by Freya Barker
"One to start. I figured you probably have him pretty regulated and didn't want to rock the boat. I had big dogs myself growing up. Now as for your coffee?"
Hmmm, very considerate and informed, and Boo clearly adores him. I have to suppress the light fluttering in my stomach.
"Babe," his voice insists and I look up at him a bit confused. "Coffee? How do you take it?"
Right.
"Black."
I actually like a little squirt of hazelnut creamer in my coffee. It gives it just enough sweetness to satisfy me and I've learned that it has less calories than sugar and regular cream, but I won't ever drink it like that in public.
"Then why do you have this in your fridge?" He's waving the bottle of fat free Hazelnut Coffee-Mate in front of me.
"For when my friend Kerry comes by," I lie boldfaced. "And for special occasions," I add lamely.
"Let's call it a special occasion then," he says, squirting a good amount in my coffee.
I want to refuse, but the cream is already in the coffee and the soothing fragrance makes my mouth water. Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the cup from him and take a deep swallow. Ahhh. So good.
Then he pours a little in his cup and takes a sip. His face scrunches up and he immediately tosses the content of his cup in the sink. I can't help it, I burst out laughing. That little smile which never quite seems to break through tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches me laugh out loud.
"That stuff is disgusting," he says, putting the offending bottle back in the fridge. "I'll take real coffee anytime."
"Real coffee?" I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Absolutely. Just beans and water. Real coffee." He pours himself a fresh cup and takes a hearty sip. "Better."
"So I'm guessing you don't ever treat yourself to Starbucks then?" I tease.
"Didn't say that. I'm partial to their Sumatra blend but without all the frills. Just black."
"I like that one too, but in a skinny café au lait," I confess with a little smile.
"What does that even mean? I hear that shit at the counter when I go in. Grown fucking men order that stuff. Don't get it."
That fluttery feeling in my stomach? Back again.
Mal tosses his coffee back and heads for the door. "Just grabbing a change of clothes from the truck."
I busy myself feeding Boo the rest of his breakfast until he walks back in.
"Gonna have a quick shower before we head over to the diner."
He's halfway down the hall when his words finally register. "Wait. What?"
"Breakfast at the diner. You have dick all in your fridge, as far as crap that is actually fit for people to eat, and we gotta have breakfast. Hence the diner. I won't be long." And with that he disappears down the hall.
Glaring at his retreating back, I try to come up with a retort, but before I have a chance, he disappears into the bathroom. Still seething, I decide to take Boo for his morning constitutional. Gives me a chance to cool of and figure out a way out of breakfast.
Mal
Jesus.
The whole time I'm bantering in the kitchen about fucking coffee with the woman whose baggy clothes do nothing to erase the image of her tempting rounded shape clearly outlined against her little nightie, I'm barely able to contain the raging hard-on behind my zipper. Worrying that the massive bulge in my jeans would send her into hiding, I keep myself covered behind the counter. Then she starts laughing and fuck if I don't get harder at the sight of her perfect little teeth, her neck arched back and the light, soft sound of her amusement.
The shower is a good hiding place, but when I grab the bar of soap on the edge of the tub, the scent of vanilla hits my nostrils stirring my blood anew. My hands slick with suds, I grab my cock and slowly pump up and down its length. Fuck if I know what she does to me, but I have to get myself back under control. If it means rubbing one out in her shower, so be it.
With her scent surrounding me, the sound of her laughing still ringing in my ears and the vision of her body barely concealed by that thin nightgown, it doesn't take long for the familiar tingling to start at the base of my spine. The memory of those twin hard peaks, slightly darker than her pale skin, poking in my direction is enough to have me coming violently in my hand. An inadvertent groan escapes my mouth. Fuck.
Feeling marginally better, I put on the same jeans but a clean shirt and socks, sit on the side of her bed and pull my boots up. It hits me that the house is too quiet. The kitchen is empty, the coffee cups draining in the dish rack and neither Kim nor the damn dog are there. She didn't... Lifting up the lid of the trunk where I saw her grab his leash last night, confirms my suspicions. The little fool’s gone out alone to walk the dog. Maybe I need to be a little more forceful in explaining the potential danger she could be in.
-
"I was fine," she complains, sitting beside me in the truck. "Boo wouldn't let anyone hurt me. He's very protective."
I was standing at the end of the driveway when she came walking up the path leading to the mesa beyond. Without a word, I grab her by the arm and lead her back into the house, where I take Boo off his leash and hand over her purse, keeping the house keys that were on the counter to myself.
"Wait," she cries out when I'm about to lock the door. "I have to change my boots."
I look at her feet and see nothing wrong with the rubber boots she's wearing, but the stubborn look on her face has me give in. Whatever. I'll never understand women. We're just going to the diner, for Christ's sake. Kim is grumbling as she laces up a pair of low black boots, which I have to admit, even without much of a heel, look a lot sexier than the rubber green monstrosities she was wearing.
I just pull into the street when she starts defending herself. I haven't trusted myself to speak yet, but when she says Boo will protect her again, I snort. Loudly. That earns me a dirty look.
"It's daylight out, Mal. Nothing's gonna happen in daylight."
"You're not serious, right?" I bite off. "The people who shot out the lock on your office last night, and murdered your boss in cold blood, would not be deterred by a little bit of daylight. Especially not when you venture out on the mesa, where no one would hear your cries for help. That is, if you'd even have time to cry out. Fucking hell, woman. Do you have a death wish?" I know I'm yelling in the confines of the cab and I can see her shrinking away in my peripheral vision, but I can't stop myself.
"But Boo—" she tries once more when I cut her off.
"Can't stop a bullet. First thing they'd do is shoot your dog. Then what?"
Ah, fuck. My gut clenches when I hear her sniffle and when I look over, she's turned her body to the side window to hide herself.
First chance I get, I pull off into a gas station, driving around the back of the building and put the truck in park. Then I reach over, unclip her seatbelt and pull her resistant body over the center console and onto my lap.
"I'm sorry I yelled," I say softly over her head, which is tucked, under my chin. "When you were gone, it scared me. I'm just afraid you're not getting how dangerous it can be out there."
She’s quiet for so long that I’m not even sure she heard me. I try to shift in an effort to get a look at her face when she finally speaks.
"Sor...Sorry," she hiccups. "I'm not...I'm just...not used to this. I s...stick to myself."
Before she totally soaks my shirt with her tears, I reach around to grab the box of tissues behind my seat. With one hand I lift her face up and with the other I grab a fistful of tissues and wipe her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes stay downcast as she quietly submits to my ministrations. And damn if that doesn't get a rise out of me. She probably feels me get hard under her ass, because suddenly she starts scrambling to the passenger side.
"I'm too heavy."
"Thinking that's not the problem, babe." She doesn't answer that, but resumes staring out the window at nothing. I reach over and grab her chin, tilting it my way. "Until we get a better grip on who is responsible for last night and
what your boss got himself into with those land deals, you have to be very careful." Encouraged by her little nod I press on, "Part of that includes allowing me to look out for you. The company I work for, GFI, is run by a good man, Gus Flemming, and he wouldn't allow anything to happen to you. Not on his watch. Or rather, my watch. We'll keep you safe."
She opens her mouth as if to protest, but closes it again quickly, simply nodding. Not quite the security of a verbal agreement, but I'll take it.
-
By the time we pull into the diner's parking lot, I can see we're last to arrive. By the looks of it, just about all of the GFI crowd is present. Fuck me.
Expecting a large congregation to be waiting for us, I'm surprised to see Gus and Emma off to the side in one of the smaller booths for four. Joe and Naomi, Neil, Caleb and Katie, and my little nephew are all gathered around the big round table Arlene added a few months ago. Mostly to house our crew.
"Hey!" Naomi calls out when we come in and Kim looks up in surprise.
"Oh hi," she says a little meekly, eyeing the substantial crowd at the table.
Not meekly enough to miss the ears of Mattias, whose eyes pop up in our direction. The moment he sees me, a big smile breaks through on his face. With his little arms raised toward me he starts his usual chant. "Unca! Unca!"
From experience I know that unless I give him his due attention, the chanting will turn into crying. My nephew seems to adore me, which is good 'cause the feeling is mutual. Never thought I'd be interested in kids. I generally could take them or leave them, but with the birth of Mattias that seems to have changed.
With my hand at the small of Kim's back I guide her to the larger table, shrugging in the direction of Gus and Emma who seem to be observing with amusement. They know the drill.
"Hey buddy," I smile at Mattias, lifting him from the high chair. His little hands slap on my cheeks and his smile almost splits his face in two. Bad moods never last long when this little guy is around, his sunny disposition puts everyone in a good mood.
Distracted by my nephew, it takes me a while to notice Kim is looking very uncomfortable. Of course.
"Kim, this little guy is Mattias, and he belongs to my brother Caleb and his wife Katie."
Katie, who has notably softened since becoming a mother, stands up immediately and grabs Kim's hand, smiling broadly. The hard edges her job as investigator for GFI required her to have are barely visible anymore. My brother just tilts his chin.
"Nice to meet you, Kim."
"Likewise."
I'm surprised to see Naomi also standing, giving Kim a hug. "Hey girl, so glad to see you here. I didn't realize you knew Mal."
I'm busy keeping Mattias’ hands out of my hair. He loves to pull it out by hanks. But I do notice Kim's shy glance at me and decide to jump in.
"We met recently on a case," I tell Naomi with a smile before finishing up introductions. "The blond guy with the ugly mug next to Naomi is her fiancé Joe, a colleague of mine, and Neil over there is the Benjamin of the group. He's our tech specialist."
Kim lifts her hand in a small wave as I untangle myself from my nephew’s clutches and plop him back in his seat beside his mom.
"If you guys will excuse us, there's someone else I'd like to introduce Kim to."
A series of Sure things and Nice to meet yous follow us to the booth where Gus and Emma are now openly smiling.
"This is my boss, Gus Flemming, and his wife Emma," I tell Kim who seems a little intimidated with all the introductions. I don't blame her, we're an overwhelming bunch. I slip her coat off her shoulders and hang it up on the hook at the side of the booth. Of course Emma immediately takes the lead when she motions for Kim to sit next to her.
"Hi there. So good to meet you, Kim. Ignore the mass of assembled muscle. We can use another gorgeous woman to balance the scales." She wraps her arm around Kim's shoulders, giving her a sideways hug.
"Emma's right," Gus rumbles, "always room for another pretty face."
Kim tilts her head down but not before I catch the slight blush on her cheeks. Having been left no other choice, I slide in opposite her, next to Gus.
"Let's order some breakfast, shall we?" Gus says beside me and I don't miss the hint of panic in her eyes when she flicks her gaze up at me. She's completely startled when Gus bellows through the diner. "Arlene! Get your ass in here. Some of us are hungry!"
Emma leans over the table and slaps him upside the head. "Gus! Are you insane? It's not like we're the only diners here."
With a big smile on her face he grabs his wife's hand before she can pull it back and kisses her palm. I notice Kim observing this interaction with a hint of shock and no small amount of interest. She'll get used to us. Not sure where that thought came from. I'm happy for the distraction when Arlene comes barreling out of the kitchen, a scowl on her face. She marches over ignoring all the other patrons and stops right in front of our table, setting her fists on the table and leaning in front of me until she is facing off with Gus.
"Will you quit hollering down the place already? And you," she says, turning to Emma, "you're supposed to keep his caveman antics under control. Do your job." With that she straightens up and looks at me and then Kim, her face softening with a look of recognition. "Hey there, good to see you back here. Are you gonna try the food this time?"
It was said in a teasing manner, but the reaction from Kim was immediate. Her spine seemed to collapse on itself and she looks like she’s trying to disappear into the upholstery.
"Just coffee, please." If the rest of us hadn’t been looking at her, we might've missed the softly whispered response.
Damn. It’s a bit unnerving to see all the starch leave her so quickly. This woman obviously has some issues with food. Well—not on my watch.
"Actually, I'll have a ham cheese omelet, and she'll have the same," I tell Arlene firmly, ignoring the small gasp from the other side of the table.
"I will not."
I look at her to find the blush on her cheeks has deepened to a dark red and her eyes are shooting fire. There she is, the little spark plug.
"You've gotta eat. Can't live on coffee."
"I'm not hungry," she insists quietly, seemingly intent on not making a scene.
"Bullshit. I could hear your stomach growling when we walked in," I throw back.
It's then I notice the silence surrounding us and almost every eye in the place watching our exchange. Unfortunately, Kim notices too, and with a quietly whispered "Excuse me," she slips out of the booth and runs to the bathroom. Well, fuck.
"Seriously?" Emma spits out, "First you put her on the spot in front of what are virtual strangers to her"—she glares at Arlene before turning to me—"and next you stomp all over that uncomfortable moment and embarrass her even further? What is wrong with you people?"
With angry jerking motions she pulls herself from the booth, grabs her cane and hobbles in the same direction Kim disappeared, leaving me at the table with a startled Arlene, and a widely grinning Gus.
"Well, she told you," he points out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kim
Oh my God. I've never been so embarrassed in my life.
I'm leaning against the sink in the bathroom, grabbing hand fulls of paper towel to try and blot the steady stream of tears that have started running down my face. When the door behind me opens, I duck my head down, toss the ball of paper on the sink and pretend to wash my hands. A hand lands in the middle of my back.
"You know both of them mean well, right?" Emma's soft voice only sets off a new flow of tears. "Arlene is almost as bad as the guys. Not quite totally oblivious but getting close. And Mal? Well I can honestly say him weighing in like that is something I never thought I'd see him do, which probably means he cares. Other than for his nephew, brother and sister-in-law, there aren't many people he'd stand up for. I know it doesn't seem that way, but he stood up for you in his own limited way."
I look up in the mirror to see her standing behind me, red c
urls, and a sweet round face on a softly rounded body. Not quite as rounded as mine but still. And a cane. I hadn't noticed that before. She looks a bit older than me but not much. I expect the face in the mirror to hold pity but it doesn't. Concern, yes, warmth, absolutely, and even a hint of amusement is what I find in the slightly upturned corners of her mouth.
"I don't like eating in public," I blurt out when I turn to face her directly. Don't ask me why that confession comes flying out of my mouth to this virtual stranger, but somehow I feel she'll get it. Her pensive nod seems to support that.
"I figured it might be something along those lines. Hell, I still struggle with that from time to time, although Gus would put me over his knee if he knew. He likes my curves. Doesn't want me to lose any of them and frankly, I've grown to like myself just the way I am. Most of the time," she adds with a self-deprecating little smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "You know? Women with bodies like ours often don't appreciate the kind of warm protective feelings they can evoke in men. It's a known fact that most men would still prefer soft curves to hard angles. I'm not saying we should define ourselves by how men view us, but it does help. Don't you think?"
All I manage to do is nod, getting choked up again by Emma's words. And I realize something; I may have allowed others to define me, like she says. Peter, for sure, and maybe even my mom and sister too. I vow to change that, although I'm under no illusion that it will be an easy feat.
Bolstered by Emma's thoughts and my mini break-through, I force a little smile which is immediately met with Emma's bigger one. Turning back to the sink I splash some cold water on my face and dab it dry with towels. I look a mess, but there isn't a damn thing I can do about it now. Full of bluster I no longer feel, I nudge Emma. "Guess we should go eat?"
Emma giggles and hooks her arm through mine. "I have a feeling we're gonna be great friends," she says before leading me out of the bathroom and back to our booth.
Both Mal and Gus stand when we get back to the table, but I can't read Mal's face . His jaw is clenched when he moves me to the other side of the table and has me slide in before he follows. Gus does the same on the other side with Emma and puts a protective arm around her shoulders. Mal turns his back toward the diner, effectively cutting off my view, but also blocking me from the view of the other diners. His eyes scan my face before he leans in.
