Comments were uttered about Bekka’s lack of a “domestic streak,” and her “unique nature,” that Corey still didn’t know Bekka had overheard, while he and Juanita were having coffee one morning, just after Corey and Bekka had moved in with her.
“Are you sure she is what you want, kiddo?”
The question, filled with doubt and uttered by Juanita, still caused a sharp pang in Bekka’s heart. She re-experienced that feeling of betrayal all over again.
“Of course, Mom.” Corey had put his coffee cup down too hard and he cursed when coffee sloshed over the sides. “You know that I’ve always been pretty damned unique, as you put it, too. I love Bekka, and we connect like no one I have ever been with. She’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“I just hope you don’t regret it down the road.”
Juanita’s suspicions toward Bekka had been like a cruel slap in the face. When the two women had met through Bekka’s uncle, Juanita had been so kind to her. Despite their age differences, and life differences, the two had gotten along very well, and Juanita had commented more than once on Bekka maturity and sharp intellect, and how well she’d be suited for her step-son, Corey.
“He’s into almost everything that you are, Bekka.”
Bekka still remembered the conversation over her afternoon break in the shop, when Juanita had come in to have coffee with her Uncle Gary. Juanita, only widowed two years at the time, had been casually seeing Bekka’s uncle at the time.
“Heavy music, horror, tattoos…in fact, he’s thinking about taking up a tattoo apprenticeship since the accident.” Bekka remembered the sadness in the older woman’s eyes.
She’d been hesitant to meet Corey at first. Bekka hated set ups, and she was no relationship guru. She’d grown up an awkward tomboy, raised by her father in Pincher Creek, Alberta, surrounded by rough-and-tumble farm boy cousins. She was one of six girls in her extended family of uncles, aunts, and cousins.
At five-foot-six and just over one hundred-twenty pounds, Bekka was a firm yet woman. Her body was used to hard work after years of helping her dad on her uncle’s farm. She was used to physical labor, and she craved that outlet to this day, either through a workout in the room she’d set aside as a small gym in the apartment, or a walk through the city on a warm spring day.
Her sculpted face, handed down from her Germanic and Celtic blood, had a strength to it that showed the scars of her life. She was no wilting flower, and at first Juanita had seemed to respect her for that, but after living with her over a three year period with Corey, she saw a side to Juanita that left Bekka distrustful of people, fearful of giving too much of herself, and feeling betrayed. Bekka walked out the door after a huge blowout between her, Corey, and Juanita locked her heart up tight, and while rebuilding her life in Moncton, she nursed this wound lashed upon her broken soul.
Bekka took one last look around the kitchen, locked Corey’s door, and moved out on to the concrete landing as she pulled the door shut behind her and tossed his keys into the plastic bag with his clothes.
***
After the big blow up that ended Bekka and Corey’s relationship, Juanita had come to where Bekka was staying with a friend to apologize.
“Please come back, Bekka,” she’d begged, tears streaking her mascara down her apple-round cheeks. “He’s lost without you.” She bent her head and swallowed before she continued, “He even tried…something, stupid.”
Bekka had guessed what that “something stupid” was. Corey had tried to take his own life after she’d left him. The thought made a cold fist of fear tighten in her stomach, and she’d agreed to come and see him.
Bekka had tried to tentatively patch things between her and Corey, but that tension left by the bitter words said between the three of them could never be relieved. It hung in the air, cloying and choking, especially between Bekka and Juanita when they were alone. Corey started treating his step-mom different. He was short and sharp with her. The tension mounted, and Corey confided his sole purpose to Bekka over and over.
“The tattoo shop in Rexton is growing. One more year, Bekka, and we can get our own place.”
But they didn’t make the year. When one of Bekka’s favorite aunts became ill, there was no choice but for her to rush to the city and help her cousin nurse her back to health. But Bekka’s aunt never made it, and six month later, after continuing their marriage via phone and trips back and forth between Moncton and Rexton, Bekka’s aunt succumbed to her sickness and passed on.
Bekka wasn’t the same after the death of her aunt, and she admitted that. She’d needed time alone, time to think. For a second time, because her head was in a strange place, she’d ended the relationship to stay in Moncton with her cousin and open her own book shop / gift store.
When she broke the news of her departure for a second time to Corey, his initial reaction had been one of hurt and wounded bewilderment. Why did she want to leave again when they’d just gotten back together? She hadn’t given him a fair chance.
“It’s not because of you or Juanita this time,” Bekka had tried to explain, but even her excuses sounded weak to her own ears. She was running away, because she feared losing another who was close to her. Her fear of abandonment went deep, and it reared its head that second time she’d called it quits, and she would be the first to admit that.
But now, with the odd phone call, and the woman stating Juanita had passed Corey’s number on to her, Bekka had to wonder if the games Juanita once played would start again. She sighed heavily as she walked up the final three stairs to her apartment, plastic bag filled with Corey’s clothes swinging low by her hip. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her and Corey alone and let them get on with their lives? Why did someone always have to have their nose in their business—namely, his step-mom.
Bekka opened the door and called out to Corey. His head popped up from the back of the couch and he flashed a brilliant smile as he stood, still naked as the day he was born.
He took the bag from her hand and bent to give her a quick kiss. “Thanks, hon. I’m just going to go get dressed in the bathroom.”
Corey went to walk away, but as he dropped his hand from hers Bekka gave a half-hearted smile. He frowned and stopped.
“You okay?” He tilted his head and examined her with a concerned gaze. “You look preoccupied. Like something is weighing on your mind.”
“I’m okay.” She waved him away, trying to appear nonchalant—not let her preoccupied thoughts show on her face. “You’re just paranoid, hon. I’m fine.”
Corey took her chin in his hand and tilted her gaze up to meet his. “You sure, Bekka? I know when you are deep in thought—lost somewhere else—and that sure is how you look right now.” His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed.
Bekka heaved a deep sigh, looked away from him and then looked back, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You forgot your smartphone at your place last night. Someone…” She cleared her throat, anticipating the fight she could feel brewing in the thick electricity that now filled the air about them. “Someone texted you while I was getting your clothes—some woman. She said Juanita had given her your phone number.”
He stared at her, blank-faced, for a minute or two, and she stared back, feeling numb and nervous. Her gut churned like she was back on the Zipper at the East Coast Amusements Carnival.
“Did she give a name?” His voice was thick, and it cracked on his last word, making Bekka strain to hear it.
Bekka fidgeted her fingers near her waist and looked away from Corey again. “I…I can’t remember.” She bit her lip. “I got angry when I read the message and I erased it.”
He chuckled lightly and took her into his arms. Bekka’s stomach tightened when his warm, flaccid cock brushed against her jean-clad thigh.
“Don’t let it worry you, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. “And I don’t care that you erased the message.”
Bekka pulled back from his relaxed grip and looked into his e
yes as she bit her lip. “But…” She paused. She didn’t want to make this into a big affair and have another angry spat break out between her and Corey when they were just starting to smooth things out, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel hurt at Juanita’s action. If she knew Corey was here to patch things up with her, what was she doing giving his number over to strange women?
Corey sighed a heavy sigh and buried a hand in her hair. He tugged her head back gently so she had to meet his gaze. “But what, Bekka? I can hear your wheels turning, and you won’t be settled about this, I know. Remember.” He shook a finger at her. “You promised to be straight up with me this time, all the time.”
Part of her wanted to desperately bite back the fears, the uncertainties, clawing at the back of her throat, burning in her gut. And she had promised Corey she’d be upfront this time. “It just seems a bit strange…” She thought about how to word this tactfully. “I mean, you asked Juanita to come here and track me down.” Looking up, Bekka saw the restrained tension in his face and she dropped her gaze back to her hands. “And now she’s giving your number out to some woman, who says she went out with you—”
“I honestly have no idea who she could be, sweetheart.” Then he pulled his gaze away, tapped his bottom lip, and he seemed to be hiding something. “I haven’t been out on any dates with anyone.”
Bekka frowned, hating herself for being suspicious. “We weren’t together. It’s okay if you did see someone.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t interested in being with anyone but you. Maybe she’s some former client who’s got a crush on me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Bekka wasn’t ready to let it go yet. “But why would Juanita give your number to her?”
He rolled his eyes at the ceiling as he took his bag of clothes from Bekka and started to get dressed. “How do you know this chick wasn’t lying? She could’ve gotten the number from anyone, really. Even Sarah, who owns the Rexton shop now. Maybe she just knows Juanita and figured I’d text back if she dropped my step-mom’s name.”
The explanation sounded lame to Becka. The knot in her gut had only grown tighter. So, she thought. Nothing had changed after all. Corey may have moved out to the city on his own, but he might as well still be living with Juanita. She was controlling his life from afar, by the looks of things. And he was still defending her when she was clearly guilty. Plus he was hiding something about this woman.
Before she could stop herself, Bekka blurted out, “You’re lying, and Juanita is still meddling.”
Corey let out a long sigh and his hands dropped from her arms. Bekka’s stomach dropped like a stone, but she found she didn’t regret the words. Perhaps they were blunt and a tad heartless, but they were truthful, and wasn’t that what he had asked of her with this second chance?
“Look.” He tucked a finger beneath her chin and raised her face so that she had to meet his gaze. “I promise I’m telling the truth. I have no idea who could be texting me. And since you deleted it anyway, let’s forget about it. I doubt Juanita’s out giving my number to strange women.. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, is going to come between you and I this time.”
Bekka wanted desperately to believe him, but putting his foot down with Juanita was something he’d promised in the past, and Corey had never delivered on his promise. Every time he’d start in on laying down boundaries with Juanita, somehow, someway, she’d lay a guilt trip in Corey’s lap and sweet talk around his admonishment. Instead of voicing her doubt, however, Bekka just nodded and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. From the angry flash in Corey’s eyes, her body language was enough to speak her disbelief.
“What do you want from me?” He wrapped his hands around her arms and his fingers bit into her flesh. She winced and jerked back, and he apologized as he loosened his grip. “I can sign a paper filled with guarantees—whatever the hell you want—what will it take to convince you?”
Sadly, she shook her head and moved away. “I don’t know if you can. Maybe it would just be better if you go for now.” She yanked her stare from his deeply hurt gaze. “I need some time alone, and I really need to think for a while. A lot has happened fast.” Bekka glanced up at the clock. Anywhere but his eyes. “And, anyway, you better get going. Look at the time.”
Corey ran a slow hand through his long dark locks and shook his head. Taking quick strides away from her, he walked into the kitchen and snatched his jacket off the back of one of the chairs. Yanking it on as he opened the door, Corey charged out of the apartment without another word, or even a goodbye.
This time, Bekka knew it was over for good. She couldn’t get her hopes up again only to have them dashed. She would not show up tomorrow for the tattoo appointment, and if Corey decided to come over to see why, she’d let him know then that there was no hope of a second chance.
***
Chapter 8
Corey stalked to the back of his tattoo shop and up the wooden, creaky stairs to his apartment. The two bedroom suite upstairs was recently refurbished since the building was a heritage structure, build in the late 1800s in Moncton’s then booming fishing and farming days.
It was in beautiful shape, with light oak wainscoting and old-fashioned wallpaper. Corey had always been a fan of all things old and historic, just like Bekka. He had an appreciation for their timeless charm. It seemed a part of you journeyed back when you walked into the kitchen, with its old wood heated stove in one corner and a more modern oven near the dishwasher.
Despite his rough and tumble look, Corey was an excellent cook and had a great eye for taste and design,. Something Bekka had always appreciated in him. They were both of a contrary nature—a perfect fit for each other, with his soft side complimenting the rawer, rougher side of his personality. Bekka too had a rough, raw exterior when he met her (still did—the girl was tough), but a sweet, warm heart deep inside.
Quite thinking about her! he scolded himself. For the moment, he wanted to clear his thoughts, his head, and envisioning Bekka only caused a storm of electric emotions stirring through him like a cyclone—anger, love, lust, fear, and worry. What if he had lost her? What if he could never convince her that, this time, it would be just her and him. Even if it meant putting his foot down rather firmly with his step-mom, Corey would do whatever it took to get his Bekka back.
As he threw himself on the couch and shrugged out of his leather coat, Corey wondered if Bekka would show up for her tattoo appointment tomorrow. A stab of expected disappointment at her ditching the scheduled tattoo work made him pick his smartphone off the coffee table in front of the forest green couch. He punched his step-mother’s number into the keypad and heaved a deep sigh as the connection gave a mechanical, purring ring.
***
Jamie took the stairs up to Bekka’s apartment two at a time. He’d crept out the back of the tattoo parlor when Juanita had knocked on the front glass door. A huge fight was about to burst. He could tell by the incensed look on Corey face. The big man had been pacing and grumbling on and off all morning, and he’d tossed a few thundercloud glares Jamie’s way when he’d made a few minor mistakes on a practice skin he was working on.
Jamie had just arrived for work that day when Corey had been on the phone with his step-mom. He’d heard the yelling coming through the door and he had thought about turning around and leaving until the fire cooled. His buddy was in a rage, by the sounds of it. Corey’s mood was already sour, since Bekka hadn’t showed up for her tattoo appointment on Sunday—although he had confessed to Jamie that he hadn’t expect her to show anyway. Corey was a quiet, patient guy most days, but if something really got at him, gnawed and chewed enough, he could explode.
He knew, from picking up loud snippets of the conversation as he came closer to the door, that the fight with Juantia was over something to do with Bekka. Jamie’s stomach tightened and he waited outside a good ten minutes before he entered the tattoo shop, counting out the silence after he heard the phone slam into something when Core
y threw it.
With no more clients booked that night, they’d closed up the shop early, and Jamie suspected his raging friend had planned on getting pissed alone as soon as he headed up to his apartment.
So when Juanita tapped on the door just after 10 PM, peeking around the CLOSED sign, her timing had been terribly off. As Corey’s gaze fell on her tentative, half-guilty smile through the clear glass, Jamie heard the unmistakable low growl erupt from deep in his friend’s throat.
Jamie couldn’t blame Corey for his anger at his step-mom. She was a great lady—had a heart of gold—but she had a tendency to be very overprotective of Corey and meddlesome. Corey tried to be as patient as he could with her smothering, gently putting his foot down when it was an absolute must, but things had come to a point where Jamie knew harsh words were about to fly.
He needed a diversion. Something to stop the fight from escalating to a point where things were said that could scar the relationship. And he hoped that seeing Bekka, and Bekka hearing what the argument was over, would show her how much Corey really did need her back. He couldn’t handle working with a big angry Russian who could kick his ass in a heartbeat for the next twenty years. Corey was his best buddy, but the tension today and last night, when he was around the usually gentle bear of a man, was unbelievably thick.
Jamie swallowed over the lump in his throat when his third knock went unanswered. “Come on Bekka, please.” He’d watched her close up shop and walk around the back of the sturdy, red brick building. She’d headed straight up to her apartment, and her car was still in the back lot.
Bekka opened the door, wearing a worn, almost see-through blue t-shirt and a pair of torn up old jeans. She had a mop in one hand and wore bright yellow cleaning gloves.
Her face went from annoyed to surprised when she saw Jamie. “Hey, kiddo. What the heck are you doing here?”
He blushed a bit as his eyes inadvertently drifted downward and Jamie caught the swell of her breasts, spilling over what looked to be a black underwire bra, through her thin t-shirt. Jamie yanked his gaze to her face and stammered, “Bekka…I—oh, hell, I know you and Corey had a fight about something, ’cause he’s been walking around like a bear with a sore ass for two days.” Jamie took his baseball cap off and ran a shaky hand over his short blond hair. “But Corey called Juanita and they must’ve had one hell of a fight earlier, ’cause she just showed up at the shop looking worried as hell, and Corey looks ’bout ready to spit fire.”
Shifters & Bad Boys Bundle (Shifters & Bad Boys. Man love, bdsm, and rockstar romance. Book 1) Page 42