by Kay Maree
But what would have been just no good, shitty luck if it had begun and ended with out mom became a whole other beast the year Dixon and I turned ten.
Our sister, the little girl who followed us around, demanding our attention, hanging on our every word, smiling brightly and proving if God were real he had a hand in making the most perfect being on Earth died.
Her death was not fast. It was slow and painful. It was so devastating that it changed the men Dixon and I would become.
Kaylee was five. She had her whole life ahead of her. A life Dixon and I promised ourselves would be better than the shit fight we were living through. We would stop at nothing to make sure the heavy hands of our father and the toxic tirades of our mother touched Kaylee, no matter the cost to ourselves.
But sometimes, despite our best intentions, life just didn’t work out the way we planned. And in Kaylee’s case, her life ended, leaving Dixon and I wallowing in grief, shame, and guilt that we should have, no, could have done something to save her.
Behind our trailer there was a stream. It wasn’t much to look at during winter, but after the summer monsoons came and went the water rose high enough for us to swim, getting a much needed reprieve from the stifling Texas heat. Kaylee knew not to venture past the dried grass separating our property line from the wooded area and stream beyond. We’d told her enough times that Dixon and I sounded like a broken fucking record repeating day after day what would happen if she were to get lost, or worse still, hurt. But Kaylee being Kaylee, she didn’t listen.
The afternoon Dixon and my life changed forever is seared into my mind the way a ranchers brand sears his cattle. Painful, and undeniably permanent.
Sick of listening to our parents fight and throw shit at each other - figuratively and literally - Dixon and I decided to get the hell out and make the three-mile walk into town. We didn’t have money to buy anything, we never had money, but we figured anything would be better than sitting in the cesspool we called home.
Making sure Kaylee was set up with her crayons and coloring book - both of which we’d procured or more aptly put, stole from Walgreens because let’s be honest, Kaylee wouldn’t have dick if we hadn’t - Dixon and I managed to sneak out without either of our parents being any the wiser.
That day, like all of the others, we told Kaylee to stay quiet and out of sight. She had her toys, all three of them, her crayons, and a juice box I found at the back of the refrigerator behind dad’s beer. The way we saw it, Kaylee had no need to leave our bedroom unless she needed to use the bathroom but we’d made sure she did that before we left. See, golden.
It wasn’t until hours later when we heard the sounds of sirens, followed by the paramedics and police cruisers speeding down Main Street, all of which were headed in the direction of our trailer park that Dixon and I looked at each other, knowing without having to say a word that something was wrong.
And it was. Very fucking wrong.
Kaylee’s lifeless, battered body was recovered half a mile downstream an hour after the first responders arrived on site. A neighbour of ours, Mr Creed saw Kaylee running towards the woods like the hounds of hell were chasing her, her face bruised, her eye swollen. He called nine-one-one and reported what he witnessed but it was too late. Our little sister, the only person on the planet that mattered to either of us outside each other was gone, never to shine her light on us again.
The coroner listed her death as drowning, but Dixon and I knew better. Kaylee didn’t die because she couldn’t swim; she died because we weren’t there to protect her. She died because our parents were assholes of the highest order and didn’t give a fuck about their own daughter to make sure she was safe. But moreover, Kaylee died because we were too fucking selfish to stay put and take the hits she had to endure in our absence.
Over the years people have tried to tell us that it wasn’t our fault, that we were just kids ourselves, but as far as Dixon and I are concerned that’s bullshit. My brother and I hadn’t been kids since we were six thanks to our parent's neglect. The first time we stole diapers because dad gambled and drank away the last of that week's social security cheque was the day our childhood ended.
After that, petty theft became a matter of necessity. Dixon nor I got off on stealing shit, but if it got Kaylee what she needed then so be it. It was a wonder we didn’t get caught if I’m honest. We weren’t covert or adept at it that’s for sure. Half the time, I’m pretty sure the shop owners knew what we were doing but turned a blind eye seeing as everyone knew who we were and what we came from. Something which I’ll be forever grateful for.
Of all the things that life taught me from the time I could conjugate a sentence until now, nothing was more poignant than the loss of my baby sister. Kaylee’s death drove me to become a firefighter, to save lives, to do good, to give back. Losing her made me want to strive to be a better person, a man she would be proud of. But it also broke something inside me too.
My ability to connect with people, to form long-lasting relationships outside of the men I work with on an almost daily basis was non-existent. The fear of losing someone else close to me, especially a woman filled me with dread. Bone deep, soul-crushing dread. Or it did until I met Seraphina. There was something about the way she looked at me as if she could see my demons and wanted to best them that drew me in. The desire to dig deep and learn my secrets was reflected in her unique, beguiling brown eyes. Everything about Seraphina calls to me on a primal level, and even though I know I should do the right thing and leave her be, I can’t find it within myself to do it.
There is something so unique about her that triggers my baser instincts, demanding that I claim, protect and make her mine. Ignoring it is futile; I’ve tried and failed what feels like a million times. All that happens is my inner neanderthal rises up, beating on his chest until I stop fighting it and give in.
The last time I ever felt the need to protect someone special to me, she died, which is why whatever this is with Seraphina should scare the shit out of me, especially with all the thoughts about what I’d like to do to her running through my head, but I simply can’t find it in me to care.
This woman with her curves and eyes so captivating they hit me square in the chest, reanimating an organ I thought was long dead is worth whatever risks I have to take because I know if I let her slip through my fingers I would regret it for the rest of my life. How do I know this? Because if two days ago, anyone had told me I would be feeling like this over a woman I would have laughed in their face and told them they were fucking dreaming. Two days ago, my biggest worry was getting a couple of days off in a row. Work was my calling, my mission in life; I truly believed I was put on this earth to protect and serve, but now I know that simply isn’t true.
It hit me like a tornado, suddenly, violently, twisting up my heart in the process and knocking my moral compass off it’s axis. Now, my sole focus all revolves around how I can protect Seraphina, what I can do to make her happy.
If my brother were here right now, he would probably find my predicament hysterical. He would be laughing his ass off at the dramatic one-eighty my life has taken. With my focus shifted from my job to Seraphina, I think it’s high time to accept the changes that I know come along with the knowledge that a woman has taken up residence in my soul.
From a mere touch, Seraphina started putting down roots, working her way under my skin and setting the blood in my veins on fire. Even now as I lay here, I find myself wondering what she is doing right now and if she is feeling exactly what I am. I wonder if she’s tucked up in bed, safe from harm for the night. I find myself asking if she’s thinking of me, wanting me the way I want her, dreaming of me as she drifts off to sleep.
Blowing out a deep breath, I relax back against my pillows, clearing my mind of everything except Seraphina. I close my eyes allowing the memories of her soft skin, perfect tits, and sparkling eyes full of innocence. Those images have me gripping my cock firmly and stroking as the heady thrill of
desire rushes through every cell in my body.
My head spins and my vision dims as my cock throbs in my hand, demanding that I jack myself harder, faster. But even after I’ve cum, it still doesn’t offer any relief from the desperation and need coursing through me. I should have known it wouldn’t be enough, that jacking off would be a poor substitute in comparison to having the real thing lying next to me. But until I do, until her heavy breaths are whispering across my overheated flesh, and I can see her soft smile and kiss her lips this will have to do.
“Fuck,” I growl. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I start the whole process all over again, secure in the knowledge that sleeping tonight will be a veritable impossibility.
CHAPTER FOUR
Light My Fire ~ The Doors
SERAPHINA
My hands are clammy and my heart is racing, both symptoms of a much bigger issue. An issue that comes in the form of a six-foot-six behemoth of a man with hands the size of boulders and a smile that is lethal from twenty yards away. No lie, Ryker should come with a warning label to ensure the eligible women of Lubbock, Texas are aware of his potency if they happen to find themselves in his orbit.
Never, and I do mean not once in my twenty-two years have I ever seen a man as handsome or casually sexy as Ryker Storm. And at this juncture, it should be noted that I have been looking. I mean, we’re in Texas, the home of cowboys and country boys, after all, so you’d think there would be plenty of down-home talent but that’s where you’d be wrong. Even with a population of over a quarter of a million people. Ryker is by far and away the most amazing male specimen I have ever encountered.
A huge, hulking powerhouse of a man, built as if his sole purpose is to protect and serve, Ryker certainly lives up to his job description. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t surreptitiously kept tabs on the man who has starred in every one of my teenage and now womanly fantasies. And honestly, who would blame me?
If I had to describe Ryker it would take more than a few minutes; he’s just that yummy. But deliciousness aside, Ryker Storm is simply a good man. What he has done for the firehouse and the citizens of Lubbock is no small feat. He has single-handedly raised over one hundred thousand dollars for the paediatric burns unit at UMC Children’s Hospital by way of organizing and running the annual firemen's picnic. A cause I totally get behind and secretly wait with bated breath every year. You would too if you got to see hot, sweaty, shirtless firemen engaging in a game of tug of war that ended in a water fight. Yep, hot guy porn all the way and for a good cause too.
But now, sitting with his back against the wall in the furthest booth from the door, eyes alert and actively scanning, it hits me all over again that accepting Ryker’s offer to take me out on a date might have been a huge mistake.
Originally it was supposed to be just coffee, but somewhere along the line it turned into lunch. I shouldn’t complain because as I sit here, trying not to appear obvious as I check him out, I come to the conclusion that the hot guy God’s must love me. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve spotted him on the street, in his turn-out gear or jeans and boots, I realize now that I’m completely unprepared for all of his gorgeousness when it’s in such close proximity.
The way his black T-shirt moulds across his hard chest, hugging his biceps is enough to have me drooling. I’ve seen his dark brown hair, longer on top and shaved on the sides from afar, but I never expected my fingers would twitch with the need to run them through it to see if it is as soft as it looks. Twisting my hands in my lap so as not to reach across the table and do just that, I straighten my back and try to give off an air of cool, calm and collected, regardless of the fact I feel anything but.
I’m the yin to his yang. The mini-me to his Dr Evil. The bland to his spicy. I could go on, but I think you catch my drift. We couldn’t be more different if we tried. I don’t have aspirations to become a hero. I don’t envision myself being the driving force behind charitable events. I don’t even see myself furthering my education past my high school diploma I begrudgingly received four years ago. I’m just me. A part-time receptionist at a dental practice and part-time middle age badass herder. The latter. being more like a full-time gig than a part-time one.
To be fair, I could probably extricate myself from my herding duties, but I have to admit it’s kinda fun bossing my dad and his buddies around all while getting paid for the privilege. And who wouldn’t want to basically sit around and listen to hilarious stories about the latest one who got away and doing it while drinking beer at midday? Not me, that’s for sure.
Fifteen years ago, a year after mom left us and four months after dad lost his security job for the local bank, dad decided it was high time for a career change. How he did it with no experience or contacts in the industry, I don’t know but he did and now he operates the most successful not entirely legit bond enforcement agency in Texas.
The day I received my diploma, I walked straight off stage and informed dad that I was going to work with him the next day to sort his shit out. To say he was all fired up about my proposal to organize his men, his offices, and his schedule would be an understatement, yet he had little choice in the matter. I was bound and determined to be the best office manager in the state of Texas with the added bonus of telling him what to do on a daily basis. Win.
Much convincing later, my dad agreed that I could take on the massive task but only under the proviso that I find a job in another office for six months first with the hope that would give me the skills I’d need to sort Skip Chasers out. Hence working for a dental office, the single most boring job known to mankind.
If it weren’t for the fact that I love my boss, Dr Kettle so much I’d have quit the second my six months indentured servitude was up. But as it stands, I actually grew to care about the old coot and his ability to run an otherwise thriving business into the ground.
I swear, some days I truly believe Dr Kettle has a touch of the Alzheimer's that’s yet to be diagnosed. It’s not funny but at the same time it sort of is, seeing as of late his memory has gotten so bad that he literally forgot what he was doing with a patient mid-treatment and ended up pulling a tooth instead of filling it. The non-humorous part was me having to deal with an irate patient who was hell bent on suing us until I offered a year-worth of free treatment in return for his promise not to take us to court. On the plus side, I giggled my ass off after he left because the guy was a dick and deserved every ounce of pain pulling that molar would have caused him.
With all of that in mind, asshole patients and badass bounty hunters aside, you would think that one measly date with the man of my dreams would be a breeze. Well, you’d be dead wrong because this is the single most terrifying moment of my life.
The decision to sally forth into the lion's den and brave the danger is made for me, leaving me no choice but to take a deep breath and pull my big girl panties up. Ryker’s eyes connect with mine, ensnaring me, drawing me in, owning me in a way I will never forget until the day I die.
Sapphire blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, topped of with a heavy brow that’s arched in amusement are only a few of my top ten things I find sexy about this man. Those followed by his broad shoulders, tattooed biceps, strong forearms, carved out of stone chest, the v leading to his hips, muscled thighs and impressively sized feet round out my list, but only because I haven’t seen all of the goodness that is Ryker under his clothes. I’m pretty sure he is the gift that just keeps on giving, but sadly he’s a present I highly doubt I’ll ever get to unwrap.
Sliding into the booth across from him, Ryker doesn’t waste a second with pleasantries or awkward silence, stating, “I thought for sure you were gonna take off, but I’m pleased as fuck you didn’t.”
“Um…” I mutter, because what in the hell am I supposed to say to that.
“Can I get y’all some drinks?” The waitress asks, popping up out of thin air.
Glancing up at her, I notice that she’s a pretty, petite brunette with s
parkling green eyes, a small up turned nose and a welcoming smile. I’m not blind to the fact that I am pretty. I have never had a reason to be insecure before and I am in no means a jealous person, but when I see her eyes devour Ryker and her teeth catch the side of her lip a kernel of jealousy blooms in my belly.
Subconsciously, I turn my head towards Ryker to see if he is seeing what I’m seeing; a beautiful woman, clearly intent on gaining his attention. Call me cynical, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone on a date where the guy couldn’t control his wandering eyes. And while didn’t bother me before, I have to admit with Ryker it would. That could just be because Ryker is the first man I’ve ever had any real interest in, or it could be because everything about Ryker feels different. From the way, I feel when he looks at me, to the way he makes my heart skip a beat when he breathes my name, it’s all unknown territory for me.
A soft breath escapes my lips when I realize this whole time he has been watching me. Based on his smirk and the wicked twinkle in his eyes, I guess I must have missed something, but that comes secondary to the relief I feel as my jealousy all but melts away and heat like nothing I have ever felt before overtakes me.
“Sorry, what?” I hesitate to say as Ryker’s smirk transforms into a grin.
My lips are parched and I’m suddenly feeling very dehydrated as the humor reflected in his eyes resonates all the way from the top of my head to my panties which are becoming wetter by the second. Squeezing my legs together, I try to tell my inner libido to settle the fuck down but it’s no use, so instead, I take a deep breath and I try to concentrate on Ryker as he answers the girl. Any lingering doubts I may have had about Ryker’s interest in me disappear when I’m forced to stifle a giggle at the waitress’s frustration over the fact Ryker hasn’t taken his eyes away from me.
