by Jessica Joy
“Ach, ye cut me deep lass. I only came to say I’m sorry and make amends with ye,” he says with surprising sincerity.
“Oh? And what exactly are you making amends for, pray tell?” I ask, trying to hide the smile threatening to break across my face. The idiot really is just too damn cute sometimes.
“I’m sorry for insinuating yer legs would look better wrapped around me at night instead of that stupid giant pillow ye snuggle with…” he recites like he’s reading from a shopping list.
“And?” I prompt.
“And for saying ye hit like me gran when ye bashed me over the head with said pillow,” he says with a sigh.
“And?” I press again, having to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling now.
“And for asking if ye were on the rag when ye got overly sensitive to being compared to my 90-year-old grandmother who hasn’t picked up something heavier than a knitting needle in 20 years,” he replied, giving an exaggerated eye roll and dramatic sigh.
When I don’t respond, he looks down at me and his smirk softens as he brings a hand from behind his back and holds it up between us. In his giant paw of a hand, he’s clutching a small bunch of honeysuckle tied with a dark green ribbon. I stare at the little bouquet for a moment, dumbfounded, before I lift my gaze back to him in question.
“For ye. It’s honeysuckle,” he says, sounding a little sheepish now, his other hand coming up to pull at the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a weed,” I blurt out, my shock and confusion getting the best of me before I can hold back my less than gracious response.
“’Tis not a weed lass! Me Mam always had ‘em in her garden when I was a lad. She’d bring cuttings in and fill the house with their sweetness every summer,” he gets a far-off look in his eyes as he explains. I’m stunned to silence as I watch his face morph and soften with the memory, going almost childlike for a moment before he shakes himself slightly and looks back to me.
“I’ve always thought them pretty. And well, yer pretty so….” he pushes the small bundle toward me with a wide grin on his face once again.
Taking the flowers from him and bringing them to my nose, I inhale their delicate sweet scent and feel my heart melt for this utterly ridiculous and wonderful man. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said,” I say with a grin, stepping back and letting him into my room.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I remember the goofy boyish grin he shot me as he sauntered into my room that night. And suddenly, I know what I have to do. I grab a handful of the honeysuckle and some ribbon from the display stand near the register. I pay for the flowers and as I turn, I run into a solid wall of muscle. Stumbling back, I look up, and up, and up, at the mountain of a man blocking my path.
The literal giant glowering down at me, with the tree trunks he calls arms crossed over his barrel chest, is Gage’s physical therapist. Mr. Baldy-No-Neck is, of course, named Tiny. Because, it’s Chicago, and we’re hanging out with mob guys, and they are the least creative people on the planet so why wouldn’t this half ton of beef in front of me be called Tiny.
“Tiny!?” I gasp in shocked confusion. “What are you doing here?” glancing down at my phone I check the time and it’s right in the middle of Gage’s usual session. The last thing I want is for Gage to have blown off his session because of what happened yesterday. “Did Gage skip out on his session again? I swear that man is such a little wimp sometimes, bailing at a little upset,” I joke lamely. I crane my neck to meet Tiny's stony glare and ask him again, unsure if he heard me the first time since he showed absolutely zero reaction. "Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”
“Needed flowers,” he clips in the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Honestly, I think those two words are the longest sentence I have heard from him during the handful of encounters we have had and if the Earth spoke it would sound lighter than this dude. It is amazing what this giant of a man can communicate using only grunts and facial expressions.
“Flowers?” I ask in confusion, not understanding his response. All he offers in response is a single eyebrow raise. Helpful. I'm about to ask again when I hear an achingly familiar Irish accent.
“Ach Tiny, feckin' hell. Is it too bloody much to ask to find...” Gage's rant cuts off short as he rounds a tall display and catches sight of me and Tiny. His eyes go wide for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be here. He quickly takes me in, his gaze snagging on the small bouquet I’m clutching to my chest as if it could ward off Tiny for some reason. I glance down at the flowers, then back to him, clearly caught.
Gage’s brows knit in confusion and he points an accusing finger at the small white blooms in my fist. “Lass, what’re ye… are those…”
“Flowers, Yes,” I say with a soft smile, trying to keep a little mystery in this sudden change in plans. Not exactly how I was planning on this scene playing out, but I guess this will have to do, side of beef and all.
“But how did ye… why… I was just….” he stammers in mounting confusion, pointing in alternating gestures at the flowers, and me, and the shop. He really is too cute when he gets frustrated like this. I’m about to chuckle when it hits me; Gage is here, in a flower shop. He was looking for something.
It can’t be… can it?
“I was just comin to find some... but ye already have...”
In that moment my heart melts, and I feel the sting of tears pricking behind my eyes. He was here for me. He was looking for honeysuckle, for me.
Does he remember?
Not wanting to dwell on what all this could mean at the moment, I offer him another smile and step closer, “I came here for you.”
“Me, lass? But… how did ye? Me mam…”
“I know, your mom grew them when you were young. They’re your favorite,” I say softly with a small shrug offering the flowers to him. He may not remember that we already did this dance, and that’s ok. The best songs are ones that you never get tired of hearing and I can dance to every song we danced to before, if it’s for him. The fact he’s here, in this shop, means he’s still in there, means my Gage is still in there somewhere.
“I was comin’ to get those for ye lass,” he all but whispers, closing the distance between us and gently taking the bundle from my hand. His large body dwarfs mine in the small shop, seeming to suck all the air from the space around us.
Looking up at him through my lashes, I’m suddenly horribly shy and unsure of what to say next, so I simply say, “I know.”
Gage stares down at me for a long moment, the intensity of his gaze stealing my breath. His startling blue eyes flick back and forth between mine, searching for something. He must find what he’s looking for because I feel the tension leave him and he takes another step forward, invading my space. The tight set of his shoulders loosens as he lets his eyes drift closed and drops his forehead to rest against mine. “Al,” he says my name in a sigh, almost reverent.
If I had any doubts that I love this man, that he owns me completely, every last one of them melts away in this moment. The sound of my name, that horrid nickname that I so desperately miss, on his lips has never sounded sweeter and is a balm to my shattered heart. He may not remember what we had, but he knows what we are, what we can be.
A throat clears behind us and Gage looks up, rolling his eyes in Tiny’s direction. He offers Tiny a slight chin lift of acknowledgement before returning his gaze down to me. “Me nanny’s callin’. Gotta run before he gets his panties in a twist,” he says with one of his classic devastating smirks.
Unable to contain my happiness at getting to see this side of him again, I laugh, resting my forehead against his chest for a moment, breathing him in. Nodding against the warm muscles hidden under his tight athletic shirt, I let out another laugh before lifting my head once again to look back up at him. The bright, open smile he’s giving me sets off a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, it’s a smile I haven’t seen in months and it warms me to my soul to see it again now.
I know I should be content with this moment, with what I have gotten already, but I can’t resist pressing for just a little bit more. “Can we… will you… wanna watch a movie later?”
“Aye lass, it’s a date,” he says with a wink and a smile. Tiny clears his throat again and I’m pretty sure I heard a growl this time, Gage offers him a quick chin lift before pressing a swift kiss to my forehead. “See ye tonight, Alley Cat,” he says, booping my nose with a knuckle.
With one last wink, he turns on his heel and leaves the shop, Tiny following close behind. Seriously, how he manages to maintain that uniquely Gage swagger while walking in a boot and with a cane is completely beyond me.
But goddam that man is going to be the death of me with his fucking nicknames.
Chapter 11
Gage
Tiny was clearly not impressed with my oh so gallant, yet ultimately failed, attempt to win back Lexi’s favor. And by failed, I mean completely and utterly preempted by that insane, perfect, beautiful woman; it should be illegal to upstage a man with his own schtick. When Tiny and I got back to the weight room after our little escapade to the market, he sent my ass through the ringer. Maybe he just wanted to push me so I could better impress Lexi with being back in shape… Nah, if that was the case then he could have done it without calling me, “dirty Scott” and “Braveheart” during the rest of our session. The man knows perfectly well I’m Irish and that motherfucker just wanted to pay me back for dragging his ass down to a flower shop. Maybe I should get him flowers to apologize, yeah maybe he was just jealous.
There’s only one truly reasonable response in that situation, and that is to just brush it off and accept his payback like a man. So, naturally, I screamed at the bastard in my worst, most incomprehensible Scottish brogue, referring to him exclusively as “Nessie” for the rest of the session. When that didn’t achieve the desired effect, I casually pointed out that he resembles a bald Andre the Giant during one of our breaks. The man’s eye twitched at my comment, and I pounced. For the entirety of the last two hours of our session, any time he said anything I responded by shouting back one of Fezzik’s lines from Princess Bride, “Anybody want a peanut?!”
Needless to say, I can no longer move and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not actually dead at the moment. My current state of abject misery and pain is at least paying me back for the session if not my punishment for the shit I pulled in life. Still, worth it.
Hobbling my way back into the loft, I’m in dire need of a shower. Making my way around the kitchen island, I start toward my room but pull up short when a kitchen towel comes flying through my peripheral vision and smacks me in the side of the face. Rounding on the motherfucker who just accosted me with said rag, ready to let out some of my pent-up frustration on them. Tessa is leaning back against the counter, arms folded over her chest and offering me an entirely too self-satisfied look.
“Heya Goldilocks.”
“Tessa lass, why ye tryin’ to hurt me so?” I ask with mock indignation, my frustration morphing to kind affection.
“Consider it a warning,” she responds with an overly sweet smile. I don’t trust that look.
“Bein’ with Spartan has hardened yer heart lass,” I grump, throwing her a mocking pout. “Though I can’t blame ye since he’s got the personality of a walnut most days,” I smile winningly at her.
Tessa rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a little laugh. “Nice try Gage,” she says and then suddenly all the mirth in her face flashes away in an instant. “You better be serious about what you’re doing.”
“What do ye…”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you scoundrel. You’re wooing her... again. Anyone can see it.”
“Well, I mean, I… She seems interested…” I say with a shrug, trying to calm down a situation that I didn't see coming, and not because of a hole in my memories for once.
“Gage, Sweetie.” Tessa says with more condescension than my Catholic School teachers back home. “You may be missing your memories, but you aren’t stupid. You know there’s more going on than is being said. Just… be careful. She’s been through a lot in the last year, including almost losing you, yet also basically losing you at the same time. She’s a tough cookie and she’s putting on a brave face for everyone, but I know she’s on the edge. Just make sure you are into this as much as you were last time.”
I pull a face at the concept of remembering something that is literally gone from my memory and Tessa’s face goes from confused, to horror, to flush completely red. “Gage, Oh, I’m sorry, I…”
“I’d never hurt her Tess. I know what’s at stake,” I respond solemnly, and it’s the truth. I know she’s just looking out for her little sis, same as I would if it were Genie, but damn it sucks to be the only one who doesn’t know what the fuck happened before waking up to Lexi’s little song. Tessa seems torn between hiding her shame and taking me seriously, and I have no idea where I stand with her now.
She finally just gives a little nod my way, probably a trick she picked up from the guys at the Clubhouse to get away from a situation. Nodding in return, I’m about to turn back toward my room when she stops me again. “You’ve Got Mail,” she says quietly.
I turn back to her with a raised brow, “Come again lass?”
“The movie. It’s one of her favorites.” Tessa explains, giving me a soft smile, “Movie night tonight, right?”
“Yeah... Am I on repeat?” I ask, worried I’m about to walk into something where everyone but me knows what is going to happen.
“Yeah, but it’s a good album so it’s worth the second trip. Just… be careful and be honest.” She turns back to the sink and flicks on the water, signaling the end of the conversation. Well, alright then. Sounds like I need to get ready for my date tonight.
Limping my gimp ass into the bathroom, I turn on the shower and let the steam gather for a few minutes in the glass walled shower stall. With a groan, I extricate myself from this infernal boot, the wretched sling, and my now sweat stiff clothes, in the correct order this time, and wait for the water to fully heat.
Regardless of what my mind may be telling me about needing to go slow with her, my body sure has fuck isn’t getting the message. Just thinking about the feel of her in my arms has me hard as fuckin’ stone. God do I want Lexi, I need her, and needing her just feels right.
When the room is sufficiently at “Turkish steam bath,” I step in and let the stinging hot spray pelt my shoulders. I try to let the water melt away the mess of thoughts racing through my mind tying my emotions into knots. Yes, I do want her, so badly, so much more than I should if I’m really going to be careful with my steps like Tessa asked. Closing my eyes, I attempt to force my mind to blank but a shock of red hair and bright green eyes flies into my mind’s eye and I can’t look away. The tips of my fingers itch to sink into her curls and drag her against me again, to feel her pressed against me, clinging to me like she was this afternoon.
And those lips, my cock pulses at the memory of her lips on mine, the sweet as fuckin’ honey taste of her on my tongue. With a groan I fist my cock in my good hand and give myself a rough tug, squeezing at the base to slow down the build I already feel gathering at the base of my spine. “Fuck it” I say as I let my thoughts follow the course they want so badly to follow. It’s the kiss from earlier but now, I don’t pull away, I lean into it and to her. She moans my name and as I slide my hands down her back, over her perfect little ass and grip the back of her thighs, hoisting her up ‘til she wraps her legs around my waist. I deepen the kiss as she tangles both hands in my hair, pulling me even closer as I walk us toward my bed.
My breath’s shallow and my hand shuttles faster along my length as I picture her laid out across my bed, every inch of her pale flesh glowing against the blanket. I kiss my way up her body, teasing, licking, sucking, and nipping as I go until I reach her lips again. Dropping my head forward I rest it against the cool tile of the shower as I imagine entering her. The thou
ght of her heat surrounding me has my balls drawing up and my fist tightening even further as I let out another groan. I fuck my fist in time with my thrusts into her in my fantasy and all at once I see her arch into me in my mind and every muscle in my body pulls taught as the orgasm rips through me. My cock explodes in an almost painful release, jet after jet of cum painting the shower wall. The muscles of my back and abs bunch tightly as I shudder through the aftershocks, pumping a few more times, working out the dregs.
I fall forward again, resting my arm on the wall and my forehead on it. A stillness follows with a blessed absence of thought. Leaning back, I let the spray wash over my face as I realize how fuckin’ insane this all is. I’m hooked on a woman who has already been with me, and I can’t remember a single moment of it. And yet, I know I need to slow down. Can I just be the goofy fuck who charms his way into a pair of panties? No, that won’t work, I need to do better than that. At least I can focus now that my right head is back in control.
With a frustrated growl I clean my mess off the wall and finish washing up. Shuffling out of the stall I roughly wrap a towel around my waist and make my way to the bed, wanting to rest for an hour or two before I put my plan into motion tonight. Maybe then my brain will fuckin’ pick up the slack and start to remember a thing or two.
That’s the crux of it all isn’t it? My fuckin’ brain holding my memories hostage. I don’t trust my own thoughts anymore. I can’t. When it comes down to it, that's why I pulled away from the kiss, why I’ve been tiptoeing around her for days. There’s something there, and I hate that I can’t remember it. She refuses to talk about it, I refuse to ask, and all that leaves us with is both of us frustrated and waiting for something to happen. I’m tired of the unknowns, of the unanswered and unasked questions. It’s time to find our own way, my own way. Maybe it won’t be exactly what we had, but it will be something we can have going forward.
