Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle

by Delilah Wilde

  About halfway through assembling the programs, I happened to glance outside. Tim was still working to cut away the tree. It looked like he managed to free Marti's car. So at least that was progress. More than likely, he'd be out there the rest of the day trying to get the driveway completely cleared.

  "Oh crap," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.

  "What's the matter Angie?" Grams brought over some of that murky water she called coffee and set it down on the table for me.

  "Nothing. It's just, I have to go to work today and I don't know how I'm going to get there with my car flattened under a tree."

  "Well, Tim is working as fast as he can."

  "Oh I know. It's not him. I just--."

  "What if you called in sick?"

  The screen door slammed and made me jump at that moment. I whipped my head around to see Tim striding over to the kitchen. He came back out to the table with a glass of lemonade and sat down next to Grams.

  "Well, I don't think I can."

  "Can what?" Tim asked.

  "She doesn't think she can call in sick to work."

  "Why call in sick? Just go to work? They can get the wedding plans done without you for a couple hours."

  "Yea but--."

  "She doesn't have a ride. Hey Timmy, you can give her a ride to work right?"

  "Um," he stuttered.

  "No," I said, trying to let him off the hook. "No he doesn't have to do that. It's fine. I'll try to call in sick. I'm sure it'll be fine." I got up and walked back into the kitchen to grab the phone there.

  "What time do you have to be there?" Tim asked.

  "What?"

  He followed me into the kitchen. "What time do you have to be there?"

  I glanced around the kitchen. "Two," I finally answered.

  "Okay." He checked his watch. "Go ahead and try to call in sick if you want. I need to go and take a shower. When I get out, you let me know if you still need a ride. Okay?"

  I nodded and he walked out of the kitchen without another word. I stared at the phone for a minute, dumbfounded by what just happened.

  My stomach lurched. What was going to happen if he ended up having to give me a ride to work?

  ***

  Damn it. How did I let Grams trap me into bringing Angela to work today? I wanted to sit and talk to Grams about what was happening to her. About what to expect. About doctor’s reports and second opinions. The last thing I wanted to do was bring some dame to work.

  Not to mention the obligatory ride home.

  Shit.

  I was going to have to go and pick her up.

  Gah.

  I walked into the bathroom with some towels and turned on the hot water. I let the water rain down on my shoulders and flow down my chest.

  The morning after sex is always painfully uncomfortable. The girl always wants to talk about it. To chat and find out if there was a relationship coming. And if there was no relationship planned, could there be? They all want to think they're somehow special from the others.

  And this time. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking?

  I blamed Marti for this. If she hadn't thrown herself all over me in the shed last night, I never would have stopped to watch Angela. And now Angela probably thinks I'm some pervert.

  Easiest way to deal with this would be to ignore it. Just go about our day and not talk about it. As if it never happened. Shut it down. If Angela happened to bring it up, I would have to stop her and let her know that there is no future there. It was a one time relief effort. And after this wretched wedding, we wouldn't even have to see each other again.

  Oh God, and what would Grams think if she found out? Maybe it's a good thing I'm giving Angela a ride to work today. It might be the only way I could talk to her first before she opens her mouth to anyone else.

  ***

  Of course, going to work meant getting back into that horrible cheerleading uniform. Which I left in the bathroom. Again.

  Once upon a time, there was a person who wrote if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all. I was starting to think that whoever that person was wrote that line for me. Still, if I managed to get to work early enough, I could grab a new uniform. They would just have to take the cost out of my paycheck. Which was going to suck. But at least it would be better than showing up to work in a uniform covered in mud and lust.

  "So," said Grams. "How are you doing, Angie?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you and that boy you were seeing. Wait. Don't tell me. I know you told me his name already. Mike right!"

  "Michael, but yea."

  "Oh well, Mike and Michael are practically the same thing."

  I smiled and shrugged. I hated abbreviated names. Always have.

  "So. Are we going to be planning your wedding soon? You can have it here, too, you know."

  "No, Grams. There's no wedding anytime soon in my future. Michael and I broke up."

  "Oh no."

  "It's fine, Grams. I mean, it sucks but it's not important."

  Grams took in a deep breath and shook her head. She placed her wrinkled, bony hand on my cheek and smiled. "Angie, now you listen to me. It's always important."

  I smiled and pulled her cold hand away from my face. "Thanks Grams. Maybe after the weekend we can talk. I don't want to take away from Marti's day."

  Grams smiled and patted me on the shoulder before leaving the room.

  "Okay," said Tim. "You ready to go?"

  I looked over my shoulder and had to bite my tongue to keep my mouth from dropping open.

  His black hair glistened from the shower water. And the fresh tee shirt clung to his muscles where he had missed the water with the towels.

  My cheeks immediately flushed with embarrassment and nerves. Thank God he stormed out the door without actually waiting for me to answer. Because I was pretty sure the butterflies in my stomach were going to jump out and attack him.

  I shook the fog out of my head and scrambled to find my shoes. Ugh. Covered in more mud. And I didn't have time to clean them. I was going to have to wear them to work and hope for the best.

  I followed Tim outside and gulped down my nerves. He stood next to his motorcycle, one helmet hanging on the handlebars and another helmet hanging in his outstretched hand. Was he expecting to take me to work on that thing?

  No way.

  I glanced around shook my head as I walked up closer to him. "I can't ride on that."

  "Why not?"

  "I. Um."

  "You're scared?" His voice dropped to a disapproving tone and for some reason it summoned tears to sting at my eyes. I didn't want to, but try as I might I couldn't blink the glossy bastards away.

  "It's fine if you're scared. But I don't have any other way of getting you to work. So it's either this or you don't go in." He held the helmet back out to me.

  At least it wasn't pink.

  I took a deep breath and accepted the helmet.

  He stood close to me as he showed me how to fasten the helmet around my chin. Checking the straps to be sure they were correct and tight enough.

  Every touch sent flashbacks of last night through my mind.

  "All right," he said. "Now, let me get on the bike first. That way I can hold it steady for you. Okay?"

  "Where do I put my feet?"

  He smiled and pointed to the tiny stubs sticking out near the ground. "Right here, okay? Any other questions before we go?"

  I took a breath, grateful he wasn't laughing at me. He lowered the visor of my borrowed helmet and stepped over the bike. Then he held his hand out to me and helped guide me onto the bike behind him.

  Like a cruel practical joke, as soon as I settled onto the seat and propped my feet onto those tiny stubs, my bottom slid on the seat until my thighs were pressed against him.

  I clenched my eyes tight and shuddered. This was going to be the longest ride ever.

  How did I get roped into this?

  "All right, now you're going to have
to wrap your arms around me."

  "I, um. Like this?" I wrapped my arms around his waist and latched onto his ribs.

  He chuckled and peeled my hands away from him. "More like this," he said as he corrected. "Don't squeeze too tight or I won't be able to maneuver."

  "How will I know if it's too tight?"

  "I'll tell you. Do you understand how leaning into the turns work?"

  I shook my head as if he could hear the helmet rattling from behind him.

  "Okay. Lean in closer to me. Feel for me to lean one way or another, okay? Then follow that. Don't overcompensate and don't worry about trying to balance. Okay? It's my job to balance."

  I leaned forward until my chest was pressed up against his back.

  Back in heaven. As he started up the bike, his muscles rippled and teased my nerves. The bike thundered beneath me.

  At this rate, I was going to be a quivering mess before I even got to work.

  ***

  I pulled the bike out of the driveway and into the street. The first few feet seemed to work okay. But then her nails dug into my chest. I took a deep breath. Maybe she would loosen back up after a short distance, when she could get a little more comfortable and relaxed.

  Of course, I've brought plenty of women with me on this bike. I knew what I was doing. But I wasn't sure I could tell Angela that information. She was always so shy. And besides, any minute now she was going to come to me and ask if we could talk.

  And I wasn't sure I was ready for her to initiate that talk. I mean, if I brought it up first, then she could just pretend that it meant nothing to her either. But if she brings it up to me and then I tell her it was just a one time thing, that would be a different story. I wasn't trying to humiliate or hurt her.

  At least I knew she couldn't try to talk to me while we were on the bike. More than likely she would just try to say something after I dropped her off at her job or when I showed up to pick her up.

  I wasn't even sure where she worked.

  Shit.

  Her hands finally loosened up again and I was beginning to think she might have actually relaxed a little. But as soon as we went around the next big turn, of course, she clenched her nails back into me.

  I was going to have to convince her to lighten up before she caused us to crash or something.

  I pulled over into a gas station and took off my helmet. Stopped to get gas seemed like a natural thing to do. And it wouldn't put her on the spot. I hung my helmet on the handlebar and left her sitting balanced on the back seat. "I'll be right back," I said.

  She nodded and held onto the seat's padding as if it was trying to spit her off the bike. I wanted to laugh at how adorable I thought her wide eyes were. But I really didn't want her to think I was just making fun of her. Maybe after I was able to talk to her and get her back to Grams house.

  That was also the moment I decided to bring up the talk to her after her shift finished. I figured that way, she didn't have to carry around any negative feelings about me through her whole shift, and it wouldn't be rushed. Plus, she could think on everything all the way back to Grams's house.

  Or...she might not even want to ride with me back to Grams's house. What if I told her everything and she decided to call on someone else for a ride? The last girl I slept with and then dumped threw her helmet at me. Which wasn't that bad, but if Angela proved to be even a little stronger than that girl, it could knock the wind out of me.

  Better make sure I get her back to Grams's house first.

  And take the helmet away from her.

  "So, I forgot to ask," I tried to stay as casual as possible as I spoke. "Where do you work, anyway?"

  "Do you know that sports' bar on the corner of Constitution Avenue and I-40?"

  "Oh yea. I know the place. Okay. But I thought their employees wore, like, football jerseys and baseball uniforms."

  "The guys do. But the girls have a choice of cheerleader uniform, tennis skirts, or gymnastics leotard."

  "That's sexist. Everyone should be able to wear the gymnastics leotard," I said with a sarcastic grin.

  She giggled.

  I finished pumping the gas and slipped back into my seat. "By the way, no big deal, but loosen your grip a little. Okay?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "No, don't apologize. You're fine. I just need you to loosen it a little so that if something happens I can react. If you're holding on too tight I might not be able to shift when I need to shift, okay?"

  She nodded and wrapped her arms back around me.

  And latched on for dear life.

  So...that went over well.

  ***

  I leaned my head against his spine between his shoulder blades and held my breath.

  Oh, God. I thought. He must think I'm a complete idiot.

  I clenched my eyes shut and tried to follow his movements on the bike. I thought maybe if I cut out some of the other distractions that I would be able to follow his movements better.

  I took a deep breath as he pulled out of the gas station and continued down Pike's Peak Boulevard.

  A few minutes later, we finally pulled up to the sports' bar. Tim rolled the bike up to the front door and killed the engine.

  I froze.

  I didn't know why. I just suddenly didn't want to be inside this building. I wasn't even sure if I would care if they fired me.

  I just didn't want to be here.

  "Are you okay?" Tim took off his helmet and leaned over his shoulder to ask.

  I nodded my head, still not understanding that the helmets didn't make any noise when they moved.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "Ye-yea. Why?"

  "Because you're shaking more now then you were during the ride up here. I mean, I guess it's possible you're shaking the same amount and I just now noticed it because we stopped moving. But--."

  "I don't know if I want to go in there." I finally confessed.

  "What? Why?"

  I shook my head and stared at the doors.

  "Do you want me to take you back to Grams's house?"

  I shook my head again.

  "Okay," he said.

  I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or confused. Or both.

  "Well, I got nothing better to do. I mean, everyone else might be upset that their cars are still trapped under that tree. But--."

  "It's just that he might be in there."

  "Who might?"

  I fought the tears stinging at my eyes. I knew if I started crying I would look pathetic and childish. But somehow my eyes didn't care about how I looked. "Michael," I mumbled.

  "And Michael is...?"

  "My exboyfriend."

  He cocked his eyebrows up and turned around to face me. "Haven't you ever heard not to dip your pen in the company ink?"

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "It means if there is an I-9, a W-4, or a 1099 form between you, then keep your legs shut."

  "That...that's just. That was--." I didn't know how to finish the sentence. That's just...what? That's just mean? That's just so fucking true and I am so ashamed of it all that I want to quit my job and move to a new city?

  "All right," he said. "Calm down. I'll go in with you. Okay? I could use some lunch anyway. I'll go in and if it gets weird or uncomfortable then you can just let me know and I'll get you out of there. Okay?"

  I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded my head again. He rolled the motorcycle over to a parking space and locked everything up. Carrying his helmet under his arm as he opened the door for me.

  I took off my helmet and handed it over to him.

  The group of them stood at the front door podium. Staring at me. Gossiping in whispers. Their eyes judging me for having the audacity to show up at all. They were all Kirsten's friends.

  Everyone was Kirsten's friend.

  I stepped up to the podium while Tim took a seat over at the bar and grabbed a menu.

  "You aren't in uniform," Natasha said.

  "Yea, I know. I got
caught out in that thunderstorm last night and it got soaked in mud. So I thought I could buy another one and have you take it out of my check?

  Natasha rolled her eyes and grabbed the keys from around the curly laniard on her elbow. She led me back to the employee locker room and slammed her way through the closet until she found tennis uniform. "Here," she said. "Put this on and get ready. And you better be ready to start taking tables on time. Don't think you can just start working late because you have to change."

  I nodded and tucked the uniform under my arms as I darted for the bathroom.

  ***

  The menu at this place was ridiculous. But that didn't stop the bartender from coming over and asking if I was ready to order at least four times within the first five minutes I was there. I didn't know how they thought anyone could read through nine pages of food items that fast.

  "Hey man. So you know what you want?" The bartender wearing the name tag "Jeremy" came over to prove my point.

  I slammed the menu down and stared him in the eye. "A basket of onion rings and whatever the sandwich of the day is. And unsweetened iced tea."

  "Excellent. Excellent," he smiled and grabbed the menu from me before slinking off to his fake computer to punch it in.

  "Oh my God, did you hear?" Someone leaned in around the corner and talked to the bartender.

  He might have been trying to whisper. I couldn't be sure. But if he was, he failed miserably.

  "Hear what?" Apparently, Jeremy had no qualms about whispering.

  "She actually came in, dude."

  "Who?"

  "That chick. Angela."

  My ears perked up. But I kept my eyes on the television screen. Maybe I could finally figure out why Angela was so mortified to come back here after all.

  "No way. Are you serious?"

  "Yea, dude. She's in the back right now. She even asked for a new uniform. Said she got caught in the storm last night and didn't have time to wash it."

  "Oh please. You know that's just a game to try to get Mike back."

  "Right? Anyway, I got to go. I'm being seated. Talk later, bro."

  Jeremy nodded and walked over to me with the iced tea.