by Jodi Redford
“Doesn’t leave many options, cuz.”
She tossed him a wink before ducking out the door. Finally, he was home free. Well, nearly. He just had to make it out to his truck without getting waylaid. A minute or so later he slid behind the wheel and released a breath. His relief was short-lived as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to deal with it. Just one more thing standing between him and a shower. Even worse, what if it was Charlie calling to cancel?
The possibility sinking like a stone in his gut, he fished out his phone and glanced at the display. Good news? It wasn’t Charlie. Bad news? It was one of the last people he wanted to talk to at the moment. Hell, or ever.
So ignore it. Fuck, it was tempting. He didn’t owe them anything, and talking to his stepmom would only kill what was left of his good mood.
What if his old man was dead? Yeah, it was a morbid thought, but one that crossed his mind every damn time he saw her number pop up on his phone. The day would come. The son of a bitch wouldn’t live forever, and shit knows his dedication to booze and three packs of cigarettes a day made him a prime candidate for cashing in his ticket early.
Would he feel anything when he got the inevitable news? Anger? Sadness? Or would he just be numb and dead inside? Probably that.
Get this fucking over with. Giving himself no time to rethink it, he pushed the Talk button. “Hello.”
“Grady, it’s Sue. Do you have a minute?”
“Not really.” He cranked the engine and nosed his pickup toward the lot’s exit. “I’m on my way to work.” That’d keep her from suggesting a visit.
“Maybe you could stop by on your way in?”
Or not. “Sorry, but that’s outta the question.”
“Grady, he’s not getting any younger. I know you two have your problems, but he is your dad.”
He merged with the traffic heading for the freeway. “Yeah, I’m fully aware of that.”
“So forgive him. Then you can both move on.”
“You’re assuming he gives a rat’s ass.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “In fact, I can guarantee you he doesn’t see it like there’s anything to forgive.”
“No, he’s remorseful. I know he is.”
“Really? Are you saying he asked you to get me on the line today? That he has to see me right this second to make amends? Is that what this is?”
Her hesitation was more telling than words. “Well, he doesn’t exactly know I called you. He’s a stubborn man, Grady. Sometimes he just needs me to make the move for him.”
“Right. Been good talking to you, Sue.” He hung up before she could start making more excuses for his dad. In her own way, she meant well. But she was about as delusional as they came. Of course, she didn’t know the full scope of the past abuse. She wasn’t aware of the physical stuff. Or at least he assumed so. She didn’t enter the picture until Grady turned twenty-one. By then he was bigger and stronger than his old man. The fucker knew better than to swing his fist when the one coming back at him could level him flat out.
The crazy thing? He’d never once sought retribution. Not that he hadn’t thought about it. There’d been plenty of occasions he’d imagined giving his pop a taste of his own medicine. But he couldn’t do it. Giving in to the violence would only make him a monster too. He wouldn’t take that path. Wouldn’t cosign his soul to the same hell his dad existed in. And he had the best—the only—motivation necessary to keep him on the mostly straight and narrow.
Charlie. His dirty angel with the voice of pure sin. She made him forget all of the bullshit. Tonight there’d be no ghosts from his past. His old man wouldn’t destroy him and his happiness. Fuck that motherfucker.
Giving a grim nod of determination, he tossed his cell onto the passenger seat and took the Off-ramp home.
CHAPTER SIX
Wear something pink. What the hell? Other than a few nighties and some lingerie, she didn’t own anything that color. Grumbling under her breath, she surveyed the contents of her closet for the gazillionth time.
“This is ridiculous.” Staring at her clothes wouldn’t magically transform them into the requested hue, or guarantee she’d look hot and sexy while wearing them. Right now, she’d settle for that last part, but sadly, the first one was more likely to happen.
Chewing the corner of her lip, she slipped a coral sundress from its hanger. If she squinted just right, it sort of hit the general ballpark. Good enough. She pulled the garment over her head and wiggled around as she tugged it in place. Smoothing her hands over her hips, she pivoted to the side and inspected her image in the mirrored doors on her closet. The empire waist concealed her tummy. Definite bonus points for the dress. She picked up the lace panties that matched her bra. They were as pink as she was going tonight. Totally counted. Not that Grady would know unless he asked to see her underwear for proof. That possibility stalled her in her tracks.
He wouldn’t...
“Oh my God, he absolutely would.” She flopped onto the end of the bed. Okay, the intelligent thing to do was not tell him about the panties. Clearly. Then she’d have nothing to worry about.
The doorbell rang and she about jumped out of her skin. She dug her fingers into the comforter, sucked in a deep breath and released it. “Come on, Charlie. Get your damn self together.”
She pushed to her feet and jammed on her cork-heeled wedges. Butterflies pirouetting in her belly, she abandoned the bedroom and journeyed to the front entrance of her bungalow. After a quick smoothing of her hair, she yanked open the door. She caught Grady red-handed performing a little last minute hair grooming of his own. Truthfully, she barely registered the fact as she gaped at him. Seeing him in his Magic Mike uniform should have prepared her for anything. It made no damn sense that faded jeans and a white embellished cowboy rocker shirt should leave her even more discombobulated and tingly all over. She gulped. “I’m wearing pink panties.” So much for keeping that a secret, you hussy.
His grin smoldered. “You know I require proof.”
“I figured.”
“Yeah?” He leaned his broad shoulder against the doorframe. “That why you’re wearing them?”
The tingles intensified and she shifted restlessly. “No, they’re all I had. That’s pink, I mean. I do have more panties than this.” Good God, she was babbling about her underwear. Not that they hadn’t chatted about infinitely more personal stuff, but face-to-face made it so much more awkward on her part. “Give me a sec. I need to grab my bag.”
After she fetched her purse and locked up, he led her to a shiny black pickup truck waiting in the drive. He opened the passenger door and assisted her with the step up. Once seated, she tucked her skirt over her knees—and jolted in surprise when he rested his hand on her leg.
“Meant to tell you earlier that you look really beautiful, but your panties distracted me.” He offered her a squeeze before shutting the door.
Her cheeks the approximate temperature of molten lava—and likely the same color too—she clicked her seatbelt into place. She cleared her throat a few seconds later when he ducked into the driver’s seat. “Thank you. And not exactly a newsflash—you look incredibly handsome.”
He offered a lopsided smile. She twitched her nose. “What?”
“This is gonna sound weird, but I like it that you said handsome instead of hot. That’s usually what women say to me.”
“Well, you are hot. They’re only being honest.”
“But it wasn’t the first thing you noticed about me tonight, otherwise you would have said it too.”
She cocked her head to the side, pondering his observation. “You’re right. To be honest, I was thinking how lovely your smile is. And your eyes. They both make me kind of lightheaded.”
The wattage of his aforementioned grin intensified to a blinding level. “That so?”
“There’s going to be no living with you now, is there?”
“Nope.” He pulled on his seatbelt and after securing it, started the en
gine and reversed toward the street behind them. “Your eyes make me lightheaded too.”
His words filled her with a warm glow. “Hm, but not my smile,” she teased.
“Absolutely your smile too. Every inch of you, to be precise.” He shifted into drive and cruised toward the entrance of her subdivision. “If you want to know the truth, you’re exactly what I envisioned in my head.”
She blinked at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Completely, sweetheart. I told you that you have the type of rockin’ body that totally does it for me. Did you think I was lying?”
She stared at her lap.
“Why does talking about your body make you uncomfortable? You’re a goddess, Charlie. Own that motherfucking title.”
“It’s not that easy for me.”
“Again, why?”
She glanced up at him and caught his confusion. “It’s easy for you to be confident. You’re absolutely perfect.”
“No, I meant it when I said I don’t know what perfection is. But for damn sure it isn’t me.” Braking to a stop at the end of the street, he reached over and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? A beautiful girl who makes me feel good. And I don’t just mean when your voice makes me come, though God knows that feels really good.” There was humor in his gaze, along with undeniable heat. “Talking to you is just about the most natural thing in the world. You’ve never once laughed at me, no matter what comes out of my mouth.”
“I would never do that.”
“I know. That’s what I’m saying. You don’t judge. Or ridicule. I don’t have to put on an act with you like I do with the others.”
She frowned. “Others?”
“Women. They don’t even know my real name.”
It finally began to click. “You mean at the club?”
“Yeah. I’m just The Grinder to them. Grady doesn’t exist.”
“That’s horrible. I don’t like to think of anyone objectifying you.”
He rubbed her cheek. “It’s not so much that as I don’t share myself with them like I do you. And that kind of goes along with my original point. There’s no need for illusion between us. I guess if there is any such thing as perfection, that’s it. The ability to be yourself with someone.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that.”
“See all these awesome things I’m teaching you?”
She chuckled. “Yes, McHorny. You’re a regular Dalai Lama.”
“You’re catching on, Daniel Son.”
“Oh, Lord. I think you’re confusing the Dalai Lama with Mr. Miyagi.”
“Both are very wise men.”
“You are not incorrect.” She valiantly attempted to hold in her giggle and failed miserably. Recalling his previous comment, she quickly reined in her mirth. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. You’re incredibly adorable is all.”
“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
Damn. If she wasn’t careful she could get used to his endearments. Not to mention the giddy joy that bopped around in her heart. Falling for McHorny was nothing new. She’d been riding this rollercoaster of emotion where he was concerned for a long time. Before, she’d had the protective barrier of a phone line. Now that she’d lost that insulated bubble? She had a bad feeling there’d be no cushion when she crashed back to earth.
Shoving that gloomy prediction to the farthest recess of her mind, she picked up the empty CD case resting on the center divider. “Electric Pussycat?”
“Have you listened to them before?”
She scanned the neon pink cat on the CD liner. What was it with him and that color? “Can’t say I’ve even heard of them.”
“Ah. You’re missing out. I’m considering using one of their tracks for a routine.”
“Oh! Can you play it for me?”
Something resembling a spark of devilment flashed in his eyes. “Not a problem.” He pulled out of her subdivision and popped the player on. “It’s the first track. Appropriately titled Own Your Pussy.”
The song queued up. It took exactly five seconds for the meaning of the tune to register. “Wow, this band really takes cat ownership seriously. Though I’d guess all that pussy licking would end up with massive amounts of fur in your mouth.”
Grady’s shoulders shook with his laugh. She wagged a finger at him. “Yuck it up, you evil beast. Next time give me a warning. My poor virgin ears are scandalized.”
“The next track is even better.”
“Ooh, let’s hear it.”
The drive to the restaurant went by in a blur of raunchy music. Who said you couldn’t get a thorough sex education in twenty minutes or less? Unfortunately, the side effect was a major case of damp panties. Granted, she was a pretty big pervert, but usually it took a lot more than dirty lyrics and wailing electric guitars to get her juiced up. Without question, it was all Grady’s fault. The damnable man oozed sex and it was transmitting to her through osmosis.
He parked his truck in a space close to the entrance and hopped out to get her door. His knuckles grazed the side of her boob as he helped her down. She half suspected it was purposeful, especially with the way his eyes twinkled. Regardless, the not so innocent touch ramped up her temperature a few thousand degrees.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, she let him escort her inside the steakhouse. Her stomach rumbled at the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. Ten to one nothing on the menu would be on her diet plan. Fuck it. She didn’t even care. Everything about tonight was a splurge. On a sliding scale of zero to never, how often did she have dinner with the most gorgeous, wonderfully perverted man on the planet? Enough said.
The hostess led them to an intimate corner booth in the back. After reciting the specials and taking their drink orders, the woman left them to peruse the rest of the menu. Charlie eyed Grady. “The prime rib is where it’s at, huh?”
“Hell, yeah. Make sure you request extra au jus and horseradish.”
“You’re assuming I like horseradish.”
His expression hinted that any other possibility was a crime against nature. “It’s like I don’t know you anymore.”
“I’m just messing with ya. I actually adore horseradish. Basically, any spicy food that leaves me feeling like I snorted battery acid.” She took a sip of water and shook her head. “God, we humans are a weird bunch.”
“It’s no wonder the aliens are always trying to ass probe us.”
Thank God she’d swallowed her water. Otherwise, it’d be currently sprayed all over the table. Choking on a laugh, she sat her glass down. “McHorny, I think you might be on to something. Either they’re trying to figure us out, or determine where we’re hiding our top secret horseradish warehouses.”
“They’ll never get it out of me.”
“Me either.” She exchanged pinky swears with him and they both grinned at each other like a pair of fools. He was absolutely right about one thing. They could talk about anything and everything. “I’ve never known anyone remotely like you. Our conversations can be so whacky sometimes. Which I love. And then the next instant we’ll get into deep stuff like reincarnation. And I love that too.”
“Well, we already know you’re gonna be a unicorn.”
Her lips twitching, she slid her gaze to his chest. “Speaking of which, I was meaning to ask when you got the tat. You never told me about it.”
He rubbed his ribcage through the fabric of his shirt. “A few months ago. Guess I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it. A lot of girls might freak out knowing a guy they’ve never met inked her name on himself. Hell, they might think he’s certifiably psycho even if they have met him in person.”
“True.” She sighed when he continued to stare at her expectantly. “If you’re wondering if I’m freaked out, the answer is no. This afternoon’s meltdown didn’t have anything to do with the tattoo.”
The waitress returned with a glass of the house red for Charlie and a light
beer for Grady. Charlie pinned him with a teasing look the instant the woman went to put their order in with the kitchen. “Now you have to tell me what you’re being reincarnated as.”
“Do you want the tame version or the dirty one?”
She rested her chin in her hand and cocked an eyebrow. “There’s a dirty version?”
“Uh huh. It involves Big Bob.”
It took a moment for the name to register. Once it did she gaped at him. “You want to come back as my vibrator?” She winced as the pinch-faced woman sitting at the table adjacent to them slashed a glare her way. Groaning, Charlie shifted her gaze to Grady and noticed he was valiantly attempting not to laugh. “I really didn’t mean to say it that loud.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and placed his hand to cover the side of his mouth. “She’s just jealous she doesn’t get some quality time with Big Bob.”
Charlie fidgeted with the stem of her wineglass. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“What? It’s probably true. She doesn’t look like she’s had a good screaming O in a long while. Would take care of that constipated expression in a heartbeat.”
She rolled her lips together to keep from chuckling. “You’re horrible. And I wasn’t referring to her. Let’s leave the poor woman out of our warped perviness. I meant you wanting to be Bob.”
“Big Bob. Don’t short change the fella like that. Jesus. Especially since I’ll be ruling those ten inches one day.” He draped his arm over the top edge of the tufted upholstery back. “Why can’t you believe it? Being the Big B would be the bomb diggity. I’d get to hang out in your underwear drawer. A daily siesta in your silkies, if you will. Then I’d get all these awesome field trips to the Holy Land. Only by Holy Land I really mean your—”
“Yes, I catch your drift.” Her face physically hurt from holding in her laughter. “Why oh why didn’t I stick with the tame version?”
“Because that one isn’t nearly as fun.”
“And what is it?” she demanded.
“A Thundercat. See? Completely boring.” He gave an exaggerated yawn.
“McHorny, you will never be boring.”