Before I’d stood there incapacitated, wondering what in the ever-loving world was going on with my boss.
Dex had calmly looked over at me then, with the thief just a few feet behind him. He’d swept a hand over my hair and, in a voice much louder than he normally used, murmured, “Baby, wait for me upstairs, will you?” And then he ran his hand over my hair again.
I—I just stood there. Shocked, stunned, flabbergasted, whatever. All of those things. Because...I mean, he’d asked. And he’d been affectionate in front of the other Widows, who were looking like they’d just discovered the wheel.
By the time I’d absorbed those ten seconds of my life, Dex had disappeared upstairs along with the poor moron that had stolen from the club. The guy hadn't even batted an eyelash when Dex, Luther, and four of the bikers in the bar escorted him to the offices.
I really didn't think that they'd kill him or beat the crap out of him, but maybe I was being naive. As long as no one started screaming from the office, then it was probably fine, right?
"It would be fucking Rocco," Sonny noted. "Look, I'm gonna get going. We want to make it to Sacramento early tomorrow. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay."
Trip said something on the other end that made Sonny laugh again. "Trip says hi."
"Tell him I said hi back." I sighed. "Love you, Son."
It was impossible not to miss the smile in his voice. "Love you too, kid."
Oh boy. That conversation hadn't exactly gone the way I'd expected it to. Now that I thought about it, the last two conversations I'd had with Sonny had been disturbing. We should probably stick to text messaging from now on.
I wonder if I could get by communicating with Dex by only texting too?
Ugh, I was such a coward.
My half-assed attempt at going back to Sonny's had been the least hearted thing ever. What it came down to was, did I like staying with The Dick? Yes. Did I like him? That was the problem. I liked him too much. He was a member of the Widowmakers, kind of a half-assed one, but a member nonetheless. I was just me. Tattoo-less. Homeless. Poor. Untalented.
Yeah. I was definitely throwing myself a pity party. Yia-yia would be rolling in her grave if she knew.
When was the last time I'd felt so little for myself? I'd always been tattoo-less, homeless, poor and untalented, so why did it matter all of a sudden? I was alive and healthy, and most of the time that was all I wanted. Genuinely, it was all I needed. Yet here I was, giving myself pathetic reasons why I should stay away from Dex.
An ex-felon with a temper that owned his own shop. Talented, employed, a homeowner and tatted. My antithesis.
But he was kind, thoughtful and caring when he wanted to be. And he'd never let me down, if you didn't count the night he left me alone at his house, which I wasn't.
I could hear my mom saying, "You could do much worse, Ris."
What was the worst that would happen?
I'd end up like my mom.
Shit.
The stomping of boots on the stairs yanked me out of my thoughts. There were low murmurs accompanying what seemed like a hoard of men clomping their way downstairs.
When a certain black-haired man didn't appear in the doorway, I heaved a sigh and got up, making my way up the stairs in hopes that I'd find Dex there instead of down in the bar. It wasn't like I wanted to have a face-to-face, but I wanted to go to his house. As soon as I cleared the landing, the scent of cigarette drifted through the doorway. He was standing off to the side in the room, his back against the corner of the wall. A faint orange ember dotted a circle right between his fingers.
Dex's face was down as he pulled at the cigarette, a cloud of smoke distorted his face before a breeze carried it away.
"Hey," I called out to him, making my way toward the chairs across from the desk he'd sat at when I'd gotten my butthole ripped for disappearing.
His eyes flicked up, keeping his chin tucked. "Lemme finish this and we can go."
I nodded and plopped my butt onto the couch furthest away from the window he was at, failing at biting back a scowl at the smell he was putting off. He sucked in another breath before blowing it out slowly, narrowing his eyes.
"You don't like the smell?"
"Nope." Eyeing the stub in his hand, I wrinkled my nose. Now the logical part of my brain recognized that I should avoid talking to him. If I did, maybe we could both forget what happened in his office. But if I kept talking to him, it would be like throwing bait into shark infested waters. Even realizing that, I kept talking. "I don't like that whole cancer thing you can get from them either."
He brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, holding it between his index finger and thumb. "You're not gonna nag at me to quit?"
What? "You're a big boy, Dex. And I'm sure you don't like people hounding you." He lifted both eyebrows up like in acknowledgment that I was right. "It'd be nice if you quit so you wouldn't have to worry about getting lung cancer but it's your life. Your body." I smiled at him, the honesty just kind of pouring from my mouth. "I care about you and I hope that you don't ever go through something like that if you can help it."
Dex's mouth didn't form a smile but the way the creases at the corners of his eyes pulled back, it looked like he was trying not to. "Oh yeah?"
And he thought I needed reassurances. "Yes." I confirmed what I'd said. The thought of seeing big, strong Dex with his healthy, bright tattoos, laying withered on a hospital bed physically hurt me.
"I only smoke a couple a day," he argued.
That warm feeling I associated with my mom gripped my chest. "You don't get to choose." For once in a very long time, I wanted to tell him how I knew for a fact that cancer wasn't a bigot or particular about who it went after but the words just wouldn't come out.
One shoulder went up in what wasn't acceptance or denial. "No, I guess ya don't, babe."
Dex looked at me for a long moment, his face pensive and calm under the thick black stubble that had grown on his cheeks over the day. Neither one of us said anything as he took the last pull between his lips. Holding the cigarette between his fingers, he stared at the lit tip with pursed lips before leaning out the window and stubbing it out on the brick building.
He closed the window and leaned against the wall like he had been. Dex swept a finger over his upper lip, trailing his eyes back over in my direction. His head ticked to the side. "You heard what everybody's callin' me now?"
I raised an eyebrow, forgetting that the last thing I needed was to get playful with him. "A nerd?"
"No." It looked like he wanted to smile again but he managed not to. "Your majesty."
Just because he wasn't smiling didn't mean I wouldn't. I snorted, loud. "I like it."
His facial expression didn't change at all. Those blue eyes were too intent, too focused to assure me that I'd get through this day—heck, this week—unscathed. "Know when the last time someone came up with a nickname for me was?"
I shook my head.
"Fifth grade," he explained coolly. "Poindexter."
I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning.
Still, he didn't smile. Dex just kept on looking. "I beat the shit outta the kid that came up with it. Got expelled from school, too."
Also, not a surprise, but I couldn't understand why he was telling me this. Not that I didn't appreciate learning about him but there had to be a message he was trying to put across. "Are you going to beat the crap out of me?"
"Ritz," he sighed. "You trust me?"
I blinked. "Why are you asking?"
"You trust me, or not?"
Did I? It took me less than a heartbeat to decide that after Sonny, I probably trusted Dex the most. And that was even over Will. What that said about the lack of people of in my life, I had no idea, but I didn't care. "Yes," I answered him a little breathless.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," I told him again. I did. "Absolutely."
He rubbed that finger over his lip again. "Absolutely," he mut
tered under his breath, shaking his head. "You think I trust you?"
There wasn't a need for me to wonder about the answer to his question. It was instinctive. This was the man who told me things about his childhood, his family. He'd shown me his spare bedroom. I couldn't have fought the strain in my chest if I tried. "Yes."
Dex planted both of his hands on the desk in front of him and leaned forward. "I tried all night to think of somebody I trust as much as you and I could only come up with one. One fuckin' person out of everybody in the world, babe," he let me know.
The sudden urge to cry and smile had me make some kind of stupid face.
"My ma," he said. "The only person who knows me better than you do is Ma and that's cheatin'. Not my sisters or my brothers, babe. Just. You."
I couldn’t breathe.
“I really didn’t wanna like you, honey. A part of me still doesn’t,” he said, his expression guarded. “You’re not the kinda person I had in mind for the shop. But your damn brother begged me to hire you, threatened my future kids if I wasn’t nice to his baby sister. And now you’re here.”
Umm...what?
My neck itched as my throat went dry. His admission explained a lot, and at the same time, it made me feel uncomfortable. “Dex, if you don’t want to be my friend that’s okay.” You’d just be ripping my heart out and stomping on it but okay.
His laugh was hard. “Honey, you and me, we’re more than just friends.”
And… I was dead. I had to be.
Dex scrubbed his fingers over his lips again, his glare violent. “Look at you. I never stood a fuckin’ chance.”
I blinked at him, refusing to absorb the creamy words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure you’ve made it known to half of Texas that you’re not attracted to me.” Then there were the times I thought he looked at me as his pet.
Dex’s nostrils flared. “Baby, have I or haven’t I, warned you a million times that I say shit I don’t mean all the time? You expected me to tell your brother I wanted to fuck his little Ris the first time I saw you in shorts? Or should I have said somethin’ to you when I knew you were still pissed at me?”
“Charlie…”
“Babe.” He said my nickname like a challenge.
“You told Shane you didn’t like me not even three weeks ago!”
“I never said that, babe. Quit puttin’ words in my mouth.”
Damn this man. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever met in my life.”
He shrugged. “Forgive me for bein’ so damn stupid and confusin’ you.”
“You’re not being stupid, I just don’t think you’re thinking clearly. “ I swallowed even as my heart hurt. “Maybe you just need to go...you know...with someone.”
“Baby, there’s nothing wrong with my judgment. I know exactly what I’m doin’, and I know damn well that if I ever see you smile at somebody like you did at Trey today, I’ll kill the poor bastard.”
“Dex!”
“I’m not jokin’. I don’t ever wanna see that shit ever again so unless you want me goin’ to jail for murderin’ somebody, quit it,” he stated, not blinking, not breathing, totally focused.
And I stood there just waiting. For what, I had no idea. Maybe to wake up from this dream.
But the beautiful dark-haired man in front of me wasn’t saying anything. His gaze was zeroed in on my face, jaw tight, shoulders pulled back. He must have realized I thought he was on drugs because he kept going. “That shit made my chest burn. I hated it. You know what that’s like for me? Standin’ there thinkin’ to myself that I don’t wanna share you with anybody?” His neck visibly strained. “I can’t ignore this shit between us anymore, and I’m not gonna. Not when it makes so much sense.”
Oh. Dear. God.
I wasn’t sure whether to have a panic attack or run around fist pumping. But still. That fear crept threw my bones, warning me, preparing me, making me wary. “Why does this make so much sense?” The question was hoarse.
“Nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do.”
Was that my throat burning? Oh hell, it was. No amount of swallowing made the sensation go away. “But...I’m like your little rabbit. Your pet.”
”Oh, you’re somethin’ of mine all right, Ris. But my pet? Huh uh,” he said with more conviction than any man should be capable of.
At least a little bit of fear flooded my system because I thought for a moment about walking out of the room to end the conversation.
"You go and I'm comin' after you, babe." Dex ate up those few feet to loom over me on the couch, his body longer and leaner than it'd seemed hours before as he hovered. "I'm not your daddy. I'm not gonna do the shit he did. You don't need to be scared of me."
At the mention of my dad, my spine stiffened. "I know you're not. I'm not scared of you either, okay?"
"Yeah, you are." He bent at the waist to place his hands on the back of the couch at my sides.
Heat exploded on the back of my neck. "I'm not," I insisted.
He lowered his head even more, cornering me like the bully he was. "You are, but I'm not your pa and you gotta remember that. I told you when you tried to quit that I keep what's mine, and I meant that."
Yeah, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do a single friggin' thing as his mouth came to within inches of mine. I should have moved, should have pushed him away, screamed, anything except just sit there. But the closer he got, the more of him and his lulling body heat, the less I wanted to do that. It was like being in a trance.
"I suck at pretendin', babe." He brushed his mouth over my cheekbone, making my spine tingle. "You suck at it, too."
I don't know what it said that the word ‘suck’ hit me right in the lower stomach.
And really, what is there really to say when Dex Locke brushes his lips against that spot between your jaw and ear?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mine.
I keep what's mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up the next morning alone on the couch.
He hadn't said anything else after he'd kissed my jaw and right off the corner of my mouth. Dex had just thrust out a hand to pull me off the couch, and led me toward the stairs. With a firm hand on my lower back, we walked out of the bar without speaking another word. Rode to his house in silence, and then ate dinner and watched television the same way.
It was only when he got up to go to bed that he leaned in to kiss the corner of my mouth, just a hair off from my lips that he said two sentences. "I know you’re confused, Ritz, but there’s no reason for you to be.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving me dazed and on the verge of panting on the couch.
It was a friggin’ miracle I’d managed to fall asleep.
I definitely didn't need to think about that right before I went into the shower. Or maybe I did. There was a detachable showerhead...
Yeah, no. I grabbed my bag from its spot on the other side of the couch and rifled through it, grabbing clothes for my shower. The clock on the DVD player showed that it was a little after ten. Normally, Dex would be in his garage working out so that gave me more time to wonder what the hell was going on.
Was I being a pushover by letting him assume that I would want to.... to what? Be with him? Date him? Dex didn't seem like the type of man that dated. Or the type of man that had a girlfriend.
Where did that leave us?
If I was smart, as smart as I'd been my entire life, I'd call Sonny and tell him what was happening.
I wasn't though, not today or tomorrow. I could justify not calling by saying that I didn't want to stress him out or piss him off. Right. It wasn't at all because the thought of making Dex hard—like he'd been back at Pins—turned me on more than any time I'd spent with my ex-boyfriend times a hundred. No, siree.
Who am I k
idding? I was a total, complete liar.
The idea of not seeing Dex nearly every day made me incredibly unhappy.
I was screwed.
Twenty minutes later, I was out of the bathroom, teeth and hair brushed, clean, and slightly more alert. Dex hadn't made an appearance yet, so I wandered into the kitchen to make something for breakfast.
I had just stuck two frozen waffles into the conventional oven before pouring the coffee Dex had already brewed when I felt what had become an all too familiar heat pierce through the thin material of my long-sleeved t-shirt. This was right before arms caged me against the counter, one on each side, biceps touching my triceps.
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