HOT as F*CK

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HOT as F*CK Page 68

by Scott Hildreth


  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  He took another bite. “So, are you ready for the move in?”

  I shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know. I mean, not really, but kind of.”

  “Indecisive much?”

  I looked up from my cone. “What do you mean?”

  “Yes, no, maybe.” He held his cone to the side and shook his head. “Make a decision, Sandy. Life works much better when you commit yourself. When you don’t, your heart’s not in it. And, when your heart’s not in it, you’ll fail. Every time.”

  “Oh. So, if I tell myself I’m ready to do this, it’ll work out just fine?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “No. You can’t just tell yourself. You’ve got to commit.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Believe? I think that’s the first step. Believing it’s what you want.” He took a bite of his cone and then looked at me. “I’m moving in with Mr. Biker, and I’m so ready for this. Whatever it takes to make this work, I’m prepared to do. I will not accept failure. You say that, and you mean it.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  He munched about one-third of his cone, and then nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “I do want it to work, I just have my doubts that it will.”

  He took a few more bites of the cone and then shook his head. “With an attitude like that, it won’t.”

  “Won’t what?”

  He poked the end of the cone in his mouth, chewed it, then swallowed. “Work out. If you’re sitting here doubting it, you’re setting yourself up for a failure. You’re destined to fail before you ever start.”

  Ice cream ran down the cone and onto my hand. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

  “Just because every other guy you’ve been with is a douche, it doesn’t mean this guy is.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, and then turned to the side. “Good?”

  I nodded.

  He looked the other direction.

  I nodded. “You’re good.”

  “Give him a chance,” he said. “Since he asked you to move in, has he done anything stupid?”

  “No.”

  He wadded up the napkin and placed it in the center of the table. “He’s probably committed himself to this.”

  “You think?”

  “I hope so.”

  “But you don’t know?”

  He let out a sigh. “Assume he has until he does or says something to convince you otherwise. If he is committed, I’m sure you’ll see subtle differences in how he acts. Little signs. He may become possessive of you. If he does, it’s a good sign.”

  I nodded slowly as I thought about what he said. “Are you ready?”

  “You’re not going to eat your cone?” he asked.

  I scrunched my nose. “It’s gross.”

  He scooped the trash from the table, stood, and then reached for my cone. “Commit yourself, and assume he’s done the same. You’ll know pretty soon if he’s committed.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s an alpha. Guys like him are possessive. He’ll show you in no time if he’s committed.”

  I’d never had a guy be possessive of me, and wondered just how I’d react if Smokey ended up being so. As Craig threw away the cone, I decided I’d just have to wait and see what the future held.

  “I hope when he does that I can see it,” I said.

  “He’s a tattooed biker that rides with who? The Filthy Fuckers?” He chuckled. “You’ll see it.”

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five

  Smokey

  The last few days had been a whirlwind of happenings. With my mind elsewhere, Eddie’s birthday crept up on me like a sickness. We had our typical small gathering to celebrate the event, and my stomach was in knots the entire time. As she opened her gifts, my mind filled with visions of installing a revolving door for the boys who were going to come ask permission to take her on out on dates.

  Wearing a silver and pink cardboard cone birthday hat he brought himself, P-Nut pushed a neatly-wrapped present across the table. “Do this one first.”

  She looked at his hat, rolled her eyes, and accepted the gift. After a good shake, she looked at him again. “Why this one?”

  “Don’t shake the motherfucker, Eddie!” His eyes widened comically as he adjusted his hat. “You’ll kill it.”

  She looked at Nut and cocked her eyebrow. “Do we cuss in the house, P-Nut?”

  He lowered his head, feigning shame. “Sorry, Ed. I got excited.”

  She shook the box lightly. “It’s alive?”

  His eyebrows slowly raised. “It was when I brought it through the door. Doubt it still is, though. Not after all that. Their little bones are brittle.”

  She lifted the small box repeatedly, as if trying to guess the weight. “What is it?”

  “Reptile,” he said flatly.

  “It better not be a snake,” I said. “I mean it.”

  There was one thing in earth I feared, and a snake was it. It didn’t matter if they were six inches long or six feet long, in my mind they were equally threatening. I’d rather be tortured to death than have a snake within ten feet of me.

  The mere thought of coming in contact with one gave me hives.

  “You shouldn’t be afraid of them,” Eddie said. “Snakes are cool. Mr. Freeman has one in class. I get to feed it goldfish.”

  A shiver ran the length of my spine. The thought of her getting close to a snake made me feel ill.

  “Snakes are…” I shook my head. “They’re the most vile creatures on earth. If there’s one thing that shouldn’t exist, a snake is it. I fucking hate ‘em.”

  She looked right at me and raised her eyebrows. “If it’s a gift, I have to keep it.”

  I tilted my head toward the door. “Outside, maybe.” I lifted my weight from the seat and nodded toward the box. “Open it.”

  With me prepared to take off running, she cautiously unwrapped it, revealing a box that had been taped shut with an insane amount of clear packing tape. Several round holes were poked through every side of the box that I could see.

  I looked at Nut. His tattoo-covered arms didn’t mesh well with his pink birthday hat. I shook my head. “I meant what I said. If that’s a snake, you freaking weirdo--”

  “I hope it is,” Eddie chimed. “Face your fears, isn’t that what you tell me?” She held out her hand. “Give me your knife, please.”

  She was right. I did tell her that, and did so often. I handed her my knife. Before I had a chance to speak, she beat me to it.

  “Be careful,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “It’s sharp.”

  She carefully cut around the top of the box, set the knife aside, and then tilted the top back and peered inside.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Her eyes slowly widened.

  I pushed myself away from the table. “What is it?”

  With reluctance, she reached inside with her index finger and thumb. After what appeared to be a slight struggle, she pulled a snake from the box and flipped it across the table.

  I jumped from my seat and screamed. “God damn it!” With a racing heart, I took several quick steps toward the living room and shot P-Nut a glare. “You crazy prick.”

  While they shared a hearty laugh, I took a glance at the table. The snake was sedentary. Sickeningly so.

  I studied it.

  Rubber.

  “It’s fake?” I asked hopefully. “Rubber?”

  P-Nut struggled to catch his breath. “Yeah.” He glanced at Ed, chuckled, and then looked at me. “You don’t think I’d bring a real snake in this house, do you?”

  My heart was still in my throat. I inhaled a long breath, exhaled, and took another look at the rubber snake. “Hard to say, Nut.”

  He pointed to the box. “Something else in there. In the bottom.”

  Eddie peered into the box. She r
eached in, pulled out a photo, and studied it. “What’s this?”

  “What the fu--” He cocked an eyebrow and nodded toward what she held. “What’s it look like?”

  “Volkswagen.”

  “Beetle,” P-Nut said. “Or Bug. They call ‘em both.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What’s it for?”

  “Pin it up on your wall.” He shrugged. “Or take it to school and show your friends, hell, I don’t know.”

  I reached for the picture. “What is it? A picture of a Volkswagen?”

  She handed me the picture. It was a photo of an old-school Volkswagen Beetle in remarkable condition. The picture was taken beside his beloved Old-School Harley, obviously taken in P-Nut’s driveway.

  I wrinkled my nose and looked at Nut.

  “Engine’s locked up, but other than that, it’s perfect. Old lady in Encinitas had it. Took me four hours and half a pot of coffee talk her into selling it. Figured by the time you were old enough to drive it, you and your dad could pull the motor and rebuild it. Fits your personality.”

  She gasped. “It’s mine? Like, that’s my car?”

  P-Nut nodded.

  She jumped from her chair and opened her arms. “I love you, P-Nut. Thank you.”

  He stood and gave her a hug. “Love you too, Ed.”

  I shook my head and swallowed pridefully. P-Nut was a great friend to me, and somewhat of an uncle to Eddie, but he was also her friend.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You bought her a car?”

  He nodded. “Volkswagen.”

  “I saw the picture,” I said. “She can’t drive for another year.”

  He shrugged. “We can get it towed over here, and you’ll have a year to get the motor fixed.” He motioned toward the box. “There’s a Best Buy gift card in there, too. Go pick out a stereo for it. Got to have tunes if you’re going to roll in style.”

  Eddie hugged P-Nut again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Did you wear that little hat?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “When you went to talk to the old lady. Did you wear that goofy little hat?”

  He reached for the hat. “No, I got this fucker at the Wal Mart on my way here. You know, that place is full of a bunch of fucking weirdos, but when a 1%er walks in, he gets all the stares.”

  “They’re not staring at you as a 1%er, Nut. They’re staring at you because you’re weird.”

  “Nobody can tell if I’m weird or normal by lookin’ at me.”

  “You’ve got a tattoo of Goofy on one arm, and Mickey Mouse on the other. It’s pretty clear.”

  He looked at his forearm. “It’s Pluto. Pluto. Pluto. How many times I told you that?”

  “Pluto. Goofy. What’s the difference?”

  “Pluto’s a dog with a collar. Goofy wears boots and clothes and shit. Big difference.”

  “I’ll try and remember that,” I said. “And, thanks, Brother.”

  He gave me a nod and then shot Eddie a smile. “She only turns seventeen once.”

  After the excitement of the car faded, Eddie opened several gifts that P-Nut and I had bought her, none of which were earth-shattering. After everything had been opened, I reached into my kutte, and pulled out the last one.

  “Oh, wait. There’s one more.”

  “There’s more?”

  I handed her the small box. “Here.”

  She looked at the blue box, and then straightened the silk ribbon. “What is it?”

  “One way to find out.”

  She carefully removed the bow, and then stared at the Tiffany & Co insignia for a moment. After looking at me, and then P-Nut, she removed the top and peered inside.

  Her eyebrows raised. “Oh. My. God.”

  She glanced at me, and reached inside the box. “Is it real?”

  “Sure is.”

  She lifted the ring from the box. “What…why…oh wow. But. What…”

  “I figured if you were going to start dating, you should be wearing a ring that made you look like you were spoken for. It’ll scare off the meek, and save both of us a lot of grief.”

  “Holy crap. It’s awesome.”

  “Put it on.”

  She put the ring on her wedding finger, and then let her hand dangle over the table. The ring did nothing but accentuate her beauty.

  “I love it,” she said.

  “Looks good as fuck,” P-Nut said. “Classy.”

  She shot him a scornful look.

  He shrugged. “Just slipped out. Sorry.”

  She came around the edge of the table and gave me a hug. “Dad, you’re the best.”

  I held her in my arms for some time, clinging to that moment. All I could do was hope that she felt the same way after I broke the news to her about Sandy.

  Because having her views of me change would certainly crush me.

  Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six

  Sandy

  Nervous wouldn’t come close to describing how I felt. After a long discussion, Smokey decided I should meet Eddie at dinner before he broke the news to her about everything. I couldn’t say that I disagreed with his logic, but my stomach sure seemed to.

  My current state of being was emotional. Period. Everything, as far as I was concerned, was a disaster. Hoping that the night unfolded without me bursting into tears for no reason, I pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine.

  Their home, a small ranch, was in one of the nicer areas in town. From the outside, it was apparent that Smokey took meticulous care of it. Every tree, plant, and shrub was perfectly groomed, and although most of the homes didn’t have grass lawns, his did, and it was a luscious green color.

  I took a deep breath, opened the car door, and stepped into the driveway.

  The front door opened.

  I met Smokey’s gaze and couldn’t help but smile. He was dressed in jeans, boots, and a stark white tee-shirt, but no kutte.

  “I’m coming,” I said.

  He stepped onto the porch and grinned. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thank you.”

  I’d carefully chosen a dress that was conservative, but not too much so. A floral fabric that was form-fitting, it was the best of both worlds.

  I stepped onto the porch. “Is this dress okay? Is it too tight?”

  He opened his arms and gave me a hug. As he released me, he leaned back and looked me over. “It’s perfect. You look like a model.”

  I brushed my hands along my hips. “Thank you.”

  Me reached for the bag I was carrying. “You brought wine?”

  “Sparkling grape juice.”

  He grinned. “She’ll like that. C’mon.”

  I followed him into the house. A faint hint of garlic filled the air, and gave hint to what we’d be eating for dinner. As soon as I entered, I greedily scanned what would soon be my new home.

  The open floor plan made the home seem larger than it was, but it wasn’t small by any means. The living room was tastefully decorated, and without an ounce of clutter. A wall separated the kitchen from the living room, but I could see into the kitchen.

  Standing in front of the counter, preoccupied with the contents of a large bowl, stood a gorgeous woman who was tall and thin with light brown hair. Dressed in jeans, Chucks, and a tight-fitting tee-shirt, she was breathtaking.

  “Is that Eddie?” I whispered.

  “The one and only.”

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  His eyes lit up. “Thank you.”

  I instantly filled with excitement about getting to know her better, and befriending her over time. As she carefully placed objects in the bowl, Smokey took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen.

  “Eddie,” he said. “This is Sandy.”

  As soon as he said Eddie, she turned around. When she noticed me, she smiled, and it was easy for me to see that it was genuine.

  I had no idea what to expect from her, and figured it would either go one of two ways. Complete and instantan
eous rejection, or excitement.

  She would either be pleased that her father had finally found someone worthy of his – and her – attention, or she would feel threatened by his new relationship, and me. Seeing her face led me to believe it was the former.

  She wiped her hands on a towel, and then extended her right hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She looked me up and down. “Your dress is uhhm. It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “Thank you. Can I do anything to help?”

  She shook her head. “I’m done. Basically.”

  She looked at her dad, smiled, and then held his gaze for a moment. “If you want, you could help me get everything set on the table.”

  “Sure.” I looked at Smokey, then turned toward her and smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Smokey set my bag on the counter. “I’m going to go wash up.”

  Oh God.

  Don’t leave us alone.

  “He likes everything perfect,” she whispered. “See this salad?”

  I peered into the bowl she’d been working on when we walked in. Tomato wedges were perfectly placed on top of the various leaves of lettuce around the circumference of the bowl.

  “Uh huh.”

  “If that was all mixed up, he’d throw a fit.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. I would have never guessed that about him. “Really?”

  “True story,” she said. “And see this?” She pointed to two casserole dishes that were filled with stuffed pasta. “One’s Manicotti,” she said. “And the other is cannelloni. According to him, they can’t be in the same dish. He says they’re different pastas, so they can’t touch each other. And, he says they taste different. He likes them both.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and then looked at me. “He’s a weirdo. I’m sure he didn’t tell you that, though.”

  I grinned. “He didn’t, no.”

  “So, on the table, he likes the main course in the center, and the salad and bread on the outside.”

  “Okay.”

  Using oven mitts, she carried one of the casserole dishes to the table and set it on a stone trivet. “Just like that.”

  “Hear the music?” she asked.

  I hadn’t noticed it until she said something, but after she mentioned it, I noticed the faint sound of music came from the living room. What was playing sounded like an old-school ballad.

 

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