I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol Book 3)
Page 7
Banner slapped me on the back, and the jolt jarred my belly, causing me to wince.
When Ford went to do the same thing, I moved out of his way, causing him to laugh.
“Loser,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m bringing you a fuckin’ plant or something. This place is like a tomb.”
I looked around my place and realized that it was rather drab. It was also mine—and I hadn’t been able to afford to decorate it after I’d bought it because I’d spent all of my savings on the down payment for it.
“I’m headed out, too,” Viddy said. “Can I go grab you any pain meds?”
I shook my head. “I’m headed back to bed. Thank you for the food and dinner. It was amazing. I can’t tell you the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”
Her face went sad for a second. “I plan on giving you a lot of those before we head home, darlin’.”
With that, she pressed a kiss to my cheek and left almost as fast as she came.
I heard motorcycles start up, as well as her SUV.
Then nothing but silence.
Only then did I start texting the woman that was quickly becoming quite a big part of my life.
***
The next day, I expected Viddy.
Who I did not expect was Oakley being with her.
“Mom, I swear to God,” Oakley said as I opened my door. “Just let me sit down for a minute. He won’t care. I don’t need to go back to the hospital.”
The first thing I saw when the door opened was her.
She looked bad.
Really, really bad.
Way worse than when I’d left her in the hospital yesterday.
I stepped out onto the porch stoop and offered Oakley my hand, which she took gratefully.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I helped her inside.
The moment the cool air hit her, she groaned.
I led her over to the chair with Viddy following worriedly behind, and then helped her sit.
Bending over to help her plant her ass in my recliner made my incision twinge, but I ignored it because of just how bad Oakley looked in that moment.
“I get carsick,” she murmured, her face leaning against the back of the chair. “But it’s nothing new. I got this lovely sickness from my dad. Where his only comes around when he’s on the plane, mine comes from any moving vehicle. Boat. Car. Plane. Train. They all kick my ass.”
“Your father’s not motion sick when he gets on a plane,” Viddy snorted. “He’s scared.”
My eyes went to Oakley’s mother for a moment as I stared at her.
Trance didn’t look like he was scared of anything, and my thoughts must’ve shown plainly on my face because she was already nodding her head in confirmation.
“That’s right. That big, badass of a man is scared of planes,” she confirmed. “Like, deathly afraid. We have to liquor him up before he even steps on, otherwise, he’s throwing up from nerves before we’ve even taken off.”
“Needless to say, I didn’t eat today because they were serving brick-style meatloaf,” she murmured. “And I took some pain meds before we left. And I smelled my mother’s lasagna all the way here…and it got me feeling badly rather quick.”
I stood up straight and walked to the kitchen that’d been stocked by Viddy the day before and looked at all the drinks they’d brought in before selecting a bottle of Sprite. Filling a glass half full, I walked back into the living room and offered her the glass.
She took it gratefully but didn’t drink it like I expected her to. She placed the cool glass up to her face and sighed in relief.
I took the seat across from her, then immediately stood back up.
“Viddy, do you want to sit?” I asked, remembering my manners.
Viddy’s smile was soft.
“No,” she said as she placed her purse onto the chair next to Oakley. “I’m going to go get your dinner. I made a lasagna.”
Her pointed look at her daughter had me forming a half grin.
“I can go get it…”
Viddy snorted. “As if I would let you.”
I allowed her to do what she would, returning to my previous seat and staring at the woman across from me.
Today she was in sweats, but still in my t-shirt.
“I have another t-shirt,” I said softly. “So you can wash that one.”
Oakley smiled then.
“Ford offered me his,” she said as she pulled the glass away from her face. “But it smelled like BO.”
Body odor. My favorite.
I chuckled at the grossed out look on her face.
“Feeling better?” I asked curiously.
She nodded. “I want another shower. In truth, I want to crawl into my bed and not move for a week. And I can’t wait to see my dog.”
“You have a dog?” I asked curiously.
She nodded. “One of my dad’s dropouts. My doctor moved his practice to Kilgore, and I followed him from Benton, Louisiana. My dad said that I should take a dog. He was willing to give me one of his trained K-9s, but I chose to take one of the puppies that wasn’t showing an interest in police work. Dad put about two months of training into him before he decided that he just didn’t have the temperament for it. He’s a smart boy and does quite a bit of searching and finding, but he gets bored easily. Which is what I love about him.”
“I’ve never had a dog before,” I said. “I’ve always wanted one, but each time that I went to get one, something would happen, and make me realize that I didn’t really have the time to put into having one. I’m gone quite a bit, and I’d hate to leave a dog at home for twelve plus hours a day.”
Oakley was nodding but stopped when her mother came in juggling the pan of lasagna and the phone that was to her ear.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can load Oakley up,” Viddy said. “Yes, I’ll be right there. Chill pill, Trance. Chill pill.”
I stood up and walked to Viddy, taking the lasagna out of her hands. She smiled at me gratefully and muttered a thanks before saying, “Swear to God, Trance. I’m coming. Give me a fucking minute. Yes, love you, bye.”
Viddy sighed and looked at her daughter.
“Your father got into an altercation with the sergeant that Pace was lucky enough to have as a boss. Your father said if I didn’t come now, he was going to kick the guy’s ass.” Viddy looked at her daughter. “I’m sorry to rush you but…I believe him.”
Oakley snorted.
Her eyes turned to me, though.
“Do you care if I just sit here for a while?” she asked hopefully. “I won’t bother you.”
I snorted. “No. I have no problem with that at all.”
Oakley’s eyes turned to her mother. “You can go get Dad from wherever he is. I’ll stay here until you’re done.”
She smiled then.
“He’s at the police station working with the new puppies.” Viddy grinned. “He wanted to ask if he could borrow some of their heroin.”
There was a long, stunned silence at that admission, and then Pace was laughing.
“That sounds really odd,” Pace snorted. “Hey, can I borrow some heroin so I can train my dogs?”
I grinned. “He actually does do that sometimes. Swear to God.”
I shook my head, unable to believe it.
“Okay,” Viddy said. “We’re going to get dinner afterward, though. Remember?”
Oakley’s eyes turned to me.
“She can stay here as long as she wants, Viddy,” I promised, understanding the look Oakley had turned on me.
With that assurance, she left with a flourish, leaving her daughter exactly where I wanted her.
“There’s a big family dinner tonight,” she said. “They’re all leaving tomorrow. They’ve been off work and school for two weeks now, and it’s getting a little ridiculous for them to stay here much longer.”
I grinned. “And you’re tired of the hovering.”
I rolled my eyes.
“My aunt is also extremely pissed at me,” I admitted. “She is still pissed that I didn’t call her and tell her before so I could give her enough time to get here.”
Oakley pulled her legs up slowly and crossed them, tucking them in close to her body as she wrapped her arms up tight to her chest.
“Cold?” I asked her.
She nodded.
I walked to the bedroom and pulled the comforter straight off my bed.
Coming back, I laid it softly against her and tucked it lightly into her sides.
“This is a big blanket,” she said teasingly.
I grinned down at her. “Yeah, but it’s all I have. I don’t have any throw blankets or anything.”
She smiled. “I assumed that when you came back with this. How long have you lived here?”
I sat down on the couch and leaned back until the pressure was off my belly.
“I’ve been here for a few months now,” I said. “I used to live down in Uncertain. Then, I was in Hostel, Texas. I moved up here because I heard some really good things about your aunt Mercy’s business. From there, I worked a few odd jobs with her while I was waiting to get hired on at the police department.”
She gestured to my feet.
“How’d that go?” she asked. “Were they hard on you?”
I grinned. “I didn’t let them know that I was missing any limbs until my first day of police academy. And even that wasn’t by choice.”
Her eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell them that you were a double amputee?”
I shook my head. “No. I wore my ‘make everyone else comfortable’ prosthetics. They’re the ones with the actual shoes. They’re nowhere near as comfortable or as efficient, though. So I don’t wear them at work.”
She nodded. “And what happened for them to find out that you had prosthetics?”
I grinned then, loving the story.
“The first day we were working on hand to hand combat,” I said. “The instructor was being a complete asshole, trying to prove that he was tougher and more badass than the rest of us. He was all bowed up and asked for a volunteer. So I offered to do it. Walked up to him and waited for him to do what he was going to do. The man tackled me to the ground mid-sentence. I let him take me. Though, granted, I’m not all that steady on my feet without two actual feet. So my ground game has to be really strong. Which I’ve been working on for a while. Jiu-Jitsu and shit like that.”
I loved the way her eyes were lit up as she listened to me explain the story.
I loved even more when she said, “Did you kick his ass?”
I grinned. “He and the other instructor had planned this. They wanted to show that it wasn’t ‘safe’ for us out there and to be always aware of our surroundings. So when I was busy thinking about the fucker that’d tackled me, his partner came up and sat on my chest, using his knee to cut off my air supply. And I got pissed.”
“Oh, no,” she said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I managed to pull my prosthetics off, leaving the first instructor sitting there confused still holding onto my legs. The other one I hooked around the neck with my thigh and I yanked him off of me. Seconds later, I had the instructor’s duty weapon, him pinned underneath me, and I was aiming it at that fucker Sergeant Jackson while I cut off the oxygen supply to the second instructor.”
She burst out laughing. “And that’s why Sergeant Jackson hates you.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly why Sergeant Jackson hates me. He looks at me and sees the kid who bested him in a fight in front of about thirty other recruits. Needless to say, I’m not his favorite person.”
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“The second instructor’s name was Rob. He was just a teacher at the academy. Retired police officer. He was impressed with my ingenuity. Sergeant Jackson tried to get me fired—A, because I aimed a weapon at him. B, because I lied about my legs. Before I had to get my lawyers involved, though, the chief—Luke Roberts—took care of everything. Sadly for me, taking care of everything also put me right under Sergeant Jackson’s nose. I’m not sure if Luke was trying to get me to quit or what, but I’m sticking it out for better or for worse now. I have too much to prove,” I explained.
She was shaking her head. “I didn’t get the vibe that Luke Roberts disliked you. So more than likely, the department had an opening under Jackson’s command. Luke put you where he needed you.”
That was the vibe I got as well.
“Sergeant Jackson isn’t my favorite person. And I’m definitely not his,” I said as I stood up. “Do you want some of this lasagna now? You’re looking better.”
I looked to the empty Sprite glass next to her and gestured to that as well with a raised eyebrow.
She picked up the glass and handed it to me. “Anything but Sprite this time, please. It reminds me of the hospital.”
I laughed. “And the lasagna?”
She nodded her head. “It smelled pretty good until my mother’s driving caused me to nearly throw up.”
Grinning, I went to the kitchen and scooped us both up a piece of lasagna, mine about twice the size of hers.
I came back with two bottles of Dr. Pepper.
“I don’t usually eat this bad,” I said. “Or drink carbonated beverages. But I’ve been having a hard time telling myself no when I feel like shit.”
She frowned when she looked at me. “You don’t look like you feel like shit. I’m sorr—”
I held up my hand and stilled her apology. “Don’t apologize. I’m not that bad. I just like to have any and every excuse I can find to eat bad. I’m a closet junk food junky.”
She smiled.
“You don’t look like it,” she observed.
I patted my belly, right above my new scar.
“Give it a few months of eating like this,” I said. “And I won’t even have a hint of a six-pack.”
She rolled her eyes. “Give you a month and a half and you’ll be back to running eight miles and doing three hundred push-ups.”
My brows rose. “How did you know that was something that I did?”
Oakley’s cheeks heated. “I asked around about you. I found out you’re that ‘guy that runs around without his shirt on and has all the tattoos.’”
I grinned. “Yeah, that’s me. Kilgore’s pretty small in runner’s terms. I hit the main road a lot since it’s easier than fighting school traffic, pedestrians, and multiple red lights.”
She smiled and took a large bite of the lasagna, moaning slightly.
I felt my dick harden.
Fuck.
I took a pillow off the couch and put it over my lap, then put my plate on top of it so she didn’t think anything about it.
Sadly, I was wearing a pair of sweatpants and they left very little to the imagination.
“When I’m better,” she said softly. “I’m going to start running. I’m going to start seriously eating right, and I’m going to try to be as healthy as I can be. I don’t want to risk this new kidney you gave me because I was too lazy to treat it right. My doctor said the healthier I can get, the healthier the kidney will be. Possibly the longer that it’ll last for me.”
I stopped eating and looked at her.
“If you’re serious about that, I’ll help you,” I told her. “It’s hard work, but ultimately, the best thing you can do for yourself. I’m not saying I’m an expert or anything, but sometimes it’s better to have someone that holds you accountable.”
She smiled at me, then took another bite of her lasagna.
“I’m going to have to stop eating things like this, though.” She sighed.
Yeah, she would.
Pasta was high in carbs, unfortunately. And there was a lot of fats in the cheeses.
Wh
ich was what made it all so good.
I was halfway through with my meal when the doorbell rang.
And not thinking anything of it, mostly because I expected Viddy or Trance to be at the door, I swung it open wide and was faced with my least favorite person in Kilgore.
“What the fuck, you little prick?” Sergeant Jackson asked, anger leeching into his every word. “You moved departments, and got me reprimanded for having a valid write-up on your ass?”
I blinked at the man, unwilling to give him the reaction that he was searching for.
“You got nothin’ to say?” he pushed.
I shook my head.
Sadly, the woman that was supposed to be resting on the couch behind me got up, and I could hear her growling underneath her breath.
I turned, blocking most of the door with my body, and saw that she was headed this way with a determined expression on her face.
“So you think it’s okay to come to a man’s home and confront him about something that he didn’t even do just to make your little ego feel better?” Oakley said once she was close enough.
Jackson’s eyes snapped to hers and narrowed.
“I was the one who got you reprimanded,” she said. “Because I’m the woman that he gave the kidney to. I’m the reason that he was forced to do what he did, anyway. So if you want to yell at anyone, feel free to yell at me.”
Jackson opened his mouth to do just that, but Trance walked around the side of the house with two squirming puppies in his hands.
“Or you could go home,” Trance suggested.
Jackson stiffened and turned to see that Trance was standing at his back and that Trance didn’t look pleased in the least to see him.
Jackson opened his mouth to say something to the man, but for once chose to use his brains instead of blurting everything that was on his mind, and turned back to me with narrowed eyes.
“You just fuckin’ wait,” Sergeant Jackson said then, his eyes slicing to Oakley and back, his anger palpable.
“Don’t even think about it,” I told him. “You leave her out of this.”
Jackson’s smirk was enough for me to know that he wouldn’t be leaving her out of this.
Son of a bitch.
“Have a good one, Vineyard,” Jackson said with false cheer.