths onto each other’s mouths. It feels like every fiber of her body is crying out for me to just kiss her, but I don’t. She opens her mouth to say something and that's when I claim her mouth. I’m soft and gentle with her as she worships me with her kiss, demanding and giving all at the same time. I can’t help but melt into her just a little.
Then reality sets in. No, no, no! She pulls away, drawing in a calming breath and brushing the hair out of her eyes. Damn, she packs a killer kiss; it has my body tingling with awareness and begging for a lot more. I cross my arms over my chest and wait. I know she’s going to scold me. I just know it. I’m ready and I don’t care that I’m in trouble.
"Damnit, Sawyer! What the fuck was that?" she groans while staring at her feet.
"Just giving you a taste of what you're missing. You go on in and have a good night now," I reply smugly. I lift her chin so she’s looking at me, smile, and brush a feather-light kiss on her cheek, and then turn and walk back to the truck. She stands on the porch with her hand at her lips and an arm wrapped around her waist as I pull away. My body is on fire. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.
My mind races the entire drive home. What does she want? Why is she so resistant, cryptic? How do I get more of her? My motorcycle needs an oil change, the yard needs to be mowed, the house needs a good cleaning, and the shop needs me to catch up on paperwork. I have a thousand things that need to be done but I can only focus on one right now: the way she looked at me after I kissed her. I'm thinking about everything I shouldn't be thinking about.
She's everything I shouldn't be thinking about.
When I get home I strip down to my boxers and fall hard on my bed with a delirious smile on my face.
Chapter 10
Worst. Nickname. Ever.
Beau Hawley, the Mayhem President, has been here for the last hour. I’m doing a pretty intense sleeve for him and I expect that I’ll be here for another three hours or so. It’s a good chance for me to suck up and hopefully find out when I can patch in.
“Down!” Beau bellows at his dog, Butch. Butch isn’t so butch, really. Butch is a labradoodle or some poodle mix like that and is full of energy. Why Beau brought him in I’ll never understand.
“It’s okay.” I chuckle as the dog tucks its tail between its legs and comes to sit next to Beau.
“No, it’s not okay. Damned dog isn’t trained for shit. The kids, the ol’ lady, they spoil the damned thing like he’s one of us!” Beau complains. I smirk and try to focus on my work. The buzzing helps keep thoughts from lingering in my mind, like thoughts of Pepper and our makeshift movie date the other night. She’d looked so stunned when I’d kissed her goodnight. I’ve made a point of not calling or texting her for the last twenty-four hours so I don’t seem too eager. She’s sent one text since then, the morning after. All it said was, “Friends huh?” I’d laughed out loud to myself and decided not to reply. It was a good sign, right? She was still thinking of me the next morning.
“So, Beau,” I hedge, “any chance I’ll be patching in soon?”
“All in good time my little one.” He laughs deeply. I feel like a petulant child for asking. I huff and continue with his tattoo. “Yes, Sawyer, you will patch in soon. You’re coming right up on a year and we’ve had no issues. You’re loyal, the ladies like you, and our kids seem to hit it off.” I jerk the gun up and away from his arm at the mention of “our kids.” Hell no. Beau’s deep voice booms with laughter at my response. “Take it easy. I was just messin’ with you.”
“Right,” I say dryly.
“You’re gonna have a tough go of it with her if you stay this protective.” He chuckles at me.
“You’re implying that I shouldn’t be this protective?” I question.
“Not at all. You’re a smart man and a good father,” he answers. I grin and get back to the job at hand. I would do anything for Allie and I intend to.
The small bell at the door jingles and Butch goes nuts with excitement. Beau calls after him as he sprints to the front of the shop but the dog is a lost cause. I stop what I’m doing and glance up to see Clara making her way towards us, Butch in tow, leaping and licking her hand. She shakes her head, smiling, and pets his head for a moment. A neon green streak of hair hangs down from her shoulder and she’s revealing just a hint of her tattoo at the exposed part of her collar.
“Hey, boys. Just picking up Allie’s backpack,” she greets happily.
“She’s getting real good at leaving it behind to get out of homework,” I admonish.
“Yeah. Tell me about it. I fought with her for thirty minutes the other night over doing homework that would have taken her fifteen to just sit down and do! Dom had to step in and take over.” She shakes her head and throws her hands in the air, looking frustrated.
“What do you mean?” I question.
“Relax, Sawyer. I was flustered and getting angry. He stepped in to keep us from killing each other,” she explains.
“Right.”
“What’s your problem? Beau, what is his problem today?” Clara asks sarcastically.
“Seems to me the man doesn't much like another man in his kid’s life,” Beau says. Shit. The last thing I need is someone meddling in our lives. Clara is already glaring.
“HIS kid?” she squeaks. Bad sign. Squeaking is a sure sign we’re about to get an earful. I want to diffuse the situation but there isn’t much I can do at this point. Clara wants me in Allie’s life. I know this, she knows this, but Allie isn’t legally mine in any way. I just…stuck around and after seven years, Allie thinks of me as her dad just as much as I think of her as my daughter. Blood be damned.
“Clara,” I butt in.
“Allie is MY kid. I
grew her. I birthed her and I’m responsible for her. Is that clear?” She’s boring holes into Beau’s head but he seems completely unaffected. Her small hands are fisted at her sides and she's turning pink in the face.
“CLARA!” I shout, breaking her concentration. Her face snaps to mine and if looks could kill I would surely be dead. “He’s right and you’re right. Allie is yours. Allie is also mine. I love her as my own. I’m protective. It’s hard sharing her with someone new. That’s all Beau meant. Chill, love,” I finish and regret throwing “love” at the end but Clara’s face softens and she breathes again.
“Right. Sorry, Beau. I’m a little protective of my marriage and Dom. Sawyer,” she says, facing me again, “there’s no need to explain to you that for all intents and purposes you are the only father Allie has known and you’ve always been a good one. Try to keep your friends’ mouths shut ‘cause I really don’t want to hear their opinions on our arrangement.” She snaps her mouth closed and grabs Allie’s backpack from the corner before storming out.
“Damn. She must have been wild in the sack,” Beau says and chuckles.
“She’s not really so bad. She’s soft and warm when she lets her guard down. But yeah—she definitely has serious attitude and sass. It’s kinda what drew me to her,” I ramble. “I liked the challenge. I liked the reward, too, getting to see her softer side. It’s almost like two different people. Oh well, though.” I bite my lip to keep myself from saying more and start back in on Beau’s sleeve.
“You love her still?” Beau asks.
“Do you ever really stop loving someone you loved?”
“Deep, man. I guess not, but we all move forward and try again,” he says wisely. Like he’s trying to tell me to move the fuck on. I am, dammit! Pepper is the perfect distraction. She makes me feel. She makes me want to feel things that I haven’t in a very long time.
“True enough. Everyone wants to find their slice of the pie,” I say with a grin.
Butch, who followed Clara to the front door, comes prancing back to us. He stops, looks up at Beau, then at me, then moves closer to me. Before I have a chance to think about it any further Beau starts yelling, “NO! Stop!”
I pull the gun from his arm just as Butch lifts his leg and pisses all over my leg.
What. The. Hell.
“What the shit man!” I scream like a little bitch and push my stool back harshly while standing. Butch cocks his little cockapoodledoo-whatever head at me and wags his tail. Beau takes one look at my pant leg and bursts out laughing. My pant leg is drenched in dog piss and it’s not even from my own dog. I groan and set the gun down, all the while Beau’s laughter fills the shop. I can’t help but start to chuckle too. The dog looks so Goddamned happy and Beau’s laughter is contagious.
“Hydrant!” Beau laughs.
“What?” I squawk.
“Hydrant! You, son, just got your nickname!” he explains before falling into another fit of laughter. It’s deep and loud. I groan through my smile. The moment is too funny not to share so I pull my phone from my pocket and send Pepper a quick text.
“So, while trapped mid-tattoo for Beau, his dog came over & pissed all over me.
All over my pants & shoe.”
My phone dings with a response moments later.
“OMG-YOU GOT PISSED ON AT WORK?! I would have left! I mean @ the very least to change clothes for Christ’s sake! WTF!”
I type a quick response to her.
“Working on it...Was just coined ‘Hydrant’”
Almost instantly my phone dings at me again.
“No way. no. effin. way. DISGUSTING. And...worst. nickname. ever.”
I chuckle at her response and tell Beau that I’ll be back in a few; I need to grab a change of clothes before we can continue.
Carmine and Hoot are at the bar chatting it up with two rather skanky-looking chicks. Carmine’s wide, white smile makes his dark, slicked-back hair look even darker. He looks like a greaser straight out of the fifties. The redhead next to him titters, placing a hand on his chest while she leans in to whisper something in his ear. His face lights up, part elation and part danger, looking at her secret words. Hoot and the brunette at his side look to be having a deep conversation in the form of shots. My brothers will not be driving home tonight, and I have a feeling whoever they take home won’t be either. I push my glass across the dinged-up wooden bar top and nod to the bartender to fill me up again. Club soda and cherry juice. The Kaboose isn't known for its high-class clientele but it’s a great spot for people watching. Leaning my elbows back onto the bar, I relax into my spot and glance around the place.
Twenty-somethings gyrate and grind all over each other on the dance floor. House-like music pumps from the speakers. Women line the bar, perched, really, waiting for someone to hit on them or offer up a drink. In the back corner, where we are, Hoot, Carmine, and their selected dates for the evening play a game of pool. Carmine’s hand slides up the back of the redhead’s thigh as she lines up a shot while bent over the pool table. Her lips turn up coyly as he slides his hand up higher to rest on her rear. He pulls his hand back and as she executes her shot he spanks her, hard. Her eyes bulge, her cue stick misses the ball, and she lurches forward. I watch as she tries to regain composure before spinning around and snarling at Carmine. Hoot shakes his head just barely and steps in front of his date. A protective move. I stay glued to my spot watching carefully.
Carmine smiles a slick smile at the redhead and yanks her by the hips to him roughly. Her body, stiff and rigid, releases as he drunkenly mumbles something into her ear. I can honestly say that I absolutely don’t like the way he treats women. I will not, however, make that statement out loud to him.
By eleven I’m tired of people watching but I’m driving my two trashed friends and probably their women home and they show no signs of being ready to leave. Carmine prowls over to me, a cocky grin on his face, and slaps my shoulder as he leans a hip against the bar.
“Have a drink.”
“I am.” I hold up my glass.
“Something that actually has alcohol in it,” he responds.
“I’m not really big on driving buzzed,” I reply dryly.
“You gotta problem with me tonight?” he asks, head cocked.
“No,” I clip. Hoot dawdles to a stop next to Carmine and smiles at us.
“We shoulda waited to pick ladies,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the entrance.
I follow his direction and smirk at my insanely good luck. Greta, in all her blonde-goddess beauty, followed by Pepper, a stark contrast with her luscious black hair and tanned skin, are pushing through the crowd to the bar with shit-eating grins on their faces. They stand out here, looking too classy for the joint but not caring in the slightest. Greta’s pale yellow silk shirt and tight white pants show off her impeccable body and every guy here has taken a gander. Pepper though, damn, she’s wearing black leather shorts with a white top that exposes her front and back precariously. How the shirt doesn't just slip off either one of the breasts it’s covering is beyond me.
We’re at the far end from them and they haven’t noticed us yet which makes me smile. I like watching Pepper do her thing when she’s comfortable and relaxed. Greta scans the bar and I turn my back to them for a moment not wanting to be seen just yet.
“Blonde,” Hoot calls. Carmine’s eyes are slits, his face twisted up like he’s trying to recall details of something long forgotten as he watches Greta and Pepper.
“Not sure you want the blonde,” I answer.
“Why’s that?”
“She’s a wee bit scary,” I reply.
“You know her? Hook a brother up!” Hoot exclaims, forgetting about the woman he just spent the last two hours with.
“Who’s her friend?” Carmine demands.
“That’s Pepper.” I smile. Carmine’s eyes meet mine, a blank expression on his face. His eyes turn cold before turning away. I swear I hear him mumble “fuck” before stalking back to the
redhead with his beer.
“What’s his deal?” I ask Hoot.
“Dunno. PMS maybe. Sometimes I wonder about him,” he says quietly.
“Me too.”
Chapter 11
Should Have Stayed Home
Hoot flags the bartender down and orders another beer. I order a glass of bourbon and have it sent to Pepper and vodka for Greta. I watch from my spot as Pepper’s eyes scan the bar meticulously searching for the drink sender. Greta spotted me moments ago but I’d put my finger to my lips and she’d played along. Pepper’s shirt rides up slightly as she leans forward to see my corner of the bar better from her spot. When her eyes meet mine they show surprise before morphing into a pleased expression. She waves just slightly and smiles. I return the gestures and turn my back. She will have to come to me tonight. I need to retain a modicum of willpower in this game of “friends only.”
Thirty minutes pass and my willpower is zilch. I’m watching Greta and Pepper dance together seductively, like a pervert. Hoot is practically foaming at the mouth next to me. He’s already asked me three times why the hell I haven't gone to her or waved them to us. I attempted to explain that I was testing the waters and seeing if she’d give in first but he told me I was stupid and laughed. Greta drags a finger from Pepper’s collarbone down between her breasts as they dance. Three men circle them, lustful sneers on their faces. Over my dead body.
I push off of the bar as one of them places his hands on Greta’s waist and tugs her rear to his crotch. Pushing my way through the crowd, I stalk purposefully to them. I’m not sure what I’m doing but I’m not going to sit back and watch other men manhandle my girl. Shit. My girl. I chastise myself and reinforce “friends only” silently before placing a palm on the second man’s shoulder and tearing him away from Pepper. He glares at me but I imagine the look I’m sporting tells him that I’m not backing down. Pepper spins to face me.