by Karen Renee
As I tried to put an inch of distance between us, Cal’s arm on my waist tightened. “You been snuggled up against me like this since one a.m. Been fighting the urge to share some skin with you all night because of it. Only thing holding me back is that I know you aren’t some run-of-the-mill sweet butt.”
Part of my mind wanted to dwell on his “share some skin” comment, but instead I lifted my head and asked, “What do you mean, sweet butt? That sounds like a cut of pork”
Cal giggled, actually giggled, “Now that’s fuckin’ funny, and appropriate, since the brothers take a sweet butt and pork her!” He guffawed at his own joke.
I pushed up on my right arm that was on his chest to say, “I don’t think I’ve heard sex referred to as porking since I was twelve, so thanks for that. Wait just a minute! This is an even better reason for you to stop calling me ‘sweet cheeks,’ because God knows that must be a step away from being a damn ‘sweet butt’. I totally should be comin’ at you, bro!”
“You come at me,” a salacious grin split his lips, “Hell, I would love it if you’d come at me, darlin’.” And I suddenly knew we were no longer talking about simple acts of vocal aggression.
I had no retort to that.
“You want me, woman,” Cal said moving his hand from my waist up to the nape of my neck.
I scrambled away to my side of the bed and sat up. “I do not! I was cold and I expected to be curled up with the Green Giant. My big green body pillow that those bastards shredded yesterday. Everything was fine; you should have left me here alone.”
He rolled to his side, and propped his head up on his hand. His biceps were bulging. I forced myself to focus on his hazel eyes, “Ever occur to you that everything was ‘fine’ because I was here and only because I was here?”
On an eyebrow arch I asked, “Inflated ego, much?”
“Nope. I’m a one-percenter; if ‒and I believe that’s a big if‒ it was teens who broke in, they’d get one look at my Harley and know not to fuck around here again. That’s why all was quiet last night. Now, we got something here, you and I. Tension or chemistry, maybe both. I wanna find out more about it, and I think you do too. Get dressed. We’re goin’ to Grumpy’s.”
I flopped on my back and ran my hands through my hair. Grumpy’s was a local diner open for breakfast and lunch only. They had really good food, and heaven knew I was a bonafide stress-eater. Their spinach quiche was the best, but with my current problems I’d have to chase it with one of their oversized cinnamon buns. I looked at Cal, “No. You are going to Grumpy’s. Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate your concern and your help last night. Checking things out before bed and stuff, it was very nice of you. But I’m staying here to sort this mess out, hit Home Depot for plywood to patch the door, and then I have to find decent door companies and research the best security systems.”
Suddenly, Cal was on top of me and had each of my wrists pinned next to my ears. His hazel eyes glittering at me in the dim sunlight coming through the blinds, he demanded, “You gonna contradict everything I say to you?”
I couldn’t help but smirk, “Probably, since I do have a mind of my own. Not sure what kind of women you’re used to, but I’m pretty damn independent and I’ve been told I’m headstrong. You wanna go to Grumpy’s, have at it.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re a royal pain in the ass. Do you know that?”
I shook my head, “I’m not a pain in the ass. I just like to do my own thing. You go do yours.”
“What if I want you to be the thing I do?”
I glowered, “It would make you a liar.”
That got me a head tilt from Cal, “How so, sweet cheeks?”
I rolled my eyes at the so-called endearment that was becoming a pet peeve. “Because you told me last night you didn’t want in my pants. Now you’re on top of me, restraining me and telling me you want to do me.”
Cal slowly slid his hands from my wrists to twine his fingers in between mine. “If you’ll recall, I also said I didn’t want to get your pants last night. I want to get to know you, Mallory. I was hoping to take you dinner last night. That didn’t pan out, it’s morning, and Grumpy’s has some of the best damn pancakes this side of the St. John’s River. I’m takin’ you to breakfast and we’re gonna get to know each other. You need to shower before we go?”
“It might be nice to shower while you’re around, since I don’t know when the hole in my door will get fixed.”
Cal snorted and kissed my forehead. “Oh, it’s gettin’ fixed before one o’clock today, Mal. You can count on that shit bein’ done right quick.”
“You don’t know that. I have to call at least two or three door companies, and then figure out which company I should go with based on price and overall quality-”
For the second time, Cal shut me up by kissing me. If he weren’t such a damn good kisser, I’d think he was a total asshole for it. I turned my head away as best I could before things could get too heated.
He pulled back from me, “You over-analyze everything, Mal?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a business analyst. Price comparisons and making sure I get the best deal possible is just what I do.”
His lips tightened. “Is free a good deal to you?”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Free is my friend. But free isn’t an option when an entire glass-paned door needs replacing.”
“It’s free today, dammit. It’s gonna take time for Patch and Vamp to get what they need, haul it over here and install it. I gotta call them and Volt before we can make any headway.” Cal rolled off of me and sat at the edge of the bed. He was rolling his shoulders as if he was tense. “You take a shower and I’ll make the calls,” Cal looked over his shoulder at me, “And then we’re goin’ to Grumpy’s. I want a good meal before my brothers come traipsing through here.”
I laid there giving Cal’s back the fish-eye. Patch, Vamp and Volt? Who the hell went by names like that? The name Patch made me think of a restaurant my parents frequented down in southwest Florida called Patch’s. It was a greasy spoon with a Greek flair, not too different from Grumpy’s, now that I thought about it, but Patch’s was decorated entirely with clowns and clown motifs. I knew better than to think a man associated with Cal could be a clown of any sort. As I was contemplating, Cal stood up and almost glared at me, “What’s the problem woman? Get to it. I don’t want to have to wait for a damn table. Chop-chop.”
With a roll of my eyes, I got out of bed, “Do. Not. Say. Chop-chop. To. Me. Again. Capisce?”
When I walked past Cal, he reached out and smacked my bottom, “Capisce. And, sweet cheeks, did I tell you I like your frilly-ass pajamas?”
I growled at him and shut the bathroom door. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 4
We returned to my place after breakfast to find a large white panel van backed into my driveway and two Harleys parked near Cal’s bike. Two lanky men were smoking cigarettes in front of the van. Two other men had their backs to us. They were wearing leather vests with the Riot MC patch and were sifting through tools at the side of the van. The men at the front of the van dropped their cigarette butts on the ground, putting them out with their boots when I parked my car. Cal got out of my car and I watched the two men approach Cal apprehensively.
They both looked like they were in their early twenties. One had bright red hair in a military buzz cut. His face was thin and narrow, and his brown eyes looked too sunken in his face. He approached Cal first, “Hey, Cal. How’s it goin’?”
Cal shook the man’s offered hand, “Good, prospect. It’ll be even better when we get Mal’s shit fixed.”
The second man was short, just a little taller than me, and I’m five foot five inches. He was very stocky though, and had a body that clearly spent a lot of time in the gym. His hair was brown and parted down the middle and combed back in a feather-style that was popular in the eighties. He and Cal shook hands and he looked at me, “You must be Mal.”
I
came around my car and nodded, “Yep, and you are?”
Cal quickly said, “They’re prospects.”
“Well, I’m sure they’ve got names.”
Cal grumbled, “They’re prospects. All you need to know about them.”
At this the two vest-wearing men at the side of the van turned around. On the top right side of their vests was a beige patch with their names embroidered. Patch and Vamp. Patch had long salt and pepper hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail. His nose had a bump around the middle, and I assumed he had broken his nose at some point. A full beard framed the lower portion of his face. His brown eyes held mine and he gave me a chin lift. Vamp had a shaved head and eyebrow rings in both of his brown eyebrows. There were round gages in his earlobes the size of a dime. His nose was pierced and he sported a lip ring on the right side of his upper lip. Vamp’s blue eyes looked me in the eye, and then he blatantly checked me out from top to toe. I wanted to squirm, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction. I felt Cal stiffen next to me.
“Vamp. You’re my brother, but stop eye-fuckin’ Mallory.”
Eye-fucking? I didn’t know that was a thing. During our marriage, Greg and I talked about how happy we were to be out of the dating scene, but the concept of eye-fucking made me want to time-travel backwards forty years or so. Seriously, being subtle had definite advantages to out and out eyeballing me. My phone conversation with Natasha came to mind. She hinted that I needed to move on. Get back out there. “There” being the dating world. Men eye-fucking me didn’t make me too eager to join the dating scene. I was wearing jeans and a loose cotton blouse with three-quarter sleeves and my favorite brown sandals. I had on no makeup, and my hair was probably as limp as wilted lettuce. The lank hair was not my fault since I was forced to air-dry it, so Cal wouldn’t have to wait for a table at Grumpy’s. In no way, shape, or form was I eye-fuckable.
Vamp’s left eye squinted at me slightly, and then he turned to Cal and said, “Just tryin’ to see if she’s into the life, brother. She ain’t a club slut, that’s for damn sure. What’s she to you, your sister?”
The red-headed prospect chuckled, and I realized the two prospects were eyeing me up and down as well. This was not good. I glared at the two prospects, and they started examining the tops of their boots.
“I’m not his sister. We just met last week. So, that makes us acquaintances. Furthermore, I’m not eye-fuckable, so stop it.”
On that note, I walked in between Cal, Vamp, and Patch to my front door. While I was putting the key into the lock, I heard Vamp say, “Nice ass. Too bad she’s not one of us.”
To this Cal loudly said, “Stop checking out her ass, fuckface.”
* * * * *
Natasha called me right after Cal and his “brothers” set to work on the door and the fence. I gave her the short version of last night, and impervious to my objections she insisted that she was coming to help me. I didn’t know Natasha had arrived. The Riot MC guys were leaving my front door open because they were still getting tools and stuff from their truck.
I was sweeping up shattered plates and bowls in the kitchen, and Cal was standing in my living room updating me on the fence progress. He was standing with his profile to the mouth of the front hallway. He was fully dressed in the black thermal, cut, and the jeans he wore last night. When I heard Natasha’s voice, I knew she must have been in the hallway, since I heard her say, “Oh. Well, don’t you just put the yum in ‘Dah-yum’. Mallory, where are you and what door company are you using? You go with those Dream Doors people? Because if so, they’re missing the best damn marketing angle they could possibly use. Let me tell you, this man is fine.”
Cal turned his head and I watched his face split into a mega-watt smile. Could she have stroked this man’s inflated ego any harder? “You must be Natasha. Gavin’s told me a little bit about you.”
I felt heat creep into my cheeks. “What the fuck? Is there anybody Gavin doesn’t talk about? I want to go kick him in his damn loose lips. Giving out my address to you, telling you about my girl. Where is my phone?”
Natasha came around the corner of the hallway, “Cool it, chica! You know he’s just trying to look out for you. Gavin always told you he thought Greg was one of the best people around. I think after the accident Gavin felt like he had to keep a special eye out for you.”
“Whatever. I mean I appreciate it and I get where you or he is coming from, but truly. I’m kinda private, you know.”
Natasha put her purse on my sofa and said, “Yeah, I know. I also know you’re trying to change the subject. So, you must be Cal. I’m relieved to know you’re not a greasy grey-haired biker.”
Patch was crouched down by the door. At this remark he looked up, “Ain’t a damn thing wrong with a grey-haired biker, lady.”
“Key word was ‘greasy,’ not grey-haired. Your hair’s not grey, it’s salt and pepper with more pepper than salt. If I were into older white men, you’d make the cut.” I pulled Natasha to my bedroom before she could dig herself into more trouble. I closed the door and heard Cal and the two other men laughing.
I turned to her, “Natasha! What the hell am I going to do??”
“What are you talking about? It seems fairly obvious. We’re going to get your shit picked up, sorted, and things’ll get back to normal. Eventually.”
I waved my hand at her. “No. Cal spent the night here. Like here, in that bed!” I pointed to the obvious. “The past six or eight months, I’ve only been able to sleep curled up with the Green Giant. I must have thought Cal was the Green Giant because when I woke up, I was tangled up with Cal in a way I never slept next to Greg. I feel so damn guilty.”
“Who’s the Green Giant? Are talking about a sex toy here, Mal? Ho, ho, ho Green Giant?”
“No! Will you get your mind out of the gutter girl! It was my huge body pillow.”
“Oh yeah! That ugly-ass thing you bought years back. I remember that. It barely fit in my trunk. Didn’t know you named it though. But, back to the issue at hand, snuggling up to hot-pants out there was so damn good, wasn’t it?”
I looked at her from the corner of my eye, but she knew the answer. “That’s beside the point.”
She laughed, “Beside it, in it, on it, over it, under it. It absolutely is the point, Mallory. No matter which preposition you use to modify it.”
“For once, would you stop it with your English teacher ways? Criminy. He told me last night he didn’t want to get in my pants, he checked my perimeter-“
Natasha gave me a saucy grin. “He can check my perimeter anytime.”
“The house perimeter. I’m serious here, dammit. He came back inside and then told me he wanted to take me to dinner last night but couldn’t because of me being at your place for dinner and then the break-in. He also said he intends to get to know me better. This completely contradicted his whole not wanting to get in my pants.”
“Mallory, men are always looking for action. I thought When Harry Met Sally was your favorite movie. Surely you got the gist of that flick, or do you inherently zone out when Harry Connick Jr. starts singing?”
The mention of Harry was not going to get me off track, “He’s in a motorcycle gang, Tash!”
“I thought it was a club.”
“Semantics are not important here, Miss Thang!”
“According to Gavin, they’re good people.”
I grabbed a scrunchie off the floor, put my hair into a messy bun and said, “Yeah. Speaking of that, Gavin’s in for a piece of my mind.”
By quarter to noon, Natasha and I had the kitchen and bedroom cleaned up. Patch and Vamp had hung a brand new French door to the patio. They were out in the backyard with Cal and the prospects working on the fence. I was waiting until the work outside was complete before vacuuming the living room. The men were still traipsing in and out bringing in dirt and grass each time. Natasha had to get back to Leon and her sons. I promised to call her later tonight.
I checked the progress on the fence and
saw the prospects where still mixing cement for the fence posts. Apparently it was going to be a while still.
“Do y’all need lunch? I was thinking of running by Little Caesar’s for pizza.”
I got a slight chin lift from Patch, and Vamp gave me a shit-eating grin, “I know what I’d like to eat. Bet it’s nice and sweet.”
Cal shot Vamp a dirty look. “Knock it off, brother.” Cal turned to me and reached into his back pocket. I put a hand on his sweat-slicked arm to stop him.
“You aren’t paying, mister. If I’m getting a new door for free, then I can handle lunch. Thanks.”
Cal looked down his nose at me, but tucked his wallet back. Then he chucked me under the chin and gave me his big smile. My stomach dropped like I just went over the big hill on a roller-coaster. “Sure thing, sweet cheeks. Don’t forget the Crazy Bread, okay?”
I smirked at him, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I plugged my phone into my car’s hands-free jack, then as I pulled out of my driveway I told my phone to call my mother. Our conversations were typically brief. We spoke nearly every day, so it was rare that we needed to do a ton of catching up.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, Mallory. How are you?”
“Okay. Considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes. Were you in an accident? Does your father need to get on the other phone?”
“No, Mom, really-”
