Steel Country Boxset

by Fields, MJ

  I watch the little waif look around. She’s bored with Little Red Riding Bitch and his fucking dancing shoes.

  “Oh, man,” I hear right before I feel my back get soaked. “I’m so...” She stops talking when I turn around.

  Well, what do we have here?

  I look the bartender over, with her long, thick dark hair, beautiful fucking doe eyes, insanely perfect and lightly tanned skin, and curves. Sweet Jesus, she has curves.

  “Fuck,” I groan as I look her up and down.

  Her face turns red, and her voice is unsteady when she says, “I’m really sorry. I’ll give you something to change into. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m good, sweetheart. And between you and me, I would never apologize for getting you wet.” I take the bar rag from her hand and wipe up the mess. “Now, show me where to change.”

  Her mouth is gaping silently, lips plump and deep red. I would love to lean over and take that mouth, but there’s a problem. My future sister-in-law fucking works here.

  “I...umm...It’s...” she stammers.

  Christ, she’s hot.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She looks down. “Mandee.”

  “Mandee”—I hold out my hand—“I’m Grayson.”

  She looks at my hand, then up at me, then quickly back down again.

  “Hi.” When she shakes my hand, her grip is weak. That right there gets me even hotter.

  When she doesn’t let go, I don’t bother to, either.

  “Mandee.” A guy a few stools down leans over the bar. “Babe, can I get a refill?”

  “Suuure,” she says slowly, taking her hand away.

  I look down at the guy who called her babe. He doesn’t look like much of a douche. He’s not undressing her with his eyes, he says thank you, and she doesn’t even look away when he talks to her. She knows him. Must be a relative.

  When she walks away, I give a quick whistle and point to my shirt. She looks down then scans the bar. When her big brown eyes come back to mine, she nods toward the hallway. I walk down the length of the bar and follow her.

  She grabs a key from her pocket and unlocks the door at the end. “Tee-shirts are in here. Again”—she pushes the door open—“I’m really sorry.”

  “Mandee, it’s not a big deal at all. Only reason I’m taking you up on the offer to change shirts is I’m riding my bike tonight. Could get chilly.”

  She pulls a little stool over to the built-in wall of shelves and reaches up high. Her black tee lifts and I see the small of her back. Two little, sexy as hell dimples are staring at me. I have the urge to put my hands around her waist, press my thumbs against them, and give them a rub. Instead, I reach behind me and pull my beer-drenched shirt over my head as she turns around and sees me.

  Her mouth falls open slightly, and then she turns quickly and starts to fall.

  “Oh, hell,” she whispers as she falls.

  I catch her before she hits the ground. One hand lands on my chest, the other palms her face.

  “Oh, dear God,” she groans as she tries to wiggle free.

  I hold a little tighter. I like her in my arms. Won’t happen again, so I’m going to enjoy holding on to a girl who isn’t expecting to get fucked, and one who is uncomfortable being in a position like this.

  Innocent as fuck.

  She peers out at me through her fingers. “You’re gonna hurt your back.”

  “Come again?” And again, and again, and again, I think to myself.

  She squeezes her eyes shut again, hand still on my chest.

  “You like the piercing?” I joke, since her little hand is covering it.

  Like she’s been electrified by my words, she pulls her hand back and looks up at me. “Will you put me down?” she asks, her voice shaking.

  I set her on her feet, placing my hands on her hips to steady her. “You good?”

  Her eyes go from my piercing to my ink, and then slowly up to meet my eyes.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she says, stepping back.

  She turns to bend down and grabs the shirt she dropped. Her ass, fine, fine, fine. An ass of a woman who may eat more than a fucking salad. She then stands, turns around, and looks up at me, eyes taking the same path: piercing, ink, eyes.

  “You like?” I wave my hand over my body.

  “Um, it’s interesting.” She flushes even more than before as she knots up the shirt that I have no desire to put on. Not with the way she’s looking me over.

  I wait for her to say something, in no hurry to leave this room when she’s as enthralled with my looks as I am with hers.

  “Bird wings? Angel?” she asks, rolling on the balls of her feet a little.

  “Falcon wings, Mandee. I’m no angel.” I laugh.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “My best friend is marrying a Falcon,” she tells me.

  “Well, hell, when did that law pass?” I joke.

  She smiles bigger now and tucks her thick chocolate hair behind her ear as she shakes her head. “His last name.”

  Fuck.

  “Phoenix?”

  She looks up again and nods. “How did you...?” She pauses and points at my tattoo. “Are you...?”

  “A Falcon?” I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Grayson?” She smiles bigger.

  “The one and only.” I put my hands in my damn pockets where they belong.

  “I have no idea how I didn’t know.” Still smiling, she hands me the shirt. “I mean, you look a lot like them.”

  “Well, I’m better looking.” I smirk.

  “Yeah, but still—”

  “Wait,” I say, giving the wrinkled shirt a shake. “So, you think I’m better looking than both my brothers?”

  She palms her face again and giggles sweetly.

  “It’s okay, Mandee.” I pull the shirt over my head and put one arm in at a time. “It’ll be our secret.” I pull the shirt down and look up.

  She laughs at me. Can’t blame her, either. I look like a fucking idiot.

  “So, you still think that after seeing me in a belly shirt?” I tease.

  She shakes her head and turns, laughing, “You need a bigger size.”

  She climbs up on the stool again, while I pull the shirt off, throw it on the nearby desk, and grip her hips as she reaches for a box. She looks back at me.

  “You either let me hold you steady, or let me get the box, sweetheart. I’m taller and probably a lot stronger than you.”

  I expect her to let me get it, but she doesn’t. She reaches up and grabs the box, while I hold her steady.

  “Babe, you okay?”

  She jumps when a man’s voice comes from behind us, causing the damn stool to tip. I quickly grab her and set her on the floor as the box comes down on my head.

  “Oh, dear God, Blue.” She sighs. “You scared me.” She turns to me and looks up, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m good.” I smile, picking shirts off my body.

  “Blue, this is Grayson Falcon. Grayson, this is Blue,” she introduces us as she picks up the shirts from off the floor.

  “Falcon, as in Falcon’s Landing?” He smiles cordially.

  “My brother’s place, but close,” I say, trying to find a shirt.

  “Well, that’s a relief. I found it a little odd my Mandee would come back here with a total stranger.” He audibly relaxes a touch.

  His Mandee?

  She looks up at me like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Again, I like it, seeming how I am the cookie jar her hand was on.

  I wink and whisper, “Secret’s safe with me.”

  She blushes a bit and smiles, holding up a shirt. “Size extra-large for an extra-large guy.”

  On the tip of my tongue is “how did you know?” but then, well, then there’s Blue.

  Her eyes widen, and I wink again.

  “Buy you a drink?” I ask Blue.

  “How can I say no to Phoenix’s brother-in-law?” He claps his hand on my bare shoulder.

/>   “Easy, man,” I tell him.

  He laughs as he takes his hand off my shoulder. “Oops, my bad.”

  I pull the shirt over my head and glance out of the corner of my eye, seeing her looking at me.

  There is definitely a two-way connection here.

  Bad idea, skips over and over in my head like an old vinyl record as I follow Blue out to the bar, glancing back to see her locking the door. A bad idea never looked so fucking good.

  I sit in the high back, swivel stool at the bar, and Blue sits next to me.

  “So, Gage and Phoenix, huh?” He chuckles. “I called that one the first time I met him. Now Mandee’s planning a reception here next week for your other brother and...” He stops and looks down at his beer.

  I know what he’s thinking. Gage’s ex. Garrett’s forever. I hate it. It’s really no one’s fucking business, but whatever. Can’t explain it away without exposing the past.

  “Not a big deal.” I nod as I look up to see Mandee putting two drafts in front of us.

  “No, man, I’m sorry. It’s complicated. I get it,” Blue says, as if he really does fucking get it.

  I feel my jaw twitch, and flex my fingers before forcing myself to reach for the glass.

  Mandee pushes it closer, quietly saying, “Blue, not anyone’s business.”

  I look up, and she smiles. It’s sweet, honest, and sincere.

  “I was just—”

  “Dude, fucking drop it.” I force myself to laugh. “Shit happens.”

  He forces a laugh, too.

  When I look over at him, he holds his glass up. “Cheers to that.”

  Not that I want to clink glasses with Blue—fucker rubs me the wrong way—yet I do.

  As I take a drink, I look up at Mandee, who’s looking at me with a familiar smile. Mags, our nanny growing up, and for all intents and purposes, our second mother, gives me the same sort of smile when she’s feeling proud of my ability to keep my shit together.

  Except Mags gave me a cookie or something sweet to eat after.

  God help me, but I want to eat Mandee. Sweet, shy, sexy as fuck Mandee...but I can’t.

  Chapter Two

  See You Around

  Mandee

  I remember telling my best friend Phoenix that I thought Gage may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen. It’s possible he was. Now, though, now I know it’s not true. Grayson Falcon isn’t just beautiful; he’s wow. He’s shockingly beautiful. But he isn’t just that, he’s more, so much more. I know this from just watching him interact with Blue, who I sense he’s just tolerating until one of those women on the dance floor sweep him up and take him home.

  He takes things in stride, smiles when I know he probably doesn’t want to.

  Blue, dear God, I don’t know what got into him. He has a severe case of foot in mouth around Grayson. But Grayson is just going with it.

  He leans over the bar as he pushes his empty glass toward me.

  “I thought you were driving a motorcycle, Grayson.”

  He curls his finger, beckoning me to lean in, so I do.

  “Wanna know a secret?”

  “Sure,” I answer.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  And that’s it.

  He leans back with a devilish grin on his face, blasting his pearly whites like a spotlight on everyone he looks at. I know each of them feels special when he smiles at them. I sure do.

  He has a playful kind of sexiness about him. He’s better looking than any man I ever fell for, but he doesn’t carry a chip on his shoulder or have that black cloud of arrogance hanging over him.

  He’s a Falcon.

  From what I have witnessed, they are good men, and when they set their minds on something, that something hasn’t a prayer.

  “Mandee?”

  I look over at Blue, the boy, well, young man who I’m dating.

  He’s cute, tall, with short blond hair, and brown eyes. He’s sweet. We have actually known each other since school. He’s a couple years younger than me, but my dad, well, he thinks that’s perfect.

  His dad owns the marina, so he’s here for the summer to help him out. Then he plans to return to college and finish his teaching degree. He wants to head straight to graduate school to get his doctorate.

  He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect for me.

  I smile. “Blue?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I joke. He does that a lot. Starts to ask me a question and then just stops, like he forgot what he was going to say.

  “No. Dad sent a text. He needs me.”

  “Okay.” I nod.

  “Your dad left because I’m here. Not sure—”

  “I’m a grownup, Blue. Plus, crowd’s thinning. The band will be done in thirty minutes. I’m fine.”

  “Should I call him?” he asks.

  “No, absolutely not. I’m not a child.” I say it like a joke, but it’s the truth. I hate that they all treat me like I am one. Lately, I’ve felt the strongest when I’m alone.

  “I know. It’s just that—”

  “Blue, go. I’m fine.”

  He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him again.

  He reaches across the bar and gives my hand a squeeze, then his phone chimes again.

  He squints then sighs. “See you tomorrow?”

  I give his hand a squeeze back and nod. “Sure.”

  When Blue leaves, I look around the bar. There are about thirty people all having a great time. I didn’t notice Grayson return from the bathroom, and he isn’t one not to easily spot in such a small crowd. Hell, he would be hard to miss in Times Square.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him step out of a dark corner of the dance floor, and he’s not alone.

  The blonde who has had a few too many Sex On The Beaches, not a drink typically served here at Carlin’s, well, not during the off season, anyway, is looking up at him like he’s a damn brownie sundae with extra hot fudge and sprinkles.

  I almost laugh at myself as I look her over and realize, as tiny as she is, she’s probably never once eaten a brownie sundae. She’s rail thin.

  I look at the way he looks at her. She’s not his hot fudge sundae. She’s a breadstick.

  I watch as they walk toward the door and eye his backside. In his loose, hanging worn blue jeans, they should sag on his butt, but it doesn’t. It hugs it.

  That ass...it’s definitely a brownie sundae with extra fudge and sprinkles.

  “Mandee,” I hear Pearl, our lunch hour cook and a regular on nights with entertainment, call to me from her regular seat at the end of this regular bar.

  I walk down and take the glass she’s holding up to me. Her hair is in its normal, near beehive up-do that wouldn’t move if a hurricane ripped through it. Her secret: Aqua Net.

  “My regular.” She winks.

  Pearl’s regular is a Shirley Temple. The woman is a hoot. She lost her husband years ago to an alcohol-related illness—cirrhosis of the liver—so she doesn’t drink. However, she loves coming here on nights we have entertainment and even some nights when we don’t to people watch.

  She loved her husband, flaws and all. They met at a place much like this. She said it did her soul good to see all the youngins making the same kind of mistakes she did all those years ago. A mistake, even if given a do-over, she would make over and over and over again.

  After his death, I remember her telling me they once they fell apart. Six months apart. She said that was harder than his death. Something she said about it always made me consider how different love was to everyone who ever fell in love.

  “Sometimes, a couple needs to fall apart in order to realize how badly they need to fall back together.”

  I wrote that down in my book of quotes, a book I cherish, one that holds all the things I have seen, heard, and been told about love from my mother. Some mom wrote for me, some are my own, and some from others who have come into my life. It’s
a book that gives me, a girl who should have no faith in men or love after all I have been through yet I still have, hope.

  The night goes off without incident. Pearl stays until the last person leaves. I know she would have left earlier had Blue been here, and although not necessary, it is appreciated.

  I lock the door behind her and go back to cleaning, and then putting the till in the safe. I don’t bother counting the money; Dad will recount it, anyway.

  Locking the four deadbolts, and then setting the alarm, I start to turn and walk toward my truck. Yes, truck. My father insists I need one more than the car I was driving—my mom’s old car—for these parts.

  The car was good enough for Mom. They rode together all the time. He drove. But with Lake Hopatcong experiencing all four seasons, four-wheel drive is a necessity for me.

  Three steps toward my truck and I hear a female voice cry out. With my phone in hand, I am ready to hit 911 until I realize that it was not exactly a cry for help.

  “Yes, oh yes, Billy Boy,” her annoyingly high-pitched cry rings out into the night.

  “Ass up,” he says with humor in his voice.

  “I want to ride that big cock of yours,” she all but begs.

  “No can do, sunshine. Bend over and ass up,” he says, more humor playing in his voice.

  That voice. Oh, damn it all, I now know who “Billy Boy” is.

  “I want to-” she begins.

  “Ass up or I’ll just jerk off, sunshine,” he demands.

  Holy hell. Holy freaking hell. It’s Grayson.

  “But...” she starts.

  I peek around the corner, making sure to stay out of the light.

  “All right then.” He chuckles, and I see him step back.

  “No, no, okay. I just want to see you,” she again begs.

  “Told you, I’m separated. Love my old lady. Gonna work shit out eventually. I just need a release. You said the same. No game playing here.”

  He’s what!

  “But, maybe...”

  He takes her hand, kisses it quickly, and then steps back into the light.

  I cover my mouth, stifling a gasp when I see...him. I’ve never seen a man erect and hanging like he is. He’s enormous. Thick, long...beautiful.