by J D Worth
Cal interjects, “You’re early, Mace. We weren’t expecting you for at least a couple of hours.”
“Cleaned up quick, seeing I’ve got business here.” Mace pats my rear end.
“Is that so?” Cal’s attention shifts from Mace to Trent.
“Problem, brother?” Mace cocks his head to the side.
“Nope, especially after today.” Cal smirks and sets his sights on Trent. “Sorry, bud, you’re so fucked!”
Mace passes me the bottle of Jack. “Reacquaint yourself with your boy Jack while I have a word with my own jackass.”
My heart races. I know better than to entangle in someone else’s relationship, but I can’t help myself. Darla isn’t here. For better or worse, I am.
“Trent,” Mace says, low and deep, motioning away from the bonfire with his arm.
“Yeah,” Trent replies, uneasy. He walks down the beach. Mace whips his arm around Trent’s shoulder and talks in a low tone so nobody overhears.
With the bottle of Jack warming my hands, I join Cal and Payton by the fire pit. “Is Mace short for Mason? I’ve never heard that name before.”
Cal coughs out a laugh. “You should ask him.”
Payton scowls at Cal as he chuckles. “Don’t listen to him! You’ll set fire under Mace’s ass. The last guy who called him Mason got punched in the face.”
Cal says, “His daddy, ole Abe, insisted on calling his unborn son Ace. You see, Abe is a big-time gambler. Blackjack’s his game, which you win with an ace-high.”
I reply, “That makes more sense.”
Cal laughs. “When Mace’s momma Faye went into labor, ole Abe was nowhere ’round. He took off for a card game in the city. She freaked out ’cause she was expecting a ten-pound baby. The doctors drugged her so she’d calm down. Turns out that poker game was Abe’s big break. He won the garage that has a second floor apartment, which Mace occupies now. Ole Abe sorta stumbled into a real job as a mechanic and gave his family a place to settle. Before the garage, Abe was playing cards from city to city, and they were living outta motels.”
“The same garage I was at today?”
“Yeah. Abe has pretty much made his living off cards,” Cal shares. I don’t know whether to be impressed or shocked that is a viable career. “Anyways, Faye was still drugged outta her mind after giving birth. When the nurse asked for his first name, Faye slurred out Mmm...Ace. She meant ‘my’ Ace, but the nurse recorded his official name as Mace Abraham Carter.”
“Are you serious, Cal?”
“Yup!” Cal’s grin grows that much grander. “Abe moseys in the next morning with the deed to the garage, thinking he’s king shit, running the garage someday with his new son. When he found out ’bout the switch, he decided to forgo the name change since his lucky ‘Ace’ turned out to be a lucky ‘Mace’ instead.”
“Are you sure Faye wasn’t asking for a can of Mace to use on Abe when he finally arrived?” I’m tentative with my quip. Cal’s a jokester, leaving me to debate if he’s teasing me.
Cal cracks up. “Good one!”
“What is ‘Cal’ short for?” I ask, gauging his expression.
“Oh, Calaway, Audrey’s not buying your story one bit.” Payton slaps Cal’s knee. “Audrey, the story is true. I heard it straight from Abe himself. He’s also decent at Texas Hold ’Em. The irony is that’s the game he won the garage the night of Mace’s birth, not Blackjack. You should check out the winning ace-high flush framed at the garage sometime.”
“Calaway, is it?” I ask in a teasing tone. “Is that a Southern-rooted name?”
Payton winks my way. “I love strong women who know how to throw punches!”
A determined smile crosses my lips. “I call them spankings. Tends to make men pay better attention.” Cal winks at me.
“That’s even better.” Payton chuckles.
Dropping the humor in his voice, Cal says, “Calaway is a family name from my granddaddy on my pop’s side. He died right before I came along.”
“The same as my Grandfather Jonathan.” I can almost feel the hurt in Cal’s eyes as he opens himself up to me. He has experienced more pain in his life than he lets on, sheltering his heart as I do. “Sorry I doubted your story, Cal. I feel so out of place here. That uncertainty is interfering with my ability to read people.”
Cal fixes his eyes upon mine. “Audrey, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ll give it to you straight.”
“Thank you for the support, Cal.”
He eases back in the chair and clears his throat. “Yeah, turns out ole Abe is shit for a mechanic. He knows enough to run a small garage, but still, he far too often Jerry-rigs stuff up. Mace renamed the place Doc’s when he was old enough to take ownership. I cut out the sign you saw today, and Jax did the cool retro airbrushing as a gift.”
“That was a nice gesture to honor his acquisition. Why did he rename the garage Doc’s?”
Cal shares, “Mace is the real one who’s been fixing vehicles and doctoring ’em back up ’round here since he was young. When he was a kid, he’d tear engines apart for the hell of it. Then he’d see how fast he could put ’em back together. He can fix anything you can imagine, so folks started calling him Doc a long time ago.”
“Ah,” I say, thinking back to an earlier remark I’d made. “That’s why sugar in my gas tank would be an insult to Mace’s ‘skill set.’ I take it he can destroy an engine without anybody knowing he did,” I remark, having a strong inclination Mace must be a mechanical genius of sorts.
“You’re getting the picture, Goof. So, you spanked Mace hard for stealing your car and your bottle of Jack by ditching him at the diner. I gotta say, you hit that payback outta the ballpark.” An easy smile spreads across his face, relishing how I left Mace to fend for himself.
My brow furrows as Cal holds up his vodka bottle, saluting me. “Not too many put Mace in his place?”
“Nope.” Payton holds up her drink as well. She looks over Cal’s green shirt in appreciation and nods in my direction. “To you, Baby Girl, for rewriting the rules! I’m going to be handing out spankings like candy.”
Violet giggles from the path, tugging Jax along with her pinky, asking, “What are y’all toasting to?”
“Goof here left Mace high and dry earlier at the diner. I had to rescue his sorry ass!” Cal says with a smug smile as he gazes over my shoulder.
Mace comes up close behind me. I may be the one getting my ass kicked if I let our heated exchanges continue. Time to set him straight again. “Couldn’t get Darla to come to your rescue, Mace?” I ask with all the bravery I can muster. The group bursts out laughing at what they presume is a joke, but Mace seems annoyed I brought her up.
“Who the hell let her name slip?” Mace’s eyes slide around the bonfire, searching for the guilty party.
“See, she’s a total goofball!” Cal says, loosening up with a big belly laugh at my expense.
“You wanna meet Darla?” Mace stands straight up in defiance. I look up from my seated position at how large his frame is, noticing my heart speeds up whenever he’s within touching range.
“Are you really gonna go there, bud?” Cal asks. “Audrey doesn’t need to meet Darla. It’s best if she doesn’t.”
“Is this gonna be a problem?” Mace glances back at Cal. The group quiets while they face off. “I think you owe me one from the other night.” Payton places her hand around Cal’s neck and mummers in his ear. He nods towards Mace and lets Payton steer him down the beach for a stroll.
“If you wanna meet Darla,” Mace says, nodding to the bottle of Jack, “then down a few more pulls. You’ll need the liquid courage.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “If she’s as misbehaved as Melody, I’ll need all the even footing I can get.” I point to my sprained ankle. More snickers erupt from Jax and Trent while Violet slaps a hand over her mouth, laughing hard.
Jax remarks, “Mace, you’re so fucked. Where’s your shovel? You might as well s
tart digging your own grave now.” Mace tries to keep a straight face, glancing at me with his own proud grin.
“I. Spank. Back,” I say to Mace. “We know who their money’s on. Trent’s even got a hundred!”
“Drink up, Princess.” He shields his hand, lighting another cigarette. The zippo clicks shut as my eyes remain in a fixed daze upon him. Mace holds out his hand for me to take. I tease him by passing him the Jack instead. Grinning, he shakes his head, setting the bottle down. A suave smile dances on his lips as he pulls me up and places his hand low on my hip again, walking me up the path to my cottage. The porch light shines on the body of a vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Gleaming red and orange flames leap out as they highlight the vehicle.
“This is … Darla?” I ask, unmasking the love of his life. Mace leads me over to where his beautiful pride and joy sits and glides his hand along her paint job. He mounts the bike, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“She’s no unicorn, but I make do,” Mace drawls. I stare at his beautiful muscled body on his sexy as hell motorcycle, cementing the image in my mind forever. Damn! A puddle of heat gathers in my sex, and I just may orgasm right here, right now.
“I thought Darla was your girlfriend or something.”
“Or something?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “I thought you were playing me back there.”
“Nope. I thought she may be a stripper. You do know your way around glitter.” I chuckle at my own assumption. A sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as the heat of the night creeps over me. He doesn’t seem bothered. My body has to acclimate to the scorching conditions, especially between my legs whenever Mace is near me.
“Explains why you dropped my ass at the diner after I kissed you.” His lips curl into a naughty smile.
“Violet mentioned Darla when we first met. I’m an only child. I don’t share well.”
Mace chuckles. He flicks his cigarette off to the side and revs the engine. “Come,” he commands. My body lights on fire. Every nerve ending simmers while my mind dares to float with dangerous possibilities. I know deep in my soul: this is what it feels to come alive. Mace leans in close, running his nose up my neck. A low fire sparks deep in my belly and spreads to the most tantalizing of places.
“Did you sniff me again?”
“Princess, you smell like a damn cupcake. How can I not?” He hums in contentment, running his lips along my neck. My breath hitches when his lips make contact. With his hand braced around my neck, he sways me to the side. Whispering in a low, husky voice, “You know whatcha do with a cupcake, right?” Taking his time, he slides his hands down my arms.
“Obviously, I’d devour the cupcake.” I giggle.
“And I love to savor, so climb on, Princess,” he says, tapping the seat behind him.
I mount the bike, scooting as close as possible to his back. The thought of my quivering center so close to him, makes me throb again. Sliding my hands over his large frame, I hide my own groan while finding the right spot to rest my palms.
“I don’t want you falling off, so now’s not the time to be prissy.”
“I’m not being prissy!” Diving my hands low on his solid stomach, I lock them tight. He groans deep in his chest and I smirk. “Perhaps I was copping a feel. I can savor too.”
His body vibrates with a laugh. “Pipes get hot so keep your feet on the pegs. Lean into my body and follow the curves. Dismount the same side you mounted the bike, got me?”
I nod with a wide smile. “Are you going to ditch me out in the country after my earlier stunt at the diner?” I kid, taking my mind off the wildfire simmering between us.
“Never, Princess. I told you where you belong, and that’s on the back of my bike with me. Hold tight.” He revs the engine again, and we slice through the air. A rush fills me, running through my blood.
Our bodies meld together on the bike as if we’ve ridden a thousand times before. My skin heats as the bike’s vibrations move through me like a deep massage. The cool breeze whips away the thick, oppressive heat as I use his body to shield my own. He takes us for a spin around the small town, only stopping to point out Sonny’s bar. The place looks like a rambling, rundown shack you may see in a prohibition era movie. Several big ole Southern boys drinking outside wave to Mace as we pass by. Our ride ends far too soon. He slows and walks the bike into position, locking the kickstand in place.
I spring off the bike as my body rages with a burning fire. I remember the powerful momentum of riding my horse, yet nothing compares to cruising on the back of a bike. His bike. I’m treading on perilous ground when Mace dismounts after me. He plants his large hands on my ass and jerks my body to his. My breasts bounce into his hard chest, as I mold my hips against his. Pressing my lips to his, our mouths move like a synchronized dance in perfect harmony. He tastes like smoke, Jack Daniels, and sin personified. I let out a moan, pushing my body against his, begging for closer contact as I explore his mouth with my own.
We’re both panting by the time we come up for air. “Damn.” He groans as my chest rises up against his. “Princess, you’re killing me here.” His desirable green eyes stare back at me. “You rode on my bike like you owned her.” He cups my ass, pulling me up hard against him. I gasp when his hungry mouth takes mine, owning me.
We pull apart, trading looks of astonishment. The intensity of our physical attraction takes us by surprise.
“Time for me to buy you another drink, Princess.”
“Yes,” I reply, neither of us moves from our spots.
“I kiss you again, we’re not gonna make it back to the bonfire.” His mouth brushes up my neck. A throaty moan slips between my lips.
“No, we won’t.” I breathe out as he cups my face with his large hands.
His lips ghost over mine, saying, “You ever feel this heat before with another man?”
“No.” Profound flutters lift me to new heights.
“Do you believe in fairy tales now?”
A deflating puff of air leaves my lungs. I hop back from him. “I am not a princess.”
“You smell like a tantalizing cupcake.”
“I drink Jack Daniels.”
“Yeah, out of a damn campaign glass. You have fairy godmothers.”
“I do, and they’re probably worried about me.”
He slides his arms around me, sweeping me close to his body. His lips land by my ear as he rasps out, “Too bad, they’ll have to wait. We’re in the middle of something very important.”
“Are you trying to sweep me off my feet?” I push at his chest, placing a gap between us.
Mace’s smile stretches across his face, and his eyes soften. “I don’t have to try, Princess. That’s what Darla is for.”
“Charming.” I rush toward the path and our waiting friends, not trusting my own body around him.
I throw myself in a chair by the fire. Mace passes me the Jack and lights another cigarette while five sets of eyes remain glued on us. He overturns a Styrofoam cooler container and places my swollen ankle on top.
“Mother fucker!” Trent pulls out his red bandana and pats his nose, even though he didn’t sneeze. “That rough, huh?” Trent says, adopting a cocky attitude while smirking behind his bandana. I’m not sure if he’s jealous or staking a claim.
“Trent,” I fire back, “I never knew riding another woman would be the smoothest ride of my life.” Trent spills his drink in his lap.
“Damn, woman!” Trent’s eyes widen, shaking his head as the four friends double over in hysterics. He sops up his mess with his bandana and tosses the soaking mess by the fire pit to dry.
Mace aims a smooth grin my way. “Is that right, Princess?”
“I used to ride a male thoroughbred who was stronger. But no, he wasn’t smooth at all.”
“Told you, bud.” Cal chuckles.
“We’ll see ’bout that,” Mace replies, watching as I relax back in my chair.
“Cal told us yo
u’re staying for a month.” Violet inches forward in Jax’s lap with an eager smile.
“That’s the plan, and then I’ll head back to New York. Did you all grow up together here?” I ask. “Truly, your friendships are more fascinating than my robotic life in the Big Apple.”
Violet replies, “I always tagged along with Jax and Mace because we grew up in the same neighborhood. Imagine me with pigtails on my pink sparkly Huffy bike, trailing behind those two rowdy boys. We were always building forts, setting off firecrackers, or catching frogs. Except for Mace.” She cackles. “He’s too scared to catch frogs.”
I whip my head towards Mace who says, “I ain’t touching those abominations.”
