Virgin Fix (The Virgins Book 1)

by Monica Rush

“Look, I’m sorry, Ann. I thought I could run home and take care of the dogs, that it’d take, like, five minutes, no more. But now two of them are missing, and I can’t leave. I mean, I have to find them, you know?”

  “You do have to find them, and I do understand,” Ann says. Her voice remains unrelenting. “But you did lie about your whereabouts, which we simply do not tolerate, and, worse, this is the fifth time this month you’ve taken company time for personal business. I’m sorry, Bobbi. But you can consider today your last day. We’ll pay you through the week, and I’ll take care of the rest with HR. Please don’t return. If you have any belongings here, I’ll arrange to have them sent to you.”

  No! “I don’t—I don’t,” I stammer at the phone, but it’s already gone dead, the screen reflecting the roiling clouds above me. Did I seriously just get fired over the phone? That’s even worse that getting dumped via text.

  “Oh my god, Mr. Doolittle,” I whisper, looking at the dog, who’s come trotting up to me, his doggie face now filled with worry. “Oh my god, what’s happening?”

  I straighten and that’s when I see movement in Paddy’s kitchen, and my heart gives an unruly sideways lurch. Thank heavens—Dean’s still home. He can help me find Lady K and Ranger, at the very least. The rest…I’ll figure out. I totally can’t tell Dean about my rental, or about my job. I have to pull it together! I’ve never been this lost before, this out of sorts. How can I possibly have become this irresponsible in such a short time?

  Even as I think the question, it’s answered for me as I jog toward Paddy’s back door. Dean’s the reason I’ve gotten so turned around, I know it’s Dean. He swooped into my world like some kind of superhero and for the first time ever, I thought, hey! Someone else is here. Someone who wants to be with me. Someone who’s willing to stand beside me, helping me, and who holds me in his arms like he’ll never let me go.

  Someone I’ve fallen so deeply in love with, I have no idea which way is up anymore.

  I roll my eyes as tears threaten to spill. That’s something else I won’t be telling Dean. He’s an open-road kind of guy, I know that, and I don’t want to do anything to tie him down.

  Another crack of thunder sounds overhead, making me jump. But if he can at least help me find poor Lady K and Ranger before the storm breaks open…

  I dash up the stairs and across the deck and yank open Paddy’s back door, which of course is unlocked. “Dean,” I shout, rushing into the oversized dining room.

  Then I stop short. To my shock, it’s not Dean bent over Paddy’s antique roll top desk at the far end of the room, going through all his papers, it’s some guy I’ve seen at Paddy’s parties but stayed clear from—I think his name is Bruce? Something like that. His creep factor totally pegs the meter. He jumps back from the desk, clearly as surprised as I am, and I get a better look at him. He’s tall, skinny, but hard in the way of someone who’s got a lot of bad road behind him.

  “What are you doing?” I demand. He’s not some opportunistic looter who stumbled into Paddy’s house. He works for the man, I know he does.

  “Just looking for something the boss left behind,” he confirms, almost immediately getting over his surprise to look me up and down. “Looks like I found it.”

  I can’t help my shocked expression, and the man howls in laughter, slapping his jeans. A puff of road dust leaps into the air at the action, and I wonder when the last time is he’s taken a shower.

  I try to recover. “Where’s Dean?”

  “Deano had to run into town for a while, so it’s just you and me right now, hot stuff. Ain’t that our luck.”

  I pick up on the smell of tequila, and realize it’s coming from maybe-Bruce. I take another step forward and it hits me like a solid wall. The guy must be soaked with it. “Okay, well, you should wait for him, then. Some of that I’m sure is none of your business.”

  “None of it’s my business, but it is Dean’s.” He grins back, pointing to the jumble of papers on the desk. “And what’s Dean’s, little girl, is mine. I figured I’d find some shit we could sell and start to clear some of this place out, but I totally forgot about Paddy’s little problem. I think I’m much more interested in partying with you.” He waggles his eyebrows and takes a step toward me. “You got some liquor somewhere? I couldn’t find anything in that heap.”

  He points toward Paddy’s vintage dry bar, and I realize with horror the lock has been damaged, the door hanging open. My distraction gives the man his chance, though. In three quick strides he’s in front of me, and then he’s turning me to the side and shoving me back. My shoulder blades slam against the wall hard enough for one of Paddy’s clocks to slide off its nail, but the man blocks my instinctive lurch for the antique.

  “Leave it,” he orders, his face right up to mine. He reeks of sour sweat and at least a fifth of tequila, and his breath smells like stale cigarettes. “You need to keep your eyes on the prize, little girl. And today you’ve won the lottery. Besides, I’ve had my eye on you. It’s time I got the rest of me into the act.” He grinds his groin into mine, and I’m so shocked I slap him hard across the face, my broken nails catching at his unshaven beard and leaving a trail of blood.

  “Stop it!” I demand, but in his trashed state, the man barely seems to recognize that I’ve hurt him.

  “Deano always did like them rough,” he says, and faster than I would’ve thought possible, he grabs both my hand and wrenches them back, pinning my wrists against the wall so tightly I cry out.

  “Oh, that’s so good, little girl,” he fairly groans, grinding into me again. “I like hearing you scream. Let’s see how rough you like it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dean

  Why does it feel like my guts are turning inside out? I can’t explain it, only that the urge to get home is so strong I’m breaking one of my cardinal rules and speeding through the pounding storm, ignoring the sharp strikes of icy rain as each drop pummels me. There’s one thought, one single motivation driving me—I have to get to Bobbi.

  The bike slips and I correct, letting off the gas long enough to regain traction, then I’m once again barreling to my destination. I knew better than to leave. I knew it! I felt it, my instincts screaming for me to pay attention, to read the fucking signs.

  I round the last corner and spot Bruce’s bike in my driveway, which alone doesn’t surprise me. I didn’t figure he’d leave until I gave him something, so I have an envelope of cash that’ll hopefully persuade him to go away. But then I spot Mr. Doolittle jumping at the backyard fence, barking like the devil has him in his sights. No, he’s not just barking. He’s howling, begging for help, and the sound rips painful chills up my spine.

  Bobbi.

  That dog follows her everywhere, as do the rest of the mutts in my back yard. Why are they in my yard instead of resting peacefully in their crates while Bobbi is at work? That’s when I spot her car in her driveway. Fuck. Fuck! What the hell is she doing home?

  Killing the engine, I kick the stand and rest the bike upright, leaving it for the elements to devour as I barge through the front door.

  I notice one of Paddy’s clocks in pieces on the floor next to the vintage cabinet with a newly busted lock. Goddamn it. I knew better than to leave Bruce here alone. He always says we’re brothers, that what’s mine is his and vice versa. If he’s so much as touched my Bobbi, I won’t hesitate to kill him. What’s mine is mine, fucker.

  “Bobbi!”

  “Dean!” she screams from the kitchen, her voice shaking with fear. I rush to her.

  That’s when I see red. Bruce has Bobbi pinned against the wall, one hand on her chin, his other buried somewhere between them. I fly into the kitchen and grab him by the shoulders, throwing him off her. Before he can regain his footing, I swing hard and connect with his nose. He flies back, landing on the small kitchen table. It flips and he slides to the floor, taking a few seconds to recover before he’s up, his fists at the ready to take me on.

  “What the fuck are you
doing!” I demand, placing Bobbi behind me. I reach for her and feel her trembling. When a quiet whimper fills my ears—my sweet innocent Bobbi is fucking whimpering in fear—I snap and charge Bruce, slamming into him. We both go down. He rolls me and throws a punch, causing my cheek and eye to explode in pain. The blow leaves me disoriented.

  “Dean! Oh my god!”

  Bobbi’s cries clear the fog and I wrestle Bruce to his back. I grab his shoulders and lift them, slamming his head to the hard tile. “Now you die, you son of a bitch.” I shove his head down again. “Now. You. Die!” I slam him to the tile with every word. His eyes roll back and I lift him to pound him again. That’s when Bobbi suddenly comes into view, her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. She shakes her head frantically.

  And I stop, dropping Bruce to the floor in a pile of useless waste of what used to be a man. I stand and pull my Bobbi into my arms, holding her so tight I swear to God I’m never letting her go. She’s shaking, or maybe it’s me. I don’t care who it is, I only care that she’s safe and that I’m never leaving her side again.

  “Deano,” Bruce groans from the floor. “You broke my fucking nose.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all I broke.” I stop myself from kicking him to make sure he stays down, but holding Bobbi, making sure she’s safe and secure and no longer scared is my only focus now.

  Bobbi curls into me, her shaky breaths warm against my neck. She’s no longer crying, and maybe she never was, but still I won’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. “I’m here now, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

  “D-Don’t you dare ever leave me a-again,” she hiccups, holding me tight.

  “Never,” I say and kiss the top of her head.

  “You are a fucking moron.” Bruce pulls himself off the floor and wipes at his nose, smearing blood across his cheek. “This ain’t you, Deano. You’re putting a ho before a bro. She’s just a piece of ass, Paddy’s little problem that he took on when her old man bought it. You don’t want her, you want everything that comes with her. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”

  “She’s my girl,” I counter and place her behind me once again, protecting her with all that I am. “I will always put her first. Always.”

  “Dude, you’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t really want to stay here!”

  “She’s here. And, as of this morning, I took ownership of this place, so now it’s my house, and my clock you smashed, and my vintage cabinet you broke into. And now,” I bark and grab him, dragging him through the living room and toss him out the front door that I never closed in my rush to save Bobbi. “Now I’m kicking you out of my house. You’re fired, Bruce. Get the fuck out and never come back.”

  He flips me the double bird as he stumbles down the porch. When he kicks my bike over, I stiffen and prepare to launch and snap his neck, but Bobbi’s hand slips into mine and immediately I’m grounded. She squeezes and I squeeze back, not about to leave her side until Bruce is miles away.

  Once Bruce peels out of the driveway, throwing rocks all over my bike and scratching it even more, I give Bobbi’s hand one last squeeze before stepping out and moving the bike out of the rain. It’ll take me weeks to fix the damage and buff out the scratches, but at least I have somewhere to do that now. I open the garage and start to wheel the bike in, but stop when I spot Paddy’s vehicle. When did he buy a new SUV? Why did he buy a new SUV? He never went anywhere after he retired.

  I’ll worry about what to do with the vehicle later and close the garage, locking it before walking into the kitchen through the side door. When I don’t see Bobbi, I immediately rush into the living room and spot her cleaning up the mess Bruce left. She’s knelt, stacking papers and setting them on the rolling desk. I go to the hallway closet to retrieve the broom and dustpan to sweep up the remnants of the clock.

  Bobbi’s standing and staring at some papers in her hand when I return. Her color has disappeared. With wide eyes, she swings her gaze to me. “Paddy’s gone?”

  Shit. I didn’t want her finding out like this. “Let me explain.”

  “No,” she says and steps out of my reach. I move in and she brings her arms up, freezing me in my tracks. My heart freezes, too. “My god. Bruce was right. Don’t come any closer.”

  “Bobbi?” Why is she looking at me like I did something horrible to my boss, like I somehow planned this? “It’s not what you think.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” She shakes the papers at me. “These are bank statements, Dean. And this?” She holds up a letter I recognize—it’s the deal Paddy struck with me, that I take over the construction business and assume ownership of everything he had in Florida. Thank God he didn’t put Bobbi as part of the deal in writing. The letter is enough, and the most damning evidence of all is my signature at the bottom of the page. “It’s exactly what I think.”

  “Bobbi—”

  “I knew this was too good to be true.” She slams the papers to the desk. “I knew it!”

  “Bobbi.”

  “No! You do not get to talk your way out of this one, buddy.” She storms past me and slaps my hand when I reach for her. “Do not touch me. You’ll never touch me again, you conniving, controlling, complete dick! How could you lie like that to me? Make me believe that you really cared about me when all—when all you cared about was the money!”

  I grab the note and chase after her. When she opens the back door, I slam it closed and block her from leaving. I hold up the letter and crumple it in my hand. Her eyes widen. “This is what I think of the deal,” I growl. “The house. The money. The business. None of that matters if I don’t have you to share it with.”

  “You can’t mean that!” She cries, her eyes now brimming with tears. “I’m Paddy’s little problem to you, too, aren’t I?”

  “Not even close, pumpkin butt,” I say, making her jerk back in surprise at the ridiculous nickname. “You’re the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”

  She drops her jaw as color heats her cheeks. I cup her pretty, stunned face and kiss her soundly. She stiffens at first but I don’t relent until she melts against me, her heartfelt sigh music to my soul. “You’re all that matters to me,” I whisper against her lips. “It’s you, Bobbi. It’s always been you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bobbi

  I can’t believe my eyes, my ears. So much has happened in the last few hours that for a minute, all I can do is stare at Dean, his face bloody and his knuckles scraped, his eyes wide and desperate…desperate for me to believe him.

  And I do. I really do. Maybe I won’t tomorrow or next week or a month from now, because I’ve never been able to believe anyone will stick around for so long, but for today, for this moment, it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

  “Oh, Dean,” I whisper, and the incredible expression of joy and relief that crosses his face is my undoing. I move toward him almost instinctively, reaching for him, and he more than meets me halfway. He kisses me like a man given a new lease on life, his mouth branding mine with unmistakable ownership as he lifts me off my feet and twirls me around. Suddenly, all I want is to feel his body covering mine the way his mouth is right now, his skin against my skin, his heart pounding against my breasts, our arms wrapped so tightly around each other that I can convince myself we’ll never let go.

  I don’t want to let another second go by without him claiming me as his.

  I surrender to his embrace, and it only takes a moment for me to pull his shirt out of his jeans. His grin tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Something you want, puddin’?”

  Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I shake my head, hard as I push away from him, regaining my feet. “Not pumpkin anything, and not puddin’. There is no way you’re calling me a dessert, buddy. That’s a hard no.”

  He leans against the wall. “That’s too bad. Because what I’m more interested in right now is a hard yes.”

  He unbuckles his jeans and my attention is riveted to his enormous cock, already thick and ready a
s he pulls it free of his boxer briefs and works it with his hand. I can feel my body liquefy in response, and a second later my sweater is off, my hands at the waistband of my jeans as I move toward him. I can’t wait to get undressed, though, I need to feel him, to claim him, as much as he’s claimed me.

  Before he can stop me, I lean down until my face is even with his twitching dick, and I reach out and brace myself against his body as I take a long, slow, languorous lick of the smooth skin, lingering at the tip. Then I take him fully into my mouth.

  “Baby cakes,” Dean rumbles dangerously, and I nearly choke with another laugh, my mouth tightening around his shaft. He grunts in reaction, his entire body shuddering, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, hard and insistent.

  “As much as I like what you’re doing, dollface, I’m not going to last if you keep that up. And what I want to do to you next I plan to take a good, long time.”

  “Mmm,” I sigh against him, reveling in the heat of his body, the warm, woodsy scent of his skin, the mix of metal from his motorcycle and rain from the pounding storm and—

  The storm!

  I jerk back so quickly Dean’s cock slides from my mouth with a loud, juicy pop, but then I’m up and turning away.

  “Bobbi? What is it?” He demands, stumbling forward as I bound away from him. I pick up my clothes and throw them back on, foregoing shoes as I run through the kitchen, not stopping until I reach the back door. I shove it open. The dogs come racing in, soaked to the bone, but what I feared is still true.

  “There’s no Lady K or Ranger,” I gasp, looking from the pack of howling dogs out into the sheeting rain. “They’re still out there!”

  “What?” Dean enters the kitchen only to be mobbed by the dogs, but all I can see is the debilitated rental cottage with the broken-fenced yard. Where are the dogs? Why didn’t they come when I called them earlier? Are they hurt? Are they in trouble?