The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  “I had sex with him in the storage closet at the back of his shop the next day when I went over there to tell him that I’d never have sex with him again.”

  Reese slaps her thigh and rocks back and forth as she laughs. “You’re killing me, Vivian.”

  I lean toward her, my voice low with worry and shame. “I’ve become a fiend, Reese. I don’t know how to stop myself. I had sex with him on a creaky sofa bed in his damp basement apartment last night—all night—and I got on my knees and gave him a blow job like I was trying to rescue a popsicle from a summer heat wave.”

  “Did he return the favor?” she asks, pushing tears of amusement from her face.

  I scowl. “Of course not. I wouldn’t let his face get anywhere near the property downstairs. Did you not hear me say I have a gray pube?”

  My sister folds her arms over her chest and glares at me, disappointedly. “Wait—you’re letting a gray pube come between you and your orgasms? Are you serious?”

  I angle my head to the side and mull it over. “Well when you put it like that, it just sounds silly.”

  “Because it is.”

  “Well, maybe to you. But…”

  “Viv, a single white hair does not make you unlovable or unattractive. The pubes don’t make the woman. Damn girl—you should be getting all the tongue jobs and giving all the blow jobs you can handle.”

  Right then, Sadie bursts into the room. “Did I hear someone say blow job?!”

  My cheeks blaze with mortification. How much of that did she hear? “Private conversation in progress, Sadie.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you ladies are gonna wanna come check this out. The front awning just fell of the hinges, now it’s swinging like a ding-dong in the wind.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I grumble. Reese and I both hurry out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door.

  As we’re passing by the cash register, Reese throws a disgusted look at the counter. I know exactly what she’s thinking. I try not to laugh as I whisper, “Do you forgive me for defacing our place of business with sex acts and seminal fluids?"

  She looks like she may throw up. "Really glad you got laid but let's not talk about the seminal fluids, okay hun?"

  Chapter Twenty

  Clinton

  As I roll into the parking lot, I see Vivian, Reese and Sadie huddled up on the sidewalk outside of the bakery’s front door. The cupcake shop’s awning is hanging on by one hinge, swaying back and forth in the brisk autumn wind. At the sound of my motorcycle, Vivian spins around gracefully and her cheeks go pink. The force of her big, black eyes on me is like a punch to the chest. I’m still not used to how pretty she is, no thanks to her unexciting choice in clothing.

  I barely take my eyes off of her as I roll to a stop and dismount my bike. Pulling my helmet off of my head, I tuck it under my arm and approach them.

  “Morning, ladies.” My gaze slips down her body and memories of last night fill my mind. The thought of her on her knees, taking my cock between those pink lips as I pulled on her thick hair. The memory of my cum rolling down between her luscious breasts. My cock turns solid, throbbing for more of her. And from the lust in her eyes as she watches me, I can tell that she wants more, too.

  “Hey Clinton,” Reese says. Her gaze moves knowingly between her sister and me. He lips slant with a wry smile. “I’m gonna finish getting set up for the day.” She grabs Sadie’s arm and takes slow steps backward toward the bakery’s door. The two giggling women disappear inside.

  Vivian runs her tongue nervously over her lips. “Hello again.”

  “Hello again.” I step up next to her and fold my arms over my chest as I look up at the wrecked awning. “What happened here?” Her eyes turn that way, too.

  She heaves a sigh. “Looks like the wind picked it up and knocked it around last night,” she says.

  “Looks like it.” My attention moves over her profile. The thick, glossy hair, the slope of her nose, the pout of her lips.

  “Of course this happens on the day when my brother and brother-in-law are out of town.” She hooks the fingers of one hand around the back of her neck. Her other hand is banded around her belly. “I’ve gotta go call someone to come fix it before a passerby reports it to the police and I end up with even more trouble on my hands.” She gives me a little smile and turns toward the bakery’s door.

  Fuck, I don’t want her to go. I want to spend more time with her. I’ve got a craving to have her close. “I can fix it,” I volunteer, hoping I don’t sound as desperate as I feel.

  With a hitched brow, she glances at me. “You can fix it?”

  I chuckle low. “Of course I can fix it.”

  “You’re not a carpenter,” she points out challengingly.

  Grunting roughly at the affront to my masculinity, I pin her with a stare. “I can fix it, Vivian.” I pull my wallet from my back pocket and flip it open. “Would you like to verify my man card?”

  Slapping my wrist away, she laughs. Such a pretty laugh. “I don’t need to verify your man card.” Her eyes move into the barbershop where Cruz is already hard at work on a buzz cut while the other customers watch sports highlights and talk trash. “You already have three people sitting in the waiting area.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Well, they’ll wait. That’s what the waiting area is for.”

  As her giggles die down, her eyes lock with mine in a long, earnest stare. “Fine. If you can fix the awning, I’d appreciate that.”

  “Sure. Just give me a minute to grab some tools.”

  With a wide grin on my face, I leave her on the sidewalk and rush into the barbershop to grab the rusty, old toolbox in the storage closet. When I snatch up the ladder, my cock twitches as memories flood back. I see the way her eyes light up too as I lean the ladder against the side of the building. She’s definitely thinking what I’m thinking.

  Vivian stands on the sidewalk, handing me tools as I screw and hammer the awning back into place. Within half an hour, the thing is all tacked up and good to go. And the look on her face as I climb down the ladder—the fluttery eyelashes, the pink cheeks, the dreamy grin like I’m her very own personal hero—that’s what makes it worth it.

  “Thank you,” she says in a voice that’s low and sultry. She steps up close to me, so close our bodies are almost touching.

  My eyes focus on her lips. Her pretty, sexy mouth. “You’re welcome.” I’m aching all over to taste her. Last night when I tried to eat her pussy, she stopped me with vehement insistence. She probably had a bad experience with that. Probably a careless ex-boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing when he had that pussy in his face. Sloppy motherfuckers! They ruin it for the rest of us. Anyway, I’m going to get her sitting on my face. In time.

  I’ll have all of her. Every inch. In every position. She may not realize it yet, but I have every intention of making her mine.

  “Hey…” she says hesitantly with her eyes glittering up at me as she twists her hands in front of her. “It’s my birthday on Saturday…”

  I cock a brow. “Okay, then. I’ll check my schedule. I’m sure I can pencil you in for some birthday sex if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Giggling, she slaps me on the chest. “That’s not what I’m getting at.” She chews on her bottom lip, looking nervous. “My sister insists on taking me out to dinner with ‘friends’.” She scowls as she draws quotes around the word. “Her friends…Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your schedule. Too bad because I’d love to invite you along.” Her foot pivots left to right as she grinds the toe of her shoe into the pavement.

  “You asking me on a date, Sunflower?” Her sudden shyness is amusing. And cute.

  “Can you not make this weird please?” She’s getting redder by the second. For a traditional woman like Vivian, asking a man on a date is probably a major paradigm shift. Look at you, stepping outside of your comfort zone, Ms. Hartley. I may be an asshole, but I won’t let her off the hook so easy. Watching
her squirm is quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world.

  I inch closer. “I’ll be your date on one condition?”

  “What?” Her voice is all breathy, full of lust.

  “I get a kiss. Now.”

  She gasps softly, her eyes wide with disbelief. She glances around the street for any spectators. She stumbles a step back when her gaze hooks on the window of her cupcake shop. Her sister and Sadie are behind the counter, doing a horrible job of pretending to mind their business. Vivian fumbles with her words. “I think…I think…”

  But I don’t give a fuck who’s watching. I cup her chin in my hand and brush my lips over hers. She groans from deep down. That only stokes the fire and greed in me. Because Vivian needs a man who will take control, someone who will make her feel safe and wanted in a world where she feels so insecure. So I kiss her. I purse my lips against hers and kiss her like she’s the most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth. She is. And I don’t want her doubting it anymore.

  When I tunnel both of my hands into her perfectly crimped hair and move my lips across her cheek and down her jaw, she doesn’t fight me off. Instead, she wraps her arms around my waist and presses her body to mine. She feels so good. The tip of my tongue darts out, sliding along her sweet, long neck. If I don’t stop myself, I’ll eat her alive.

  Pulling back takes all the strength I can muster. I do it reluctantly. My pulse roars and my breathing is heavy as I lean my forehead on hers. “What time do I pick you up on Saturday night?”

  “Seven.” The wispiness in her voice makes my cock twitch.

  “Good.” I grab the ladder and tools before walking toward the door of my barbershop. “And Vivian?”

  Her expression is still hazy as she watches me. “Yes?”

  “That birthday sex I know you want? It’ll be epic.” With a smirk etched on my mouth, I let the door swing closed behind me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Vivian

  I’m already waiting nervously by the door when I hear the guttural ruckus of Clinton’s motorcycle tearing down my street. He came on his motorcycle? The muscles between my thighs warm up at the thought of being on that beastly machine, my arms clinging to his waist as he cruises down the back roads at high speed. A girl can dream, right?

  Sighing blissfully, I grab my car keys from the table. I have no intention of ever giving life to that motorcycle fantasy. I’m not the kind of girl who does things like that. Especially not on a night like tonight when I’m wearing my favorite black flared vintage dress with its sweetheart neckline and its full skirt. The ride itself would kill me. I’d be crotch-to-saddle on a vibrating surface, hanging on for dear life, while inhaling lungsful of Clinton’s scent. I don’t think I’d survive that much stimulation all at once.

  When he rings the doorbell, I count to ten to calm my raging heart. I open the door and my pulse kicks into overdrive all over again. I feel a hard pang of lust deep in my belly. Oh my womb…

  He’s so beautifully rugged and rebellious. He’s wearing a white button down with a slim black tie under a black velvet blazer. His dark hair is brushed back off of his forehead. His piercing dark eyes canvass my body from head to toe and back and his gaze sharpens with passion. I’ve never experienced this kind of handsome before and it’s messing with my balance.

  His tattooed knuckles clench on the lip of the helmet he’s holding in his hand. “You look fucking gorgeous, Vivian.” Despite his classic attire, the grit in his voice reminds me that he’s a creature of pure primal instinct once he has me pinned down beneath him. I flutter at that knowledge.

  “You look so handsome,” I manage to squeeze out around the lump in my throat.

  “I figured I’d step up my game since I’ll be walking through the front door of the place with the prettiest woman in town.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly, shyly tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  He leans in slowly and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Happy birthday…”

  The way he says it—low and husky with a hint of a growl. I keen into his embrace as chills sweep up the back of my neck. I whimper when he pulls away.

  With a crooked grin, he stretches the helmet out to me.

  I furrow my brow and stretch my car keys out to him in response.

  Silently, he cocks his brow and wiggles the helmet around.

  Nope. I shake my head and jingle the keys.

  Giving up on our silly game, he laughs and shrugs as he lowers the helmet to his side. “I guess it was worth a shot.”

  Smiling at my little victory, I step out of the house and lock the door behind me. Clinton offers me his arm and we stroll down to the car together.

  He keeps me laughing on the ride through the quiet streets of Hoovertown and down toward the heart of downtown Copper Heights. By the time we’re walking through the front door of Gallos, I’m giddy. I’ve nearly forgotten that we’re here to celebrate the milestone that I’ve been dreading for way too long.

  I just hit the big 3-0.

  I’ve had a mild case of nausea all day. It still hasn’t sunk in yet but the day isn’t as tragic as I’d expected it to be, I guess. The earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole when I rolled out of bed this morning. I didn’t find a big, red X etched in blood on my front door. I didn’t wake up with an unexplained tremor in my hand the way my mother had when she got to my age. Maybe I’ll survive after all.

  As the hostess leads us in the direction of our dinner party, Reese waves us over to the table where she’s sitting with our group of guests. She reserved the private section at the back of the restaurant. Leo sits to her left with his arm draped around the back of her chair. Charlie and Nova are there too and thank god, this time, they’ve left the matching tracksuits at home. Sophia sits somberly next to them, clutching her round stomach and staring despondently into her glass of orange juice. Cleo and her man are cuddled on each other like lovedrunk teenagers. Then there’s my yoga instructor, Isla with her husband, Reuben. Plus, Uncle Phil, Aunt Jean and a few of our distant cousins. Sadie motions to the two empty seats next to her and waves Clinton and me over. I introduce him to the whole table and everyone greets him warmly. A tickle of pride dances in my belly when I see how well he fits in with the group.

  I’m afraid to admit to myself how excited I am about this guy. It’s disorienting. He’s so not what I was expecting to fall for. He doesn’t fill all the carefully-selected criteria that I thought I needed from the man I’d give my heart to. But he’s kind. Funny. Patient with all my many quirks. Perfect.

  And so damn good at that whole giving-orgasms thing. I mean really good at that giving-orgasms thing.

  For once, I’m enjoying myself and I’m enjoying my friends. I’m not worrying that the curls in my hair might be falling loose or that I’m laughing a bit louder than might be socially acceptable or that I maybe shouldn’t have let Clinton feed me that delicious, sinful bite of fatty, cheesy manicotti. This is a new feeling for me. I’ve felt isolated for so long. Suffocated by the walls I built up around myself. This feeling of togetherness warms me all the way to my toes.

  Everything is going perfectly until Nova asks someone to pass her the bread basket. Her glimmering diamond catches the light and Sadie’s eyes bulge. “Wait! You’re engaged? What?!”

  As all eyes turn to her and Charlie, Nova gives me an apologetic look. “Yeah, it just happened yesterday but we didn’t want to say anything since it’s Viv’s big night.”

  The table bursts into a boisterous round of hollering and applause as people take turns congratulating my brother and beautiful fiancée. I’m proud of them. He and Nova are perfect for each other. I can say that without even the slightest sting of jealousy. Those two belong together and they’ll make each other happy for the rest of their lives. I know it.

  “Well, something is definitely in the water with you Hartley kids this year,” Uncle Phil points out. “First, Reese. Then, Charlie. Then…” His eyes travel over to me and his words tra
il off awkwardly.

  Aunt Jean stage-whispers under her breath and pours herself yet another refill of wine. “Don’t hold your breath for Vivian. You know what they say; uptight prudes finish last.”

  One of my cousins hisses. “Mom…Stop it.”

  The woman shrugs carelessly and a brittle, hoary tuft of hair falls out of her unkempt bun. “Ugh! We all say it all the time. Why be a hypocrite when you can just say it to her face?”

  Uncle Phil seems mortified. He slams his fist into the table. “Jean. Enough drinking. Please.”

  The inebriated woman turns to me. “Viv, make sure to keep a tight grip on the man by your side. We wouldn’t want him running off on you like the last one did because at your age, you just never know if and when another one’ll come around.” She taps a finger to the watch on her wrist. “Tick-tock, honey.” The whole table falls dead-quiet at that.

  I feel the blow of her words deep in my belly. I try to ignore the tickling feeling at the back of my eyes, but I know it’s only a matter of seconds before the tears start falling. “I need some fresh air,” I mumble as I push away from the table.

  Reese calls my name and I hear Charlie scolding Aunt Jean as I stagger in the direction of the exit. I push against the restaurant’s back door and blunder into the alley behind.

  Shoving away the tears of embarrassment with my fists, I open my mouth and pull in a long inhale. I can’t believe I let that old hag get to me. Aunt Jean has always been a bitch and she drinks too much, especially when someone else is footing the bill. Yes, it was humiliating to hear her say those things about me but I think the worst part was having Clinton right next to me, hearing them too. Maybe I am unlovable. Maybe I’m destined to be a spinster. But I definitely don’t want him to see me that way.

  When the backdoor bursts open, I quickly dab my eyes again. I spin around and it’s Clinton standing there.