Lover Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 1)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  I lied to him when I showed up here a few hours ago. Yes, my heating system is broken, but I do have coffee of my own. In fact, my coffee is much better than his.

  But the truth is, I think I missed him.

  He hasn’t been over in a few days and I kind of just wanted to see his smug, handsome face and hear the roar of his laughter filling the room.

  I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. It scares me. Why the hell am I here right now? Why am I not running far away from this man? Those are questions that I just can’t answer.

  I know that he seems like a good man – volunteering with old folks and cuddling with babies and all – but I can’t trust him. I’m terrified of trusting him. Once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker. Right?

  So why is it so hard to keep my distance?

  While scanning distractedly through the catalogue, a small, simple tattoo catches my eye. Thick black swirls sitting under the model’s clavicle, near her shoulder. I recognize it from a poster at Isla’s yoga studio. It’s the sanskrit symbol for ‘compassion’.

  Compassion is the remedy for perfectionism. That’s what Isla says at the beginning of her meditation recording.

  “That’s what I need right now,” I murmur quietly into the air. Compassion for myself. Compassion for Keeland. Compassion to accept all the shit that isn’t going exactly the way I planned. Compassion to accept that sometimes, ‘imperfect’ is still ‘amazing’.

  Keeland sits up straight in his seat. “Did you say something?”

  I hold up the magazine to him. “I want this tattoo,” I announce confidently, pointing at the photo. He gives me a groggy, skeptical look. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. I just want you to give me this tattoo,” I say.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Tattoos are forever, Sammie.”

  “I know that. But I want you to ink me. No joke.” I give him my most earnest expression.

  He studies me for a while. “Okay, but I don’t want you whining later if you change your mind.”

  “I’m not a child, Keeland. I understand what I’m getting myself into.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m lying flat on the kitchen table and Keeland is rubbing a disinfectant wipe across the flesh beneath my collarbone.

  “It’s not too late to back out of this, y’know,” he says as he empties a small amount of black into the plastic tray sitting next to his tattoo gun.

  “I’m sure,” I say, even though my heart beats faster as the whirr of the tattoo gun fills the air.

  “Here we go,” he mumbles just before the needle hits my skin and my body becomes his canvas. I flinch at the first bites of the needle. “Hold still,” he says, his eyes, narrow and focused.

  I chew into my lip to take my mind off of the stinging, and before long, Keeland applies a transparent plastic film to my red, swollen flesh and announces that he’s finished.

  He follows me to the mirror hanging on the wall next to the front door. “Do you like it?” he asks, his skeptical eyes moving from his creation and finding my gaze in the mirror.

  “I love it,” I say. “Thank you, Keeland. Really.”

  Chapter 33

  Keeland and I stroll unhurriedly down Bonfire Lane. Mr. Lucky leads the way, racing through the open park gates without our instruction as if he knows instinctively exactly where we’re headed.

  “Slow down there, boy,” I call after him as we take a seat on a bench near the edge of the jogging path.

  The dog circles excitedly around the bench a few times before Keeland reaches down and releases him from his leash. Mr. Lucky dashes off across the grass, stopping a few times to sniff around in the dirt.

  “Uh – I don’t think we should do that,” I say warily as I look around at the bigger dogs playing in the park. “I don’t think that Nancy lets him run free like that.”

  Keeland waves me off dismissively. “Nancy isn’t here and I’ll never tell. Let the boy have some fun.”

  Nancy’s feeling under the weather today, so she asked both me and Keeland to take Mr. Lucky for his morning walk. She wore a conspiratorial glint in her eye as she sniffled her nose and insisted that the both of us should take him to the park together. I didn’t complain because, oddly, I’m starting to enjoy spending time with the guy. It’s weird – not too long ago, I was convinced that I hated him.

  I sigh and purse my lips, collapsing against the bench. “If he gets into any trouble, you’re taking the blame.” I take the leash from him and wrap it around my wrist.

  Keeland shrugs. “Fine, then.” He smiles at me and our eyes hold for a long moment. I finally look away.

  We sit in silence as people jog by, taking their morning run. Keeland leans back against the bench and pulls a scrap of paper and a pencil from his pocket. I watch quietly as Mr. Lucky’s silhouette takes shape on the page with each stroke of Keeland’s pencil. It’s sort of relaxing, watching him draw. His talent is so easy and natural.

  Eventually, a blond-headed boy, about six or seven years old, comes charging into the park, chasing after a dark-haired girl of about the same age. The kids shriek and laugh as they run by. Their mothers trail behind.

  “Tag, you’re it! Tag, you’re it!” the boy screams gleefully as the little girl does her best to get away.

  Keeland laughs and turns to me. “That was totally us when we were kids.”

  “I know, right?” Amusement warms my tone. He was constantly chasing after me and pulling on my ponytail when we were younger. His obsession with playfully yanking my hair survives to this day.

  “He’s totally in love with her,” Keeland says thoughtfully, his gaze still trailing the children as they run off. “Too bad he won’t figure that out until he’s about 15.”

  “Oh, really?” I say lifting an eyebrow at him skeptically.

  “Yup.” He’s silent for a while and then, he looks me straight in the eye and says. "Do you know how much I was digging you in high school? "

  Wow – that came out of the blue.

  I give him a look that lets him know I think he’s bullshitting me. "What? No, you weren't."

  "I totally was," he insists.

  I shake my head. "You lie. You were always flirting with the popular girls at the back of the class or holding hands with some chick from the private high school at the mall."

  "But you were the only one I could be silly with, the only one who knew about my family. You were the only one who knew me." I feel more butterflies in my stomach with each word.

  My voice is small, nearly inaudible, when I say. “Whatever…All you did was pull my hair...”

  He turns so that he’s facing me head-on. With the crook of his finger, he tips my face toward him. “I’m serious, Sammie. I really liked you…The way that things turned out – the prom and everything – I never meant for that to happen. I’m really sorry about it. I am. I’ve thought a lot about it over the years. I never got to apologize, but I’m apologizing now…I’m sorry, Sam.”

  I’ve waited eight years to hear him utter those words. In all my fantasies about him apologizing to me, I’d felt strong and vindicated, on top of the world. But hearing him say it now, I don’t feel that sense of satisfaction that I’d always expected.

  I look at him with a small, sad smile. “You know that I sent you a ‘friend request’ on Facebook? You never replied.” I feel silly as I say it, but I’ve got to get it off my chest. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long time.

  He gives me a hang-dog expression. “I…I was embarrassed to accept it. I didn’t want to have to explain myself to you. I didn’t want to have to admit that the Masters’ skipped town because we were too broke to keep the roof over our head for one more month. I was embarrassed that we owed that money to your dad. I was embarrassed that we just disappeared without a word. I know that I hurt you. I was a kid with an ego and I didn’t handle the situation properly. I know that…so, I’m apologizing now.”

  It can’t really be that simple, can it? I’d always im
agined that there’d been some big story as to why Keeland’s family had left Reyfield. “But you weren’t some helpless little kid, Keeland. You were 18, almost 19. You could have called me or emailed me or whatever. To explain what happened.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Sammie,” he snaps. Then, he immediately looks guilty. He lowers his voice and stares down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

  My eyes tingle with tears as I stare out at the children again. The little girl trips over her feet and goes flying to the ground. The boy stands back, pointing at her as he laughs cruelly. I sigh. “It’s too bad that it’s always the little girl who ends up getting hurt, huh?” I stand, Mr. Lucky’s leash in hand.

  “Cryptic, much?” Keeland says sarcastically, pulling on a blade of grass sprouting beside the bench.

  I wipe my fist against my cheek, pushing back a wayward tear.

  “Sammie…” He watches me with pleading eyes.

  I give him that melancholy smile again, trying to assure him that I won’t break down in tears. I’m not that fragile. “Keeland, don’t. It was a long time ago. I’m over it. Let’s not mention it again.” I call after the dog, “Come on, Mr. Lucky. Time to go.”

  But I’m not over it. I may be smiling at him now, I may be having sex with him every chance I get but I have to remember that we can never be anything more than sex buddies. Because a piece of Samantha Trotten’s heart is still broken and Keeland Masters is the one to blame.

  Chapter 34

  I give Keeland a sly glance over my shoulder before I slip onto an empty stool next to Gracie. I run my fingers through my hair and smooth down the fabric of my forest green pencil skirt. He flashes me a wink as he picks up a cue stick and joins Daniel and some other guys at the pool table.

  Faith leans across the bar to look at me. “Hey, where were you?” she questions, eying me over the rim of her martini glass.

  I try to keep my tone even and aloof as I say; “I was in the ladies’ room, freshening up.”

  Faith looks at me with a quirked brow. “Freshening up? You look more disheveled than you did when we got here.”

  Before tonight, I never thought I was the type of girl to fuck in the washroom of a seedy dive bar. But now, I guess I am, because when Keeland discreetly grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me to the restroom nearly half an hour ago, I hadn’t protested. In fact, I’d been thrilled. The very real possibility of getting caught had made me wetter than a sponge in a bucket of water. My legs had been wrapped around his waist and my back pressed into the door as he’d slipped on a condom and fucked me quick and hard, all while swallowing my moans with his kiss.

  We’ve been having a really hard time keeping our hands and our lips and our bodies off of one another. And despite my best efforts, I’m starting to have feelings for him. I’m happiest when he’s around and I miss him like crazy when he’s gone. I know that my heart’s at risk but it’s becoming harder and harder to be rational about this.

  Keeland’s eyes catch mine as I peek in his direction again. My cheeks ripen with a hot blush. When I turn back toward my friends, Faith is looking at me. “What?” I ask self-consciously.

  “What exactly is going on between you two?” she asks with suspicious eyes, her index finger darting accusatorily from Keeland to me and back again.

  Gracie slams her water bottle down on the bar with haste. She holds up her palm like a stop sign. “Wait, don’t answer that. I need plausible deniability if your brother ever questions me on this.”

  I may be even redder now. “Nothing is going on between us,” I say, waving my hand dismissively as I lie through gritted teeth. I thank my lucky stars that Isla didn’t come out with us tonight because if she had, I wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face as I said that.

  Gracie gives me a pointed stare. “Well, you know how Daniel feels about you getting involved with Keeland. He’s a nice guy, but he’s got a whoooooollleee lot of baggage and Daniel would kill him for touching you.”

  “Baggage?” I ask as the barman sets a cherry cola martini in front of me. Gracie is driving tonight so I’ll allow myself a few drinks.

  My sister-in-law looks straight ahead, guilt in her eyes, like she’s said too much.

  I raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “Why do I feel like everybody’s in on this big secret that no one’s telling me?” First, Daniel gave me that weird speech about Keeland not being the same guy he was when we were teenagers. Plus, Keeland blatantly refuses to talk about what he’s been up to since he left Reyfield. Now, Gracie’s just dropped a warning dripping with cryptic undertones.

  She glances at her phone. “Oh, look! It’s 10:30 already. Time flies!” She grabs her purse and her fleece jacket, eyes traveling to Daniel and Keeland over at the pool table. “Come on, ladies. Let’s go convince these men to get out of here.”

  I slide a $20-bill across the counter, leaving my untouched drink behind as I wordlessly slip into my coat and follow after her.

  Now, I’m convinced, they’re hiding something. Something about Keeland. And given the way I’m starting to feel about him, I don’t think I want to find out what it is.

  Chapter 35

  I lean over the pool table and take aim at the orange five ball. It’s positioned to roll right into the pocket. I jab the stick into the white ball but I miss.

  “Fuck,” I mumble as I lower the stick and slump against the side of the table.

  Daniel chuckles. "You're making this way too easy, Masters. Are you trying to give me your money tonight?" He rounds the table and, as he passes behind me, he grabs my shoulders and gives them a rough shake. It's meant to be a friendly gesture but it only serves to remind me of the raw horsepower in that guy’s body.

  Shit — I’m screwed.

  "What's up with you, man? Your shoulders are all tense." Daniel leans over the table and prepares to take his shot.

  I shrug, "Must be the mattress. That old thing’s really uncomfortable."

  The mattress? Yeah right. The truth is, it's kind of hard to relax around Daniel when I can still taste his sister on my tongue.

  I just fucked her brains out in the restroom. The possibility of getting caught got me jacked up on adrenaline but I just couldn’t resist. I can never resist her. It’s like I have to be inside of her or else I feel unsteady.

  My feelings for Sammie are starting to get out of control. At first, pursuing her was all fun and games. I enjoyed the challenge more than anything. Then, when she finally gave in, the high of finally getting to taste what I’d missed out on all those years ago became the ultimate aphrodisiac. But now, I’m starting to feel completely strung out on her. She’s freaking beautiful and smart and funny.

  She also has obsessive-compulsive tendencies and she’s half-crazy.

  But she’s been holding onto a piece of my heart since I was a teenager and now, every time I’m with her, that piece gets bigger and her hold gets tighter. I’m not sure what I’m doing but I know that this thing between us isn’t just physical anymore.

  A tall brunette with brown skin, flirty bangs and cleavage boiling over the top of her lacy, white blouse slows to a stop next to our table. “Hey Mr. Trotten,” she says with a wide grin. Her eyes are on me.

  “Hey Sanaya,” Daniel responds when he looks up and sees her.

  “Having fun, tonight?” she asks.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Great. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, then. Have a good evening.”

  She walks away, but turns back to give me a wink over her shoulder.

  That's when a light bulb seems to go off in Daniel’s head. He straightens up to his full height and stares at me. “Wait — have you gotten laid since you've been in Reyfield? Have you gotten laid since you got out of jail?”

  I take a sip of beer to drown out my guilt. “Yeah - sure,” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

  Daniel doesn't seem convinced. He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Really? Who? Somebody I know?”

  Um - Somebody you know very, ve
ry well.

  “Uh, nah.”

  “Where’d you meet her?” He sets down his cue stick and approaches me.

  I gulp from my beer again. “Uh, on…the Lane.” The lie tumbles past my lips before I have the chance evaluate whether it will cause more harm than good.

  “On Thornbush Lane?”

  “Yes,” I say casually as I lean over the table and take another unsuccessful shot.

  He throws back his head and roars with laughter. “Dude, aside from my sister, there are practically no single chicks on Thornbush Lane so unless you're sleeping with somebody’s grandmother or somebody's wife, then you’re flat out lying.”