With a jolt of alarm, Daniel realized there was no way he could stand up right now without showing both women his very evident arousal. Thinking fast, he frantically waved at Mason, circling his finger above the table once he got his attention in a universal, non-verbal request for another round of drinks.
“Mason’s getting it, Mica. No need for Jess to get up.” He felt Jess shaking with silent laughter beside him and frowned at her, not realizing she knew exactly what he was doing. “No, no—no need for Jess to get…up,” she stuttered, and then started howling with laughter. Realizing he’s been caught, Daniel closed his eyes at the innuendo, smiling sideways and shaking his head as Jess continued to laugh at his expense.
Jason trailed after Mason when he brought over the drinks, peering into the booth to see what had so captivated his friend. Seeing an open spot next to Mica, he sat his beer down, and was startled when three voices shouted, “NO!” at him as he was about to sit down next to her. The flinch forced him to spring back upright.
“What the hell, Daniel?” he asked.
“She’s hurt, Jason; don’t sit there, just…hang on a sec,” Daniel stood up. He quickly pulled Jess out of the booth behind him, and moved back in, scooting around closer to Mica. He nodded at Jess and Jason in approval as they sat down where he had been.
“Is this okay, Mica?” he asked quietly, pleased when she nodded her head back at him, reaching a hand out to rest on his leg.
“It’s jus’ fine, Daniel,” she said in an slight but unfamiliar drawl, and picked up her glass in her other hand.
Mason frowned down at her, grumbling sternly, “Slow down, babe, or I’ll cut you off now.” He kept his frowning gaze on her. “Are you sure you told Merry straight about the meds?”
She shook her head, scoffing, “Of course I did, Mason; I know betta than to mix medications and alcohol.”
“Well, then…did you eat tonight, babe?” he asked.
“You gonna make me a grilled cheese, Mr. Mason? Hmmm?” she responded with a grin, the first time she’d been able to refer back to those hard days following Emily’s death with anything other than sorrow.
Mason grinned; he was glad to see her finally moving forward, putting that pain behind her and using his friendship as her support to do so. “If you want a grilled cheese, I’ll move heaven and earth to get one for you,” he said, smoothing his hand over the top of her head.
Jason was quietly talking to Jess, leaning in and laughing at something she said. Daniel looked down at the soft hand resting on his thigh, and then out across the bar at his friends and teammates. They were mingling loudly, but in a friendly way with the regular patrons of the bar, and he nodded to Mason in approval. With a chin lift in response, Mason retreated to the bar, bellowing to Merry about drink orders.
Steve and Gary were watching the TV in the corner whooping it up, and gradually, the whole team focused in on the repeat of their game showing there. As the final goal was replayed on the screen, the players were shouting and pounding each other’s shoulders again, like in the locker room, filling the bar with the excitement of a good win on a worthy day. Rupert grinned; he knew he would be sore tomorrow from the hard hits into the boards, but he felt very good tonight.
Turning to Mica, he realized she’d been watching him with a smile on her face, one that grew once she recognized she had his attention again. “That was you makin’ those goals, wasn’t it?” she asked, her gaze moving slowly back and forth between his mouth and eyes. Her smile was making him even more aware of her lips, lush and full. Those lips were forming words he should be listening to, but the shape of her mouth was taking all of his attention right now, the wide plumpness, supple and perfect. “Daniel, was that you?” she asked again.
He realized he had been silent for far too long, caught up in a recurring fantasy of her mouth on him, sucking and rolling the head of his cock between those…lips…“Um, what? Oh…yes, that was me, for three of the goals, at least, but you have to remember—it’s never a single player making a goal; it’s a team effort, a joint effort.” Her hand slid across his thigh and back again, to the inside of his knee. It seemed unconscious on her part, but his breath caught in his throat.
“Um, Jason here…Jason, um…had assists on all four goals made tonight. And, uh…Gary fed me that last one; you haven’t met them yet. Um, Mica and Jess,” he pointed across the table, “this is Jason Spencer,” he pointed across the bar, “and Gary Millson and Steve Lebuvar are over there by the TV. These guys are my friends, and my teammates, but mostly my friends. Jason, this is Mica Scott; she owns MishMash Development, and she and Jess—there beside you—do web and application development.” He realized he was speaking too fast in an effort to cover up his inattention, and promptly closed his mouth.
Mica smiled at Jason and nodded her head slightly, then turned and waved at the two men across the bar. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”
He responded in his deep voice, “Likewise, Mica, Jess.”
Daniel sighed; once again, he wouldn’t be able to stand up any time soon, and was glad Jess was occupied talking to Jason—although he saw a smile on Jason’s face he didn’t like, and was thinking he’d hear about this later for sure.
Pressing her head back gently into the cushioned leather behind her, Mica turned her neck to the side a little to shift off the stitches, but more importantly, in order to be able to look at Daniel’s face. He was as good looking as she remembered, for all the medication they had her on in the hospital that day. She wondered if he had thought of her since the hospital, and was embarrassed all over again about what she had said out loud in her room.
Mica then had a fleeting thought, wondering how he knew they were in this booth. Hadn’t he brought the first round of drinks they’d ordered from Merry? Had she told him about her business? It seemed he knew all about it, so maybe she had. That first day after the attack was so fuzzy she could have told him ‘Bob’s your uncle,’ and not remembered it.
Plus, these questions seemed too hard to contemplate, at least right now, especially since she was finally beginning to relax from the pull and pulse of constant pain. She knew if she took the meds, it would not be half as bad, but she had seen too many examples of excess in her own family to want to risk an addiction of any kind, so she’d decreed ‘no meds.’ She brought her good hand to her wrist, rubbing the sprained muscles gently.
Daniel felt bereft when she pulled her hand back from his thigh, but then realized she was trying to ease an obvious ache in her wrist. He’d seen how sore her neck seemed to be, and had a thought. His hand stretched across the distance between them, hesitating when he touched her left shoulder. He took a moment, making sure he remembered correctly that her right shoulder was the injured one before he laid a finger on her. Warily sliding his fingertips behind her neck, he rubbed lightly, covering more skin little-by-little. He felt the knots binding the muscles making them tense, tight, and sore slowly begin to loosen and ease.
Rewarded by her head drooping limply forward on her neck, he bit the side of his bottom lip and slid his hand a little farther over, massaging gently. “Does that help, Mica?” he asked.
“Oh, gawd, yes,” she said in response, her drawl thicker than before, “that feels so good, Daniel. Mmmm. Please don’t stop; it feels good.”
She looked up at him from under her lashes smiling, and then closed her eyes again, relaxing into his hand with complete confidence in him. He would never hurt her; she knew that for a fact—take it to the bank. At least, he would never mean to hurt her, which was just about the same thing where she came from.
“Mica, is that short for something?” he asked. “I didn’t ask before, but it seems diminutive, like a nickname. Is it?”
“Mmmm. Yes, Michaela is my given name, but my grandpa always called me Mica, so it kinda stuck with me. My twin brother’s name is Michael, so he got the boring end of the stick. He always said ‘better boring than ugly’, so there ya go. No one calls me Michaela up here, just down at ho
me.” She realized she was rambling, but oh, my…this neck rub was making her unwind even more than the tequila had.
“So where is home, Mica? You aren’t from Chicago originally, then?” He already knew the answer, given her accent when she relaxed, but couldn’t tell where in the south she was from.
“Oh, no, sir, I’m not from Chicago. Great state of Texas, home of yeehaw, y’all, and yes, ma’am.” Mica knew she needed to stop drinking. She needed to put a stop to his hand on her neck, stop the whole lot and parcel, and get her butt back home, but everything was so nice at Jackson’s tonight.
She normally hated talking about where she had grown up, because of all the bad memories, but something tonight made everything feel safe and right. She also hated her accent, but couldn’t suppress it all the time, especially when she drank, like tonight.
“I grew up on a working ranch in northeast Texas, ‘bout halfway between Dallas and S’port. That’s Shreveport to non-Texans or Cajuns. My daddy still lives down there on the ranch; we’ve got family helping him out with everything.” She lifted her glass and drained it again. “Jest sent my brother back down to him, too. Hope Daddy can sort him out, ‘cause I sure as heck couldn’t.” Putting her glass back on the table, she sighed and rolled her neck muscles again, feeling them loosen even more. “Oh, Daniel, that feels so good,” she murmured.
Daniel watched this woman, who was slowly unraveling in front of him, and he knew unless he stopped her now, she would be unhappy tomorrow when she remembered the depth of her openness. It felt strangely like they were in a confessional, a private conversation with her hair hanging on either side of her face, blocking his view of her features as she spoke. Because he was touching her, he had felt Mica tense when she spoke of her father and brother. He knew there had to be some bad associations there, and he also understood she would not be pleased if he explored those areas, even innocently.
Knowing distraction was always a valid strategy, he launched into a version of his own story. “I’m from Wisconsin myself, near Milwaukee, a born and bred Midwestern boy. My family was in manufacturing for three generations, but I’ve moved that to transportation. I come by my love of hockey honestly; Dad always dragged me and my two brothers to the pond tournaments every year. There’s nothing else like freezing your bal— um, ass off, sitting on a plastic bucket on top of a frozen lake, and watching grown men play a game with sticks.” He laughed lightly at himself. When Jason snickered from across the table, he realized he had a larger audience than he thought.
Pulling his hand back slowly, he asked, “There, is that better, Mica?” He watched as her head came up, her eyes seeking him through the curtain of her hair, and he felt their connection moving apart. He was helpless to hold onto those brief, intimate moments, where his hand had been stroking her bare skin slowly, sensually, lessening the stress she felt with every movement. Those moments moved past him, and then they were gone.
Her eyes opened wide as she realized she’d been talking freely earlier about things she’d clearly rather not discuss, and he knew he saw her defenses going back up. “I think I need to go home, Jess,” she said softly, looking at Daniel. “I’m tired, and I’d like to go home. Would you tell Mason?”
“You stayed lots longer than I expected, Mica. Brandy will be here soon. She can take you home then, you think?” In an aside to Jason she said, “Brandy is my girlfriend, so I hope you weren’t trying too hard, Mr. Hockey Player, because you are too swinging for me, if you get my drift.”
Jason shouted with laughter. “I wondered why I wasn’t getting any vibes from you, Jess. You are all right, but you could have let a friend know sooner, girl. Damn.” There was no hostility in his tone, and Daniel wondered if Jason had come to the booth to hit on a girl, or to keep tabs on him.
Daniel watched as pain lines began to return, settling back into Mica’s face. He said, “Slide out, Mica, I’ll take you home, okay? Will you let me, please?”
Startled, she looked at him. “Are you sure it’s not a bother, Daniel? I always hate to bother people with my problems. In fact, I think I should take a bus. That’s what I’ll do; I can take a bus home.” She smiled sadly. “That way, no one has to leave the party on account of me.”
He realized with a sense of loss that she was clearly building up a wall behind which to hide, and was carefully schooling any accent from her voice. He found he really missed that sweet, subtle emphasis on unexpected areas in her speech. It seemed so natural to hear her speak like that, and so different now. This was a very deliberate pattern that pointed to a great deal of self-control and discipline.
“Let me take you home. Let me help you, please?” he asked again, looking steadily into her face. Mason walked up behind her and realized what the conversation had turned to. He nodded at Daniel and said, “Mica, how you holding up? You tired, babe? I can’t leave right now; Merry just went on break and we’ve got a houseful. Can you wait an hour or two, or can someone else take you home? Maybe Daniel?”
Turning to Mason, Mica held up her hand palm first and simply said, “Okay.” Jason and Jess slid out of the booth, with Daniel following them around. He got to Mica’s side as she asked Mason, “Help me up? I didn’t think about hobbling when I ordered tequila, but jus’ get me steady on my feet and I’ll be okay.”
Daniel leaned in and asked her, “Do you trust me?”
Mica stopped and looked directly into his eyes, saying softly, “Daniel, I trust you with my life. You’ve already saved me once.”
Daniel looked briefly around at the faces, seeing Jason nod with understanding, but still asked, “You’ll tell Gary and Steve I’m out?”
“Yeah, man, see ya at practice tomorrow.” Suddenly, Jason increased his volume as he walked away from the booth shouting, “Fucking awesome! Win zone! Wooo!” and Daniel shook his head in amusement at his friend.
Turning back to Mica and drawing in a deep breath, Daniel gently slid an arm behind her back, avoiding the areas with stitches, where the brick wall had torn her muscles and skin, and then slid his other arm behind her thighs, pulling and lifting with one motion, standing with her cradled in his arms. With her sore shoulder towards him, she couldn’t hold on, so she rested her head on his chest, hands folded in her lap and breathing shallowly. “Did I hurt you, Mica?” Based on her breathing, he was afraid he had pulled too hard, lifted too quickly, or was holding her too tightly.
“No, not at all, Daniel. Mr. Rupert, this is nice,” she spoke with her eyes closed, her face tucked in-between the edges of his jacket. She rubbed her cheek surreptitiously on his shirt, thinking no one would see her.
His voice caught in his throat as he said, “Let’s get you home, shall we?” He walked out of the bar towards his car, nodding at his driver as the rear door was opened wide for him to step inside with his burden. Jess carried Mica’s coat out and handed it to him to the car after they were seated, and then closed the door.
A moment later, a guarded question came from the front seat, “Sir?” It was accompanied by a very direct gaze in the rearview mirror. Daniel met his eyes, saying, “Mica needs to go home, Samuel.” The driver nodded and responded, “Mica Scott, sir? Yes, Mr. Rupert.”
Mica felt them pull away from the curb, so she picked up her head and rattled off her home address. She laid her cheek back down on Daniel’s chest and snuggled her butt down into his lap, wriggling for a second against his rampant erection. “Mmmm,” was the only other thing she said on the way home. Daniel groaned deep in his throat and shifted her slightly to one side, pushing her ass up onto his hard thighs instead of his swollen erection.
“Mica, where are your keys? Samuel can’t unlock the door without them,” Daniel spoke quietly, trying not to startle her. She had fallen asleep nearly as soon as the car had started moving, and he hated to wake her.
“Oh, ’s in my purse,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his shirt again.
“You didn’t have a purse with you at Jackson’s, Mica. Do you have another key hi
dden somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep his composure as she nuzzled him.
“Mmmm. Yea, on the ledge above the door; ‘s where grandpa always kept his, so…yea.”
Rumbling under her cheek, his voice was gruff as he said, “You keep a key to your house on the doorframe of the entryway door, Mica, really? Samuel, go see, and unlock her door if it’s there, please.”
“You rumble when you talk, Daniel. Can I still call you Daniel?” More rumbling, and she realized he was laughing this time. “Don’ laugh at me, mister. I’m sumthin’ else; you’ll see.”
“Oh, I believe you, Mica. I do. Please, call me Daniel.”
Samuel nodded from the front porch of the home, and Daniel stood up out of the car, still carrying Mica in his arms. Walking up the sidewalk towards the house, he took in the quaint beauty of the home, painted white, but with what looked like bright splashes of color on the shutters and trim. It was in a safe neighborhood, and he understood from Mason that he lived in the house just south of Mica’s, which made it even safer for her.
Ducking around the front door and into the home, Daniel took in the layout for a moment, then turned left and away from the open floor plan of the living spaces, into the hallway towards what he suspected was the master bedroom.
One of the doors was partially open, and there was a soft light coming from a far corner of the room. Taking a chance, he bumped the door open farther and grunted softly when he realized he had found the right room. Natural wood was everywhere, from the cherry headboard of the king size bed, to the maple table that held an arrangement of flowers. Nice, this is a comfortable room, he thought in surprise as he strode farther into the room.
Walking towards the bed, he asked her, “Mica, honey, do you wear pajamas? What do you sleep in? Anything? Nothing?”
Caught off-guard by the question, she laughed a little and opened her eyes. “When I’m with or without a companion?” she asked in return. Toe-to-heel, she slipped her shoes off, and he just let them stay where they dropped.
Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Page 8
