by Emily Bowie
“Want to know how my shitty day has gone?” she asks but doesn’t wait for a reply.
“I worked nine hours on my feet in heels and now have a blister. I was forced to complete all of the steaming at work because no one else will do it. It burned me twice.” She raises up her hand in an attempt to show me the redness. I see nothing. She begins walking through the parking lot aimlessly. “I got pulled over for speeding on my way home.” She twirls around and is now weaving in and out of cars. “Then you come over and make me a perfect dinner.”
So she thought it was perfect, yeah, it was!
“But you literally run out of my house barefoot after groping me!” Her hands tug on her ponytail in frustration. “Then to top it off I see you on a date right after me.”
I try to interrupt to say it wasn’t a date but her rant is not over.
“Call me old fashioned but typically even players only book one date a night and leave room for a booty call if it doesn’t work out.”
She stops and glares at me. Her hands firmly placed on her hips, looking threatening for such a tiny pack of dynamite. Maybe I should change her nickname to dynamite.
“To top it off, you’re cocky enough to be smiling at me right now, not a worry in the world.”
She walks away only to stomp her foot and turn back around after a few paces. I guess she’s still not done. That’s a lot of anger for such an adorable, mouthwatering, kissable girl.
“Where the hell is your car?”
So that is what she has been looking for this whole time. I can’t help but chuckle at her. She is a breath of fresh air. “You’re right beside it.” I briefly lock onto her eyes before she turns to her right, where a new large SUV is parked.
“You drive a mom car?” she sounds flabbergasted.
“Do I look like I drive an SUV, Country? I would hope you think I’m way more badass than that.” Moving next to her, I pull her in against me. I love that I can feel her breath catch.
She turns her head to the left at my badass motorcycle. “You’re not the scrawny geek I envisioned.” She is hardly audible as she whispers this to herself. This quiet Jewels does not last long before she is blasting me again. “You took my parking spot today! Do you know I had to walk a mile after I found a spot to park?” She pushes me away.
“A mile, really?” I tilt my head down at her, knowing fully well she is exaggerating the distance.
I grab my helmet and fasten it to her as she scowls at me. Fuck she looks sexy in my helmet. Settling onto my bike, I look over at her to see her looking unsure. “Well, get on”—I motion to the back—“and hold on tight.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to her body wrapping up tightly against mine.
“My car?” She points to it in the intersection where it’s holding up the light traffic.
“You need gas, right?” I point out the obvious, as she has an internal debate about getting on with me. I sit and watch patiently as she mumbles something to herself before climbing on.
I purposely press the gas harder than necessary to have her hold onto me tighter, and I “accidently” miss the first gas station, just to keep her body close to mine.
Buying the largest jerry can, I fill it up. I need to do something about this wall she has put up. She is standing beside the pump, arms crossed, eyes still throwing daggers at me. I watch as she takes off the helmet, shaking her head to loosen her hair from her head. Any control I held disappeared in that instant. I walk up to her, place my hands against either side of her face, and kiss her. The kiss is not desperate but hard and wanting.
Her palms press against my chest, but she isn’t pushing me away, and I can begin to feel her melt into me.
Stroking my thumb against her cheek, I drop my other hand to her waist, pulling her in closer. I lose myself in this kiss. Just as I feel her do the same. Her hands are now grabbing my ass, pulling me in closer, like she can’t get enough of me. Or maybe I am the one who can’t get enough of her.
Our tongues twist around one another, taking in each of our flavors. My hands try to learn the contours of her skin, moving up to feel her plump, full-handed tits that I want to see flush against me. I can hear her moan into my mouth, telling me she wants this as much as I do. The outside world no longer exists, until I hear someone yell, “Get a room.”
I pull her closer as she breaks away, panting, my forehead resting on hers. I don’t let go, needing her pressed against me.
The sound of liquid falling onto the ground has me letting go of her much too soon, jumping toward the machine to turn off the gas.
My shoes now are covered in gas, having to step in it to shut it off. When I look over at her she begins to start laughing. It’s not just cute giggles that escape her. It’s belly-curling laughter. And I am not a funny person; the humor bone was never placed in me. She is one hundred perfect laughing at me.
“You know, Country, you could have just said you wanted a goodbye kiss tonight instead of going through the trouble of staging your car to run out of gas.” I try to lighten up the mood by deflecting back onto my humor. Yep, all my smoothness dissipates when this girl is around. I am no longer that panty-dropping motherfucker.
Chapter 8
JEWELS
I’m searching through funny YouTube makeup videos for this tutorial a co-worker told me about until I finally find it. It’s some girl with an accent who cusses and is not your typical makeup whiz. She’s hilarious and looks oddly familiar. Feeling my bed slightly vibrate, I look down to see Luke calling me for the third time today.
“Hello,” I say, lying back onto my bed and waiting to hear what will be oh so important.
“There is a box of dresses I’ve sent to your work and need you to pick up for me.”
I can feel my face scrunch up. “Why are you having dresses delivered to my work? Do you have some sort of fetish that you want to talk about?” I giggle, thinking that I’m funny.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.” His voice is very serious and I sit up.
“This has to do with the ranch?”
“Look, just get the dresses, and I am going to need your help up here for one night.”
I fall back down onto my bed, not caring how loud it may sound. “Please don’t say that you’re getting yourself deeper into whatever you have yourself involved with.”
“It’s none of your concern. Look, I just need your brains for one night then you can go back there and make a living for yourself with that degree you’re working on.”
Ah shit, the guilt. How can I tell them I hated it and dropped out? The least I can do is help the family out.
“Does Mom know what you have planned?”
“No.” His voice is clipped, telling me that the ranch is in even further trouble than when I left over a year ago.
“Fine. But one night, that’s it.” I press the end button before throwing my phone onto the floor. Drama, drama, drama.
“Jewels, want to go dancing tonight?” Mandy pops her head into my room.
I look over in her direction. “No, I think I have to go back home for a few days.”
“What is on your face?” She steps farther into my room, staring at me like I’m some strange alien species.
I don’t bother sitting up and just point to my laptop. “I was trying to follow her instructions.”
She bursts out laughing. “What’s wrong with how you do your makeup right now?”
“Nothing.” I sigh. I was hoping to just make it pop a little bit more.
Since parting ways with Tyson last night, I can’t get him out of my head or the way it felt to have my legs pressed against him. I can’t help but imagine that I rode something other than his bike. If he didn’t kiss so damn good I could maybe hope to forget him. He fired up my engine but then left me hanging. My dry spell has been going on for far too long. At this rate I’ll be taking three showers a day. Who knew shower wands could relax someone so much. Despite that, I can’t help but remember what his hands f
elt like.
“Well if you change your mind just let me know.” I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I had forgotten she was still in my room.
“Will do,” I call out behind her.
Looking into my mirror on top of my dresser, I see that I really do need to fix my makeup. Sighing, I take my makeup remover cloth to give up for today. I wouldn’t have even thought about makeup but Tyson is now all in my business and I can’t get him out of my head. I still can’t believe I ran out of gas. That secret will be going to my grave with me. But I feel like I should apologize to Tyson. I was pretty snippy with him when he was helping me out.
I’ll see if Mandy will pick up some beer and I will take it to him as a peace offering.
Chapter 9
TYSON
I have had the day from hell. My stress level is going through the roof. Between trying to organize my line of attack for Andrea’s initiation to dealing with my very own family drama. I woke up this morning to William standing over my bed. Does no one have boundaries anymore? He was on my ass for how I dealt with the meeting last night. Then was on my ass for how was I going to deal with the Peter Flint issue. My only option is to delegate.
My only happiness is when I think of Jewels, but then I stop, not wanting to taint her memory with the hell breaking loose in my world.
I walk right past Chase’s secretary, ignoring her calls for me to stop and that I need an appointment. I’m family, no appointment necessary. He has helped build this company from the ground up and it’s impressive. Part of me is impressed and awed, the other part realizes that I like to play a little too hard for the dedication something like this needs. I would rather invest my money into something like this for the financial gain. Other than that, I like to keep to the computer work. It allows me to do my work from anywhere in the world. No need to be strapped down to one place.
I walk right in, slamming the door behind me. Chase looks up in confusion as I barge in. Placing his phone down on the desk, he stands. I lift my chin in greeting, taking in his impressive office. I don’t come to his office very often. This is his baby, his passion. He did it all by himself.
“What’s up?” He shrugs his shoulders, acting casual. I wish I felt that calm, but I hate that I am here, having to do what I am about to.
I get straight to the point. “I need a favor.”
“No problem,” he says it casually, without thinking about it.
“No, an I-owe-you type of favor.” I exaggerate the I-owe-you part. I hate having him dealing with shit that was to be mine. It’s not as if I can say, hey just found out about your deadbeat dad and I’m going to get you to check on it. His hands swipe through his hair, a tell sign that he is uncertain.
“I need you to go to Three Rivers for me.” My face is serious.
“No,” he says flatly.
“No?” One side of my mouth twitches up in disbelief.
“No.” His jawline is hard, reminding me of when he first began living with us all those years ago.
“You have to do it, man.” He knows the rules.
“I’m not going back there.” He stands up and goes to sit on the edge of his desk.
“You get to walk into that town and show them you made it.” My hands rise up, trying to show him his empire. He’s made it; he’s there. He could easily retire.
He shakes his head, looking determined. “There is no one else to ask?” His jaw twitches with each word, but I can see I’m chipping away that wall of his.
“You’re my brother, I know you’ll do the best job.” And it’s true; I’d never bullshit my brothers.
“What do you need me to do there?”
I pause, debating how much I should tell him. I decide he needs to stay in the dark about his dad or he will never go back. So I tell him the next best truth. “I need you to look into Luke Rogers for me.” Jewels isn’t telling me everything about her family. I need to know that secret.
“What’s the full story here?” He looks me in the eyes with that look on his face. He always thinks the worst-case scenario.
“He’s into illegal betting, and I need you to find out everything about it.”
His eyes narrow. “Do you owe him money?”
I’m insulted. “No. Just fucking do it.” Now that I know I have him on the hook, I turn to leave before he starts to argue with me.
*
It really pisses me off that Chase thinks I would owe money. Fuck him. I don’t bet unless I know that I will win. It might look like I am reckless but I do everything with a calculated risk. I don’t ever do reckless or forbidden. If the stakes are too high, I walk away.
I pound on the keyboard, finishing everything I need to know. It looks like Mr. Clay Cannon has some nasty habits of his own. High-end escorts and blow. This man must be destroyed publicly. With each stroke of a key I’m finding more dirt on him.
I just need to get some hard evidence, that’s where Andrea comes into play. She can deliver some blow and I can take photos. I consider making her pose as an escort but it just doesn’t seem right. She is a nice girl deep down, just low self-esteem. I’m not a big enough dick to cash in on that. Not even for a deal.
With my help this will be a walk in the park for Andrea. She will finally get the queen part she has always wanted. I hope she finds her king soon.
I have the contacts for the drugs, and no, I don’t touch the shit. But I have contacts from all walks of life. No one is ever too low for me to network with. You never know when they may come in handy or finally get their big break.
I also happen to be on the in with the madam he likes to get his girls from. Personally, I’ve never used her before and I don’t see the appeal. Where’s the fun if there is no chase? For enough money, I know I could persuade her to help me.
Picking up my phone, I give Andrea a call.
“Hello?” She sounds out of breath.
“Uh, did I interrupt something?” I tease her. “If this is a bad—”
She interrupts me. “Shut up.” Then laughs. “Why are you calling?”
“I have done some research and found that—”
“He likes blow and easy women.” She finishes my sentence.
“How—”
“Do I know this? You’re not the only one with talents, Tyson Bennett.”
I grunt and can’t help but feel a little caught off guard by her having done her homework.
“You could never see past me as a one-night fuck, you know.” She sighs out, but doesn’t sound angry.
“I have a plan I think we should go over,” I respond, getting us back on topic.
“Good, I have one, too. I think you will like it better than yours.”
Now I’m reminded why I work alone. People work too fast on motivation and forget to take the calculated steps.
“Please don’t tell me you have done anything yet.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, starting to feel the fun of this slip away and be replaced with anxiety. “There is no room for error on this, Andrea.”
“This may be my first time, but I am no rookie, Tyson,” she reminds me.
“Can you meet quickly tonight?” I ask, wishing I could postpone this until the morning. I would much rather go see Jewels. I felt like things were left a little awkward still from the previous night.
She huffs like she is working on something, that worries me. “Um, maybe. Can I call you back in twenty minutes?”
“Please don’t tell me you are in the middle of fucking right now.”
“Oh please, you just want a visual.”
“Get over yourself.” No thank you. “Call me when you’re not busy, I’d like to finalize this so that we both are on the same page here.”
“Whatever.” And she ends the call.
I lean back in my plush leather chair and shake my head. I would much rather be going to Three Rivers than dealing with this issue. Faack!
Getting up from the office, I leave to go back home.
*
As I walk to my
front door, an overwhelming exhaustion hits me. All I want to do is grab a beer and veg out in front of my TV. Something I never do. But today I need that mindless activity. I check my phone and it’s been almost an hour since I talked to Andrea last, so much for calling me back.
I go to place my key in the lock but the door slightly moves open at my touch, allowing me to walk right in.
My senses are on high alert immediately. Slowly, I place my foot through the door and begin to open it a fraction at a time before peering through.
That’s when I see Andrea pacing, her black mascara running down her face. I take another step in, still remaining vigilant to my surroundings.
As she turns in her place, she squeals at the sight of me.
“What the fuck?” I ask, still on high alert. Slowly, I take a three hundred and sixty degree view of my home.
“I thought I had it under control!” she says hysterically. Her usual perfect blonde hair looks messy, her face not the schooled calm look she normally beholds.
She moves past my large entranceway that leads into my living room where I see a plump, gray suited man tossing and turning on my white leather couch.
I freeze. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I think he’s overdosing.” She is quiet, her voice a whisper, and she stares at the man I don’t recognize while biting her plastic nails.
Taking out my phone, I dial the one doctor that will make house calls off the books, his services, of course, cost a fortune. I leave a vague message, but he knows the drill and where to find me.
“Knock, knock.” A soft melodic voice that I recognize all too well sounds behind me.
By the time I turn around she is in the middle of my entrance, looking at the same fucking brutal mess in my fucking house. A hint of horror washes over her face as she stands frozen while looking at me, a twenty-four pack of beer in her strained hand. It’s the first time I truly see the situation in someone else’s eyes.