I finally begged him off because for the first time ever, I’m sore. I don’t think I was this sore after my first time, and certainly never with Jackson.
Trace found a blanket from somewhere and brought it over to cover my delicate, well-played, lady parts before settling on his elbow beside me. “How’s your luck now beautiful?”
I tilted my head for a better look, and to touch his cheek, ear, and hair. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.”
“Me too.” He wrapped his arm around my middle and ducked under my arm to put his head on my shoulder.
I’ve never held a man like this. Whoa. What a comforting feeling. He feels perfect here. That’s how it feels. Trace is the piece of my life that’s been missing, I just didn’t know it until now. “Trace?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you stay in here with me tonight? Not for sex. I’m really scared. What if Jackson decides to kill me because I made him mad?”
“I don’t think he has the guts to come after you directly. I’ll stay here. Anywhere you want. Here, the guest room. You tell me.”
“Can I trust you not to roll over, and into me, in the middle of the night?”
“For now, but once we’re married, it’s game on. I get to roll over, and into you, all I want. In fact, I’m having that written into our vows.”
I laughed and hugged him as hard as I could knowing he won’t break. Kissing the top of his head made me think of holding our children some day, and kissing the tops of their heads, and their little boo-boos. I sighed feeling completely sated and content. Safe.
Trace shoved a handful of toilet tissue into a trash bag. “What’s up with the bikes Cookie?” So much for getting out of this conversation.
I sighed, “Oh yeah. They’re my dad’s. I’m… storing them for him.” I’ve been dreading this conversation because now I know he’s a biker, not just a wrangler. That’s fine, but the fact that he’s a Colson means I’m going to have to face up to a fear I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with yet.
“Why?” His instincts won’t allow him to let me off with such a vague reply.
“He was in an accident about four years ago. Fucked him up pretty bad. Took two years of physical and psychological therapy to get him to walk again. The day his doctor told him he’d never ride again, he stood in his garage over those bikes and cried silently for hours.
“He wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t move. Tears fell for hours in steady streams that broke my heart one blood vessel at a time. I was his favorite kid to ride with. The only one really interested in riding. We went everywhere together.” I wiped a tear away as Trace pulled me up into his arms.
“I’m sorry sweetheart.”
I let myself indulge for a moment, then decided this was not going to ruin my night. I stepped back and kissed his hands one at a time. “It’s okay. I couldn’t ride again after that day. Other than to bring those beauties over and put them under covers. That was over two years ago. Slider helped me move them. He’s actually the last person I’ve ridden with. That was also the day dad gave me Slider as a client.”
“Sounds like your father means a lot to Slider.”
“They’re good friends. I’m not sure how they met, probably riding. I asked Dad once why he didn’t join the club. He said he needed to remain objective for Slider. It made sense, so I just left it alone.”
He looked into my eyes with his finger under my chin, “What were you planning to do with all those bikes?”
I shrugged, “Let you ride them?”
From the look on his face, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Celeste.” That’s who I am when he scolds me. I like it.
“I never thought I’d ride again Trace. I would have told you sooner if I’d known your last name. You didn’t even tell me you had a bike, let alone belong to the club.” I reminded him this isn’t all my fault, dammit.
“That doesn’t answer my question. If you didn’t plan to ride again, why hoard the bikes?”
“I can’t sell them, are you crazy?? Those are my dad’s.”
“Uh huh.” His tone suggests I’ve just been played.
I pushed him away gently, “Get back to work smarty pants. I’ll think about the riding again stuff, just give me some time. I know you’re not going to want someone who can’t ride with you.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s true nonetheless. Maybe we should slow down here. I’m already in over my head.”
“That was me earlier.” He smacked my butt just hard enough to earn a dirty look. “Let’s get this cleaned up so I can get you back in bed.”
“No more tonight. I’m done.”
“Who said anything about you?” He picked up the hose of the vacuum cleaner.
Before my brain clicked in so I could stop him, he flipped the switch sending little bits of toilet paper all over the place. It’s snowing inside my house. Big, papery, ripped up flakes of snow. Before the floors were covered, now every possible surface in the living and dining room is covered.
Now, if that wasn’t bad enough, Trace reached back in a hurry to turn the vacuum, now blower, off and lifted the hose as he bent. That sent more paper snowflakes all over the freaking place. Bits is currently chasing a piece of toilet paper down the hall towards the bedrooms.
Every time it floats down closer to him, he snorts pushing it back up into the air out of his reach. He jumps to chase it, slips, slides, and scrambles for traction as he crashes into the walls.
I’m so stunned I can’t even laugh. I have a huge stupid grin on my face under my hand that came up over my mouth as the utter comedy of the situation set it. “I’m going to be picking toilet tissue off the walls for years.”
“Who the fuck put this thing on Blow??” Trace is not nearly as amused, which makes it really difficult to keep a straight face now.
“We use it to blow up pool chairs and toys.” I explained trying to rescue a piglet who is currently having a blast in his toilet paper haven.
“You couldn’t tell me this before??”
“I didn’t think about it! You had your face buried between my legs. Blowing was the last thing on my mind.” I hope he didn’t hear that last part.
Suddenly the papers began to lift up and swirl around as the sound of the vacuum got closer.
“TRACE!!!” I squealed and hunkered down against the storm. Bits is off catching the brunt of the storm like the brave son of a warrior he is.
The motor stopped and the snow began to settle.
I peeked out, “Are you done?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I had blowing on my mind. My bad.” He reached back and flipped the switch to reverse the flow of air. “Sucking. We’re supposed to be sucking. I always mix these things up.”
I giggled and looked up to steal a hug and a kiss before swatting his butt and getting back to work cleaning up this hilarious mess.
7
Sleeping with Trace and Bits is a little tricky. Bits wants to be between us. Trace wants under the covers. I can’t find my pillow. Never mind, I have his arm. If Bits would stop irritating Trace I could sleep.
I finally got fed up and grabbed the little piglet by his front shoulders and got in his face, “Now look. If you don’t want to sleep in the guest dungeon, I suggest you lay your little butt down and go to sleep. Stop aggravating your Daddy. He’s not going anywhere, so just stop being a selfish little boy, and go, to, sleep.” I set him over on, my pillow. Oh, there it is. “Stay.” I put my palm up to his nose like a wall.
He turned around twice, curled up and went to sleep.
Trace had snuck under the covers by the time I turned back around. His arms gathered my limbs and draped me over his warm almost naked body. “Well done love. I like your assertive side. It’s sexy.”
I sighed, “I’m so tired.”
He kissed the to
p of my head. “Sleep well Cookie.”
“Thank you for staying with me.”
“You realize you’re never going to get rid of me now, right?”
“Did I say anything about wanting to get rid of you? It’s not like I’m going to feel safe alone at night again anytime soon, not without you here. Just don’t let me find out you’re making all this up to get in my bed.”
“Getting in your bed is a benefit, but my goal is to get into your heart. I don’t need to make shit up to do that. I take your life very seriously. I wouldn’t worry you if I didn’t think there was damn good reason. I can’t be here all the time, so I need you to keep your eyes open. Don’t stick your hands in places you can’t see, and check your brakes when you drive.”
“You’re scaring me Trace.”
“Good. A little fear will keep you alert. Get some sleep. And no more leaving your door unlocked in the mornings.”
“Okay.” I’m too tired at this point to argue. Between dinner, his snack after dinner, and cleaning up after Bits, I’m whipped.
When I woke up on my own without the alarm, and without my handsome Cherokee wrangler, the first thing I did was pout. Then I panicked. What time is it??
I rolled and grabbed my phone. Nine-fifteen. Okay. Not bad. Now, were is everybody? I got up and adjusted my clothes. Seems to me I remember some wandering hands last night. I smiled at the way he’d stop and lay perfectly still as soon as suspected he’d woken me up. Sneaky, but not. I have no doubt if I’d told him to stop, he would have stopped.
After relieving myself and washing up, I went to the living room. They didn’t see me at first. I froze.
Trace is reading the newspaper on the couch with one hand, and wrestling Bits to his back with the other. There’s an empty plate of what I’m assuming is Trace’s breakfast, and an empty bowl of whatever he’d fed Bits. I recognize the bowl I’ve been using for the little piggy.
The scene before me is domestic, yet not. This is not the type of man one finds sitting on the couch of a model Tuscan home reading the paper and wrestling with a piglet. This is the kind of man women look for on the cover of romance novels.
He sensed me and smiled before looking up and over, “There she is.”
Bits did some kind of piggy Kung Fu ninja move and flipped off the end of the couch to haul his little butt full force towards me. Bits makes me feel as loved as Trace does.
I scooped him up before he crashed into my feet. “Oh my goodness. Did you miss me?” I asked dodging kisses and snout nudges.
Trace set the paper down, “Save some for me Bits. You hungry Cookie?”
“Coffee first. What have you two been doing?”
“I got an early call so I took him with me. That way you could sleep in. I reset your alarm on your phone to ten thirty in case I didn’t make it back.”
“Thank you. It felt good to sleep in. What kind of call did you get?” I tucked Bits in like a football. He’s getting heavier already. Then again, he’s eating every freaking thing he can get his snout on.
“Woodpeckers of all things.”
“Woodpeckers??”
“Yeah, they get a little aggressive sometimes, and don’t mind drilling some ugly holes in people’s houses. I set deterrents, and traps for relocating. A couple of my traps sprung this morning, so Bits and I ran out to relocate them.”
“Was he a good boy?” I rubbed his little snout.
“He was until he ate my breakfast.”
“You didn’t eat here?”
“I wasn’t going to, but that little idiot ate my breakfast burrito while I was trying to drive. He’s food aggressive in the mornings. I probably should have fed him before we left.” He shrugged.
“Next time you’ll know better.”
“I owe you an apology for the mess I seem to have brought into your life. Between the piglet, and exposing Jackson for the thief he is, I feel like I’m disrupting your otherwise peaceful life.”
“More like boring, and disrupt away. You saved me from possibly being taken to the cleaners, and brought a troublesome little pig into my life that I can’t imagine living without now. Kind of like you.”
“Kind of like me what?” He asked handing me a hot cup of coffee.
“Did you put sugar in it?”
“I did. Like me what?”
I sipped the coffee and relished the flavor. “Oh that’s good.”
“Celeste.” And there’s my bad girl name again. How can he scold me and make me feel sexy at the same time??
“Hmm?” I looked up hoping the innocent act works.
“Like me what?”
“I forget. What was I saying?”
“You said you can’t imagine life without the pig. Then you said like me. Don’t play dumb with me woman.”
“I can’t be held responsible for the things I say before coffee. That’s rule number one in this house.”
“Right. What’s rule number two?”
“Check the switch on the Sho-Vac, make sure it says suck not blow.”
He smacked my ass just hard enough I almost spilled my coffee. “That was your fault. Who leaves the vacuum on blow??”
“I do. I get more out of blowing than I do sucking.” I screamed as he chased me from the kitchen.
“Go sit down you little minx.” He stopped short and turned back to the stove. “I knew you were going to be trouble the first time you smiled at me.” He complained.
“Which was what? Three days ago now? We really need to slow down.”
“Why? Are we going to get a ticket?”
“Smart ass.”
“How do you want your eggs?”
“Over easy with a side of extra crisp bacon.”
My show was a mix of my personal life and my callers. I didn’t mind the balance since it gave me an excuse to think and talk about Trace, and Bits.
I explained simply that some relationships run their course, and for me it took someone else coming along to make me realize as much. I didn’t bad mouth Jackson, but I didn’t spend a lot of time on the subject. I don’t care so much about the fact that I come off as having replaced Jackson with another man. Steal from me, and I’m not so sympathetic to your reputation.
My reputation didn’t take as big of a hit as I expected it to. My callers were supportive, and praised me for having the strength, and sense, to know it wasn’t working, and to get out. It felt good to know my fans supported me.
I should probably tell my family more than my callers, but I haven’t had a chance to sit down and think about how to explain Trace to them.
I tried to keep Trace’s identity a secret by only eluding to the fact that he works outside, and has a great body and long beautiful black hair. Things were going just fine until about three o’clock. An hour before the show was supposed to end.
That’s when the door to the studio opened revealing Eddie, Slider, Joe, Salina, and Goat. Goat? What’s he doing here?
I motioned for Barry to take us to commercial and set my headset on my desk. “What’s going on?”
Eddie frowned as Goat pushed past him to snatch me by the arm and and pull me through the door, “You need to tell me everything you know about Jackson, right now.” He all but shoved me to the couch.
I sat hard looking around for Trace, “Where’s Tra… Wrangler?”
“He’s been shot.” Slider stepped forward. “I want to know everything you know. Everything from his shoe size to where he was born. Everything.”
I put my hands to my heart knowing he’s alive, but had to ask. “Where’s Trace?”
“In the hospital getting stitched up. He’ll be fine. This Jackson, is going to die. The guy who shot your old man, is from a rival club back east. A rival that would have no reason to come into this territory unless provoked, or paid. Guess who paid him?”
“I… Robert… shit. Slider. I had no idea he’d go that far.”
“I didn’t say you did, but you’re going to give me everything I need to bring this fucker down legally. If you don’t, you might as well dig his grave yourself.” Slider is pissed, and I’m scared out of my only pair of pink lace panties.
“I’ll tell you everything I can. Will you take me to Trace?”
“Prospects are bringing him here shortly. Salina, take notes. Joe, set up security on this place. If Wrangler is going to be staying here I want this house on lockdown. Nobody goes anywhere alone.”
“Ro… Slider?” I asked when he turned away.
He turned back, “What?”
“Why would Jackson want to kill Trace?”
“He wanted it to look like a club killing. Probably watches too much TV. What better way to push you away from the club, and right back into his arms? He marries you while you mourn, takes every dime you have. Probably sets you up for some crime, or kills you. Come on Celeste. You’re worth a lot of money, dead or alive.”
“Not that much. Not enough to kill me.” I argued unable to believe someone would go through this much trouble, and would care so little about life, to kill me for my money. I know I’m trained to deal with people like this, but under my own roof??
“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s just pissed off you dumped him for my brother. You’re the shrink. You tell me.” He turned and left me to his minions.
I spent the next hour or more telling Goat everything I could remember about Jackson. I looked up his addresses, phone numbers, resume, and everything else I could find.
When Trace finally walked through the front door I ran everyone over in my path to go to him, and I’m big enough to do it. I stopped short of crashing into him and began my search for damage to my man.
“Oh God. Oh shit.” I looked up, “Trace. I’m so sorry.”
He looks slightly drugged as he touches my cheek. “Not your fault. Cookie. I’m hungry.” He slipped his arm around my shoulders and led me back down the hall. “What’s everybody doing here?”
“Slider says the guy who shot you was hired by Jackson from a rival club back east. He’s pissed because there’s been peace for a while now, and this could quickly get blown out of proportion.”
Wrangled Mess Page 7
