by Paige Hill
Rolling off onto my knees seems to be the only way my ass is getting off this couch. This shit hurts. Using the solid wood coffee table for support, I rise to my feet. The shrieking sound of the fire alarm starts to clear the haze clouding my thoughts and I realize the air is heavy with smoke and the scent of burnt bacon fills my lungs.
What the hell is going on?
Stepping up into the kitchen, I find the petite pain in my ass frantically trying to put out a grease fire. Her long black hair is piled on top of her head, and her smooth curves are on full display in the tiny shorts she was wearing last night.
Thank God for Miami heat.
“What the hell are you doing?” My voice comes out thick with sleep and much deeper than I intend. In her panic, she hadn’t noticed my presence. My voice startles her and, grabbing her chest, she shrieks loudly. The box of baking soda in her hand goes airborne, and the contents fall around us like snow.
The fire alarm continues to wail, reminding me of the growing flames dancing from the pan behind her. Reaching up to disable the alarm, I watch as her panic morphs into a myriad of emotions. Embarrassment colors her cheeks before settling on defiant anger. It’s an obvious defense mechanism.
Still seemingly flustered by the situation, she hasn’t moved from her spot. Stepping closer, I invade her space, my bare chest brushing her as I move the burning pan to a cooled burner and cover it with a lid.
“Let’s try this again… why are you trying to burn my apartment down?” I look at her expectantly, one eyebrow cocked.
“Ugh! Your stupid space stove ruined breakfast!”
“Stupid space stove?” I’m trying to school my facial features, but I’m failing miserably.
“Yes! The damn cooktop has built in WIFI, Aiden. Who has that? Why?” She pauses, throwing a frustrated hand toward the offending appliance. “I can’t even right now.”
She turns toward the refrigerator mumbling about technology and cyborgs, further confusing the hell out of me.
“Wait, you were making me breakfast?”
“Well, I was trying,” she snaps, cutting her eyes at the cooktop.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
Every moment spent in her presence pushes me closer to the fire.
Celeste’s confession catches me off guard. I’ve managed to keep anything remotely affectionate about my personality wrapped up tight like a box of firecrackers. And she just lit a fucking match.
I simply stare at her form, trying to work out what to say and how the hell I’m supposed to react. Not even Gwen cared enough to cook for me. In my experience, a gesture that caring is one women expect from men. The ones they think they can trick into marrying them anyway.
Damnit! Why do all thoughts of women revert back to Gwen? The realization that she still controls my thoughts, feels like motor oil in my veins. Anger bubbles from my chest and I allow it to envelop me like a battered suit of armor. It’s just another reminder to keep my distance.
Fuck Gwen.
Fuck all women for that matter. It’s probably just some form of manipulation to get what she wants.
“Your culinary skills are astounding,” I snap, taking a step back.
Her face begins to redden, and I swear I can see steam shoot from her ears.
“You’re welcome Mr. Hyde. Did you forget to take your meds this morning, bipolar asshole?”
Christ, maybe I am.
“Nope, I just don’t appreciate you trying to burn down my kitchen, Left Eye.” The last part was said with more condescension than is necessary, but I don’t care.
Still standing in the open refrigerator door, she narrows her vivid green eyes. “Lucky for you, I’m not Left Eye. She would have burned this whole building down.”
Before I can form a remark guaranteed to drip with disdain, she hurls a raw egg hitting me square in my naked torso. It oozes down my chest melding with the dusty remains of the baking soda.
I really should have seen that coming.
Dragging my eyes back to her face, I catch her staring at me, seething. In one hand, she balances a carton of eggs, and her pitching hand is loaded.
“Why do you have to be such an ass?” she shouts, a beautiful blush taking over the smooth skin on her cheeks.
“It’s a lifestyle choice, really,” I smirk.
“Ugh, you insufferable—” She pulls back intent on throwing another egg, but in spite of my wound, I move quick enough to surprise both of us. My large hand engulfs her much smaller one, and in one foul motion, I squish her artillery loaded hand into the top of her head. Clear and yellow slime drip from her ears as I watch the fury build up inside of her. Her light caramel skin flushes a deep shade of pink, and my mind steers toward dangerous thoughts. All I can imagine is the look of her supple, freshly pinkened ass bent before me. My dick begins to harden as thoughts of punishing her sassy little ass, invade my mind.
What in the actual fuck was that?
Pull your dick out of your brain and end this. All women are the modern equivalent of a mythical siren. Just as beautiful and mesmerizing as they are deadly. Something tells me this one could lure me to my death with very little effort.
Remembering the goo that could arguably be the start for cake batter covering my chest, I relent, desperately seeking a shower.
Still standing before me, in complete shock, she is speechless.
It’s a Christmas miracle, ladies and gentlemen!
Unable to resist one more poke with the iron prod, I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear.
“Play with fire, and you’re guaranteed to get burned.”
The detestation boiling in her forest-colored eyes tells me she understands exactly what I mean.
CELESTE
I can’t do it.
No way in hell are we going to survive this. Not if my attempts to extend an olive branch are met with this kind of hostility. He’s moodier than most women during Shark Week. And that’s saying something. We can be vicious creatures when provoked.
Aiden stomps off to the bathroom and shortly after, I heard the water running.
Great. He gets a shower and I get to stand here wearing breakfast and yesterday’s clothes.
Awesome.
“Crap,” I mumble to myself when I realize I needed to place an order for the shop today. They know I’m not coming in, not that I had a choice. I told them the truth, feeling they deserve to know. Besides, there is no way Ethan wasn’t going to tell Bennie what went down last night.
Taking out my phone I dial the main line knowing none of them are going to answer their cell phone if they have a client.
“Curl Up and Dye, this is Taylor,” she greets and I can hear the dryers through the phone.
“Hey, its Celeste. I know I said I wasn’t coming in today, but I forgot I need to place a supply order.” I’m suddenly overwhelmed that I’m not there to take care of this myself. “There is an inventory check list on my desk. I started it yesterday, but I need someone to finish it up. Just count what’s on the shelf and check it against the par level on the sheet.” My words come out rapid fire as the anxiety creeps up.
“That all, boss?” she asks, sounding amused.
“For creating the order, yes. But I still need to explain how to place the order. Grab a pen.”
“You really need to learn how to relax.” She giggles. “Bennie placed the supply order this morning. Everything is fine, I promise. This is why you hired us.”
I let out the breath I was holding and my shoulders slouch. “Thank you so much. You guys rock. Is everything else going okay?”
“Everything is fine, Mom.”
“Butthead,” I comment, letting her mock me.
“I promise we’ll call if something comes up. Enjoy the time off.”
Easy for you to say.
I end the call, relieved that I have such a great team, but he better hurry. The egg is starting to dry and flake in my hair. I venture to the massive floor to ceiling window in Aiden’s living room,
admiring the view of the city. Staring out at the courtyard below, I try in vain not to feel like a prisoner. It’s no secret—I don’t like being told what to do. Hell, it’s probably a huge factor in the demise of my relationship with Jensen. He craved authority over all aspects of his life, and I made sure he knew where to shove that authority.
Not many men, if any, are willing to put up with my particular brand of crazy. But, I’m okay with that. I don’t need their money or protection. I just need the occasional roll in the sheets and I’m good. Hell, I don’t even need a man for that. I can do it better myself, anyway.
Pulling myself from my thoughts, I focus on the scene below me. The courtyard is beautiful; lush gardens, all kinds of outdoor activities including a pool, and even a few children run wild, their faces lit with joy.
“How are your feet?” Aiden’s voice invades my serene moment.
I fold my legs back, pivoting to see the soles of my feet. “They actually don’t hurt that bad. Mostly surface scratches.”
“We need to get some of your shit. You have fifteen minutes to shower before my ass is out that door.”
“Fuck you!” I seethe, stomping to the bathroom.
“Already hard, Fire Starter,” he mumbles as I slam the bathroom door.
What is that supposed to mean? I’m getting whiplash from his constant back and forth. Half the time he looks like he’s about to eat me alive, the other half he looks like he can’t stand the sight of me.
As I begin to undress, I notice the t-shirt and boxers folded neatly on the counter. He actually put out clean clothes for me?
Looking at myself in the mirror, I fight a smile. His shirt hangs to my knees and it’s a reminder of just how much bigger he is than me. It’s a good thing my ass is big enough to hold up the boxers he loaned me. I had to roll them, but I’m thankful because there is no way in hell I’m putting yesterday’s panties back on. I cringe internally at the thought. My futile attempts to keep them up made me laugh harder as I practically acted out a skit from the Three Stooges.
A man like Aiden isn’t going to have the toiletries women typically require, so the best I can do is finger comb my hair and braid it to the side. Having to use Aiden’s soap is going to kill me. My body is going to faintly smell like him all day and it’s going to be torture.
“Here, I can’t hold these up. I’ll just make do until we get to my house.” I say, handing Aiden the boxers. He takes the clothing, but his eyes are plastered to my legs. Clearing his throat loudly, he announces something he knows is going to piss me off.
“Grab your purse. I’m going to carry you to the car.”
“Come again? I have two perfectly fine legs that can carry my ass out that door,” I snap, accentuating my statement by placing a hand on my cocked hip.
“Not arguing that,” he mumbles, so quietly I almost missed it.
Almost.
“You have open cuts on your feet. There is no telling what kind of nasty shit is on the ground out there. I’m carrying you. Now, get your purse, let’s go.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who refused necessary medical treatment last night. Besides, you have stitches, Caveman. You want to pop one of those bitches?” I pop a challenging eyebrow as frustration washes over his features. “Just loan me a pair of socks. They will create enough barrier and if I ruin them, I’ll replace them.”
He huffs, wiping a large hand down his face as he walks away.
Sitting on the couch, careful to keep my naked ass off the cold leather, I dig through my purse making sure I have my keys.
Oh, no. My car.
Turning blindly to tell Aiden I need to get my car, I’m pelted in the head by a rolled-up pair of socks.
“Let’s go,” he quips in an uncharacteristically cheery tone as he breezes by me.
Rather than argue or snap at him, I slip into the socks, silently plotting my homicide defense.
Surely sexual frustration is enough to plead temporary insanity.
“Oh, my God! Furb! I can’t believe I forgot!” I rest my forehead against my palm as we make our way to the car.
I can’t believe I never thought about him last night. He has plenty of food and water, but still. What kind of cat lady am I if I can’t even remember my fur baby?
“What the fuck is a Furb and why do you need one so desperately? Is that slang for something?” The puzzled look on his face makes the skin between his brows wrinkle slightly.
“Do you have any allergies?” I question, unsure how he’s going to feel about this.
“Uh, no. Why?”
“You’ll see.” I smile slyly, and slide into the car. At least that ball of furry terror will keep things interesting.
Chapter Six
Celeste
“What the fuck is that?” he screeches, startled.
“That would be Furb.” I snicker between fits of laughter.
Aiden received the welcome I was expecting. Furb came bouncing into the living room, clearly excited to see me. Until he caught sight of Aiden. The poor guy was blindsided as he followed me through the door, only to be charged by a prejudice house cat. The next thing I know, Aiden is on the floor and my entry table is broken.
Doubled over, I lean against the arm of the couch for support. I’m laughing so hard at the befuddled expression on his face that my vision is blurry, and tears have started to gather in the corners of my eyes.
Furb continues to hiss from a safe distance, clearly untrusting of our new visitor. One thing about Furb I’ve never understood—he hates men. He tolerates Bennie so long as he keeps his distance, but Jensen? Well, he’s got a few battle scars.
“It’s a goddamn fluffy mountain lion. That thing had its rabies shot?” he snaps, his voice tight.
“Don’t be so dramatic. He’s just an ordinary Siberian cat. Albeit on the larger end of the spectrum.”
That might be putting it mildly. Furb might be the largest house cat I’ve ever seen. His unruly grey and white mane do nothing to help his large size.
Aiden struggles and I help him get to his feet. The two just stare at one another in an awkward battle for male dominance. The only movement, the spastic flutter of Furb’s tail. The standoff continues for a few more seconds, causing Furb to lose interest in the battle and increase his curiosity about Aiden. When my brain finally starts to function, I remember Aiden’s injury and gasp.
“Please tell me you didn’t rip your stitches or anything.” I exclaim, genuinely worried.
First, he just grunts, never losing contact with Furb’s yellowish green eyes.
“I’m fine. Why Furb? It’s kind of a strange name for a cat.” Aiden continues on as if he wasn’t shot yesterday and taken down by a house cat today.
“It’s not strange. It suits him!” I declare defensively. “He’s my Furry Russian Beast. My Furb.”
He stares at me in silence for a few seconds, but his lips twitch with a smirk before he turns back to the cat. A sure sign he’s holding back a smartass remark. I have no interest in waiting around to hear him insult my fluffy best friend, so I head toward the bedroom to pack.
“Try not to kill him while I’m gone,” I mumble on my way down the hall.
“I’m not going near that demonic thing. It has razors on its feet.”
“I was talking to Furb,” I yell, tossing my purse onto the bed.
It doesn’t take long to pack a bag. Let’s face it, it’s Miami. Less really is more around here. Tossing my duffle onto the pale-yellow bedding, I double check that I packed my Kindle. Romantic movies in all genres are my true weakness, but there is nothing like sitting outside in the early morning before it gets hot, with a cup of coffee and a good book.
Suddenly my phone springs to life vibrating my patience away as Alex’s face lights up the screen.
“What?” I snap.
“Jesus! Who shit in your cereal?” he counters defensively.
“I’m still pissed at you, jackass. Don’t you get it? It’s only a matter of t
ime before you’re dead.” My voice cracks as worry catches in my throat. “What would I say to mamá then?”
“Are you done yet? Just stop with the lectures!” His voice rises a decibel as his frustration surfaces. “I made a Goddamn decision, Celeste. One that had nothing to do with you or mom. You don’t have to understand it or like it, but you’re gonna have to accept it. There are things you don’t understand yet. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“That’s the problem, Alex. I would have trusted you. But this? This is too much. Did you think about the consequences at all? It was a selfish thing to do, Alex,” Half of me wants to fight, to shake some sense into his thick head, but the other half of me is hurt. Does he not care what this will do to the one person that sacrificed so much for him?
“Oh, the irony.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with more disdain than is necessary.
“I’m gonna be a dad.” His voice is saturated with a pride I haven’t heard in years.
Tears prick my eyes as his words permeate my brain. I sink onto the bed warring with my emotions. My chest tightens, and I mindlessly rub the skin above my heart. The sensation is unfamiliar, but wholly welcome.
“I’m going to be an aunt?” I ask, clarifying what I’ve just been told.
“Yes.” He speaks more timidly now, both of us unsure of the situation.
A few tears break free and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
“There are so many things I want to say to you. You are endlessly irresponsible, stubborn, and in no way prepared to care for a child—”, I pause to catch my breath through the sniffles. “But I will be here for that baby regardless. Anything you need, Alex. But please, do the right thing.”