by A. Marie
“Maybe it’s time to find another job then. One where your kitties can have you at their beck and call. But the residents are doing better overall since they’ve begun eating first thing in the morning.”
His hand twitches like he’s getting ready to use it when a motorcycle, my motorcycle, revs loudly, making him freeze entirely.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Not everyone can take their medication on full stomachs. Some people must be given theirs on empty stomachs. But if they’re all full when I get here, then I can’t do my job properly and there’s no point to me even being here!”
His screechy voice grates on my already tight nerves. I understand where he’s coming from and it’s true, his schedule has been altered to find the right time for everyone to receive their medication correctly. They’re still working to find the perfect balance but his anger isn’t helping anybody in the meantime.
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Talk to Rosie. Maybe she can suggest a better time that’ll fit with your, uh, cats’ schedule.”
Wouldn’t want the only pussies Vernon has ever seen to suffer any more than they already have just by living with the asshole.
In a deceptively soft voice, he leans in and warns, “She better. I’m not losing my job to a biker wannabe playing dress up.”
Wannabe? Dress up?
I raise a single brow, knowing it’ll irk the fuck out of him when really I’d love to show him exactly what I can do with my bike. Here’s a tip, stay the fuck out of my way when I’m on her.
Vernon sidesteps me in a huff and I join Beckett as he sits on my bike, steadily twisting the throttle. I thought with his height he’d look like a bear on a tricycle but I was wrong. Dead wrong.
After watching Vernon drive off, Beckett’s long, powerful body fills every crevice of my white and gray CBR 600 as he leans over to resume his inspection. And I continue mine. Strong arms grip my handlebars, toned legs straddle the seat while his hat covered head, bill now forward to block the sun, studies the body. Good. God. It’s not even fair.
The sun is dropping toward the horizon, painting the sky an impressive orange ombré that reminds me of the creamsicles from the ice cream truck that used to circle our old neighborhood every weekend during the hot months.
“She purrs so pretty when she’s actually running.”
He looks me over and hums, the sound making me think of somewhere else I’d like him to hum.
“How often is it happening?”
I cough. “Excuse me?”
“You said ‘when she’s running.’ How often does it break down?”
His eyebrows are drawn like the curtains on a recluse’s home—keeping everything in while blocking everyone out.
“Oh, um, enough.”
He nods thoughtfully before turning the key and dismounting.
“It should be good for now. If it happens again, call me.”
He takes my phone to program his info in. As he passes it back, our fingers brush and a warmth spreads where they touch. It’s not like accidentally touching a stranger where you panic and abort as soon as possible. It’s comfortable and I don’t pull away immediately. Beckett doesn’t either and we stand with our hands both holding the phone between us, staring into the other’s eyes.
Inside his car, his woodsy vanilla smell caressed my senses like a faint memory that hasn’t happened yet. Now, the slight breeze mixes with the earthy sweetness to tease me like an unspoken promise.
Everything I’ve seen on him so far is long and his eyelashes are no exception. They blink once, ending the moment completely and he removes his hand, clearing his throat. “Dude was fired up. Does he always act like that?”
“Vernon?” I sense another line being tossed in my direction so I keep it short once again, telling him honestly, “He has his days.”
“Well, if he gives you any more trouble, call me and I’ll deal with him, too.”
That’s enough of that.
I step close to him, making sure my front brushes his. Feeling his sharp inhale instead of just hearing it, I crank my neck back to gaze up at him.
“I can take care of myself. I handle guys like him every day of the week and twice on Saturdays.”
I spin on my heel, only pausing when he calls to my back, “Why Saturday?”
“It’s my day off.”
CHAPTER 5
Beckett
I’m wiping my hands off when my boy and business partner, Coty, enters the now empty bay.
“How’s it going with the new roommate? Can’t be too bad if you’re still alive. I figured she would’ve killed you in your sleep by now.”
“Pssh, if it were that easy, neighbor girl would’ve taken me out first chance she got.”
As if on cue, Angie—his better half—walks in, joining the conversation, saying, “Oh, boys. All Beckett has to do is make her one of his signature everything-but-the-kitchen-sink cocktails and she’ll fall madly in love with him.” She snickers proudly, tucking herself into Coty’s side.
The two of them are sickening, not unlike my infamous drink concoctions Angie mentioned.
Although the jury’s still out on motive, I get the feeling Paige could all out destroy with no remorse.
“I’m happy to report,” I say, spreading my arms out wide, “she hasn’t killed me in my sleep, yet.” Mainly because she’s not home when I’m asleep. Thank fuck. “And, there will be no falling in love. At least not on my end. She’s more than welcome to fawn all over me. I could use a new president to head the Beck’s The Best fan club now that you left.” I give our old neighbor a wink, making Coty chuckle while Angie rolls her eyes.
Coty, Marc, and I grew up with different versions of dysfunctional families. One day at a local motocross track, we befriended one another over our love of dirt bikes but later became brothers out of necessity. We found something in each other that day that our real families weren’t giving us, something we needed but couldn’t begin to recognize at such a young age. Our hobby kicked off our lifelong friendships but our unwavering loyalty has kept us together, strengthening over the years until we moved into the apartment at Creekwood after high school, making us more—making us brothers. Years went by of the same old, same old and it’s been great, but in a way that milk is great. Sure, it tastes good and not everyone can have it, making you feel a little smug that you get something so highly coveted by others. But, then you try chocolate milk and suddenly regular milk seems boring, less than, lacking overall. That’s what Angie moving into the apartment next door was. The stubborn breath of fresh air moved across the hall but, more importantly, into our hearts, too. She stirred everything up, making us realize that what we were doing wasn’t as great as we’d always assumed. That our triad was in need of another to balance us out.
Coty fell for her the moment he laid eyes on her, poor bastard never stood a chance really, and locked that shit up quick. She put him, and us, through the wringer, but looking at how we all came out the other side together, I’d say it was well worth it.
Last year, us roommates decided to go into business together, and six months ago we opened the only auto shop in town that fixes almost anything with an engine—my specialty—on one side, with a full-service car wash on the other. Angie runs the wash without much interference from us and has customers eating out of the palms of her more than capable hands. Having worked at a car wash once upon a time herself, we offered her the position and after some convincing, she accepted, proving us geniuses every day since. Coty may be the one that created the entire car wash addition specifically for her but I take as much of the credit as they let me get away with. Which isn’t much usually. Our old neighbor girl is savage.
Coty happily fills the role as general manager while I work solely in the service department. If it drove at one time, I can get it running again, but faster. Marc mostly works off-site but gives a hand in any department needed. We work closely with his father’s uber successful farm, so he’s out there most days, working on vehicle
s that can’t make the trip into town.
Due to our booming success and growing clientele, we’re currently scouting sites for a second location and if all goes well, our team will be celebrating another grand opening by the end of the year.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to finally fall for someone, you know?”
I clutch at my heart and stumble forward.
“How dare you say such horrible things to me. Coty, control your woman.”
The happy couple just laugh, sending a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins.
“We both know that’ll never happen.” Angie stares into her man’s eyes, daring him to argue, and I have to look away from the intensity.
“Never,” Coty agrees before Angie turns triumphantly to leave, his eyes tracking her every move.
“Yes, please. Take your hate speech somewhere else,” I call out while she’s still in earshot, earning me a middle finger held high above her head.
“I like her unrestrained, man. You don’t tame girls like her, you embrace the beauty in their wild and adapt.” His gaze meets mine pointedly. “Or get eaten alive.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, he spins to follow his girl.
“Sounds like great advice for your first satanic ritual. Did you find that on a greeting card?”
I’m rewarded with a second middle finger followed by a “goodnight.”
Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to go back to Creekwood. It hasn’t even been a full week yet but I’m already surrounded by her. Everywhere I go, Paige is there.
In the living room with her stupid DVD collection off to the side of the TV. What the fuck is Final Girl by the way? Shit looks weird as hell. One girl, four guys—sounds like a horror movie if I’ve ever heard one. Three guys and one girl though…that might be fun.
In the kitchen with her bulk snacks and tea. Almost twenty-one my ass, chick is on her way to sixty-one with the crap she likes. I hate even going near the bathroom anymore with her overwhelming scent invading the air—peaches with a hint of smoke from her constant riding. Smoky peaches? Who the fuck would’ve thought such a thing existed? Sounds like something Bobby Flay came up with—the brilliant bastard. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever smelled and I’ve been walking around with a chubby all week.
The only place I find any reprieve is in my bedroom, except I don’t. Not really. She’s taken over every dream my sick head comes up with while I try to sleep off the constant state of arousal I’ve found myself in since Paige moved in. Even with all the reminders of our female roommate, I haven’t seen her in the flesh going on four days now and yet I can’t get her out of my mind.
And…thinking about her flesh has my dick growing hard all over again.
Jesus.
I knew a girl living with us would be a bad idea. I told Marc that but no, he didn’t listen. Seeing her in that dumbshit’s arms was…difficult. I don’t expect her to be celibate while living under the same roof—hell, I know I won’t be—but that guy’s all wrong. For many, many reasons. Starting with how old he looked. I’m not even talking about his age either. Despite resembling a model fresh off the runway, dude looked like he’s seen some shit and done even more. Like the weight of the world on his shoulders is winning and he’s two seconds away from letting it. No wonder he was pawing at Paige. Any girl that rides her own motorcycle is hot, but Paige is more. She carries herself with a confidence that rivals any man’s I’ve ever met. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, prettier than I originally thought, with hair that demands your full attention no matter what you’re doing. I had to work hard—so fucking hard—to keep from wrapping my hands in her wild locks in my truck as they flew around her face without a care in the world, completely unlike their owner. Paige has more going on than she shows. Her outside broadcasts carefree while inside she’s twisted up with worries. She measures her words, only revealing what she wants you to know, almost like she’s spinning an intricate web around you while you’re too busy looking at how attractive she is. Problem is, I can’t be captured by anyone, beautiful or not, let alone a woman that lives so close to where I sleep.
With that in mind, I send a text to a girl that brought her Lexus in last week, asking if she’s down to chill tonight. Saturday. Paige’s only night off. I need to get her out of my head and her first official night in the apartment is the perfect time to evict her from my thoughts entirely.
The chick, Carlson apparently, replies instantly, setting Operation Forget Paige in effect.
Let the fun begin.
* * *
This shit sucks. I didn’t know Marc had so many goddamn teeth but here he is, yucking it up with Paige with all his pearly whites on display. They’ve had their heads together laughing like a couple of hyenas while I’ve been saddled with this broad in snakeskin. I don’t think it’s real snakeskin but the god awful dress she’s wearing is itchy as all hell. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a rash now. She’s trying to keep my focus solely on her but…she’s failing. Miserably. With the star of all my recent dreams sitting a few feet away looking like the posters on my wall come to life, how can I concentrate on anything else?
Paige’s head is thrown back, exposing her throat, and my fingers itch to rub the length of it before grabbing a fistful of her merlot-colored hair and bringing her mouth to mine—if only just to shut her up. I’ve never been a fan of wine before but find myself craving a taste the longer I sit here watching. Watching her, with my boy. With my brother. She needs to be forcibly removed from my fantasies already. The best way to get over one woman is to be buried balls deep in another, right? I’m only guessing since I’ve never been hung up on anyone before. This feeling is new and incredibly unpleasant. I hate it. I hate her. Sort of.
Not really, but I wish I did. It’d make this whole thing a lot easier.
Time to kick this up a notch.
I stand, taking what’s-her-name with me and she giggles. It’s forced and I hate it, too. I hate it more. I’m tempted to drop her but snakes have a penchant for biting and I actually like all my body parts being puncture-free. Plus, I have plans for this viper.
Digging my fingers into her hips as I walk us out to the balcony, leaving Hee and Haw in the living room, only spurs the girl on and she begins moaning. Loudly.
I cover her mouth with mine, smothering the exaggerated sounds, and plant her ass on the banister. I don’t have to look behind me to know Paige has tuned into the action. If the abrupt silence didn’t give her away, the hole currently burning through my shirt from her stare would.
The kiss is lazy and boring, waiting for me to take control. Any other night I would, but tonight, I’m not feeling it. This poor girl has been spoiled her whole life, never having to work for what she has, including that shiny car she brought in for maintenance last week, and it shows.
Bubble gum—I’ve got a wad of bubble gum for a dick right now.
Her tongue flopping around inside my mouth like a beached fish has me choking back a gag but I forge on, not quite ready to quit this mission yet, even if it is starting to feel damn impossible. I need to get laid, yesterday. Judging from her lifeless mouth, I’ll be putting in all the work tonight.
Beyond done with her joke of a performance, I drop my lips to her neck, pretending it’s another’s. The one I’ve been watching like Edward Cullen himself. Fucking Angie and her stupid vampire movies. That’s the one thing I don’t miss about our roommate and his girl—the cheesy movies we were forced to watch. Or more specifically, I was forced to watch since Marc always hides out in his room doing who knows what behind that closed door of his.
Actually, I saw once. More than once if I’m being bold which, since I speak in all-caps anyway, isn’t too hard.
My lips quirk with the urgent need to yell out “that’s what she said” at my own inner dialogue.
Wow. I really am bored.
I catch movement from below and pull back to see a thin, dark figure walking to Paige’s Honda, recognizing her wavy mane bef
ore the helmet is yanked over it. Where is she going? This is her night off so I know she’s not going to work. Her bike starts up without issue—you’re welcome—and Paige is right, girl purrs like a cat in heat.
I feel my dick begin to stir for the first time all night. Carlson feels the change and starts pushing into me, chasing the hardness she’s been expecting. Poor dude almost deflates from the contact.
Heavy revving brings my attention back to my new roommate and I spot Paige popping into a flawless wheelie with her knee on the seat before burning out of the lot. Damn…
And now my cock is sticking straight up like an eager explorer searching for his next great discovery.
Carlson releases another moan.
Not that one.
I lean back, looking at the girl currently trying to constrict me for easier consumption, and…I can’t do it. Not with Medusa’s long-lost cousin anyway.
I help her to her feet, smoothing her dull blonde hair and say, “It’s not going to happen tonight.” The words taste foreign and I lick my teeth, feeling them out.
Nope, just like I thought, I don’t like ‘em.
But I like Carlson even less.
Her face screws up in confusion. She’s never been told no before and doesn’t know what it means.
“You’re really sweet-” like acid “-but I got shit to do.” Like floss my teeth. Or organize my shoes—all three pairs of them. Anything but continuing this charade with Miss Priss.
Confusion morphs to anger a second before she snaps, “I thought you were different. I already told my friends about you!”
Oh, shit. Stage five clinger alert.
This bomb’s about to explode in my face and I can’t even remember how I got here. Oh, yeah, Operation Forget Paige. Not all missions require you to hang off the side of an airborne plane, Tom. Some need a little more headwork. Those movies make it look so easy though.
