Twist (The Brazen Bulls MC Book 2)

by Susan Fanetti

  “Yeah, sorry.” She picked up her glass and took a sip. “I was just thinking—is there a place to buy bike stuff?”

  “Well, yeah,” Joanna answered. “What do you need?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. I need Gunner’s gift, but I don’t know what to do for him. I was thinking maybe I could find something for his bike.”

  All four women at the table with her laughed out loud, in nearly perfect unison. Maddie threw her head back and clapped her hands over her belly. Leah was instantly self-conscious—and pissed off. “Why’s that funny?”

  “Baby girl,” Maddie said, still snickering. “Don’t ever try to buy something for his bike.”

  The other women, smiling broadly, shook their heads in agreement. Before Leah could ask why not, Willa said, “There’s no way you’d get what he wanted unless he told you specifically what to buy—and even then, he probably wouldn’t be happy that he didn’t get to buy it himself. These guys—their bikes are like their children. We’re lucky we’re allowed to ride with them.”

  “Well, that sucks. All he likes is bikes and cars. It’s our first Christmas. I want to have something special for him. But I haven’t worked in almost two months, so I don’t have much money, either.”

  She had a strong suspicion that he was going to give her a ring for Christmas, and she was terrified that she’d be standing there offering him nothing but light-up Rudolph boxer shorts and a coffee mug fashioned to look like a chrome tailpipe.

  “Bike shit is pricey as hell anyway, Leah,” Joanna said. “I tell you what—at Utica, there’s some fun gift shops. We’ll help you find something perfect. As for the job: you ever work retail?”

  Leah shook her head. “Just office stuff. Working for my dad at church and then as the mayor’s secretary.”

  “You good with computers, then?”

  “I’m okay. With, like, Word and Excel, yeah. A little bit with QuickBooks at church, too. Why, do you know somebody who needs office help? I type a hundred-ten words a minute.” Leah’s heartbeat picked up its pace; she’d been trying hard not to panic about not having a job—or knowing how to find one. The only paying job she’d ever had had been handed to her.

  “No, but I’ve got two salesgirls leaving me after the holidays, and none of my temp help is good enough to make permanent. You could come work with me after the new year. If you can do a little bookkeeping, too, that’d be great. I fucking despise doing the books. Cecily was doing them for me, but now she’s working at her school, and Clara is away at college, too, now—she’s hopeless at math, anyway.”

  That sounded both terrifying—what if she sucked and embarrassed herself in front of Joanna?—and too good to be true. “I don’t have any retail experience at all, Joanna. Except for bake sales at church, I’ve never sold anything. I don’t even know how to use a cash register.”

  Joanna smiled and reached out to pat her hand. “I can teach you the register in ten minutes. Retail is an on-the-job-training sitch. You’re pretty, and you’re sweet and friendly. You dress well, and clothes look good on that body of yours. Jesus, I’d pay a mint for those tits and that tiny waist. Trust me, honey—you wear the shop’s stock, and you could do nothing but stand there like a fucking mannequin and still improve my bottom line. You interested?”

  She was—she was near tears with relief, in fact—but she was also anxious. “Are you sure? You wouldn’t rather hire somebody who knew what they were doing?”

  Joanna’s smile faded out, and she leaned close. When she reached a hooked finger out and caught the neckline of Leah’s V-neck sweater, pulling it out and down, and revealing a lot of cleavage and part of her bra, Leah jumped and gasped.

  “You see that?” Joanna asked, sounding more aggressive than Leah was prepared to deal with.

  Looking down at her own chest, Leah nodded. Just above her left bra cup, peeking out from the lace trim, was her new tattoo: a heart, one side made of flame, in bright red, yellow, and orange, and the other side made of wind, in shades of blue. Gunner’s name was written in black script through the center.

  She’d never thought she’d have a tattoo, but she loved this one. It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as she’d been afraid it would, but she’d expected the during to be the hard part, not the after. The outrageous itching had nearly driven her insane, and then it had flaked and peeled and been generally gross. But Gunner said the healing was about over, and it did look pretty again.

  He had a new tattoo as well, on his left forearm: her name, in elaborate lettering, above a quote from the Song of Solomon: I found the one whom my soul loves. Gunner and God weren’t exactly close; she knew he’d picked a Bible verse because it meant something to her.

  “Yeah,” she answered Joanna.

  “That makes you family, honey. We’re a family. We stand with each other, always. You have a need, we help you fill it. Whatever it is. Giving you a job at my shop is easy—that’s a need for both of us. So you in?”

  Leah didn’t need to think any more about it. “Yeah. Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Joanna flicked her hand and waved Leah’s thanks off. The server came to the table just then, rolling a cart with their entrees, and the conversation turned to the food. As they dug in to their lunch, Leah studied the women around the table with her. They were older than she; all but Willa were old enough to be her mother. They all mothered her.

  That filled a need for her as well.

  ~oOo~

  Gunner worried all the time that Leah was sad about her father—and she was. But it was a strange, dull kind of sadness that she didn’t fully comprehend. It was like a steady weight that spread evenly over her consciousness, heavy enough to notice but light enough not to impede her progress through her days. The most painful part was her guilt. Her father was dead. That weight should have been heavier. Right?

  On Christmas morning, as she stood at the butcher-block island in the Wessons’ farmhouse kitchen, peeling potatoes and dropping them into an old cast-iron Dutch oven, Leah wondered if there was something wrong with her. Her entire life had been blown off the face of the earth. She was an orphan, for all intents and purposes. She was broke. She had almost nothing that Gunner hadn’t given her.

  But she was happy—happier than she’d ever been. Ever in her whole life. She loved her father, and she missed him, but she didn’t need him. She’d never needed him. He’d held her back. The new family she had now, with Gunner, already that family held her up in ways she’d never experienced.

  She felt like she stood at the head of a new path. It rolled out before her, lush and green, and a crowd of people who loved her stood at her back, ready to follow her on her journey.

  One man stood at her side, holding her hand.

  She looked at her left hand and wiggled her fingers, making the simple oval diamond glitter on its slender golden band. As expected, Gunner had given her a ring that morning. They weren’t setting a date, but they had committed to each other, in ink and in stone.

  Leah hoped he’d like the gift she’d figured out for him; though they’d exchanged gifts that morning, sitting on the floor next to their little Christmas tree, she was making him wait until that night, when they were home again, to give him the most important one.

  In the living room now, Gunner and his father were arguing good-naturedly over politics, parsing out the recent election. Country Christmas carols blared from the Wessons’ ancient stereo system that Sam called his ‘hi-fi.’ Deb was in the dining room, setting the table. The turkey was in the oven, and the whole kitchen was a colorful, aromatic riot of meal preparation.

  When her mother had lived with them, Leah could remember holidays something like this, with Christmas gifts in the morning, a festive church service after, and a joyful meal in the afternoon. But those memories were faded and cracked with age. Every year since, she’d helped her father get himself back in one piece so he could struggle through a service. Then they’d gone to a congregant’s house for Christmas dinner. He’d n
ever forgotten to give her presents, but she’d opened them in a quiet house, while he’d sat in his chair with his head on his hand.

  He’d been so sad for so long. Gunner hated him and insisted that he’d been weak, but Leah now understood that he’d been in active grief all that time. She didn’t understand why he’d never tried to be better, and she probably never would, but she suspected that she herself had been a factor. She’d made it possible for him to stay broken. She’d never shown him that she needed him, and she’d helped him pretend to be okay.

  That wasn’t her fault; she’d been a child and known no better, and she’d filled a role she shouldn’t have been expected to fill, but it was still true. Maybe if she hadn’t taken care of him, he would have seen that she’d needed him to take care of her.

  Now, though, she saw how twisted and broken their life had been. She saw how much she’d missed. More than any secret life lived in snatches of sneaking dark could possibly have replaced.

  Deb came into the kitchen as Leah set the Dutch oven on the range and started the burner.

  “Oh, good. You got the potatoes on. Let’s see…” Deb counted on her fingers. “Turkey’s got about forty-five minutes. Potatoes are ready to boil. Stuffing’s done. Cranberries are setting in the fridge. Bread’s in the warmer. We need to get the vegetables in the little oven in about ten minutes, and then I think we’re good. Wow. This is a lot easier with another set of hands.”

  “It’s a lot of food for just the four of us—you did all this for three before?”

  “Sure. It’s fun, and Dad will eat leftovers until they’re about petrified. Plus, Max—he’d stand in front of the open fridge and eat a whole turkey in one go if you let him.”

  Leah laughed. It was true; Gunner could seriously eat. He never gained weight, though. She figured it was his boundless energy, which got pretty intense sometimes. Whatever he felt, he felt it at one-hundred percent. Love, joy, anger, dismay—good or bad, her man felt it all, without buffer or filter, and then tried to keep all that emotion contained in a way he thought of as ‘normal.’ When he couldn’t contain it, he did things like pick fights with much bigger guys.

  Or he came to her. She could calm him down without much effort. Sometimes, he’d just kneel before her, wrap his arms around her waist, and be still, and she could feel the hum inside him whir until it stopped.

  He needed her. But he also stood strong when she needed him. Those arms that held onto her lifted her up as well.

  And that, as far as she could tell, made them perfect together.

  ~oOo~

  Now that the time had come, Leah was having a crowd of second thoughts. And third, fourth, fifth thoughts. “Okay, this might be really stupid.”

  Gunner sat cross-legged on the middle of their bed, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. He smirked at her. “You made me wait all fucking day for my present. You don’t get to back out now.” He flicked his fingers in a beckoning gesture. “C’mere. Gimme.”

  Holding the heavy box she’d so carefully wrapped, Leah hesitated. What if he hated it? What if he didn’t understand? It was nowhere near as expensive as the beautiful ring he’d given her, or the pretty underwear sets, or the leather jacket. She’d had to go out shopping on her own to put it together, because she hadn’t known how to explain the idea that had struck her while she and the other old ladies had been shopping at Utica Square.

  Oh gosh, this could blow up in a hundred different ways and ruin their first Christmas together.

  She swallowed hard. “If you don’t like it, I’ll completely understand.”

  “Leah, fuck! Just let me open the fucking thing.”

  Still worried, she went to the bed and handed him the box. He tore the paper without noticing the wrapping job. That was okay; she’d had fun making it pretty anyway.

  Grabbing his pocketknife from the nightstand, he sliced through the tape and opened the box.

  Oh please, don’t be mad.

  His eyes came up and found hers. The furrow between his eyebrows didn’t suggest happiness. “Leah?”

  Her heart pounded. “Okay, now I’m worried it’s dumb. Gosh, it might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m kinda new at giving gifts like this. I was trying to do something special.”

  “Books? You got me books?” He reached in and drew out one of the topmost novels: A Game of Thrones. “I can’t read these. I told you I’m not doing those dumb classes.”

  He was hurt; she could hear it. “No, wait. Wait. I’m going to read them. To you. That’s my present. I picked a bunch of books I thought you’d like, and I thought we could snuggle up at night and I’d read them to you. That’s my real present.”

  For far longer than was comfortable, he only stared at her, blinking, and Leah thought she’d cry. “It’s dumb. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…I just thought…I…I wanted…” No clear thought would come out of her mouth. She’d wanted to give him something he couldn’t have on his own.

  “Martin used to read to me. He read most of my homework to me, and he read the books he was reading for fun, too.”

  “I know.” That was how the idea had come to her, standing in the bookstore, looking at a copy of Dune, remembering his story about Martin reading to him. She’d thought she could give him something like that, but now she saw that she was stomping all over a memory he had of his twin. And also highlighting his troubles with reading.

  She was such an idiot.

  He peered into the box again and began pulling out novels. Using the kind of movies and video games he liked as her guide, she’d chosen a lot of fantasy novels, and some science fiction, too. And some horror. And one baseball book, about a pitcher, she remembered reading in high school. Some she’d read, and others she’d heard of. One or two had been selected on the strength of the description on the back cover alone.

  “You’re going to read these to me?”

  “I’m so sorry, Gun. I had this dumb picture in my head of you lying with your head in my lap while I read. I thought it was romantic, but now I see I’m just stupid.”

  “You’re not. It is—romantic, I mean. Leah…this is…fuck, this is so sweet.”

  “It is? You’re not mad?”

  He put the books back in the box and set the box on the floor, then pushed the discarded wrapping off the bed as well. “I won’t lie—at first, I was ready to be pissed. But no, I’m not mad.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Thank you. It’s perfect. You are perfect.”

  Relief burst from her body in a broken sob, and a few tears slid down her cheeks. The anxiety swirled out of her blood and left her feeling woozy.

  “Aw, c’mere, baby,” he crooned and pulled her onto his lap. She clenched her arms around his neck and held on.

  His hands glided over her hair, down her back, over her ass, her legs, up her sides, making long, soothing laps. His head rested against hers, his mouth on her temple. “This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” he whispered, his beard brushing her cheek.

  She didn’t move her face from against his throat as she answered, “Mine, too.”

  “It’s not over yet, though. Still got a couple of hours to go.” He fisted the hem of her t-shirt and slid it up her back.

  Leah sat up and wiped her cheeks. “That’s true.” Lifting her arms over her head, she let Gunner pull her shirt off. Without taking his eyes from hers, he tossed it away.

  “You know what I’d like for my last present?” He pushed his hand into the front of her panties, and she gasped and tensed as his coarse fingers slid over her clit and delved into her. “Fuck, feel that. So ready. You want me, baby?”

  “You like to call me baby.” She pulled on his beard. When his mouth met hers, she nibbled on his lips.

  “Yeah, I do. You’re my baby. To love and take care of. Just mine.”

  She felt like she was his, and she felt cared for. “Then you’re my baby, too. Just mine.”

  He grinned. “That’s fine with me. You ta
ke good care of me.” His fingers pushed more deeply and struck the best spot inside her. When he rubbed there, flexing his fingertips harder, she arched her back and felt herself get even wetter. His chuckle told her that he’d felt that, too.

  His head dropped to her chest. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, closing his teeth around it in exactly the right way. Leah grabbed his head in both hands, snagging her fingers through his dark curls, and held him to her. Her hips rocked and bounced, moving against the pounding pressure of his hand, and her back arched, forcing her breast against his face.

  “You know what I want?” he purred against her breast. “I want you to straddle me right here so I can suck your perfect pink tits while you ride my cock. What d’ya say, baby?”

  As she got up to shed her panties, he pushed his sweatpants off, and his wonderful cock sprang free, at full, engorged attention. She spread her legs over his thighs, and he grabbed her, helping her settle on his cock and get her legs around his hips on the bed.