by Bijou Hunter
“Well, you did good since I’d never guess she started out so fucked up.”
“Yeah, but your dick will screw up all that good.”
“My dick really isn’t the problem,” I mutter, knowing my dick has been pretty useless for a long while.
“I don’t want her dating!” Ginger cries, standing up fast enough to startle Oz. “This isn’t supposed to happen. I figured maybe Clove would pity-fuck Glitch, but I never imagined I needed to keep Yarrow away from you pieces of shit.”
“Ginger,” Oz warns, but she throws her bottle of beer at him.
The glass shatters too far from his head for Oz to think she was really aiming for him. He doesn’t even react to the gesture, which only makes her roll her eyes.
“This is your fault,” she tells him.
“I made it very clear how my boys were to stay away from Yarrow.”
“It didn’t work. You need to kill him to make a point.”
“I totally would do that, babe,” he says, fighting a smile, “but I’m low on manpower and killing one of my five guys would make my situation worse.”
Leaning back in my chair again, I kick the table to get their attention back on me.
“Isn’t it possible that Yarrow and I will realize we don’t like spending time together? Then we can break up. She can return to following you around like a puppy while I return to fucking random chicks who only half of the time turn out to be crazy cunts?”
Ginger sizes me up and nods slowly. “I don’t get her interest, to be honest. So, it does make sense that she’s simply curious. Your lack of charm will get on her nerves, and she’ll dump you, and everything will be okay.”
“Speaking of charm, Oz clearly doesn’t look for it in a woman.”
“Hey,” Oz growls.
“Needed to be said.”
“No,” he says as if that’s the end of the matter.
Ginger walks around the table, pats Oz’s arm, and sits in the chair next to me. “Yarrow is like my kid. So, yes, I’m freaking out like a crazed mama bear, but I can’t have her hurt. It’ll kill me, meaning I’ll kill you.”
“I was getting teary-eyed until the last sentence.”
“Sorry, but threatening people makes me feel better. I have no issue with you, and Oz can tell you that I always say you’re the most responsible of his idiot club brothers. This thing with Yarrow, though, makes me want to cut you into tiny cubes.”
“Hurting Yarrow isn’t on my to-do list, mama grizzly, so chill, okay?”
“No, but thanks for those kind yet stupid-ass words.”
Ginger stands up and turns to Oz. “I don’t feel any better.”
“Blackjack understands the score.”
“Yeah, but Yarrow doesn’t, and she still lacks impulse control.”
“I don’t, though,” I say. “And I’m not sure I want a relationship anyway.”
“Then why are you going on a date?”
“She’s a fox and interesting as hell. I’m curious.”
The anger in Ginger’s eyes fades, and I see the chick Oz married. Less rabid mama bear, more sweet fox. She finally seems to understand how unreasonable her fear is of Yarrow running off with me to parts unknown. It’s just a date between two people with nothing in common. Smiling, she thanks me for listening and walks out. Oz follows after her, giving me a quick middle finger before disappearing out of the room.
Of course, nothing I feel for Yarrow is simple. Not why I crave her or whatever reason she might crave me. We make no sense in any relationship with anyone. Nothing good can come out of our date, but I’m still counting the hours until I knock on her front door.
Chapter Six
Life Lesson #6: 24/7 naked isn’t normal
➸ Blackjack ★
Yarrow’s door stands open ominously, giving the impression of someone either breaking in or leaving in a hurry. One of Oz’s cats slinks along the front pathway, rubbing itself against the wall. Never taking notice of me, the animal disappears into Yarrow’s place. I follow it after a quick knock.
The cat struts around the mostly empty living room before making a beeline for the kitchen. Following it again, I find Yarrow shutting the oven door.
“I knocked,” I say, admiring the blue shirt clinging to her thin body.
“I know.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“What did you want me to say?” she asks and gives me a frown.
“Something like ‘I’m in the kitchen, so don’t panic by thinking I’ve been kidnapped.’”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Abducted then.”
“Who would abduct me from here?” she asks as if I’m a stupid fuck.
Her gaze has the intended effect, and I shrug dumbly. “I don’t know, but I worry about you.”
“How come?”
“You’re a little insane,” I say because her gaze still implies I’m an idiot.
“Exactly. Who would want to abduct me from a place with so many weapons where I know all the best hiding places? That wouldn’t be smart.”
“Fine, I was wrong to worry.”
Yarrow smiles at my irritation. “You’re sexy right now. I don’t like when you seem sad.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Good.”
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say, glancing around the barely furnished living room and kitchen.
Ignoring my comment, Yarrow announces, “I made pork chops and French fries. They’re almost done.”
“I don’t care what you made. I’m here to see you, not eat.”
Yarrow smiles at me and loses the hostility in her eyes. “Good. I don’t like dating. It’s dumb. I don’t want to care about what shirt I wear or if my food will make you like me. I want to eat my food and be around you, but I don’t want to pretend to be someone else. People gave me advice that made no sense.”
“Just be you. Though I might not like the real you. Of course, I’m not faking shit, so you might not like me either. That’s what dating is for. Where and what we eat doesn’t matter.”
“Ginger’s dates with Oz sounded boring.”
“Because you didn’t want to hump Oz. If you were Ginger, those dates were probably sexy as hell.”
Yarrow frowns darkly at this idea. “I can’t be normal.”
“Me either. Now let’s talk about shit and see if we want to do more than hump.”
“Talk about what?”
“Do you like riding your Harley?”
“Of course.”
“Not of course. You could ride because the rest of the crew rides.”
“I wouldn’t. They like their townhomes, but I don’t. I’m not exactly like them.”
“Why don’t you like it?” I ask and glance at the open floor plan. “With the new flooring and updated kitchen, it’s pretty fucking baller.”
“What am I supposed to do with all this space?” she cries, immediately agitated. “Why do I need to live by myself when there’s lots of space at their homes? It makes no sense to me. Even Ginger has space for me on her couch. I don’t understand why Clove wants a townhome to herself. No, I hate this place, and I don’t want to be here.”
“Then why did you say to come here for a date?”
“Because the crew said I should, and they were sad. I wanted them to calm down. They always want me to calm down, so I know calming down is best.”
“We don’t have to stay here.”
“Where do you live?”
“At Oz’s old house.”
“With Tana?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow as if this situation amuses her.
“She’s getting ready to move into her new place.”
“Do you snore?” Yarrow asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t snore. I checked.”
“I wouldn’t care if you did.”
“Do you sleep on your stomach?”
“Sometimes.”
“Don’t you worry you’ll sl
eep on your face and die?”
“Not fucking once have I had that concern.”
“You can’t let babies sleep on their stomachs, you know?”
“I’m not a baby.”
“No, I’m not either, but I’m still nervous.”
“Then don’t sleep on your stomach.”
Yarrow smiles and nearly laughs. I don’t know what’s so funny, but she looks around the townhome and loses her amusement.
“Can I live here?” I ask without considering the idea for a single fucking second.
“Why?”
“Tana’s moving out, and I can’t go back to my old rental. Nothing around here is affordable except for places where I’ll end up surrounded by a bunch of dumb fucks,” I say, unable to shut up. “I’d pay you rent.”
“I don’t want rent.”
“Do you know what rent is?” I ask while fighting a grin.
“No.”
“It’s money I’d give you each month for living here. I pay Tana rent, and she pays rent to the person who owns the house.”
“Oh, then, yes, I like money.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Are you sure you want to live here even though it’s too big?”
“It’s not too big for me. I’m taller than you and need more space.”
Yarrow knows I’m fucking with her and she smiles. “I don’t sleep here. If you want to fuck me, living here won’t help you.”
“I like when you say ‘fuck me,’” I say, leaning forward to erase some of the space between us. “That’s not why I want to live here, though. I need a place, and you’re not using the townhome. This way, I can keep an eye on you and protect you,” I explain before adding, “Even though, you don’t need protecting.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Maybe not, but I have this feeling,” I say, stepping closer until we’re inches apart. “A violent, clawing deep in my gut that demands I need to know where you are and if you’re safe. That demand doesn’t make sense, but I’ve had it since I scared you. Now I need what I need and living here will calm it.”
“I worry about you too,” she says and rests her hand on my cheek. “You drive too fast and turn corners too fast, and I don’t think you know how to use your signal.”
“Oh, I know.”
Yarrow grins. “I’m hungry. I don’t want to fuck yet.”
“We’re not fucking tonight anyway.”
“How come?” she asks, removing her hand.
“I’m a prude.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I don’t put out on the first date.”
“Put out?”
“Fuck.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“I’m saying no, and you’re not strong enough to force me.”
Yarrow’s eyes reveal a flash of stubborn anger, and I suspect she wants to prove me wrong. The desire to cause trouble quickly fades from her gaze, and she focuses on the oven.
While she unceremoniously dumps food on two paper plates, I allow my brain to catch up with the impulsive promises my ego announced minutes earlier. I’m moving into Yarrow’s place. Convenience-wise, the idea makes sense. Emotionally, I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. Then again, I’ve never had a plan that worked properly. I ought to stop with the fucking planning and roll with whatever stupid impulse strikes me next.
➸ Yarrow ☆
Blackjack looks so sexy that I think I have a hard time concentrating when he talks to me. I’m afraid he will stop liking me because he is so attractive and I only know Pepper thinks I’m hot. He did kiss me once, but I’m still unsure what to expect. I never watch dating shows or movies. Watching other people kiss seems boring.
When he mentions rent, I don’t know what he’s talking about. Once he explains, I’m excited to have him nearby. Then I think about how maybe he only likes me so he can rent the townhome. Is he using me? If he doesn’t like me as much as the townhome, that’s weird, but I still like him.
I give him two slices of boneless pork chop and then cut it into seventeen pieces. I do the same on mine. Finally, I add seventeen fries onto each of our plates. We only get one soda each, though.
“What’s with the counting?”
“I’m the seventeenth member of the crew,” I explain and sit in the folding chair at the metal table I brought in from the backyard. “Seventeen is a good number.”
“That it is.”
“Counting is more fun than knowing words.”
Blackjack’s face goes slack as if he can’t figure out if I’m crazy or stupid. I get that look a lot.
“Do you like your food?”
Squirting ketchup next to his fries, he smiles. “You didn’t have to cook for me, but it smells damn good.”
“I know how to make lots of food. Cayenne taught me and then Tana taught me some more. I don’t want to eat those foods. Pork chops are better.”
“They really fucking are,” he says and fills his mouth with two bites of meat.
“Do you know how to cook?”
“Not really. I eat shit from the freezer most nights. Sometimes, I’ll eat soup.”
“Because you’re poor?”
“No, because I’m lazy.”
Smiling, I realize he’s like me. I don’t like doing stuff either.
“What’s with the front door standing open?” he asks.
“The cats like to come in and out.”
“You’re letting all the hot air out.”
“So?”
“So, that costs money, and they’re just cats.”
“I like the cats.”
“Well, now that I’m renting here, I won’t have the door standing open. If they want in, they can scratch or meow or whatever the fuck cats do when they’re stuck outside. I’ll let them in, but I won’t let out all the hot air for them.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, good, because I wasn’t asking for your permission.”
I want to laugh at his expression, but I only smile. “You get mad about dumb stuff.”
“I have a temper, yeah.”
“Do I have to pretend to care about the stuff you’re mad about?”
“You don’t have to pretend shit with me.”
“Good because I don’t want to talk about the cats.”
Blackjack gulps down his soda while his dark eyes watch me. His eyelashes are thick and black like a woman with makeup on. I’ve never seen such pretty eyes on a man.
Before I can ask if he’s wearing makeup, he says, “Yarrow wasn’t always your name, right? Like it wasn’t on your birth certificate. Did you pick the name Yarrow?”
“No.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s the name Ginger gave me.”
“What was your old name?”
“I don’t remember. It starts with the letter ‘A’ and has a lot of vowels in it. Spelling it would be hard.”
“I looked up what yarrow is. Turns out, the herb heals wounds.”
“It also summons and repels the devil,” I say with my mouth full. “The devil is bad, you know?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Pepper called me She-devil for a while. I think that’s why Ginger picked Yarrow.”
“She-devil, huh?”
My memories from that time remain blurry. “Ginger and the crew were bad people who yanked me into a world that was too bright and loud. I wanted to hurt them for hurting me. I didn’t understand why they were doing anything.”
“When did you realize they were trying to help?”
“I don’t know. I liked Ginger first. She gave me food I liked and talked soft to me. She played music and danced around. She dances really funny too,” I say, laughing at the memory of her goofy moves. “She took good care of me like Cayenne takes care of Duffy.”
“She’s like your mother.”
“I didn’t know what a mom was back then. Now that I do, I know she’s a good one. That’s why s
he gets unhappy when I do things that scare her. Ginger worries I’ll mess up and die or get hurt.”
“I worry about that too.”
“Since when? You didn’t pay attention to me until the day with Annie.”
“Yeah, since then.”
“Do you worry because you think I’m a kid?”
“If I thought you were a child, then the kiss yesterday was all kinds of fucking inappropriate.”
“I liked when you kissed me,” I say and move my chair closer. “You can do that again now.”
“No boundaries,” he mumbles, but I don’t know what he means, and I don’t care. His lips probably taste like pork chops. I bet they’re the most amazing things in the world right now.
Blackjack drops his fork and grips me by the back of the neck. I’m both startled and impressed by his intensity. He seemed nervous when he arrived. Ginger said weak men are the worst, so I’m relieved to see Blackjack taking charge. Though a tiny part of me wants to knock him down and kick him a few times just so he knows I’m not weak either.
Blackjack’s beard tickles my skin as his lips suck at mine. After a minute, his tongue tries to enter my mouth. I know that’s part of kissing, but I laugh anyway.
“I’m a talented motherfucker,” he mutters before his lips nip at my jaw.
No longer laughing, I warn, “Don’t bite my neck.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t want pain.”
“I have it handled,” Blackjack says and then sits back. “Or maybe not. Is there a particular reason your fist is grinding into my gut?”
“I don’t want you to hurt me.”
“I won’t.”
“How do you know? You hurt Annie.”
“No, I didn’t,” he growls like a pissed bear.
“I asked what you did to hurt her, and you said you fucked her. Maybe you’re not good at fucking. I bet Oz can give you tips. Ginger says he’s very talented.”
“I don’t need Oz or anyone else’s help.”
“Don’t whine.”
“I’m not fucking whining.”
I pop a fry in my mouth and say, “You’re a little whiny, yeah.”
