by Anne Martin
She batted her lashes at him. “I only liked it because of how much he hated it. You should have seen the panic in his eyes. Like a trapped animal.”
“A rat.”
“I was thinking a deer,” she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully.
Nix kissed her, quick and sweet which made her laugh. “He’s definitely caught in Trix’s headlights. I almost pity the fool.” They walked off arm in arm obviously utterly, irrevocably in love.
Chapter 9
Trixie ‘Dragon’ O’Hara
“You don’t have to do this,” I said for what seemed the millionth time.
We were flying first class. Horse looked up from his men’s sports magazine, his own rippling stomach and chest on display on the cover with Nix. They were making the cage fight a big deal. He photographed very well.
He was better in the flesh. Was I blushing? We’d kissed like a couple of first-timers, taking our time, exploring each other slow and sweet. Maybe we were like a couple of old people. I liked him so much. How had that happened? He was just so easy to live with. I liked who he was when no one was watching. I didn’t really hate the way he looked at me in public, because he didn’t look at anyone else like that, not even Candy.
I’d known that I looked stunning in the red get-up. I’d worked really hard at it, but I hadn’t felt beautiful until Horse had looked at me like I really was a goddess, not the fat kind. I’d watched him through the rest of the night, and he hadn’t flirted or really talked to any other woman. I’d seen him take several hands off his body as he smiled and took the offered congratulations with a smirk on his sexy mouth. Fewer and fewer people touched him as he made it very clear that he was off-limits.
Horse brought my brain back to the plane. “I’m starting to think that you don’t want me to meet your mother.”
I shifted. “We’ll have to stay in their apartment. If we got a hotel, she’d bring it up at every holiday for the next twenty years. Ask me how I know. When she starts an incredibly awkward topic of conversation, just smile and look concerned. Maybe nod, depending on the subject. If she gets going on politics, don’t laugh. She changes her opinion every few weeks, and it’s always irrational.”
He nodded and frowned thoughtfully. “Like that?” He winked at me and went back to reading.
“How’s the article?”
“Mm. They’re skeptical that League of Demons will win the three hundred this year. I think it’s inevitable just because I knocked you up. Do you realize that some people suggested that I got you pregnant just so Nix would lose?”
I sighed and relaxed, settling my head on his strong shoulder. He stiffened for a second before he kissed my hair and continued reading.
“You really don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. It was one of the conditions of marrying you.”
“You say that like it’s a treat.”
“It’s a Trix and a treat. Stop talking before I move from bad puns to lewd comments. I keep thinking about you in that red dress. I also think of you out of it.”
I elbowed him and closed my eyes. “I’m out of it right now.”
“I think about that often, the fact that you’re always completely naked under your clothes.” His lips brushed mine and my eyes popped open.
He was gazing at my face, studying me like I was a work of art, like I was the only person in the world, like I was a goddess.
I swallowed. “You don’t have to do that. No one’s watching.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m watching.” He smiled slightly. “You’re watching. Hopefully the pilot is watching.” He bent down and kissed me.
My breath caught when he pulled away. He glanced around and then leaned over to whisper, “And five other people are watching as well. If they weren’t, I’d take my fifteen minutes of kissing therapy.”
I slipped my arm in his and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I think it’s time to go to the next level. We’ve proved we can make out like a couple of eighty-year-olds.”
He snickered. “So, that’s how good it’s been for you? I must really be impressing you with my prowess.”
“Eighty-year-olds are experienced,” I said, snuggling against him and nipping his neck with my teeth. “You are nothing if not experienced.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Not experienced enough, at least not with you.”
I lifted my head and frowned at him. “Did you sleep with Candy?”
“Not recently.”
“Ever?”
He raised his eyes to meet mine, the deep blue turbulent with some emotion I couldn’t name. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s vapid and has a streak of cruel.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, not Candy. Who was I thinking of?”
I exhaled and tried to relax my fists. It didn’t matter. He’d slept with every waitress, stripper, and any other female that caught his eye. “Never mind.”
“Are you jealous, Trix? That’s kind of sweet.”
“Why not?” I gave him a hard smile before I settled back, trying to get comfortable, but nothing was quite right.
He took my hand and squeezed it. “I don’t usually sleep with girls who work our circuit. It can get awkward.”
“Jezabel?”
“Definitely not Jezabel.”
I relaxed slightly and shook my head. “What’s wrong with me? It’s probably hormones. I don’t do relationships, you know? I don’t have to worry about being possessive or jealous or insane with rage that way.”
“Insane with rage? It sounds like you’ve had some experience with it. Did you put a nice boy in the hospital Trix? I mean, from jealous rage instead of the regular kind you usually have when you put men in hospitals?”
I made a face at him. “There was a guy.”
He raised his dark eyebrows while his dark blue eyes gleamed. “Not a girl? Oh, right, the first love that you aren’t over. Is it couch time?”
“Couch time?”
He shrugged and closed the magazine, turning to focus those deep blue eyes on me. “Therapy. You talk about your issues, I talk about mine, we cry, we kiss, we lock ourselves in the teeny and see about that next level. You know, it would be kind of nice to be a billionaire and have my own private jet. Wouldn’t that be kind of nice?”
I shuddered. “The germs in this plane’s toilet, mixing with even more bodily fluids… The next level would involve alcohol wipes and gallons of sanitizer. Would a private jet be cleaner? It would be. That is kind of tempting. Let’s hijack a jet.”
He laughed and kissed my nose. “Let’s talk about your germ thing. Have you always been OCD?”
I rubbed my nose. His germs didn’t bother me. I knew where his mouth had been at least in the last month. “It was after my first drunken spree from New York to New Jersey. I woke up with some guy I’d never seen before and some girl I vaguely knew. It was terrifying to be so out of control. I got a motel all by myself and scrubbed myself, that shower and that room until it shone. Then I sold my bike. Motorcycles always get me into trouble.”
“What kind of bike?”
“Champion. I’d made her sing. Got a good price for her. How about you? When did you start looking at women like they were juicy steaks?”
He pressed his lips together, brows low over his eyes before he shrugged and smiled. “It attracts the women who aren’t looking for more than I can give, and repels the women who are better off with another option.”
“Why can’t you give more?”
He shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the direction this couch session was going. It was the girl, the one he’d accidentally mentioned when we were bonding over toast.
“I had a thing for a girl a long time ago. She was someone I respected, someone I kind of idolized.”
Interesting. Not the same girl. I sat up and nodded. “Was she cool?”
He shot me a look. “Very cool. Too cool for me. She kind of broke my heart
. After that, I decided that I’d be better off as the kind of guy who didn’t care too much, the kind that didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve.”
I grabbed his hand, tangling our fingers together. “She sounds like a loser, I mean, if you actually wanted her for something other than her body. How well did you know her?”
He shrugged and squeezed my hand. “She’s not a loser. She just wasn’t ready to let me love her.” He looked at me with one dark brow cocked. “Mrs. Trixie, all this couch talk is making me sentimental. Talk dirty to me. Tell me about your favorite engine overhaul.”
I stared at him. He’d let himself be really vulnerable. Could I do that? “When I was young and stupid, there was a mechanic. I thought we were hiding our relationship so my mother wouldn’t find out, not because he was ashamed of being with me. I was such an idiot.” I swallowed hard and my stomach twisted. I’d loved Lucas so completely, so idiotically.
He whistled long and low. “What a moron.”
The contempt in his voice made me stiffen up and pull away from him. “I didn’t start out jaded and wise.”
He grabbed my hand back and kissed my knuckles. “He’s a moron, not you.” He stared at me intently, as if willing me to understand him.
I laughed and shook my head. “So serious. We should have a good cry, or do it my way and go on a bender. “You remind me of him.”
He raised his head and his eyebrow. “Do I have to? In what way?”
I laughed. I didn’t want to talk about Lucas, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’d never talked to anyone about him. “Womanizing, I guess. Also dark and handsome, except your eyes are blue. He was so good with his hands.”
He frowned. “I know, by the look in your eye, that you’re referring to engines. I am not a mechanic.”
I shrugged and stared at our hands, tangled together. “He taught me so much. I was always a racer for as long as I could remember. My uncle kept a garage and a track in back. Lucas worked there, and we became friends. I was a late bloomer. I didn’t want to bloom. I didn’t want to be like the girls who wore three bras at age twelve to try and attract that kind of attention. When my body exploded, I was horrified.”
He rubbed his chin. “Exploded? That sounds painful.”
I sighed. “It was. I wore layers and layers of clothes, low hats, kept my hair short, tried to stay sexless, but it turned out that I really liked engines.”
“And hands.”
I shrugged. “Anyway, that’s the story.”
“You were in denial about your gender, but went on a rampage with some guy, only you thought it was forever and he was a moron. Trixie’s first rampage. I bet he still remembers it fondly.”
“It wasn’t a rampage. It was years and years of working together. He’d set up my races, I’d bring home the win. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have been able to help pay off dad’s place. I worshipped him ever since I was twelve.”
“He was older?”
I hesitated then nodded. “He kept me from screwing around until I was sixteen.”
“How old was he?”
I shot him a glare. “Does that matter?”
He stared at me back. “Touchy subject. He told you that he was too old for you?”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and got up. “Excuse me. I’ve got to visit the toilet.”
He smiled. “I’m glad that you’re going first. Disinfect it well, won’t you?”
I froze and he stared at me, me standing there, him just waiting for me to show how consistently neurotic I was about this guy. I sat back down.
Horse leaned over and whispered, “If I ever meet this grease monkey, should I act like a devoted fool so he can see what a moron he was?”
I smiled and a little bit of the tangle in my stomach eased. “I’d like that.”
He nodded and opened his magazine. “For the record, I can tune my own engine, change my own tires, and even replace a headlight.”
I took his hand in mine, spreading his fingers. I turned his hand this way and that way, examining it. His hands were strong, calloused, scarred hands that had seen a lot of work, a lot of pain, a lot of action.
“You have good hands.”
“Just wait until we reach the next level of our relationship. My hands will make your engine hum. Everyone knows that fighters are much better lovers than mechanics.”
I exhaled and put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He still wanted to continue with our slow seduction, even after all that messy emotional stuff. I needed him to make me forget, needed it like I needed chaos.
I’d gained ten pounds since living with Horse. I didn’t particularly look pregnant yet, no, I looked more fat than pregnant. While we stayed with my mom I’d eat nonstop. That meant more weight. Not that it mattered because I wouldn’t be on camera for the duration of my pregnancy, but afterwards would be insane trying to get it off. But how could I train hard with a baby? Would I get a nanny? My mother would kill me. She’d probably move out to take care of it, and that would be a barrel of fun. She would completely ruin my life. Not that I had much of one. Racing, engines, that was my life. It seemed so small and pathetic. Being with Horse, sharing my interests and time with him felt real and substantial, something I could build on.
The flight and following cab ride weren’t long enough. When the cabbie pulled up to the brownstone apartment building in not the roughest neighborhood, but not the nicest either, I got out and went to get my bags without thinking about it.
“Allow me, Mrs. Trix,” Horse said, grabbing them out of my hands.
I almost protested before I remembered that I was a delicate little flower. “You should carry me too.”
“Sure. I’ll just take these up and come back for you, unless you think it’s more likely that you’ll be stolen than the bags.”
“Are you concerned about losing me?”
He gazed at me with those soulful eyes. “Deeply. So deeply.” He winked and I rolled my eyes then led him into the building.
The cool lobby smelled like moldy laundry. In the ancient metal elevator cage, Horse leaned over and kissed me the second the doors clanged shut. I wrapped my arms around him and sank into him, relishing the hardness and strength of him. I ran my hands over him, greedily until the lift jerked to a stop.
I pulled back and gave him a small smile. “Remember, nod and look concerned.”
My mother and two of her sisters were in the apartment when we walked in. She started yelling in Italian, and both of my aunties got out their phones, taking turns taking pictures of me and Horse, and calling the whole family. The prodigal had returned. It would be a full house for dinner tonight.
I smiled and let my mom hug me and then the aunties hug me, and then they were all talking and asking questions, until finally, I managed to say, “I need to put away the bags. You’d better get started on dinner.”
That got my mom moving towards the kitchen.
“Trixie, Tammy is using your room while she goes to the beauty school in the neighborhood. You know, the one Jackie went to. You’ll have to use your brother’s old room. He’s staying with your uncle Patty until the end of summer. Maybe longer. I think he has a girl there. Who knows why because he wants to waste his life. Your friend can keep his bags in the room, but he’ll be sleeping on the couch.” Her gaze was like lightning, suddenly fierce.
“Sure, mom. Come on, Nate.” I grabbed his wrist and dragged him after me. I closed Joey’s door and leaned against it. “I can’t believe I thought this would be a good idea.”
“She’s lovely,” Horse said, sticking the bags between the desk and the bookshelf before going to the double bed and sitting on the edge. “Do you think we could make out in here without her catching us? When are you going to tell her that we’re married?”
“You’d rather sleep on a double bed with me than on a couch in the living room? I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“The bed is fine. It’ll be like summer camp.”
“You slept with gi
rls at summer camp? Of course you did.”
“Teddy bear. That’s practically the same thing.” He lay back on the bed, arms behind his head so his muscles flexed as he stared at the ceiling. He was so delicious. There was a shadow where a poster used to be. “So this is where you came from.”
“Everyone comes from somewhere.” I lay down on the bed next to him, and put my head in the hollow beneath his shoulder. “Is this okay?”
He put his arms around me and stroked my hair. He didn’t pull it, which was a miracle. “Are you tired?”
“I’ll just close my eyes for a second.” I snuggled into him. He was better than a body pillow, warm and shifting so we fit together better on the narrow bed.
I woke up to him snoring. That wasn’t what woke me up. It was the pounding on the door.
“Get out of there before your mom comes to get you! Dinner’s on the table.” Was that Marco?
I rolled off the bed in a panic. Horse came with me. We’d been thoroughly tangled up together. I smoothed down my clothes guiltily while he sat on the floor looking up at me with a soft smile on his face. He looked so good sleepy, almost soft. It softened the edges of his usual jaded expression.
“Come on. Dinner is ready,” I said.
He ran a hand over his face. “It must be pretty good to compete with naps. I think it’s good for the crew to get a vacation, but Mac isn’t so sure about it,” he said, following me out the door.
“He’s right. And you’re right. There are pros and cons. If you train hard then take a break so your body’s fully recovered before the big race, that’ll give you an edge. Then again, you’re going to miss the final circuit races that help with placement.”
“They aren’t interesting without you.”
I shook my head. “It’s almost like you enjoy being in my dust.”
“Not as good as being in your rearview mirror.” He winked at me. We came to the end of the hall and he didn’t say anything else.
He didn’t need to. The dining room was opened up into the living room, and my mother had four tables stuck end to end. My mouth watered because it had been too long since I ate my mom’s cooking.
