by Ryan Michele
Dread washes over me like a cold shower.
Is this a premonition of what’s to come? Hell, I barely know the guy. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. Dammit.
“Where’d ya go?”
I snap back to the conversation. “I’m here.”
“Nah, you were far away.”
“Sorry, it was a busy day.” It’s not a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth, either.
“Tell me about it.”
“Paperwork is a huge part of my day and keeping track of all the money, dealing with complaints.” A poof of air comes up as I fall to my bed, phone attached to my ear.
“What’s a funny complaint you get?”
“The funniest was”—I start laughing, unable to hold it back—“a customer called because the washer she put her seven dildos in broke every single one of them.”
He bursts out laughing. “You’re shittin’ me?”
“Nope. She wanted us to replace all of them, saying they were hundreds of dollars. Which hell, they could’ve been, but there’s no way I’m paying to replace a woman’s vibrators because she was too stupid and put them in a washing machine. I mean, come on, they’re electronic for the most part, and you’re soaking them in water! Not only that, hello! The spin cycle. It had to have made a hell of a noise.”
“That would’ve been funnier than shit to see.”
“Oh, I bet. She was bitchin’ and yellin’ up a storm over the phone. Cussing me up and down.”
“What’d ya do?”
“Hung up on her.”
“That’s not very good customer relations.” He doesn’t have to tell me that.
“Nope, it’s not. I called her a few hours later, after she blew up my phone. Then, after I called her, I blocked her number. When we talked, I explained that she needed to look on the packaging of her equipment and see the proper cleaning instructions. Because, I know damn well it doesn’t say throw them in washing machine on the spin cycle.” I laugh. “She told me she was going to turn us in to the Better Business Bureau. Whoopee. Can you see that complaint on the BBB website? I put my vibrators in one of their washing machines, and it broke them all. The witch on the phone said they weren’t responsible for my stupidity. Then my question is: who is? They can’t do shit about anything, anyway. Only people who want to bitch go on the site. So, whatever.”
“And you know not to throw vibrators in the washing machine?”
“Of course you don’t. It says right on the box.” There I go again, spewing at the mouth. From his laugher, he wanted to out me on my vibrator usage. Damn, I shouldn’t be insecure about it.
“Good to know,” he says, dropping it, but he already got his unspoken answers. “That’s damn funny. I’m not sure I can top that one.”
“That’s only one of them.”
“Hell, how many women use your laundromat for their dildos?” His puzzling tone tells me he is really curious.
“A lot. And condoms plugging up the toilet and adhered to the dryer drum. Caught a couple on camera going at it on one of the folding tables. I was wondering why it looked so wobbly and found out quickly why when I checked out the cameras.”
“Sounds like someone had some fun.”
“I guess. I’m just glad the cleaning service comes in and does their thing. Lord knows what I could catch. Ew …” Fuck, did I just say that? I seriously just said that … to Cooper. Fucking hell. There goes my damn mouth. Anything I say is going to make it worse. I don’t have any diseases. I mean, I haven’t touched any pussy juice. I mean, come on. Lose. Lose all the way around.
I love hearing his chuckle, though. At least someone in the world finds me funny. Even if it’s over stupid stories.
“Good to know.”
Something’s been on my mind since one of our first texts. It was about his story when we talked about my mother. I kind of feel like a douche asking, but it’s better than doing it over texting.
“Want to tell me what you meant by reminding you to tell me your story later?”
He lets out a long puff of air. “No, not really.”
I immediately feel let down. I opened up to him more than I have anyone in a long time. The fact he won’t open to me sucks.
“But I will,” he finishes, and I let out my own breath. Thank you, God. “My mom is Princess. She’s not my biological mom, though. You can’t tell anyone this. I’m trusting you with something I don’t tell people.”
Wow. That’s a huge gift he’s giving me, and I refuse to take it lightly.
“Mums the word.”
“Alright.” He blows out a gust of air, and it feels like a heavy weight the way he pauses.
My mind instantly goes to protection mode. It’s not something that can be controlled. Whatever he’s going to tell me should be done in person or something other than a phone call like this.
“Cooper,” I interrupt.
“Yeah?”
“I’m honored that you want to tell me this, but it’s heavy, and I really don’t think we should do it over the phone.” I pause, feeling like an idiot. Here is this man, about to open up to me, and I’m shutting him down. Nevertheless, I have this urge to protect him, which makes it semi-okay … I think. “It’s not that I don’t want to know, because I do. I seem to want to know everything about you, but over the phone just doesn’t feel right.”
I wish I could see him and read his body language. Is he shocked I stopped him? Is he pissed? Does he want to hang up on me and never talk to me again? Or does he respect that I’m trying to keep his secrets as private as possible?
Getting up from my bed, I pace the room and gnaw on my thumbnail when he says nothing. Just dead air over the phone. Shit, I already screwed this up. We should have kept to texting. Then I wouldn’t have inserted my foot in my mouth. Dammit.
“I respect that, Bristyl. Thank you.”
“You’re not pissed at me?”
It sounds as if he’s moving on the other end of the phone with the static, maybe getting up or walking somewhere. I’m not sure which.
“Not at all. It’s smart. I like the way you think.”
I drop to the floor, back against my bed, pulling stray hairs from my face, relief filling me. “Thanks.”
“So, tell me, Bristyl, you work at the laundromat and a storage unit. What else do you do? College? Out partying at rallies? Clubbing?”
“Clubbing? Are you serious?” Clubbing? This man … I shake my head.
“Hell if I know what you chicks do.”
Chicks. Well, at least it’s better than some of the other terms I’ve heard over the years.
“What this chick does is work. I didn’t do college. Well, I take that back. I did try out of high school, but realized quickly it wasn’t for me.”
“Why’s that? You seem like a really smart girl.”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Thanks. I did okay, but doing school on top of work just didn’t pan out well.”
“So, you hated it?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“College was never a goal for me. I was born Ravage. I’ll die Ravage. That’s always been the plan.”
That pit of unease creeps back. How soon I keep forgetting that he’s in a club and probably feels the same way my father and brothers do. I hate to even think it, but the idea of it rides me hard. Why does he have to be the one that I want to talk to.
I try to push the insecurities down.
“Your brother and sister, are they younger? I’m assuming yes because you called them kids earlier.” Way to change the subject, Bristyl.
“Yep. They’re fourteen.”
“Do you get along with them?”
“For the most part. There’s such a huge age gap that it’s different. It’s like, maybe I’m their cousin or something instead of their brother. But we roll with it.”
Our conversation lasts throughout the night, and I fall asleep, still clutching my phone and onto a small bit of hope. Hope that maybe Cooper is different.
> Chapter Twelve
“What the fuck are you doin’ in your room every night? You’ve bailed on us,” Ryker accuses from the passenger seat of the small box truck. We just dropped off a shipment to a client and are on our way back to Ravage.
“Yeah, you wackin’ off in there? Because, you’re not tappin’ anything at the club,” Jacks joins in, and he’s not wrong.
Something’s fucking with my head. No, not something—someone. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I look forward to talking to her. It lightens my day and makes anything that’s annoying or frustrating disappear. I can talk to her about anything. Feel like shit, then talk to her, and bam, feel good.
“I’ve got shit to do.” Keeping my eyes focused on the road, I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell them about Bristyl. Maybe it has something to do with having one thing that’s solely mine. It’s not like she’s a forbidden secret or any of that shit. Talking with Bristyl is just different, and I don’t know how to explain it to them. They wouldn’t get it. At least, I don’t think they would.
“Coop, seriously, it’s been over a week,” Green adds his two cents.
“Have I neglected any of my club responsibilities?” I charge back, feeling fire in my veins. They say nothing, because I haven’t. “Anything at the shop or X I haven’t done?” Again nothing. I may be talking to Bristyl, but that doesn’t mean I fell down on my job in any way, shape, or form.
“Brother, it’s just not you, and we want to know if we can help,” Green says, concern in his tone.
“There’s nothin’ wrong. I appreciate it, but it’s all good.” I’m not changing what I’m doing. I’m a grown-ass man, and if I want to talk to a woman on the phone and get a few laughs, then I will. What would be better is if I could see her.
Later that night, I call. She answers on the second ring.
“You’re early.” That damn purr to her voice, and I know she’s not even trying. It’s all the damn time. Everything she says has it. Hell, she could be talking about something serious or her family and it’s there. Makes me so damn rock hard.
“I’ve got an idea. Saturday, want to meet me in Marianna? That’s about an hour drive for you. I’ll find a place for us to eat and see each other.” Once the thought came into my head in the truck, I couldn’t shake it. Seeing her became high on my to-do list.
She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. I’m pretty sure she’s shocked.
“How long of a drive is that for you?”
“You don’t have to be concerned about that, just think about your drive.”
“I damn well have concerns, Cooper. I don’t want you driving what? Four, five hours here. I mean …” She gives a little cough. Her concern for me is cute. “I want to see you. I just don’t want anything to happen to you on the road.”
A shit-eating grin crosses my face. “That ride’s a drop in the bucket. Can you do it?”
“Of course, but—”
“No buts. I don’t have shit going on here at the club this weekend. It’s perfect timing. And beautiful, it’s around three hours. That’s really nothin’.”
“You sure you want to meet up? Do you think that’ll change things?”
“What do you mean change things?”
“I don’t know. I just feel like I know you, and we’ve seen each other twice. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
I chuckle. “Beautiful, everything about this is strange to me. I’m rollin’ with it and askin’ you to do the same.”
“Okay, it’s a plan.”
“It’s a plan.”
I roll out early, only stopping when I need to fill up my tank and take a leak. The anticipation of seeing her builds with each passing mile.
As I pull up to the diner, her Dodge Challenger is parked on the right side of the lot. I pull up next to her and shut down my bike. Her sexy blue eyes stare up at me through her window. Damn, she’s even better looking than I remembered, or is it actually knowing a woman that makes them more than you envisioned?
I drop the kickstand as she gets out of the car. Bristyl pulls her light blue T-shirt down nervously, her hand giving a slight tremor. There she goes again, being cute.
“Hey, beautiful.”
A rosy pigment comes to her cheeks and spreads down her chest. The cut out V doesn’t hide anything. Her plump breasts look full pressed against the shirt. I swallow back the saliva that coats my mouth.
“Hey, how was the drive?”
“Good.” I slide my glasses off and hook them on my shirt, not wanting any deterrents from seeing Bristyl fully.
“I feel bad you had to drive so far.”
“I’m the one who suggested this, remember?” What I don’t tell her is I would have driven all the way down if I needed to.
The urge to wrap her in my arms becomes overwhelming, and I give in to it, pulling her to me and pressing her head against my chest. She wraps her arms around my waist and latches her hands together behind my back. When she lets out a deep sigh, I rest my cheek on top of her head. Contentment fills me for the first time ever.
I inhale her branding, her flowery smell, into my memory and enjoy this moment.
After a hard squeeze, I pull back, looking down at her. Her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight, almost like they’re dancing. Bristyl licks her plump bottom lip, and as much as I tell myself to hold back, that I won’t take it too far this time, I can’t help myself. The need and desire are too much.
Our lips connect as she brings her hands to the front of my T-shirt and grips it tight. She doesn’t protest, but it takes her a moment to kiss me back. Once she does, fire, flames, and ignition take over. I can’t get enough of her.
She opens her mouth, and I take that as my invitation, sliding my tongue inside, tasting her, savoring her. My dick jumps to attention, and as our bodies touch, I have no doubt she feels it from her shivers. She doesn’t blink, though. No, she continues to give as good as she’s getting. Then she heaves for breath, and as much as it pains me, I pull back, allowing her to get oxygen into her body. With my forehead on hers, I suck in my own gulps.
That’s it. In my gut, I knew at the rally that if I took a taste of her, that would be it. Called it.
Her sweetness is an aphrodisiac that I want more and more of. Her eyes looking at me like I just gave her the world, when it was only one kiss, is it. I feel it inside my chest, and I won’t deny it.
Fuck it. She may be too good for my world, but fuck it. She has no idea what she’s opened up. It’s too late now.
“Wow.” She clutches my shirt tighter like she wants to hold on to me for a bit longer. I feel the same, but only my arms are around her body. “That was quite a hello.”
“Yeah, beautiful. I’ve been waiting a damn long time for that.”
“Me, too,” she whispers. Then she gets up on her tiptoes and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Let’s go eat.”
Eating is the last thing on my mind, but that’s what we came for. To eat and talk, and we’ll do it even if it kills me.
I grip her hand as she moves around me to walk into the diner, then lace our fingers together. Her skin is soft, warm, and damn perfect.
I lift our connected hands and kiss the top of hers. Her soft smile hits me deep.
Holding hands, we walk to the building that has a small sign that reads: The Café. When I looked it up, it boasts about being a mom and pop shop. Judging from the yellow concrete blocks on the outside and windows with curtains, I can say that’s right. The doors to the place are over on each side instead of the front. Going in, I hold the door for Bristyl and let her go in front of me.
“Sit anywhere,” a waitress calls out.
The place is definitely a throwback to the sixties or seventies. A light green color vinyl covers the booths with a flower pattern on the back. Wallpaper with the same flowers cover the walls, as well. There’s a bar area where one person sits eating. We find a seat away from everyone and climb in, which forces me to let go of her hand so she can slide int
o the booth.
An older waitress comes to the table wearing tan pants, a white shirt, and a green apron. She hands us a menu that’s just a laminated sheet of paper with writing on both sides.
“What can I get y’all to drink?”
I look at Bristyl and wait for her answer.
“Diet Coke please.”
“And you?”
“Coke’s fine.”
“Got it. Be back in a few.”
Bristyl picks up her menu and begins to read it. Me, I watch her every movement. She almost feels like a mirage, like if I blink or move wrong, she’ll disappear. After lying in bed for so many nights, talking and thinking about her, this seems surreal.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Not a damn thing.” I leave out how, for the first time in my life, shit feels right.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s just nice to see you and not just hear your sexy as hell voice.”
“My voice isn’t sexy.”
“Yeah, beautiful, it is.”
That shy blush tinges her cheeks again.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“Not really.”
This surprises me. “You’re not?”
“No, I’m nervous, Cooper. This is so out of my comfort zone it’s in another realm.”
I reach over and grab her hands. They are ice cold, so I rub them with mine to help warm them, smiling the entire time.
“Out of yours? Try out of mine.” She has no clue how far out this is. Take a woman to bed, hell yeah. Actually talk to her every damn night on the phone, drive three plus hours to see her, and sit in some little rinky-dink diner just to spend time with her. Never happened before, but I’m happy to do it with her.
“I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”
“What can I get ya?” the waitress says, coming back to the table.
Bristyl tries pulling her hands out of my grasp, but I hold tighter, not allowing her to. She doesn’t resist.
“Order.”
She does, and then I do, thankful when the waitress goes away.
“Let’s just see. I can’t give you any guarantees. I know I like talking to you every night. I know I like seeing you face to face. I know you make me smile in a way I don’t normally.” I give her hands a squeeze.
