by Bijou Hunter
Grinning, I like how she blurts out shit. Sometimes, I feel her thinking. Often, she seems to have no idea what she’ll say. I like knowing we’re both gonna be surprised by what she says.
“Do you often sit outside naked?” she asks, shivering at the door.
“Sure. No one out here to complain.”
“Will it hurt your feelings if I don’t stay out here with you? My pussy’s all wet, and the cold hurts.”
I shoot her a dark frown. “Do you want me hard again?”
“I don’t care. Fucking is fun.”
Shelby disappears back into the trailer while I let the chilly weather ice down my overheated flesh. As a kid, I often hid outside in the cold. I’d get so fucking angry or even cry at my mom’s shit. The cold numbed me up, killing the bad feelings, leaving me okay with going back into our place.
It doesn’t work tonight. I still feel overwhelmed. I both want Shelby to leave and need her to stay. The longer she’s here, the more the power in this relationship moves from me to her. But if I tell her to leave, she’ll probably cry, and I’m losing the ability not to care. In prison, I thought my heart got hard enough. I wasn’t going to let women mess with me anymore. No more drama. I was gonna take care of only me.
But Shelby Campbell erased all the work I did on myself. I’m getting weak for her. I need her with me.
I never loved Becklyn and Jaymes, though I lied and told them I did. Women want to hear that shit, and I wasn’t willing to deal with the truth. But I never loved them even a little. I resented them ditching me when things got inconvenient, but I never missed them once they were gone.
I can see myself missing the fuck out of Shelby if she dumps me. Why am I giving her the power?
Returning to the trailer, where she plays music, I find Shelby dancing around in only her red T-shirt. She notices me and smiles. I don’t even hear the song she’s playing. She sings along, but the words barely register. I only feel my heart pounding in my chest.
I’ve let this woman get too close, and now I’m in a fucking free fall as she sways her curvy hips to the music. I fucked up, and there’s no going back.
I’m in love with Shelby Campbell.
THE WEIRDO
Goliath is an odd man. I can’t imagine what I’d do if he wasn’t. All his bitching and moaning, horniness followed by indifference, the up-and-down bullshit made it seem as if he couldn’t stand me. But that’s just how Dean operates under pressure.
He isn’t nearly as bitchy when we hang out on his bed and watch TV. At first, I have trouble finding something we both want. He likes sports crap, and I like funny or scary stuff. We finally settle on “Doomsday: 10 Ways the World Will End.” He prefers the science, action elements. I enjoy the apocalyptic, horror stuff. By the time we’re on our third episode, we’ve finished my sandwich, with me mostly eating the onions.
“I’m ordering food,” he says, pausing the show and reaching over for his phone. “What do you want?”
“What are my options?”
Goliath suggests pizza, and I order a barbecue chicken for me. His expression makes me laugh.
“Barbecue doesn’t belong on pizza,” he mutters, thinking I’m nuts.
“Says who?”
“Everyone.”
“Have you even tried it?”
Goliath doesn’t answer. He just gives me a side-glare, and I realize I’m about to introduce him to more than hugs today.
A woman raised with less care would gloat when Goliath ends up eating most of my pizza. But I don’t say a damn thing. Though mentally, I scream, “I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!”
Still, I keep those triumphant cheers to myself. The last thing I want is for Goliath to fear trying new shit because of my gloating. I sense he learned to hate a lot of things, only because someone nagged him about it.
Like his disinterest with TV isn’t him. It’s one of those bitch exes nagging him about watching sports. He became so focused on making them leave him alone that he rejected what he enjoyed.
“Women done messed up his brain,” I text to Taylor when Goliath’s in the bathroom. “But I got him under my spell... for now.”
“You’re a bulldog, never giving up, forcing others to submit. Ruff!”
Other people might take her comment as an insult, but my family is well known for our stubbornness. We refuse to concede until we have what we need.
If Goliath threw me out of this trailer in the next five minutes, I’d be back on our next scheduled hookup. I wouldn’t give up on him. I kept thinking I should walk away. More than once, I thought I was done.
But I’m a Campbell, and we can outwait anyone.
That’s why I’ll win over Goliath completely one day. It’s also why I’ll stop the Shasta Slasher. I refuse to give up. It’s the real reason I watch horror movies. I say I hate fear. Yet I seek out ways to shock my system—horror movies, roller coasters, driving too fast, falling for a violent man with serious commitment issues. I’ve always had a hankering for danger.
The sexy man I can’t let go of returns to me like a kid after a long day of playing and eating junk. He flops on the bed. His large frame doesn’t fit well on the mattress, leaving his feet hanging off the end. He rests his head on the pillow in my lap. Goliath doesn’t think to say anything when he returns. I’m comforted by his lack of engagement. Normally, he’s always watching me, even when his gaze seems elsewhere. Not because I’m so damn beautiful. No, he’s afraid to turn his back on a viper.
But tonight, he relaxes and watches TV as if he’s alone. That’s a compliment. He feels safe. I’m not currently a threat. Big step indeed.
I stroke his head, playing casually with his hair as we watch the show. Sometimes, he’ll look up at me and frown. I’m back on his radar. Why am I so quiet? Do I want something from him? Should he be more on edge?
Every time, I just mention something about the show. Not him or our relationship or my expectations. No past or future. Just us, chilling on his bed, watching TV like normal people.
“Is this what you do at night?” he asks after an episode ends. I smile at how he rolls to his side like a giant kid too lazy to sit up.
“We watch a lot of movies. Some TV shows. When the weather is nice, we sit out in the back so the kids and dogs can play.”
“I sit outside and let the world go by.”
“Can’t you do that at my house tomorrow during the barbecue? Sure, you’ll need to wear pants. Otherwise, you can ignore everyone and enjoy a free meal.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, assuming the worst.
“If you don’t want to hang out with us, that’s fine. Hugh might cry, but I’ll be way more mature and not bitchy at all.”
Goliath doesn’t want to smile. He starts to, changes his mind, and ends up looking snarly. I run my fingers over his lips and then look at the screen.
“I sleep with the TV on at night. Will that be a problem?”
“Yomp.”
“The real question is, will it be a bigger problem for you to sleep with it on or for me to sleep with it off?”
“Me.”
“Then I’ll sleep with it off.”
Goliath frowns because now he feels guilty. I see it on his face. He hates getting played, which is too bad since I’d very much like to win here. But he’s too damn sexy when relaxed for me to deny his needs.
“I normally sleep alone, which is probably why I need the TV on. Tonight, I’ll have your snoring to reassure me.”
Goliath surprises me by winking before turning over to watch TV. Just like that, he’s relaxed again. What the actual fuck? Is he really an easygoing guy? Did prison and assholes turn him into a high-strung jerk? If so, I’ll do my darndest to keep this man as relaxed as possible for the rest of his life.
THE GOLIATH
I end up giving in to Shelby’s desire to leave the TV on. She doesn’t nag. She seems relaxed as it gets late, especially after she crawls on top of me for a last-chance fuck.
Even if she’s o
kay with the darkness, I get an image in my head of her falling down on her way to the bathroom. She’s used to having enough light to move around. That’s why I leave the TV on with the sound down low. Shelby slides deeper under the blankets and smiles at me.
“Good night, Dean,” she whispers, making real clear how I did right by having her stay over.
I haven’t shared a bed with a woman in a long fucking time. With Jaymes, I’d usually turned away from her and hope she didn’t bug me during the night.
With Shelby, I want to face her. Not only because the view is great, but I want to be sure she isn’t scared. Her love of horror movies and fear of ghosts might seem dumb to me, but those things are real to her. If she feels unsafe, she won’t want to stay over again.
Shelby falls asleep quickly, which I take as a good sign. I watch her for a long time as the flashing TV screen lights her face. How many nights did I lie in the dark and wonder about her sleeping miles away? Now I have Shelby Campbell within reach. I even run my fingers over her forehead. When she isn’t bothered by my touch, I caress her lips. I feel a smile on my face. It’s fucking dumb, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
I finally sleep. Shelby’s talk of horror movies probably explains why I dream of something prowling outside the trailer. Inside, she cries in the bathroom, saying she’s bleeding and the baby’s dead. What did I expect to happen? Life don’t give a shit about me.
In the dream, I ignore her and focus on what’s outside the trailer. Except it’s dark, and I can’t see anything. Swamp Thing sits at the kitchen table, eating my leftover pizza. I can’t think with him smacking his lips so loud.
I wake up agitated over Swamp Thing being so close to Shelby. Did he kill my kid in the dream? Doesn’t matter. It’s just a nightmare.
Next to me, Shelby relaxes on her stomach. She looks so comfortable, and I start to forget her tears in the dream.
My mind races, though. I think about Swamp Thing and Grabby sending a killer to that pink house where Hugh used to live. What did they think would happen? What was the point of murdering all those innocent people? To send River and Shane after Cum Shot? Why didn’t they just kill him? What stupid fucking game were they playing? And did they really think I would join their blood-soaked gang?
For a long time, I held on to those men. I felt as if they understood me better than anyone. I needed them to be my friends. Without them, I didn’t have anyone. When they were gone, I held on to their memories as if I was the only one to keep them alive.
But as I listen to Shelby’s soft breathing and remember her crying in my dream, I’m ready to let go of Swamp Thing and Grabby. I’m one of the Reapers now, and I’m in love with a woman those fuckers would have murdered without a second thought. Yomp, I’m more than ready to move on.
Shelby only gets up once for the bathroom. Pretending to be asleep as she returns, I fight a shiver when she runs her fingers across my cheek. Of course, she checks on me. Shelby has a natural mothering instinct. I see how she is with her brother. Shane’s a big intimidating guy, but I’ve caught her fixing his hair more than once. She loves in a way that I want for myself. I thought I didn’t need it. I was too old to care about that shit anymore. Little kids need tenderness. Women probably do too, but grown men can live without it.
But I make the decision that I deserve to enjoy Shelby’s tenderness. Other, lesser people get more than I do. It’s time for me to steal some of that good shit for myself.
I wake up to find Shelby watching me with sleepy eyes. She smiles when my gaze meets hers. I was so scared of this woman that I thought alone was better than being her fool. Now I’m about ready to put up with anything to keep her with me.
That’s why I don’t bail on the barbecue at the ghost house. Instead, I ride my hog over with Shelby’s arms wrapped around me. It’s my way of making sure she’s gotta come back with me at the end of the evening. I’m keeping her car as collateral.
“No one expects anything from you,” she says after climbing off the bike parked in the house’s long driveway. “You can talk to people or stand in a corner. Eat everything or nothing. It doesn’t matter what you do. Just being here means everything.”
“Why are you talking to me like I’m your kid?”
Shelby studies my face, and I notice her fighting tears. “Last night was really great. I don’t want to do anything to mess it up.”
Yesterday, I thought I gave her all the power. With the way she looks at me right now, though, I’d say I still got plenty of it.
Not good with words, I tug Shelby closer and plant a kiss on her perfect lips. She leans into the embrace, tasting so good that I can barely think straight afterward.
Inside the kitchen, we find Max, River, Maude, and Lineke. The final one smiles when she sees me, and I remember the day she asked for help. It boggles my mind to think of her kids being grown up. Max looks ready to pop out her kid any minute, but I think she has a while to go. Maude doesn’t look pregnant at all. They both have their mother’s good looks. I’m glad things turned out okay for them. Killing that asshole meant so little to me, but it gave them a fresh start.
River hands me a beer and talks about his house while Shelby heads upstairs to change her clothes. I just nod, knowing nothing about construction. Max gives me a mini taco and smiles like she always does. I’m her hero. That feels weird, and I get the urge to leave. I’m not a good guy. I killed a man because that’s what I do. There wasn’t any big honorable thought behind ending him.
“Sometimes, we do things that matter more than we expect,” Shelby says, saving me from the awkward vibe in the kitchen.
We walk to the backyard, where the cool air numbs my unease. How does Shelby already know how to calm me down? Must be that big brain in her pretty head.
“You made a difference in their lives. For you, though, it was just another day. That’s how it works sometimes.”
Taking me to a corner of the fenced backyard while her little dogs follow us, she lowers her voice. “When Kirk Johansson found my mom, he wasn’t looking to save anyone. He busted into that place to kill a group of bikers threatening his club. It was business. I bet Kirk didn’t feel like a hero taking my mom out of that box and giving her to a family in the club. His intentions that day don’t change how he saved her. Just like how you saved Lineke, Max, and Maude. You didn’t ride in on a white horse any more than Kirk did. But in their minds, you might as well have.”
“I don’t like them looking at me that way.”
“Because you think you have to do something now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What do they want from me?”
“Nothing. They just respect what you did, and they know I’m crazy about you. You have value, but that doesn’t mean you need to do anything except be you.”
“Sure.”
Shelby snickers at my expression. “I think you’re so accustomed to people fucking with you that you can’t imagine anyone not fucking with you. I see your face, and you seem pissed when someone treats you well.”
“Why is that funny?”
“Because nothing you do will keep this group from sucking you into our vortex of love. You can fight it, but we’ll win. You will be valued, Dean. We’re not blind like the fuckers in your past. We see all.”
I grudgingly smile at her expression. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. I don’t know lots of shit. My friends and family love me anyway.”
My large fingers look wrong against her delicate skin, but I caress her cheek anyway. It don’t feel right being with this woman sometimes. She’s too beautiful to be fucking me in a trailer in the woods. I must look like a monster next to a pretty princess. Is that what people think when they look at us?
I scan the yard. Shane leans forward, following his son as the boy points at stuff and babbles. Ramona sits on the back porch, holding her baby and talking with Desi, who sits on the ground with her dog. No one is paying any attention to Shelby and me. They aren’t thinking nasty shi
t about us. That’s all in my head.
Shelby leans against me and wraps her arms around my waist. She softens from my touch, and I smile down at where she smiles up at me. Did she think I needed a hug? Maybe talking about her mom made her want one. Shelby and I might look all wrong together, but she sure feels right in my arms.
THE CHAPTER WHERE PATIENCE PAYS OFF
THE WEIRDO
Goliath’s mood swings might break a weaker woman. He both wants me with him at the trailer and ignores me at the Saloon. Often, when other people are around, he acts as if we’re strangers. However, when we’re alone, he doesn’t want me out of his sight.
As much as I want to demand normalcy, Goliath isn’t a man comfortable with needing me yet.
While he might not tell me that I’m important or write me cheesy poetry, there are other signs that I matter to him. For one thing, three nights a week ain’t cutting it. He wants me over at his place every single night.
Plus, he lets me put up holiday lights in his trailer to make the space more festive. I skip the Christmas tree and buy him a dancing, sexy Missus Santa.
“Her cans are nearly as nice as yours,” he says, chuckling when she dances to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”
I don’t make any other alterations to his trailer. Goliath is afraid of change. It’s why he got trapped in bad relationships. He mentions his exes on occasion, sounding like someone replaying a trauma rather than a man thinking about women he called his.
But Goliath is also a strong man who takes what he wants. He tried to tame that part of him in prison. It’s why he acted submissive when he got out. With the club, he didn’t want to do more than asked. Giving a shit got him in trouble in the past. Yet, he isn’t a naturally passive man. Goliath prefers to step up and take charge. That’s why River asks him to be Shasta’s SGT-at-Arms.
“Fuse feared strong men,” River tells Goliath as I eavesdrop at the Saloon one afternoon. “But I’m not Fuse. If you see shit that isn’t working, tell me. If you think I’m acting like a fapsock, speak up. I’d rather hear it from you than from Cooper Johansson during one of his visits. Better for you to call me out than for some asshole to take me out. Get it?”
