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

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

Oh my god!

  I gasp loudly. "Whisking eggs with a fork? That's an atrocity! A crime against all of human civilization."

  “Is that so?” He snickers.

  I grab the wire whisk from the drawer and reach for the bowl of eggs. “Definitely.”

  He nudges me out of the way with a strong hip. “No! No, you’re not in charge here,” he tells me in a faux-stern voice. “Get out of here.”

  I protest. “You can’t aerate the eggs properly if you use a fork!”

  “Vivian—back to bed.”

  “The only way to get fluffy eggs is to make sure they’re properly whisked.”

  He steals the whisk from my hand and swats me on the bum. “Okay, you—no more smart comments out of you. Just get back in bed and wait to be served.” He points the whisk in the direction of the bedroom. “Can you do that?”

  We glare at each other for a moment. It’s a standoff.

  I lose.

  “Fine.” I pout.

  His laugh is deep and throaty. “Go. Shoo.” A few more taps on the butt. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

  I trudge back down the hallway and crawl into bed, fighting off my smile the whole time. I could so get used to this, actually. It’s sort of nice to let someone else take control, in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in my heart. I lie down on the sheets and pull the blankets around me, allowing myself to get comfortable, lulled by the sound of Clinton banging around in the kitchen and the smell of the vegetables as they cook. I slip right back into dreamland.

  Next thing I know, there’s a strong hand on my shoulder nudging me awake. “Hey beautiful. Breakfast time.”

  I open my eyes and Clinton’s gorgeous face is what I see. He holds a plate out to me and I explode into laughter when I look down at the meal. He’s made a happy face using two fried eggs as the eyes, a dab of ketchup as the nose, bacon slices as the lips and hair made from an arch of sautéed vegetables.

  Taking the plate, I set it on my lap then reach up and grab his face between my hands. “Thank you.” I slide my lips over his.

  He sits at my feet and I grab a crispy slice of bacon, munching eagerly. “So, it’s Sunday, right? Your day off?” Cradling my foot in his hand, he begins rubbing my sole as he waits for an answer.

  Bacon AND a foot massage. Is this guy trying to kill me?

  My head is spinning—between the spanking and the breakfast and the reciting nursery rhymes about my genitalia, my chances of survival this weekend are diminishing at an alarming pace.

  I barely manage to speak without moaning. “Yeah, Sadie opens the shop up from 12:00 to 4:00. Reese and I take the day off.” When we originally opened the bakery, my sister and I ran the business alone, working seven days a week. I was tired but I kept pushing through until my sister burned out and it nearly cost her her life. That’s when we both decided that we needed a change and I (begrudgingly) agreed to let her hire Sadie.

  Clinton licks his lips and his eyelids go heavy and seductive. “Does that mean I get to have you to myself all day?”

  I wince as I slice the egg with the side of my fork. “Unfortunately, no. Today, I’m on daughter duty. I’m going to visit my parents in Springfield.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your dad’s in the state senate.” He nods as the nugget of information bobs back into his head.

  I don’t know why, but the fact that he remembered that sort of makes me feel closer to him. It makes me want to open up to him. “And my mom’s in a nursing home…” I add quietly.

  His movements freeze and he looks up at me. “Why is she in a nursing home?”

  “She has multiple sclerosis,” I say with a sigh as I set down my fork. “Her care is more than my dad can handle on his own and since they refuse to move back to Copper Heights, my mother is fifty-seven years old in a nursing home, in Springfield, four hours away from her kids.” Every time I think about it, I get so frustrated. If they weren’t so damn stubborn, they could be here around their kids who are willing and ready to help. Instead, strangers care for my mother every day and I only get to visit her once every few weeks.

  Clinton rubs my calf soothingly. “Viv, I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  Pushing down my sadness, I smile as brightly as I can manage. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know very much about the disease,” he says, sliding his fingers through my toes and massaging me there. “But I’ve heard that it’s painful.”

  I wipe my greasy fingers on a napkin. “There are days when the pain is manageable. But the bad days are really bad…”

  He’s quiet for a while, his attention focused on my foot as he twists it this way and that at the ankle. “What’s she like?” he asks in a slow, quiet voice.

  Surprised by the question, I let my eyes roam over his face. “My mom?”

  A short laugh spurts out of him. “Yeah, your mom. That’s who we’re talking about, right? What’s she like?”

  The question really throws me off. I can’t remember the last time I thought about my mother without imagining the burden of the disease shackled to her back, weighing her down. But Clinton’s question is an invitation to reminisce about all the things I love about her, beyond the multiple sclerosis.

  I find myself smiling. “She’s funny. Really funny. She’s so loyal to my dad. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing for them, but she’s always been committed to standing by his side and helping him weather each and every storm.” My eyes get misty and I wipe away the tears with the side of my finger. “She’s so good. A good mother, a good wife, a good person. And she makes it seem easy, effortless. All I’ve ever wanted is to be just like her…And that’s also my biggest fear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like I’ll never quite get the chance to be like Gloria Hartely. The perfect mother. The perfect wife. Still, a woman who’s strong and independent on her own…MS is a degenerative disease,” I tell him. “My mom started showing symptoms at thirty. But she already had a family…It terrifies me to think that I may end up with multiple scleroisis without ever having a husband or kids, the thing that I want more than anything…”

  “I don’t know what the future holds for your health, but I do know that you don’t have to try to shadow your mother’s path. I’m sure she’d never ask you to.”

  “She wouldn’t. And I’m trying to be less afraid of falling short.”

  With his finger under my chin, he lifts my face. “You already are everything you’re supposed to be, Sunflower. So stop fretting about the future. Just focus on right now.”

  Tears drop onto the fabric of my T-shirt as I echo his words. “Focus on right now?” He makes it sound so simple.

  He leans across and grabs the plate from the side table. “Yeah, focus on the bacon.”

  Now, I’m laughing. “Focus on the bacon?”

  “Yeah, focus on the bacon. And pass some of it over here.” He leans close and opens his mouth like a child waiting to be fed.

  I brush the tears from my eyes and snatch up a slice of bacon. “Here comes the airplane,” I tease as my hand zips and soars through the air. “Open up for the airplane!”

  Clinton snorts out a laugh just before it lands in his mouth. “Your parenting skills are on point,” he says as he chews. “You’ll make an excellent mom someday.”

  I feel a sting deep in my chest because there’s that nagging fear at the back of my mind that I’ll never get the chance.

  He must notice my expression shift from playful to somber because his eyes go serious. “I mean it, Viv. You’ll make an excellent mom.”

  His mouth touches mine and my eyes drift shut, closing out everything but the feeling of being pressed against him with his tongue exploring my mouth and his hands roaming over my body. He coaxes me backward and when I’m lying flat on my back, he climbs on top of me.

  His slow kisses move down my torso. The softness of his lips on me contrasting with the rough grate of his stubble. The weight of his body on mine. This is a feeling I never
knew I needed.

  A shiver runs through me and then a sigh escapes my mouth when the nudging head of his cock breaks into me. He takes me in slow, languid thrusts. Each stroke soothes the worry inside of me and my body winds tighter and tighter and tighter until I can’t take anymore and we both explode with pleasure.

  When it’s all over, we shower together and end up doing it again under the warm spray of the water. With my towel tucked around my body and my wet hair falling loose down my back, I go to my closet and break out my ironing board and a rumpled cotton blouse sitting on a hanger. Clinton leans on the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t feel comfortable with you driving down there by yourself with the state you’re in. I’ll go with you.”

  “What? Clinton, no…”

  He cocks a brow. “What you’re scared your parents would disapprove of me? Fine, I’ll wait outside—"

  “That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t ask you to wait outside. It’s just…I just…Are you sure you wanna meet my parents? That’s sort of—you know—a big step.”

  “It’s a step I want to take, Viv. Because I want you. That’s why I’ve been hanging around. If you think that I’ve been doing all this”—He gestures to the bed, his hand moving in a circular motion—“because I’m short on extra-curricular credits or something, then think again. I’m in love with you. Hard. And I’m going to have you. So you’d better figure out how you’re gonna fit a grimy bastard like me into your pristine little life.”

  I swear I never knew my heart was this athletic. It does a series of flips and contortions that make my head spin. I abandon the iron and pad across the room to him. Toe-to-toe, I look up into his face. “Are you claiming me, Clinton Alvarez?”

  His arm comes around my waist. “I’m claiming you, Vivian Hartley. You’re mine, Sunflower.”

  Grinning, I press my lips to the center of his damp chest. Mine, mine, mine. This savage, sexy, wonderful brute is mine and I don’t ever wanna share.

  He slides his fingers through my hair and tugs my head back softly so that I’m looking up at him. God, I love it when he roughs me up. “Now, you’d better start getting ready so we can get on the road because I can’t wait to get you back here tonight and show you exactly how I love on my girl.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vivian

  My father looked like he was about to have a major health crisis when I walked into the room with Clinton’s arm around me. The introductions were awkward and the small talk didn't come easy. Dad flipped into over-protective mode and I could tell that Clinton felt defensive. My mother’s small room at the nursing home didn’t seem big enough to contain all the tension.

  But Mom has a way of diffusing explosive situations. She spins conversations around, asking the right questions and sharing the perfect anecdotes that allow everyone to let their guards down. Today is no exception. I see the way Clinton warms up to her and eventually to my father. I catch the hard-earned smile that my father shoots Clinton’s way. It turns out that Dad was actually quite amused that someone finally put Aunt Jean in her place.

  Then my father asks the question that sucks all the air out of the room. "Clinton, what are your intentions for my daughter?" He leans back in the armchair where he's sitting and crosses his arms over his chest. He stares at Clinton from over the top of his glasses.

  "Dad!" I scold, warmth flooding my cheeks. Why does he have to put the guy on the spot?

  Clinton doesn't fumble, though. He refuses to flinch under my father's heated glare. "I intend to keep her." He reaches over and takes my hand in his. I squeeze his fingers in reassurance. My heart tumbles about at the pure conviction in his voice.

  "You intend to keep her?"

  "Yes, sir. There's no other woman for me. Vivian is it. And I'm going to keep her."

  My mother's breathing hitches and her hand falls to dad's thigh. Oh Mom—please don't get teary-eyed. Too late. She's already reaching for her handkerchief. Dad sizes Clinton up again, scrutinizing him mercilessly. My man's resolve stays firm, his eye contact doesn't waver and eventually, my father's shoulders relax.

  Before long, my dad rises and pulls a packet of cigars from his shirt pocket. "I'm in the mood for one of these." He runs a cigar under his nose and basks in the rich scent. "Join me."

  Clinton places a kiss on my knuckles and accepts my father's invitation. I watch as the two of them step into the hallway and head for the elevator.

  “Do you think they’ll both come back in one piece?” I mutter nervously under my breath.

  My mother turns to me and I know she can't help the excitement she feels inside. "He's so handsome, Vivian. And the way he looks at you...Makes me want to be thirty and in love again."

  My brow lifts in surprise. "I—I thought you wouldn’t like him. Y’know because he’s all tattooed and stuff.”

  “Oh honey, the paintings on a man’s skin don’t matter. It’s all about what’s in his heart. I just want you to be happy. It's been so long since I've seen that genuine smile on your face. I worship any man who can give that to you.”

  “Even if he’s covered in tattoos?” I challenge.

  “Even if he’s outside of your comfort zone,” my mother says, rephrasing my words.

  I shake my head. "Wow, this isn't the reaction I was expecting from you. I came here ready to fight for him. He isn’t exactly the type of man I know you guys expected for me."

  "I’d rather see you with a man covered in ink who’s wild for you than a clean-cut jerk who only thinks of himself." She winks at me and I break out giggling. "You’ve been holding yourself back for too long. With your plans and your checklists and your rigid expectations. This world isn't perfect and things don't always go to plan. It's okay to step out of your safety net, honey. Because if you're not mindful, your comfort zone easily becomes your prison."

  One corner of my mouth kicks up and I watch her. "Mom you sound like a fortune cookie."

  Rolling her eyes, she waves me away. "This is wisdom I'm giving you, Vivian. You'd better soak it all up."

  I laugh. "Any more sage words of advice for me?" I'm being just a bit snarky to divert from just how nervous I am.

  She leans forward conspiratorially. “Yes, one more piece of advice…Have all the sex you can!”

  “Mom!” My neck is hot and prickly all of a sudden.

  My mother giggles at my discomfort. "Life's way too short to not be having sex. With someone who takes your breath away. And makes you feel like the most beautiful woman who ever lived. You owe yourself that much...But from the way you're smiling, I can tell that you already knew that."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Clinton

  Sonny looks up at me from his perch on Lisa’s lap and gives me a big, drooly, trusting smile. I smile back feeling like a bastard because, unlike the innocent toddler, I know exactly what’s about to happen.

  I glare at Lisa’s stupid face again. “Is it really necessary to do this?”

  She just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s better that we get this over with now than wait until he’s older. He’ll forget all about it in a few minutes. Trust me.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and glower at the crowd of people milling around, ducking in and out of the various stores surrounding us.

  Lisa snickers under her breath. “Would you just lighten up?” she bounces the baby in her lap. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  She’s right. It’s true. Babies get their ears pierced all the time and Sonny won’t remember this in time. But I don’t want to see him get hurt. I can’t stand the idea of that little boy enduring any pain even if it’ll be short-lived. When the piercer approaches with the gun and disinfectant wipes in hand, I move to the other end of the shop. “I can’t watch this…”

  I find myself standing in front of a jewelry display case. And I’m staring down at a row of diamond rings. My eyes move across the case, surveying the glimmering stones sitting on shiny bands. My attention snags on one in part
icular. A round diamond on a simple platinum band. And I swear it winks up at me.

  Vivian’s words replay in my head. I close my eyes and I see the longing that played on her face when she spoke about wanting to be a mother and fearing that she’d never get the chance.

  The damn ring is calling out to me but the voice at the back of my head protests. Too soon, man. Too soon. I force myself to walk to the other end of the counter, checking out the watches and bracelets. Before long, my attention goes back to the ring. I know, I know. It’s damn crazy but it’s all I really want. To put a ring on Vivian’s finger, to see her smiling up at me from under a sheet of white lace, to hear her telling me she’s mine forever.

  When we went to see her parents the other day, I could see the doubt in her father’s eyes, I could feel his fear that I’m just a bastard playing with his little girl’s heart. He’s wrong about that. I don’t expect him to understand how I feel about Vivian. In a world where I was lost and confused, she’s now my anchor and there’s no way in hell I’d let her go.

  With fierce determination dancing under my skin, I call over the sales girl and have her pull the ring from the display for me. Beautiful. Classic. Just like Vivian. From the moment I touch it, I just know that it’s hers. And I know that I’ll be the man to give it to her. I've been drifting for so long. Now, I just want to put down roots with a good woman, the right woman, the only woman for me.

  I think back to the day that I met her, when she was berating me for knocking over her chalkboard sign. One of the first thoughts that went through my mind was ‘This woman is one you keep. This woman is one you put a ring on.’ At the time, I was shocked that nobody else had made her his wife. But now that she’s mine, sliding this ring onto her hand is a privilege that I’d kill to protect.

  I pull out my wallet and shuffle out a handful of hundred dollar bills, the amount the sales clerk quotes me to reserve the ring until I come back with the rest of the money. She hands me a form to sign and gives me a copy with a receipt. I do my best to ignore the booming of my heart as I shove the papers into my wallet.