See You Smile (Reapers MC: Pema Chapter Book 3)

by Bijou Hunter

  “I made a cake,” she says when we separate. “Red velvet, just like you love.”

  Despite never in my life eating red velvet cake, I don’t mention this fact to her. Mom’s absolutely giddy as we walk up to the main level, where the kitchen and living room are situated.

  “I just ate,” I tell her when she asks if I want a sandwich.

  That’s how the next hour goes. My parents want to feed me or worry I’m standing too much. My mom keeps asking if the house is too hot and then too cold for my tastes. I finally tell them to settle their britches.

  “Have I been gone so long you’ve gotten it in your heads that I’m fussy?” I tease them.

  My parents laugh, and Brick grins. But I get the weird feeling none of them know what to do with me. Maybe I really have been gone too long.

  I keep the conversation light. We talk about my mother’s new parakeets and what happened to the two she had when I left.

  “They flew away when I cleaned their cage outside,” she says, shrugging and smiling.

  “Pretty bonehead move,” Dad adds, chuckling. “It was mine, of course. I thought they’d like the nice weather.”

  Brick must sense the awkward vibe. Rather than fall into the shadows like he’d normally do, my friend decides to bring up Nev’s reaction at the clubhouse.

  “Sam’s already charming the ladies,” he announces, and my parents share a smile.

  Grinning, I can see the sexy blonde in my mind. “Nev’s quite the looker, too.”

  “Oh, and a real firecracker,” Fred tells me. “She lives a few blocks away and comes around to check on the kids.”

  “Does she, now?” I murmur, enjoying how that sexy gal already knows my family. “Checks on the kids in what way?”

  “That problem I told you about,” Brick says, and Mom sighs.

  “Kids were picking on your sweet children. What’s the world coming to, Fred?”

  “Oh, Cilla, there have always been rotten people,” he says and pats Brick’s back. “And shiny ones, too. Kiefer and his sassy girlfriend took charge. Good people surround us.”

  I think to ask for more details, having been kept in the dark for too long. My parents don’t believe in burdening me with their troubles. During the video calls, my kids act as if they’re talking to the principal. Everything is smiles and rainbows.

  “Nevaeh knows karate,” Fred tells me.

  “Nev,” Pricilla corrects. “She no longer prefers Nevaeh.”

  “Oh, that’s right. She mentioned that fact when she skated over a few weeks ago.”

  “Skated?” I ask, smiling at Brick.

  “Nev and her sisters are on a roller derby team. Heidi, too,” he explains.

  “Welp, ain’t that something.”

  “Real crackerjack, that Nev,” Fred says and then checks his watch. “She scared off those bullies. While she isn’t intimidating to look at, Nev knows karate, and that really makes a difference.”

  “Kiefer is learning yoga,” my mom announces, throwing the attention at my instantly embarrassed friend.

  “The Majors family is into it.”

  Grinning at his expression, I detect the sound of the bus stopping down at the corner. Leaving my parents to ask Brick a dozen questions about his new family, I walk outside to meet up with my son and daughter.

  Tall and blond, twelve-year-old Caesar stands above the other kids. At his side is my little princess. Sporting dark hair cut recently into a sweet little bob style, Raimi grips her brother’s shirt sleeve as they wait for the swarm of kids to disperse. I notice how they’re detached from their peers.

  I notice them hesitate at the sight of me. Caesar recovers quicker than his sister, who he must tug along to where I wait at the mailbox.

  “Hey, Dad,” he announces, getting stiff as if he’s doing a presentation in front of a hostile crowd.

  “No need to be nervous,” I say when Raimi hides behind him. “You know me.”

  “Hi,” Raimi mumbles.

  “She’s just shy.”

  I refuse to frown at the boy, even if he’s treating me like a stranger. Putting on a smile, I give him a hug. Raimi watches us before grudgingly joining our affection huddle. I understand their awkwardness. The last time we were in one place, Teigh was alive, and I made promises about how nothing would change while I was gone.

  I’m not a pessimistic guy, and I sure enjoy breathing free air. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like the odd man out all evening long.

  NEVAEH MAJORS, AKA THE CRACKERJACK

  Looks like dick is back on the menu!

  For years, I haven’t given a man so much as a second glance. Planned to keep my vagina satisfied with a diverse array of vibrators. No reason to force something not meant to be. I’ve seen too many desperate people hungry for passion, love, commitment. They can’t live without someone wanting them. Alone at night, they feel empty.

  I’m not them. When I rest in the dark, I smell my beloved plants and hear my fur-babies milling around. My mind is calm, and my heart remains fulfilled.

  Not that I didn’t bow to love before. A while back, I opened myself up to someone and imagined a future for us. But love isn’t enough.

  I still feel a pinch of disappointment whenever I think of Yulia. More than missing her, I’m shocked at how love alone couldn’t fix our problems. My parents celebrated their thirtieth anniversary as still friends and lovers. They made forever seem easy.

  But love isn’t enough. There are a million little things to get in the way.

  Or maybe I’m too stubborn to make a relationship work. Changing isn’t an option, of course. I can’t be anyone except me.

  That’s why I moved to Pema—like three of my seven siblings—rather than remain in my hometown of Ellsberg. I craved a fresh start.

  Now, I have a fab house with a massive yard to die for. Or, in my case, to kill for, since I bought it from the estate of a man I murdered.

  Four bedrooms are more than I need, but my five fur-babies like to spread out. Originally, my longtime friend, Alyn Grassley, was supposed to live here with me. She even moved to Pema. Rather than stay at the Reapers-owned hotel—The Solar—Alyn ended up in an apartment. I expected her to move into my house once the renovation was completed. Instead, she met a woman named Capri at the apartment complex and decided to stay put.

  “I’m a very devoted lover,” she told me months ago. “When Capri requests I cling, I automatically submit to her will.”

  “Living here would be only ten minutes from her place.” I pointed out as if logic had any worth in her lovestruck mind.

  “And my current place is less than two minutes away. Capri prefers the second option.”

  Alyn’s obsessive nature is one reason we broke up years ago. Well, that and she thrives on drama.

  Despite being oil and water, we’ve remained friends. Our journey to this moment makes no sense to most people. We started off as enemies, with her uppity-ass mocking my hippie biker family. Then, when we were teenagers, she got hardcore, stalker level into me and my hot body.

  I eventually submitted to my curiosity about girl parts. We dated for months until I realized I hated her fucking guts. For the next year, we were enemies again. After a slice of pizza one day, we became friends. As long as I don’t feed her drama, we get along fine.

  That’s why she left her life in Ellsberg. Well, that and boredom. Now, she has a new place and a girlfriend and hobbies. Yet, she still ends up at my house nearly every day.

  Like tonight when she arrives to hear about my new sexual desire. Of course, I texted her about Handsome Sam. Who else could I share my horniness with?

  “Dumb this down for me,” Alyn says, sinking into the gold-colored chair I picked up at an estate sale. “You’ve said for months how you don’t want to date. Yet, if you did get involved with anyone, you expected to hook up with a chick. Then, after meeting this guy, you’re a dick connoisseur again.”

  Alyn pauses for dramatic effect before continuing, “But
wait, you already knew what he looked like because you went into his house and saw pictures. Still, when you basked in his beauty up close and personal for all of five minutes, you were ready to drop your drawers and let him go to town on your waxed pussy. Did I get that right?”

  “Everything except my pussy being waxed,” I reply as I turn down Indigo Girls playing over the house’s sound system. “I’ve let that shit grow out. My snatch is like a dystopia, where humankind’s collapse allowed all the plant life to thrive and consume buildings.”

  “Huh, I’m surprised you’re that hairy, but people change.”

  “I wax for love, never for myself,” I say as I mentally flash back to the sight of Sam today.

  “So, if you fall in love with this guy’s cock, will you wax again?”

  “Depends on if he’s any good at oral. If he won’t be eating me out, I’m sticking with my free-range-snatch look.”

  “Hetero sex is very interesting.”

  “Is it, though?”

  “No, not at all,” Alyn says, shaking her head and making her red hair go nuts. “Saw it all with my parents growing up. Wasn’t impressed.”

  “Well, my parents are infinitely better looking than yours, which explains why I find hetero romance less barf-inducing.”

  “Makes sense. Between my father’s sentient unibrow and my mother’s epic overbite, I can’t imagine them together without wanting to upchuck a day’s worth of meals.”

  “Fascinating. Now, back to my thing.”

  “Do you mean your unexplainable horniness for a cock?”

  “It’s not really unexplained. The answer to my attraction is right there in his road name.”

  “True, true. He’s apparently as pretty as advertised.”

  Smiling wistfully, I sigh. “Sam has the natural good looks of a cowboy mixed with a movie star. His blond hair begged to be stroked. His smile tore a hole right inside me. He’s sporting a Goldilocks body. You know, muscular but not too buff, just right. And I’ve never seen blue eyes more like the ocean. No, wait, they were more like the crystal blue lagoon I visited as a kid.”

  “Very romantic. Now, not to fart on your parade, but isn’t this guy old enough to be your father?”

  “Sure, which means he’s been practicing his fuck moves since I was born. That’ll likely open the door to some successful sex aerobics for me.”

  “Oh, no doubt. And this guy has kids, you say?”

  “I did not, in fact, mention his offspring,” I mutter, stretching out on my couch. “But, yes, he does. You met them that one time at roller derby practice.”

  “They were very small.”

  “Wrong kids.”

  Alyn shrugs. “They were slightly older, then.”

  “Both are potty trained. I very much prefer children who can successfully shit in a toilet and wipe their own asses.”

  “Well, who doesn’t?”

  “Savannah, for one. Colton’s woman for another. Both got knocked up despite knowing diapers would be in their future. They love those poop machines, apparently. I think it’s the baby powder. Makes their ovaries quiver or some shit. But that’s not my problem.”

  “This cock you’re interested in—”

  “Sam.”

  “Sure, sure. He might want kids.”

  “No. He’s too old to have any.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, I just assigned that desire to him, so he’ll remain attractive to me.”

  Alyn smirks. “Yeah, that’s a good move. You don’t want to distract your slicked-up snatch by foisting reality on it.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if Sam wanted kids or not. I’m fixed. He can bang my snatch until I can’t walk, and no kids will ever fall out of it.”

  “True, true. But he has kids. And you don’t like kids.”

  “I’m looking to ride his dick, not mother his children. But if I have to spend time around them, I won’t need to wipe their asses. That’s the fact we should focus on.”

  “Yeah, but I think you need to see it from my viewpoint.”

  “I’m unclear why your viewpoint is involved at all.”

  Gasping dramatically, Alyn nearly falls out of her chair in horror. “I’m your only friend. Since you lack the skills to find a replacement, let’s pretend my viewpoint is super important.”

  “Okay, I can see that.”

  “Now, you were dead set on no sperm infiltrating your life. You even got the cats fixed to prevent their animal sperm from bothering you. Now, you meet a guy and just instantly declare you’re riding his dick. Like no, ‘let’s get to know each other and see if he’s worth investing in a wax job.’ You jumped straight to dropping your panties and spreading your thighs. Seems like either you’ve met someone pretty special, or you’re having a mental breakdown. If it’s the latter, I’ll call your parents to schedule an intervention.”

  “Or just tell my siblings in town.”

  “No, I’ve never felt they appreciated my helpfulness to the extent I’m really looking for. Your parents enjoy me so much more.”

  “That they do,” I admit. “Especially once you and I broke up.”

  “True. They did seem unreasonably happy over our breakup.”

  I give her a knowing smile before standing to check our soup. When I walk to the kitchen to check on the curried pumpkin soup, my dogs—Ghost and Galileo—consider leaving their circular, fuzzy pillow situated in the middle of the family room. The black-and-brown miniature pinchers view me as their mommy. Like all good children, they obsessively follow me around. Much like my youngest sister, Sylvie, does with my mom. Except the dogs are vastly less annoying and immensely more adorable.

  “What if he doesn’t call you?” Alyn asks, resting on her back in the chair so her head hangs off the end and her feet swing in the air. “He might already have a few women lined up. He is handsome, apparently.”

  “That he is,” I say, returning from my cozy kitchen. “But this is Pema, you silly goose. Where will he find someone hotter than me? The only ones who come close are related to me, and they’re already hooked up.”

  “You are right to toot your own horn. Even my woman finds you incredibly sexy. We’ve shared some sensual roleplaying involving you.”

  “Glad to help,” I say and glance down at my firm C-cup ladies. “I try to keep things sexy for the benefit of others.”

  “And we appreciate it.”

  “And so will Sam.”

  Alyn nearly breaks her neck maneuvering herself off the chair from her weird position. When she survives, my friend joins me on the couch. She gives one of my male cats—Julian—a good head rub before focusing her blue eyes on me.

  “Your father is very sexy.”

  “He’s happily married, and I think you said something about having a girlfriend.”

  “Yes, those are both correct facts. What I mean is women often want to marry a father stand-in.”

  “Of course, you are the psychology major.”

  “Yes. I’m very knowledgeable about stuff. And using my exceptional wisdom, I wanted to point out a few similarities between your father and the guy you went insanely stupid over.”

  “I wouldn’t use the word ‘insanely.’ I feel like my stupidity in Sam’s presence was about average.”

  “Actually, no. See, you apparently don’t listen to anything you say. But I do, and I heard you specifically say on so many occasions how you just couldn’t imagine yourself dating a man again. How their penises were gross, and you preferred sex with women. Do you remember saying any of that?”

  “It’s ringing a few bells.”

  “But you just threw all that logic out the window as soon as you met this guy. Like you literally shared space with him a few hours ago, and we’re now talking about him as if penetration is a done deal.”

  “I’m one hundred percent certain about the fucking, yeah.”

  “But you also want to know things about him. Like his interests and other facts people learn during the dating
process, correct?”

  “I am curious, yes.”

  “That’s not just sex.”

  Sighing, I get her point, but I have zero interest in rational thought regarding Sam. Not when my pussy’s already humming with anticipation.

  “But I think I only want to know that stuff because of how I want to have sex with him. I’m very interested in feeling his lips on me. Fingers, too. I’m sensing we could have a shit-ton of fun,” I say and give her a wink despite knowing Alyn hates winking.

  “Great, and I support you having fun.”

  “But?”

  “But he is, you know, essentially your dad,” she says, tapping her head as if signaling a big brain moment. “I think maybe you should recognize that fact and ask yourself if you’re okay with lusting over a daddy substitute. If you are, then great. No worries. If not, you could find yourself in an uncomfortable situation.”

  “He really isn’t my dad, though.”

  “Both hot bikers. Both blond. Both friendly, fun guys.”

  “My dad kills people.”

  “Doesn’t Sam?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Grinning, she wags her finger in my face. “Now, there’s a fun question you can ask during your date.”

  “Alyn, I admit on the surface they seem similar, but it’s all superficial. I don’t know Sam well enough to see any other characteristics to link back to my father.”

  “True.”

  Petting the cat now using me as a lounge chair, I point out, “And his hair is shorter than my father’s, so I really feel like that alone ruins your argument.”

  “I can see how a delusional person like yourself could use such a flimsy fact to derail a grownup conversation.”

  “But let’s say Sam was like my dad, and that’s why I find him appealing. Where’s the downside?”

  “You’d be essentially fucking a daddy substitute.”

  “And I can imagine that would be gross if I were blessed with a father like yours.”

  Alyn nods, tapping her head again. “True. Your father does make women half his age splooge hard in their panties.”