by Bijou Hunter
“You’re the only man who’s ever called me sexy.”
“To your face, but I bet plenty of them said it to their friends while checking you out. They just didn’t have the good luck to catch you at the right time.”
“You mean when I’m drunk and planning to kill a man?”
“Exactly.”
Grinning, I take the glass in his hand and sip the lemonade. “This has booze in it.”
“Sure, why not? It’s after five.”
“This is your house and your life. If I build mine around yours and you change your mind about me, what then?”
“Where’s all this sensible shit coming from?” he asks, nearly laughing. “A few days ago, you were stoked for a kamikaze mission to kill a stranger you believe to be your father.”
“Believe?”
“It’s not like you had a DNA positively IDing him as your dad.”
“Are you calling my mom a liar or a slut?” I ask, outraged.
“I’m saying you couldn’t be a hundred percent certain that the old man at the bar was the guy who threatened your mother. I mean, did you have a picture or something?”
“No, I asked the waitress.”
“In a biker-run bar? How did you survive before me?”
Shrugging, I roll my eyes. “I didn’t have a great plan, but whatever.”
“Exactly, but you rolled the dice on that mission. So why can’t you roll it with me and this house? Just for a few weeks. Then if you still feel uncomfortable here, we can get another place.”
“I don’t want you to give up anything for me.”
“That’s dumb, Tatum. People always give up something for those they love. Do you think my mother has any fucking interest in watching war movies or that she wanted a giant dog when she’s much more of a cat person? Of course not, but Dad came with his own needs, and she had to bend so they could both be happy. He bends too. He’s just a whiner about it.”
“So am I the Hayes in this situation?”
“Oh, so very much.”
Chipper’s willingness to give up so much for me feels wrong. Who am I to warrant his loyalty and sacrifice? I’m an unemployed, depressed, average-looking woman with no great qualities, goals, or accomplishments. There’s a reason my mother was the only person to value me all my life.
I exhale unsteadily, fighting the heat growing in my eyes and that sorrow-filled pressure in my chest.
“Mom would have thought your house was so cool.”
“I wish I got to meet her,” Chipper says in a low, warm voice that wraps around me like a hug.
“I know she would have liked you.”
“Now you’re lying.”
Smiling grudgingly, I nod. “She would have been wary because of what happened with Howler. She didn’t trust men. Mom would have warned me that you were too handsome and rich to be a good man. I’d tell her to be patient and get to know you. She would, and then she’d have liked you because you’re a good man.”
“Am I, though?” he asks with a sly grin.
“You are to me.”
Caressing my cheek, Chipper considers my words and then nods. “I remember how people whispered about Hayes being a violent monster. To me, he was a big fucking teddy bear, and they were delusional. It’s all about perception, so I guess I could be seen as a good man.”
“I hate how Mom will never know you,” I whisper, fighting tears. “If we had come back here together, maybe you and I would have met. Mom could be a part of all this.”
Chipper wraps his arms around me, and I swear I want to climb inside him where the world must be beautiful with endless possibilities. I rest my head against his chest and smile at how steady his heartbeat is compared to how frazzled I always am.
“I want you to go upstairs to the guest room and cry out the pain I see in your eyes,” he says as his hand repeatedly caresses from my scalp down to my back. “I’d have you stay here with me and cry, but you seem to hold back when I’m around. So you go get that cry out and then come down here where I’ll be waiting. We’ll talk or cuddle or make out or watch TV. Whatever you need.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I say, wiping my eyes.
“It’s not healthy to hold that shit in, and it’s not fair to your mom to pretend as if losing her didn’t kill a little part of you. Go do what you need to do. Face what you need to face. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t need you to put on a brave smile for my account.”
“Okay,” I say, stepping back and out of his reach. “I’ll get myself under control and return to have a drama-free evening.”
“You do that, and I’ll remain here and think of you naked.”
Grinning, I plan to think of him naked too. Of course, I got an eyeful this morning while he’ll need to use his imagination. For once, I’m a step ahead of Mister Wilburn.
CHIPPER
Before Tatum is halfway up the staircase, I’m searching for her phone in her purse. Unsure how long she’ll be gone, I rush to pull up her photo gallery where I find a shit ton of photos of Tatum and her mother.
Even in a hurry, I stop to enjoy a few pictures. Marissa Dole gave birth to her double with Tatum. I don’t see anything of Howler in the younger blonde while the smiling women are nearly twins. I hope our children take after their mother so Marissa can live on in them.
I eventually remember how I’m on a time crunch and Tatum might return any moment. I transfer the photos to my phone and then to my Cloud account to allow Bianca Bella access to them.
Texting the brunette, I ask her to go through the photos and pick the best ones to print and frame.
I end with, “ASAP!”
“UR not my bossssssss!” she texts back.
“Please?”
“OK then. ☺”
With Bianca Bella on the job, I return Tatum’s phone to her purse. Stealth mode complete, I sit on the couch and flip through her photos on my phone.
One takes my breath away. Tatum as a goofy teen with an overly layered haircut and way too much eyeshadow is possibly the sexiest photo I’ve ever seen. I can nearly feel what she was like not so long ago—effortlessly beautiful and terribly dorky.
The hundreds of pictures I flip through reveal Tatum’s life from when she was a baby on her mom’s hip to weeks ago when Marissa lied on her deathbed. I feel as if I know her better by the time she returns to the living room with red, blotchy, yet dry eyes.
“I’m sorry I complained so much about my job,” she says, sitting next to me as I tuck my phone in my pocket. “The best part of working at the daycare was spending all day with Mom. Now I have a job where I can spend all day with you. I see things more clearly now.”
“Smart girl.”
“Besides, I’ll be pregnant soon, and then the baby will be born, and I’ll have him to keep me company.”
Startled by her certainty, I find myself speechless for a minute. “Do you want to be pregnant soon?”
“I figured you wanted to compete with Cricket, and I’m very interested in a baby with you now that I know you’re part alien.”
I laugh at the wink she gives me and then imagine our baby looking just like her. Unless it’s a boy. I can’t pray for freckles on my son. He’d never forgive me. Girls have more leeway on that.
“What now?” she asks.
I take her hand and caress her soft knuckles. “We should play a game.”
“Like Yahtzee?”
“More like hide-and-seek. You’ll find a spot in the house and make knocking noises until I find you. We can time it. If I find you in less than a minute, you have to take off a piece of clothing. If I take longer than a minute, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. So, yeah, strip hide-and-seek.”
Tatum cocks one of her blonde eyebrows. “What’s the point of this game besides getting me naked? Couldn’t you do the same thing in a less silly way?”
“Silly? That’s low, Breezy.”
“So we’re not playing?” she asks, not falling for my pout.
“
No, we are. I just wanted to act really put out first so you’d feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t pity you, though.”
“Another cold comment from the hot lady. So, here’s the point of the game. You know, besides the naked thing. You’ll get to know the house a little better.”
“Can I put on more clothes before we start?”
“What for? You’re wearing two socks, pants, shirt, and I assume you aren’t going commando. That’s six pieces of clothing. No doubt we’ll be bored of the game before you’re close to being buck naked.”
“Are you going commando?” she asks, glancing down at my crotch.
Loving how she’s teasing me, I tease her right back by pulling off my shirt. “Well, I’m not wearing a bra if that’s what you’re asking.” I tug forward on my jeans and glance down at the half an inch of room I’ve made. “I am wearing briefs, though. Want to see?”
“No, I think you have a chest,” Tatum says, nearly drooling.
“I do have a chest.”
“I don’t care.”
“Why would you?” I murmur.
“It’s just, should you put on your shirt or leave it off for the chest?”
“Would you like to touch my chest to ensure my muscular gifts are real?”
Nearly in heat, Tatum shakes her head. “No.”
“I think you do.”
Tatum fans herself. “Let’s play that game. I don’t need to see or touch more.”
“I’ll keep my shirt off, so you’re ahead of the game. I have four pieces of clothing before I’m naked. Wait, let me get rid of my socks too,” I say, reaching down to tug off the left one followed by the right. “Should I strip off my pants too and give you a really big head start?”
“Huh?” she says, looking dazed.
“Is this the horniest you’ve ever been?”
“No, last night was, and shut up.”
I can’t help laughing. “Your cheeks are fire truck red. Are you overheated? Possibly, you could remove a few items of clothing to cool off.”
“Shut up.”
“Have you lost the ability to say anything besides ‘shut up’?”
“No,” she says, sounding dazed. “I go stairs now.”
“Yeah, you do that, and I’ll count to twenty while flexing my chest muscles.”
Tatum glances back and frowns. “Shut up.”
I tighten my fists to flex my sculpted chest muscles. Tatum stares at them and then sighs. “Shut up.”
Laughing, I watch her hurry upstairs. I replay her flustered reaction in my head and laugh again. Hot and bothered is a very entertaining look on her.
Once Tatum disappears down the hallway, and my laughter dies down, I count to twenty and set my phone’s timer for a minute. Upstairs, I try to narrow down where she might hide.
“Knock on something to give me a hint,” I call out.
A muffled knocking sound is her reply. I walk further down the hall, glancing into one room and then another. I don’t take the time to search, having decided to keep her fully dressed at the end of this game. Tatum needs to strip for me on her own terms, not because I won.
The timer goes off, and I tell her to show herself. Nothing happens, so I walk to my master bedroom at the end of the hall. The door is open as I left it, and nothing seems disturbed, but I know she’s here because Camel Toe stares at my bathroom.
“Thanks for the assist,” I tell my cat.
Knocking on the bathroom door, I study the darkness inside and wait for Tatum to appear. She doesn’t, though. I turn on the light and find the bathroom empty.
“What the fuck were you staring at then?” I ask Camel Toe who yawns in response. “Tatum, where the hell are you hiding?”
“Did you,” she says, startling the shit out of me when her head pops up from behind the bed, “ever see that episode of ‘The Twilight Zone’ where a little girl disappears into another dimension behind her bed?”
“Yeah, I remember that one,” I say, resting one knee on my bed.
“I got to thinking about it when I was hiding. Like what if I fell into another dimension and you never found me.”
“Didn’t the parents get the girl back in the episode?”
Tatum climbs onto the bed, resting on her knees. “Yes, because a smart person helped them.”
“I know smart people.”
“You are smart people.”
“Are you ready to play again?” I ask while tugging at her sweater.
“No. I want to talk about tonight.”
“What about it?”
“I want to have my first time with you tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“I’m about to gush gallons of blood from my vaginal area.”
“Do you really think that kind of talk will make my dick any less hard?”
Tatum’s gaze goes straight to my crotch. “If I had a penis, I have no doubt that bloody vaginas would act as a boner repellent.”
“If that’s true, your dick is weak and should be ashamed of its cowardliness.”
“Are you saying no about tonight?”
“Can’t we let the mood strike us rather than planning everything?”
“No,” she cries as if I’m a dipshit. “My brain is stuck on wondering what it’ll feel like. Will it be awful? Will you be awful? Will I have to grin and bear it to save your feelings? Until I know the answers, I can’t shake free from the heat you gave me last night. I don’t want to wait until after my period is over. I want to know now, but not this very instant kind of now.”
“Why not? We’re already in bed, and I’m half naked.”
Shaking her head, Tatum gazes at me full of pity. “Chipper, I want it to be dark when we have the sex.”
“I want to be able to see every freckle on your body.”
“Not on my first time. I need to feel secure and sexy. Right now, I’m bloated and shy about my freckles.”
“Your needs are so specific. I’m unsure how I feel about that,” I tease.
“You’re pushy, so I’m being just like you.”
“No, no, we can’t both be pushy. One of us must compromise.”
“I’m glad you understand,” she says, taking my hand. “We’ll have sex tonight in the dark. Thanks for compromising on this for me.”
Grinning, I squeeze her hand. “Well played.”
Tatum laughs and falls to her side. Her hand frees itself from mine and reaches for what she’s been eyeing since her head popped out from behind the bed. I rest next to her on the bed and let her horny little fingers explore my yummy muscular chest.
TATUM
Chipper was right about me needing an ugly cry. I feel so much lighter after I sob over everything my mother is missing. I also give myself a pep talk regarding logic and its place in romance.
I matter to Chipper. He saw me in a crowded bar and cared enough to save me. I’m special to him. He took me into his home, offers me everything. Chipper saved my life in that bar. He’s my hero in a million ways. He takes charge of life and doesn’t settle, yet he wants me. Nothing about us has to make sense. Life can be impulsive. I can be impulsive. Chipper sure is. Why worry about what I should or shouldn’t do? Why not embrace Chipper and his life because it makes me happy? It’s so simple when I stop trying to control everything.
Returning to Chipper in a much better mood, I’m surprised when he wants to play a silly game. The fact that the game ends with us making out—and him shirtless—in his bed is the icing on a fantastic cake.
“You taste like my future,” he moans in a smooth, honeyed voice before his full lips latch onto my throat and give me what proves to be a very purple hickey.
“I’ll need a scarf,” I say, looking in the mirror after a long struggle to separate our entangled bodies. “I noticed you wore a turtleneck today.”
“Rednecks mark their women with hickeys. The women mark their men with tattoos. They might be banjo-listening, no-teeth bastards, but they have the right idea.”
> “No teeth?” I ask, running my tongue over where I used to have two back molars.
“Many hillbilly folks lack dental care and end up with missing teeth. Do they not have rednecks in Florida?”
Rather than embarrassed, I’m offended by his mockery of people like me. Well, not the banjo part, but whatever. “I have missing teeth. Am I a redneck or hillbilly?”
“I don’t know. Do you listen to a lot of banjo music?” he asks, though his expression reveals he knows his foot ended up squarely in his mouth.
“Funny shit,” I mutter.
“Man, I get hard when you cuss.”
“Then I won’t cuss. I don’t want you thinking I’m low class. First, with the missing teeth and then with the cock teasing.”
Chipper refuses to admit he insulted me. In his world, no doubt apologies are a sign of weakness. “Why teasing? Is it because I mocked your love of banjo music?”
“Having crowns put in is expensive, Chipper. We didn’t have dental insurance. When one of my back teeth got messed up, I had the choice of a root canal and crowns or have them pulled. That’s a difference of thousands of dollars. You shouldn’t make fun of poor people.”
“Which side did you get your tooth pulled?” he asks, erasing the space between us so he can run his finger along my jaw.
When I tap my left upper jaw, he leans forward to kiss me. “My tongue wants to apologize personally for insulting your mouth.”
“Stop,” I mutter, fighting a grin.
“I need to lick your gums to make them mine. I licked your teeth so many times before. I must own the empty sockets.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You won’t be saying that when I lick your nipples,” he murmurs. “Or your pussy.”
Flushing red, I push him away. “You’re distracting me.”
“From the heat between your legs? Well, now you know how I feel with my constant hard-on. It’s a living hell, I tell ya, but worth every moment of misery to be close to you.”
Chipper traps my body against his, kissing me until he fully claims my mouth. I don’t resist his affections, even if he’s deflecting from his earlier faux pas. His kisses are as addictive as potato chips. I can’t have just one or even a dozen. I want more and more like a junkie needing her next fix.
