Shane (The Mallick Brothers Book 1)

by Jessica Gadziala

“I’m right here,” she said, brows drawing together.

  I snorted, taking her coffee out of her hands and putting it on the counter before grabbing her and hauling her against me. “I meant come here,” I said against her hair, smiling when I felt her arms go tentatively around me.

  “Oh.”

  “You aware that you take up the entire fuckin’ bed when you sleep?” I asked and I could feel her laughing silently.

  “Yeah.”

  “You also kick.”

  “I do not!” she insisted, pulling back far enough to look at me.

  “Got a bruise on my leg that says differently,” I smiled and she actually looked sheepish.

  “Sorry.”

  “I think I’ll survive. I washed and dried your clothes.”

  “Oh,” she said again and, if I wasn’t mistaken, she almost sounded disappointed.

  “But there’s no rush on that. You want breakfast?”

  Her nose wrinkled up. “I’m not much of a breakfast person,” she admitted and it was just another little piece of her I got to have.

  “Alright. Want to fuck in the shower?” I offered, half-joking, but totally willing to deliver if she wanted that.

  To that, I got a rare, stunning smile out of her. It lit up her whole fucking face. “Well, I definitely want a shower in that spa of yours.”

  “Alright,” I said, releasing her and stepping away. “Go get washed up,” I said, swatting her ass hard when she turned to walk away. She threw me a smirk over her shoulder but kept going.

  I let her have her shower, though I knew that she was going to use the time to steel herself against me and also despite the fact that I genuinely would have liked to fuck her again. She came back out half an hour later, hair pin-straight wet and her jeans and long-sleeve black tee on from the night before. She looked good, but I preferred her in my tee. Or naked.

  “I stole your extra toothbrush,” she said as she came up to the counter and took her mostly-cold coffee and started drinking. “So you might want to stock up before you have overnight guests again.”

  Right then I did sigh. “Alright, I think we can both agree that I’m not exactly the kind of man to keep his opinions to himself.”

  “No, really?” she asked, her voice taking on a sarcastic pitch.

  I ignored it. “I’m also not really the kind of man to analyze shit to death or deny myself something I want.”

  “Ah, okay…” she said, brows drawing together.

  “So what I’m saying is, this shit with you and me? I’m in.”

  “This… shit with you and me? There is no shit. We’ve had some good casual sex and…”

  “Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “This hasn’t been casual and you know it. It’s more. I might have been a little slow at realizing it at first myself too, but Lea… I fucking built a fence and installed a security door for you. I barely fucking knew you but I wanted you to be safe. Now, I’m not romantic. I won’t be writing you poetry or sending you sappy texts or shit like that. That’s not me. But I’ll show you I give a shit in my own ways: keeping you safe, making sure you have what you need, fucking you until you can’t see straight. That’s what I have to offer you. Take it, leave it, that’s your decision. But don’t call this casual because there is nothing casual about it.”

  “Shane, we don’t even know each other.”

  I resisted the urge to say well, whose fault is that and took a deep breath instead. “We know enough. Don’t pull that. We know enough to start something. People start on less every God damn day. I get you’ve been through some shit and you’re hesitant and scared…”

  “I’m not scared,” she snapped, hackles rising.

  “Lea, fucking terrified. But that’s fine. I get it. It’s probably even smart of you to be. But if there’s one thing I want to make real fucking clear right now… I don’t do that shit. If you can’t see that, then maybe it’s smart to end this right now.”

  “I see that,” she said, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “If for no other reason but that I think your mother would roast your balls like hibachi,” she added, lips tipping up.

  “So you get where I stand. Now you need to decide where you do, inside the door or out. Because I don’t have the patience for the one foot in the door, one foot out the door shit.”

  “Shane, I…”

  “Need time. I get it. If you want, I’ll take you home. You can think it over. But in or out, your ass is now obligated to come to Fee’s with me to move furniture next Saturday.”

  “If by ‘move furniture’ you mean hand out beers while you men do the grunt work, sure,” she said as she moved away, locating her shoes and slipping in.

  “That’s exactly what I meant. You ready?” I asked, getting into my own shoes and grabbing my keys.

  “Think the building will still be standing?” she asked as she opened the door, eyes a little wicked.

  “No promises,” I said, watching as she took off down the stairs for a long minute before locking up and following her down, a part of me hoping the place was rubble so I could have a reason to have her in my place instead.

  But I kept that shit to myself because it was crazy as fuck.

  TWELVE

  Lea

  Okay.

  Yeah.

  Things happened.

  Stuff was said.

  Shane dropped me off at my still-standing apartment building, giving me a quick, almost rough kiss on the temple, his stubble scratching in a delicious way. Then he patted my ass and told me he would see me later and that he needed to clear the branches out of the parking lot.

  I let myself into my apartment and sank down on my bed, my heart still beating way too fast… as it had been doing almost since I woke up that morning. See, I had felt it the night before too. Whatever it was that made Shane give me that speech, I felt it. I didn’t even recognize it, the concept being completely unfamiliar to me. It was a feeling of comfort, of rightness, of… home?

  But that was insane.

  A person couldn’t feel like home.

  I would have been able to push that away, compartmentalize it, trivialize it.

  Except then Shane had went ahead and said all the right things.

  See… Shane was a bit of a brute. He was rough and tough and manly. He didn’t do teddy bears and ‘good morning, beautiful’ texts. But that was exactly what I liked best about him. He was just… real. He didn’t try, nor did he have to. Like he said, he showed his interest in his own way. And when he spoke, he said things. It was refreshing. It was nice to know exactly what was on his mind… even if what was on his mind scared the bejesus out of me.

  The thing was, I’d had a colorful enough life to know that when things made you pee-your-pants scared, they usually turned out to be the best experiences. And I had a sneaking suspicion that giving Shane a chance would be one hell of a story. Hell, even if it crashed and burned. Even if it ended in ashes.

  It probably would.

  And the closer we got, the more we were together, the more he would want from me. He would want details of my life before, details that I could not give him.

  It would fail when I refused to give those pieces of myself away.

  But did that mean I should push him away before then?

  Yeah, that was the question of the day.

  And every time I thought I got closer to figuring it out, more contradictory evidence surfaced.

  It was a long, frustrating morning until, out of nowhere, my landline blared, making me actually yelp it was so unexpected. I only connected it for emergencies, to cover my bases, in case something happened and my cell was out of reach. I never gave it out to anyone.

  “Hello?”

  “You should really have a lock screen on your cell. Just saying’,” the unfamiliar, deep masculine voice said.

  My cell? My cell should have been in my bag in my car in front of work. “Who the hell is this?” I snapped, my voice sharp.

  There was a deep, rumbling chuckle tha
t any sane woman would respond to. “This is Colton King.”

  Colton King? Christ, that sounded like a romance novel or porn star name. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?

  Again, the chuckle. Apparently, Colton King found me amusing. “Maybe not, love. I have your car at my shop.”

  “Why would you have my car?”

  There was a short pause that I didn’t think anything of at the time before he responded. “Township was doing street sweeps. It had to move. I took the opportunity to look it over.”

  A part of me wanted to snap at the presumptuousness of that; the other part was painfully aware that the car really did need to be looked over so I shouldn’t bitch about it being done. “And?”

  “It’s not pretty,” he hedged.

  “Give it to me,” I demanded, having very little patience for kid gloves.

  “The starter was shot. The battery needs to be replaced. Spark plugs, brake pads, two hoses, and two bearings.”

  “Christ,” I said, closing my eyes and running a hand through my hair. Granted, I was making decent money at Fee’s, but I knew enough about cars to know that the repairs were insane if you had to pay for labor. Parts cost dirt and I had always been lucky in the past to have someone do it all just for that. But that was my old life; this was my new one. I had to pay for labor. “Okay. What is absolutely necessary right now?”

  Colton paused. “The starter and the brakes. The battery will go soon, but you probably have at least a week or so before you have to worry about that. The bearings will start getting loud. Until then, not a huge concern. The hoses and plugs can be done whenever.”

  “Oh, good. Alright. Go ahead and fix the brakes and starter. When should I be by to pick it up?”

  Again, there was another pause I didn’t know to be suspicious of. “Four.”

  “Okay. And where is your shop?”

  “King’s Repairs down on Madison.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

  I hung up, changed into a white tee instead of the long-sleeve black tee, and slipped into dry shoes. Around three-thirty, a cab was out front my building and I had what little nest egg I had nestled in my purse as we headed in the direction of Madison.

  King’s Repairs was a low, long blue metal building with three open drive-in doors and a small glass-enclosed office to the right side. I paid the cabbie and got out of the car, moving in the direction of the office. “Hey love,” a newly familiar voice called, no less sexy in person than it was over the phone. I turned back toward the open doors and found Colton King.

  And, well, Fee was right. There really wasn’t one bad looking man in Navesink Bank.

  Colton King was as tall as Shane but leaner, his strong-shouldered, narrow-waisted body looking very good in the grease stained white wifebeater and the blue jumpsuit he had on, the top part tied low around his hips, leaving his arms on display. His hair was dark, but not black like Shane’s and his face was all sharp angles. From far away, I couldn’t make out his eyes, but they looked dark.

  “Colton?” I asked, turning and making my way toward him.

  “Lea,” he said, inclining his chin at me.

  “All done?” I asked, not offended when his eyes dropped for a brief once-over.

  “Just about. One of my guys should be bringing it out in a minute.”

  “Great,” I said, reaching for my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

  When he didn’t answer, I looked back up to find him running a hand down the scruff on his face. “See, that’s the thing…”

  I felt my brows draw together. “What’s the thing?”

  He exhaled and dropped his hand, shrugging his shoulder. “It’s taken care of.”

  “What’s taken care of?”

  “The bill.”

  “How is the bill taken care of? I just got here.”

  “And you got it all fixed, not just the brakes and starter.”

  “Alright, you’re going to have to explain this better.”

  “See, I got a call this morning from an old buddy…” he started.

  And right then, I knew. My mind flashed back to Shane saying he appreciated something as he hung up.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Shane did this?”

  Colton’s face broke into a big grin, all white teeth and charm. “He said you would be pissed.” He paused, then went on, “If it is any consolation, it was fix your old POS or have him buy you a new ride.”

  To that, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

  “If you’re Shane’s, he’d want you in a safe ride.”

  “I’m not anybody’s anything. Which is why you are going to let me pay for whatever you did to my car.”

  “I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head like he was apologetic, but the light in his dark brown eyes said he wasn’t.

  “Sure you can. Shane won’t care.”

  “Shane will come over here and flip shit,” he corrected. “I’ve been in enough fights with him to know I don’t want to be in any more. Accept the gift, love. It’s just some car repairs. Doesn’t make you any less independent. Besides, this way, you can drive it over there and give him some shit about doing something like this without asking first,” he added with a devilish little grin.

  “You know what, Colton King? I like the way you think.”

  Then, as if sensing my agreement of the transaction, my busted-up piece of shit car came pulling out of the door behind him. “Did you guys wash it too?” I asked, smiling a little.

  “Vacuumed out the inside too. Figured if Shane was paying, might as well make it a good bill.”

  I laughed at that. “You’re an odd friend.”

  Colton moved away to take the keys from his guy who nodded at me then ran back into the building. Colton reached into the pocket on the driver’s side door and held out my cell. “Seriously put a lock on this. I could have looked at all the naughty pictures you have saved,” he told me as I took it.

  “I don’t have any naughty pictures.”

  “I know. I checked,” he said with that lazy, flirtatious grin again before he moved away. “Go give him hell,” he said as a goodbye as he disappeared inside his building.

  I got in my car, shaking my head at the fact that they had even Armoral’d my interior, then turned in the direction of Shane’s warehouse.

  See, when I had woken that morning and finally gotten a good look around, I had to admit it was better than I thought it would be. My expectations were a bit low with the not having walls in the bathroom thing. It was a typical bachelor pad, uber masculine with all its exposed metal beams and brick walls and simple, stained concrete floors. It was a massive space, taking up the entire floor. To the furthest end was the kitchen I had become acquainted with in the dark, but it was nicer in the light which made the slate countertops really pop. The appliances were all stainless steel and new. The fridge was almost twice the size of any normal one I had seen before. Directly in the door from the stairs was a framed, but not finished bathroom. To the center of the room was the bedroom space with the king-sized bed I had slept in, two nightstands, and a dresser across from it with a giant TV that sat in front of the row of windows that lined the whole front of the building and looked down on the street. There was an oversize beat-up leather arm chair in a corner with a lamp, but no real living room. There was a wall behind the bed and bath space that I didn’t get a chance to peek behind, so I had no idea what I might find there.

  The building had four floors. The first, as Shane told me, was unfinished. I was left wondering if the top two floors were as well.

  But those weren’t exactly at the forefront of my mind as I parked out front, stupidly annoyed that my car was driving so well. I found out about halfway through my drive that Colton had fixed my radio too. It hadn’t been working when I bought the car so I never even thought to touch it. But then I heard a low hum and turned the knob and, sure enough, there was music.

  It wasn’t that I was ungrateful.

&n
bsp; It was that he was overstepping.

  I learned to be ultra aware of behavior like that, knowing where it had led in my past.

  I needed to make it clear that doing things, even nice things, without my permission was not acceptable.

  I climbed up the external stairs and paused, hearing slamming from inside. On a shrug, I banged loudly on the door until I heard something crash inside. “Fuck. Keep your panties on,” Shane’s voice called, a little breathless. There was another crash. “Just come in,” he growled, sounding distracted.

  I let myself in and came to an almost immediate stop, seeing what he was doing that was so loud. He was putting up Sheetrock for the bathroom.

  Hearing the door slam, his head snapped in my direction and a slow, knowing smile spread on his face. “Colt called you, didn’t he?” he asked, pushing up off the floor and brushing his hands on his shirt. “That fuck.”

  “Um, what the hell were you thinking having him do that?”

  “I was thinking that your car was dead and that Fee said it needed to move.”

  “Right. But I could have handled it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Lea. But I handled it instead.”

  “But you didn’t have the right to do that.”

  “Was I overstepping? Maybe. But this wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t me trying to gain your trust. It wasn’t something I did with strings attached. Okay? Your car needed to be fixed; I had it fixed. Case closed. It doesn’t mean anything. You can still tell me to fuck off at anytime and you’ll never hear a word from me about doing it.” Well, that effectively took the wind out of my sails. He paused for a minute, watching me with those light eyes I swore could see right through me at times. “Tell me to fuck off, Lea,” he demanded, his voice a little quiet. But I couldn’t. As much as I knew I should, I couldn’t force those words out. “You can’t, can you?” he asked, a wicked little victory smile on his lips. “Well, if you aren’t going to tell me to fuck off, why don’t you come over here and give me a proper hello?”

  I felt my eyes get a little heavy at the insinuation, but I planted my feet. “Why should I have to come to you?”