Sarah’s other hand runs up my back to my shoulder.
“I can help you with this tension,” she croons seductively.
Funny, my dick’s as limp as a noodle. All Emily has to do is breathe and I’m ready to go…for days. This admittedly sexy woman has her hands on me and I want nothing to do with her. I get ready to explain that to her when Clyde stomps in from the back.
He’s looking down as he wipes his grease-stained hands on a rag. When he looks up, he locks confused eyes with me. Sarah stops molesting my shoulder and hitches her arm through mine, leaning her weight against my side.
“Hey, Sarah,” he says after a few moments of trying to figure out what’s going on.
“Working on your truck again, Clyde?” she asks in a chipper voice.
“Always workin’ on that thing.”
He stops in front of us and stares at her arm that I’m trying to ignore.
“What can we do for you?”
“My stall’s broken. I went to the storage unit today and the wood’s all messed up. I need a new one for the Fall Festival,” she explains, squeezing my arm tightly.
I can’t hit a woman.
Could I shove one?
No.
Fuck.
“Kinda late notice for us, Sarah. We finished takin’ those orders a few weeks ago.”
“I just figured I could owe you.” She looks up at me with brown, slanted bedroom eyes that make my stomach turn. I’m not in the habit of taking sexual favors for my work. And I’m sure as shit not starting with this bitch.
“I’ll see if we can throw somethin’ together for you. Garrett needs to get back to it, so I’ll finish this up.”
He wants her off me almost as much as I do.
Her free hand rubs across my abs, causing me to tense. She thinks I’m showing off based on her continued contact. I can’t take it anymore so I place a hand over hers and remove it from my body. Then I uncurl from her arm.
“Be back,” I say to Clyde.
He nods stiffly.
I brush past Sarah without uttering a word as she tries to tell me goodbye. When my feet hit the asphalt, I take a cleansing breath away from her toxic perfume that was suffocating me. Then I briskly walk to my car. I always park behind the shops. We have enough space to fit a few cars and Clyde likes to work on his truck back here. We use it for loading and unloading too. It’s isolated with only a narrow alley leading in and out. None of the other shop owners use the area and don’t seem to care that we monopolize the space.
I rip the door open on my black 1969 Chevy Camaro ZL1. Only sixty-nine built and a life of crime afforded me the ability to buy one. I shouldn’t get a prize like this, but I have it and I’d kill anyone who tried to take it from me.
The engine roars to life and I fly down the alley toward Emily’s walking path. I try to calm the rage building in my chest. She’s all gung ho to get in Devlin’s face, but when it comes to her own safety from her stalker ex, she takes no care. It pisses me the fuck off.
I’m guessing she can make it to her place in fifteen or twenty minutes on foot. I should catch her on her street.
But I don’t.
I pull up in front of her small red brick house and find it unoccupied. I could break in and wait for her. That’s not weird or anything. I decide to make another loop.
When I hit the bottom of the hill that leads up to the leafy road to Emily’s, I spot her. She’s standing in the front yard of an older couple jumping around with a little boy. I cut the engine and watch her.
Her cheek is creased from her dimple as she and the little boy dive belly first into two massive piles of leaves. With the window down, I can hear her throaty laugh, but I’m too far away to watch her gold-flecked eyes light up. I know they are though.
My anger is gone. All I feel is warmth watching this glowing ball of light frolicking around a front yard truly happy and carefree. The little boy is covering her in leaves now. She pops up and grabs him, growling and tickling. His squeals are great, but they don’t compare to her boisterous chuckles.
I watch her until she helps the little boy up and follows, who I’m guessing are, his grandparents into the little blue house. I wait for a while and decide I can leave. She’s safe. She’s happy. She doesn’t need me or my shit.
I head home instead of returning to the shop. Clyde has it covered and I don’t feel like dealing with Sarah again if she’s waiting around.
I make the twenty minute drive to my place count. I focus on Devlin and what him owing me a marker means. I think through the reasons he was willing to give it to me. He said Jenna isn’t trouble, but where his club goes, trouble follows. His woman didn’t look the type to be an old lady. She looked like she belonged on the glossy pages of magazines. Devlin seemed certain she was his woman though.
I pull into my garage and roll out of my ride. I have a massive three-car garage so I can work on projects and engines when I want. The house isn’t much to look at. It’s an old farmhouse that had seen better days before I picked it up for a steal.
I was smart with my money before I got locked up. I kept most of it in cash hidden around the Midwest under aliases. When I was arrested, I had fifteen identities and that many safe deposit boxes. I knew they were coming for me so I destroyed any evidence of my false lives and gave everything important to Clyde. He kept it safe and spent a week shuttling me around to retrieve my money once I was out.
I never stole from good people once I took the lead away from my dad. He didn’t care if we were robbing the rich or the poor. A score was a score as far as he was concerned. I didn’t feel that way. One, if I’m doing the work, I want the biggest payoff. Two, I grew up poor. There was no way I could take from people who had nothing.
I mainly stole large electronics shipments before the local mob could get their hands on them. I also intercepted quite a few drug runs from Mexico. I never went after cartel drugs. I’m not stupid. I went after small drug outfits. That’s how I know Devlin. I’d boost the product and his old man would move it through his channels. It was a good relationship.
I flip on my kitchen lights and dig through the fridge for a beer. I missed beer in prison. Hot days, cold days, holidays…it didn’t matter. I wanted a beer. Clyde stopped at the closest bar when I got out and bought me a beer. I never told him I needed that, he just knew. I knew then I loved the man.
I flop onto my dark brown leather recliner and drain my beer before twisting the cap off another one. I ran out of my shop to yell at Emily for walking home. I’ve officially lost my mind. I have no right to act like that. She’s not my woman. I’ve interacted with her once. I’ve watched her like a stalker for six months, but that doesn’t mean I know her.
I feel like I do though. I know how she takes her coffee. I know she’s a morning person. I know she loves fiercely. I know she’s protective of those she loves. I know her mother died a few years ago and she used her inheritance to come up here and open her shop (Clyde told me). I know she has a small birthmark just below her ear that’s light brown in the shape of a coffee stain. I know she chews her thumb when she’s nervous. I know her body fits with mine like she was built with me in mind. I know Adam broke her heart. I know she’s too good for me. I know I have to keep my distance from her or I’ll end up making a mistake that could cost us both. I know I’ll never hurt Emily. Never.
I decided to come to the shop early this morning. I had a hard time sleeping so there was no point puttering around the house when I could be here getting work done. Being here also affords me the opportunity to watch Emily have her morning coffee before her shop opens.
She watches the river valley every day from the table where all the dates happen. She looks nostalgic while she does it, like she’s remembering something pure. I wonder if she had a date at that table that makes her feel that way or if it’s the scenery that brings the glint to her eyes.
Putting the last of her coffee to her lips, she smiles broadly before pushing to her feet and unlocki
ng the front door of her shop. It won’t take ten minutes for the line to be to the door. People in the town and even more from the whole county love Emily’s Coffee & Cakes. I’ve never been, but according to Clyde, I’ve committed a cardinal sin not experiencing it. I’m good at avoiding temptation and I’m not talking about coffee and cakes.
I watch the line begin to form and then I focus on the bookshelves for the Blankenships. Four sets of Ash to be built into their study. They look good as I begin to carve the intricate moldings that will surround them once they’re installed.
My gaze still flicks up any time Emily’s door opens. It doesn’t distract me. I’m not even aware I’m doing it. I will be one day when I saw off a finger because I’m obsessively watching Emily. Maybe then I’ll stop. Until then, I’ll keep flicking my eyes to her glass and cherry door.
“That woman is a pain in the ass,” Clyde announces, lumbering into the shop.
“Who?” I grunt.
“Sarah Bellefonte.”
“No shit.”
“She hung around the store chattin’ up a storm after you took off. Then she looked like a lost puppy when you didn’t come back to take her up on her blowjobs for festival stalls offer.”
If I laughed, I’d be laughing now.
“I’m gonna make her up somethin’ quick. I suggest you stay in the shop from now until the festival if you wanna avoid her. Woman’s got her eye on you,” he warns, running his thumbs under his overall straps.
He waits for me to respond, but I keep carving. He takes off his ten-year-old John Deere hat and runs his hand over his mostly baldhead before asking, “What’d Devlin want?”
“Not much.”
“Care to fill me in, boy?”
“No.”
“So I trust he wasn’t askin’ you to boost a shipment.”
“No.”
“You gotta be done with that, Garrett. FBI gets wind of you dealin’ with Devlin and you’re back up state,” he warns.
“I’m done.”
He watches me for a moment longer and then replaces his hat, striding to the plywood.
“Makin’ Sarah the shittiest stall ever,” he says through a happy snort. “That bitch’ll be horrified.”
We go about working side by side in silence, only interrupted by a few customers who Clyde heads into the store to help. Engines are my first love, but wood is a close second. My grandfather taught me about carpentry and carving. I would sit in front of his trailer and whittle wood with him from the time I could hold a knife.
He couldn’t stay sober long enough to hold down a job, but he worked construction his whole life. Getting fired and laid off often. When he was sober, the man could craft works of art with his hands. He died when I was so deep in the life I hadn’t spent any time with him in years. I regret that.
When I was in prison, I had a lot of free time. I made use of the library and got my GED. Then I spent the better part of eight years reading. I read everything I could get my hands on about architecture and building. By the time I opened this shop, I had so many ideas Clyde thought I was doing speed. I filled the store with the things that my mind had been creating for almost a decade with no outlet. It didn’t make me happy, but it was satisfying.
Clyde comes back in the shop to put the finishing touches on Sarah’s ugly stall. That’s about all I can say about it. It’s ugly. He’s purposely doing a bad job. I don’t know why he dislikes her so much. I don’t think she put the moves on him, but I wouldn’t put it past her.
The door to Emily’s shop opens and I spot Jenna floating inside. I can’t see her face, but her stick figure body is hard to miss. I prefer meat on the bones of a woman. Some softness and curves like Emily has. What I would do to her body. I groan internally and shift so my dick isn’t getting smashed into my zipper anymore.
I have to stop thinking about Emily. It’s not doing me any favors. I need to go back to stealing her warmth and then letting her go. I’ll watch her for the next week while I watch Jenna and then I’ll go back to normal. I can’t keep torturing myself. I’m a hardened motherfucker, but she threatens to melt that hardness away. That’s a risk I can’t take.
I can’t.
“Jesus, that was a rush,” Jordan huffs, flopping onto a stool on the other side of the marble worktable.
“It’s cold out. People always come in when it’s cold,” I remind him as I load up muffins and pumpkin bread from the racks.
We have been crazy busy since we opened this morning. Jordan and I manage just fine on our own most of the time, but today I thought I might need to call in Beverly or Arlene.
They work on Sundays so Jordan and I can each have a day off. I still come in and bake, but then I go home and enjoy the day. I’m usually with Jordan on my days off. I used to spend that time with Adam. He loved Sundays. I always thought it was because we were together, but I think it was because he had spent Saturday night with some other woman. I didn’t stay with him on Saturday nights because I had to be up early to bake and he didn’t like to be disturbed. Or so he claimed.
I shake off those nasty thoughts and plaster a smile on my face. There’s no point thinking about him and what we didn’t have. It’s over now.
“Are you going to explain that situation yesterday to me?” I ask with a quirked brow.
Jordan’s been avoiding the topic of how he knows Caleb. I’ve asked him about twenty times and every time he changes the subject or finds a distraction. I’ve got him now.
“Em, it’s a long story. You know about my old man. I know Caleb through him. I’m not keepin’ shit from you so wipe that sad look off your face. You’re my best friend and you fuckin’ know me,” he growls with irritation.
I know Jordan’s father was in a motorcycle club and was murdered. Jordan found his father and that left scars. I don’t know much else. Jordan doesn’t like to talk about it and I don’t push him.
“Is Caleb in Mayhem?” I ask quietly.
I talked to Jenna last night for about fifteen minutes. She said she was fine and spent five minutes trying to apologize for causing a scene. When I convinced her there wasn’t an issue, she sounded relieved. Then we talked about her modeling and starting college this year. We didn’t discuss Caleb. Maybe we should have.
“He’s the president of Mayhem.”
I nod.
“I’m gonna go out for a smoke. You good for a few on your own?”
“Go ahead,” I huff.
I hate that he smokes and the smirk on his face says he doesn’t care that I hate it. He rounds the table and crushes me in his arms before kissing my hair firmly.
“What was that for?” I ask as he releases me.
“I can’t hug you?”
“You know you can always hug me, Jordan.”
“Damn straight I can. You’re my girl,” he retorts with a lazy smile as he saunters outside.
I back my way out of the kitchen teetering two trays of goodies as I go. The bells tinkle as I turn around and I find Jenna floating in. She looks better today, a little pink in the cheeks. Happy.
“Hi, honey,” I call out. “Let me put this stuff away and then I’ll help you.”
She smiles that big broad grin at me and I beam one right back at her. I spy her setting up a laptop and some books on a table near the counter. Then she meets me at the register as I finish filling the display case.
“Cappuccino?”
“Yeah.”
“You look good, Jenna. Better than yesterday,” I compliment.
“I had a good night,” she responds with a blush creeping up her face.
“With Caleb?” I ask with an eyebrow wiggle.
She snickers at me before nodding.
“I’m glad you had a good night, honey.”
I turn away from her and make her drink. She gets a tulip in her foam, blooming love.
“I didn’t think you’d be happy about Caleb and me,” she whispers to avoid the ears of the other patrons.
“Why?”
“You didn’t seem too fond of him yesterday.”
“You were scared and I was being protective. I don’t know Caleb. If he makes you happy and keeps you safe, I’m not one to judge,” I explain.
I don’t care if he’s the president of Mayhem. My mother taught me not to judge and I don’t. I try to get to know people before deciding how I feel about them. I know Jordan was involved with the MC before I met him. He started working for me a month after his father was killed. We bonded over our mutual losses. Jordan’s not perfect, but he’s good to me. He treats me with love and consideration always. Maybe I should care that he has a violent side. That he’s willing to do anything for the people he loves. Maybe I should, but I don’t.
With the glow coming off Jenna today, I’m guessing that’s from Caleb taking care of her. And probably giving her a few orgasms. How can I be mad at that?
“I think you’re the sweetest chick I’ve ever met. And I’ve been around more women than most,” she compliments me kindly, squeezing my hand.
“Thanks, Jenna,” I respond sincerely.
She takes her cappuccino and settles in to study while I tend to a few customers. Jordan comes back from his smoke break and helps me through the lunch rush. And it’s a full on rush. We run out of pumpkin bread to the disappointment of many. I made double today what I had yesterday. Apparently, I need to triple it tomorrow.
“Go sit down for a bit. I’ve got this,” Jordan says, shooing me away.
I round the counter and take the seat across from Jenna.
I spy Garrett outside of his store, setting up a bench. An older woman walks by and stumbles a little. He wraps an arm around her to stabilize her. They share a brief conversation, the woman smiling. Garrett points down to the yarn store and she nods. He takes her bags, walking her to her destination.
He doesn’t say a word from what I can see, but he’s attentive as he walks with the woman. Hot and nice to old women. How can you not swoon over Garrett Sharp?
Mugs of Love Page 5