“Gun’s doing fine, dad. He told me to say ‘hi’ to you.” My dad nods his head and then turns his attention to a fuming Nixon.
After another bout of silence, dad decides enough is enough.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way now son.” Nixon‘s brows pull together like he has no idea why my dad is talking to him, but he rallies and smoothes out his features before nodding once to my dad.
“Are you dating my Emmie?”
“Yes I am, Sir,” Nixon answers immediately. I feel one side of my mouth tip up at his quick response.
“And what are your intentions?” dad volleys back and I try to hold in my giggle when Nixon’s face pales a bit at the question.
“I’m sorry?” Nixon stalls.
“What do you intend to do with my daughter? Are you going to marry her or is this just one of those ‘why buy the cow when you get the milk free?’ situations?”
My eyes turn wide and I feel my brows hit my hairline before I turn my attention fully toward my dad.
“Daddy!” I whisper shout and then narrow my eyes at him when I see his body bounce with silent laughter.
Now I know he’s just teasing Nixon and it’s actually quite funny to see his face pale.
I feel Nixon turn his eyes to me, which are as wide as mine were a second before, so I hide my smile and just shrug at him suddenly interested in how he handles this conversation.
“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t know where this is going to go with your daughter since it just started yesterday, but I can most definitely tell you it isn’t one of those situations. Emmie is a beautiful, funny, sweet woman who can ride a dirt bike better than most men I’ve met. I’d like to see where this is headed, and even though I can’t promise marriage right now, I can promise that I’ll take care of her.”
I turn to a puddle in the middle of my kitchen. Those must have been the words my dad wanted to hear as well because he sticks his hand out and when Nixon grabs onto his, he pulls their torsos together and gives Nixon a few slaps to the back before releasing him.
“Good to have you around son,” my dad tells him.
Humorous crisis diverted. I go back to making dinner and our conversations become friendly.
Dinner goes by smoothly with dad and Nixon joking with one another and dad telling stories about when he was teaching me to ride.
“She was about thirteen and thought she knew everything under the sun,” dad jokes and Nixon laughs as I narrow my eyes at them both. “Well she wanted to show me and a group of boys at the dirt track that she could do a Superman, even though she had never done one before and her bike was a bit too big for how stick thin she was back then,” he chuckles while Nixon struggles to keep his head upright while he laughs.
I may kill them both before the night ends.
“She gunned it up a double jump and let go, but didn’t expect the bike to get so far ahead of her,” dad laughs. “So she’s in the air and pumping her arms out in front of her like she’s doing the breast stroke in a pool or somethin’ and looking like those cartoons where they think that move will get them closer to their target,” he laughs harder as he mimics the movements and Nixon’s wiping the tears from his eyes as dad finishes the story.
“Long story short, the bike fell way before her and she ended up with her left arm broken in five places and a dislocated shoulder.”
“Poor baby,” Nixon teases me. “At least you could still write and all that.”
“No I couldn’t. I’m left handed,” I tell him.
Nixon winces like this was something he probably should have known by now but had been too busy fucking my brains out to notice.
“Sorry sugar,” he says, but I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for me breaking my arm all those years ago or for not knowing something as simple as which hand I write with.
I shrug, not caring either way. We’re just starting out for real and there are a lot of things about Nixon that I don’t know as well.
“Well kids I should probably head out. Gotta go to the shop in the morning and work on the books,” dad says like it’s no big deal even though it’s normally a much bigger deal than he makes it out to sound.
“I don’t know why you wait till months have passed before you decide to catch up on your books, daddy. Do you want me to come out and give you a hand with them?” I ask, concerned that my dad probably hasn’t looked at the financial books of his shop since he had to do taxes over seven months ago.
“No I’m okay with that baby girl, but I do have a few dirt bikes that some rich guy brought down the other day that need a tune up. Do you think you could help me out on that front?”
He knows I won’t turn him down. I enjoy working on bikes. It was something he taught me when I was young and I grabbed hold with both hands. After my mom died I wanted to spend as much time clinging to the one living parent that I did have, so when dad offered up teaching me about dirt bikes, I was a bit overly enthusiastic about it.
“Yeah daddy, I can be over around ten in the morning,” I say through a smile.
“I can come help you if you need it babe,” Nixon pipes in. I turn my attention to him and see that he looks like he is being serious.
“I don’t need the help, but you are more than welcome to come and watch.”
“Actually Nixon’s help would be appreciated. There are five bikes that need to be checked and I don’t want you to be there all day Emmie Lou,” dad explains.
Nixon nods in my dad’s direction and then gives me a wink and his signature smirk before dad stands and starts walking toward the front door.
“Alright well I’ll see you two in the morning then. Sleep tight,” dad says with humor in his tone.
When my dad pulls out of the driveway I head back into the kitchen prepared to clean up the dinner mess and tell Nixon goodbye, but to my amazement he’s already saddled up to the sink washing dishes.
I walk up to him, resting my hip against the counter next to him and just stare. Who is this man and why the hell is he cleaning my kitchen?
“What are you lookin’ at sugar?”
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at. I thought it was the ultra hot, motocross champ, sex god Nixon King, but now it looks like Alice from The Brady Bunch has taken residency in my kitchen,” I tease.
Nixon flings his wet fingertips in my direction, throwing water droplets all over my face and I let out a little squeal. Next thing I know, Nixon has his hands cupped and filled with water, which he immediately tosses at my face.
After the initial shock of being splashed wears off I open one eye, the dish water causing my lashes to stick together, and narrow it in his direction. I was trying so hard to keep a straight face through his hysterical laughter and apparently failing because he just laughed harder.
“You asshole,” I mutter through a terribly hidden smile while I shake my head slowly.
“Oh come on sugar, you know you love me,” he jokes, but the second the ‘L’ word comes out of his mouth, we both froze.
We both stand in the kitchen in awkward silence for a few seconds before I decide that I need to diffuse the situation. I take a few steps toward him, giving my most seductive look, and prop my hand on the counter.
Nixon is too busy looking into my eyes with lust and what could maybe be love shining through his own to notice that I’ve moved my hand closer to the sink faucet that has water still flowing out of it. I cup my own hand, glad that he hasn’t noticed my movements, and fling my full hand at his chest.
Nixon jumps back from the sink, finally realizing my game. I know he’ll want to get back at me so I lunge away from the countertop and bolt out of the kitchen. Half a second later I hear the faucet turn off and his heavy footsteps behind mine, so I try to run faster.
By the time I’ve reached my bedroom and turn to shut the door Nixon is right behind me and wrenches the wood from my hand with a teasing smirk on his face.
“Now that wasn’t very nice,” he tells me in an admonishing tone
as he steps through the frame.
“Oh come on, it was just payback for the splash to the face,” I try to reason with him, holding my hands out in appeasement.
“No babe, now out of principle I’m gonna have to punish you for it.”
I feel my shoulders start to sag at his answer. “Awe, come on man, do you really need to be like that? Can’t we all just get along?” I ask, trying to be cute and silly.
Instead of answering me, he lunges forward and quickly chucks his shoulder into my stomach, hefting me into the air. I take advantage of my position and give him a few semi hard thwacks to his scrumptious ass as he walks us both toward the bed.
“You’re just adding onto your punishment, you know that baby?”
“Depending on this punishment, I may just add a few smacks to this glorious behind of yours then. I just can’t seem to help myself,” I giggle and then swat him one more time before he unloads me from his shoulder and I flop through the air and onto my mattress.
Before I can get my bearings about me, Nixon’s body is covering mine and he’s attacking my neck with small nips and bites before licking and kissing the offending areas and I’m running my hands through his thick hair while deep moans escape my mouth.
“Maybe there won’t be a punishment. Maybe I’ll just fuck you until you lose your voice from screaming.”
“Now that sounds like a lovely idea,” I mumble while my body squirms back and forth from the delicious torture that Nixon is putting my body through.
* *
After we’re finished and cleaned up, we flop down into the bed. Nixon pulls the sheets up around us and positions my body so that my back is to his chest. When he gets us completely situated, with his leg entwined with mine and his arm thrown around my waist, he leans in and plants a quick kiss to my exposed shoulder.
“Night baby,” he mutters.
I’m a bit confused as to what’s going on.
Last time we tried this he ran from my house and I didn’t hear from him for a week. I don’t want that to happen again, but I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.
Because we were actually in a relationship this time around.
“Good night,” I whisper back and relax into the bed.
I feel Nixon’s arm become dead weight on my stomach about five minutes later. Two minutes after that, I fall asleep with a content smile on my face.
Chapter 23
The next morning I wake up before Nixon. I had turned in my sleep and am now facing him so I take the opportunity to give him a closer inspection.
Then I remember what happened when I tried to look at him while I thought he was asleep on the hammock and I back away, unsure if he is actually asleep right now or not. I won’t fall for it twice.
I quietly get out of bed and throw on a tank top and a pair of boy shorts and tip toe into the kitchen to start some coffee.
After the coffee has brewed and I have my first cup in hand, I open the sliding glass door and let Otis outside. I follow him out the door and take a seat on one of my patio chairs, looking out on my yard and realizing that I need to do yard work soon.
“Morning sugar,” I hear behind me and I turn to see Nixon standing in the doorway, his tan shorts from yesterday on and nothing else.
“Hey, coffee’s brewed if you want some,” I say, trying to sound as casual as I can so that he doesn’t turn tail and run toward his truck again.
“Thanks babe. Anything sound good for breakfast?”
I freeze and start analyzing his face for any sign of panic, but it doesn’t come this time.
“You want to have breakfast? Here?” I ask and point to the ground where I’m sitting, still a bit skeptical.
“Sure, or we can go have breakfast somewhere. After we eat we can swing by my house so I can change my clothes before we head over to your dad’s shop.”
“Oh shit, I totally forgot about going to help dad. I was going to do some yard work today,” I turn back to my yard and decide that I will have to be done tonight after I’m done at dad’s shop.
“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. When we get home tonight I can mow the lawn and you can pull weeds.”
I turn my head and stare at him, sure my mouth is hanging slack, and wonder who the hell this guy is. He must feel it because he shifts his vision from my too long grass back to me.
“What?” he says with a shrug and a furrow of his brow.
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Nixon King?”
He laughs at me and comes to sit next to me on a patio chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Em.”
“Really, Nixon?”
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me waiting for me to elaborate. After a few seconds of silence I decide to remind him what happened last time.
“You couldn’t get out of my house fast enough last time you fell asleep here,” I say through a giggle remembering the panicked look on his face as he gathered all his clothes.
His eyes clear, like he’s just remembering that morning as well and he gives me a sheepish grin before he tries to explain himself.
“Well,” he rubs the back of his neck “that morning was different.”
“Different? How,” I tilt my head at him, wanting to hear the explanation even more now that he seems uncomfortable. It’s not often that he drops the cocky attitude and I get to see genuine Nixon.
“Well back then we weren’t together and I was worried that I was overstepping a boundary or something. I didn’t know if you felt awkward or didn’t want me there and I wasn’t exactly positive that I wanted to be there at the moment either, so I bolted.”
“You weren’t sure you wanted to be there?” I ask, a bit stunned that he would admit to something like that.
“To be honest with you, no. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to change the way things had been with us. I liked the way it was and I didn’t want to fuck with that.”
“So what changed it Nixon?”
He lets out a large huff of air before he answers me. “Well there were a couple things that changed. First I talked to my mom after you left the coffee shop when she was in town. She explained a few things to me about how awesome you were and that you wouldn’t keep just sleeping with me with no commitment forever, but I kind of brushed it off cause I thought that you wanted the same thing I did.”
I nod my head, because I was still very skeptical about starting an actual relationship, not just with Nixon but with anyone. The idea still freaks me out a bit now.
“But then we were at Moab and fucking Gunnar was hitting on you like crazy. You wouldn’t even look at me and I knew that if we kept our arrangement, and none of the assholes that hit on you knew what we had going on, it would destroy me. There were a few times that I wanted to get up and punch the shit right out of Gunnar, but then things might get confusing and you’d get pissed at me and I couldn’t risk losing you.”
“So Gunnar hitting on me made you change your mind,” I say, surprised that Gunnar’s prediction was accurate. I’m going to have to send him a card or some chocolates or something.
“Well, not just the fact that I was out of my mind with jealousy while he was looking at you like he was going to fuck you in front of all of us. It was the sick feeling I got when I thought that it was possible you would want him to.”
I feel my eyebrows rise as I slowly nod my head at his admission. That was the way I felt at Harlow’s wedding with Tits McGee hanging all over him, but I couldn’t say anything because I knew that Nixon didn’t feel the same way. I guess it took a little more coaxing for him to come around.
“Now babe, do you want to eat here or should we grab something on the way to your dad’s shop,” he asks, effectively cutting off any talk about why he’s ready for a relationship now.
I start to think about food, but my mind keeps wandering back to his answers. I want to show him how much I liked the answers he gave me and what better way to show him than with sex
.
“I can make something here really quick, but can we take a shower first? I’d really like to get you naked right now,” I tell him, waggling my brow at him.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Instead of running to the door like I expect him to, he takes my coffee mug out of my hand and places it on the table before lifting my arm up in the air while he bends.
Before I know it my body is draped over his shoulder, just like last night, and he’s jogging through my house toward my bedroom as I laugh the entire way.
* *
Our shower took a lot longer than I thought it would because Nixon wasn’t satisfied with both of us only getting off once. Three times was the minimum, so it took a lot of time and hot water to get us there.
We grabbed a quick lunch since we skipped breakfast and were pushing close to noon. After a two minute stop at Nixon’s house where he ran in and changed, more for the fact that my dad saw him last night and he didn’t want to be wearing the same clothes when he saw him today, we were on our way to the shop.
When we roll into the parking lot my dad comes walking out of the open bay door and smiles at us both.
“Morning kids, how are ya?” dad asks.
“Great Sir, how are you this morning?” Nixon gets out before I can open my mouth. I turn my head and look questioningly at the man standing next to me, wondering if this is the same man who told me to ‘get on my knees and suck it like my life depended on it’ not even thirty minutes ago.
Now he’s calling my dad ‘Sir’ like he’s King Manners or something.
Dad gives Nixon a small shake of his head and smiles. “You know Nixon I had to call my father in law Sir until the day he died. He was a rotten son of a bitch who didn’t like me very much and the feeling was mutual. So, in order to keep my mind from straying to him, how about you just call me Mark?”
Nixon gives my dad a chuckle and nods, “you got it Mark.”
“Okay guys follow me and I’ll take you back to the bikes that need to be worked on,” dad says over his shoulder as he walks back through the bay door.
Down & Dirty Page 16
