“You really need to leave that woman, Siggy. That’s not a healthy relationship,” I admonished him.
“We have two kids together, a paid off house, and a grandkid on the way. Even if I did leave her, I’d still have to see her, so what’s the fuckin’ point of leaving her? At least, this way, I get regular sex,” he explained.
I gagged.
“Gross,” I grumbled. “Are you coming to dinner tomorrow?”
He gave me a look that clearly said he wasn’t stupid.
“What?” I stifled a laugh.
“You damn well know I come to the dinners every Sunday night when I’m here,” he grumbled. “Nobody can get out of it, not even me.”
I agreed.
Every Sunday, Grams had a dinner that she expected every single one of her children and grandchildren to attend.
If they didn’t, hell hath no fury and all that fun shit.
Grams was hell on wheels, and she would drive over to your house and yank your ass out of bed if that’s what it took to get you there. On top of making everyone else wait.
I’d been on the receiving end of that quite a few times, and it’d gotten to the point where I knew better.
So did Siggy.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Exiting the office, I headed for the door that led to the employee parking lot, stopping the moment I made it out the door to find Hancock leaning heavily against my car. I continued to about midway into the lot before getting close enough to speak to him.
“What’s going on?” I questioned him.
He looked up at me and studied me as I walked towards him.
“I want you to take care of me,” he ordered once I was close enough to hear what he had to say. “I’m sick. Possibly dying.”
I snorted.
“Why me?” I laughed.
“Because you’ll actually take care of me,” he smiled so pitifully that my lips twitched.
I rolled my eyes and walked to my car.
“Your house or mine?” I asked him.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I wasn’t this type of forward girl, and I most definitely didn’t bring men to my place very often…or at all.
In the end, the moment he got into my car, he passed out, and I chose to take him to my house.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice that I was a crazy cat lady. Maybe he wouldn’t care.
Maybe he found crazy cat ladies sexy.
Chapter 7
How do I stop eating chips and salsa? Do they run out or do I just die?
-Sway’s secret thoughts
Hancock
“I’m dying,” I muttered into the pillow, moving my face in between the beautiful pillows that felt like clouds.
The pillows that smelled like flowers and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
Though that had a lot to do with the fact that my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and that I couldn’t breathe through my nostrils.
“You’re not dying,” the angel of mercy whispered into my ear. “Are you going to play in your game today?”
I cracked my eyes open and stared at my angel.
“I like your eyes, Angel,” I told her. “What are you doing in my bed?”
“You’re in my bed,” the angel corrected. “And you were in the other room up until about an hour ago. I’m not really sure why the hell you’re in my room at this point.”
She placed her hand in the middle of my chest and pushed.
Deciding to let her have her way, since she was an angel and all, I rolled over so I was no longer directly on top of her.
“I like your pillows,” I muttered.
“Well, you gave my pillows beard burn,” she grumbled. “Try not to put your beard on my breasts again, please. I think I’m allergic to your beard.”
I grunted.
“Angels wouldn’t complain about beards. You must be the devil,” I moaned. “My head feels wonky.”
“Your head is wonky,” she shot back. “Otherwise you wouldn’t think it’s okay to sleep in my bed with your face between my breasts.”
“Blasphemy.”
When she laughed, I decided to show her what I meant and started to skim my hand up the angel’s thigh.
“Stop.” She slapped my hand away.
“If you were truly an angel, you’d give me the comfort that I want. Not turn me away,” I grumbled, rolling until I was on my belly, my entire body curled up against the length of hers. “Keep me warm, Angel. I’m cold.”
She said something under her breath that I couldn’t hear, but I couldn’t be bothered with such frivolities at this time. I was too tired.
My eyes closed, and I was dead to the world.
***
Sway
“Jesus,” I yanked my arm out from under the big man. “You weigh a ton.”
“Do not, Angel,” he grumbled. “Your pillow’s deflated.”
I pulled until my arm was out from under his head, then rolled right on out of bed.
I couldn’t handle his heat any more.
The man was fucking crazy active in bed, and I was literally exhausted from waking up not once, not twice. But over fifteen times since I’d gone to bed seven hours ago.
I’d woken up when he’d wormed his way into my queen-size bed and again when he’d rolled over on top of me and started using my breasts as pillows.
Then once more when he woke up shivering, and I’d stuffed Tylenol and ibuprofen down his throat.
Then he’d started sweating, drenching not just me but the bed, so I moved to the couch.
And he’d wound up on the couch, also.
It was like he was following me.
Using the time it took him to find me yet again, I quickly changed the sheets at four in the morning and got back into bed once more.
Now it was seven fifteen and he was, unsurprisingly, in bed with me.
Or was.
I’d had enough of being in bed with that man.
And sweet baby Jesus…the snoring!
I just hoped he didn’t do that on a normal day when he wasn’t sick.
The man sounded like a damn freight train.
If I hadn’t been asleep before he’d gotten in bed with me, I would’ve found it really hard to even close my eyes with the sheer amount of noise he was making.
“Yo!” Someone pounded on my door. “Sway!”
I sighed and picked my pants up off the floor, thankful that Mr. McSnory Pants had been too under the weather to notice my state of undress.
Hopping on one foot, then the other, I worked my pants over my feet, then pulled them up before I got to the front door.
“Sway!” A man knocked hard again. “I know you’re home! Open the goddamn door!”
Grimacing at the voice that was on the other side of the door, I contemplated whether or not to answer it or not.
There was a benefit to having my own home now.
I was an adult, and if I didn’t want to answer the door, I didn’t have to. Right?
But the more he pounded on my door, the more I realized he wasn’t going to go away without talking to me.
Sighing in exasperation, I smoothed my hair back and reached for the knob.
“What do you want?” I asked the moment I got the door open.
My glare obviously didn’t deter the man, because he pushed inside and tossed me a sneer as he did.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said smoothly.
My brows rose.
“And?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
His eyes went to my breasts, and he grinned.
I gritted my teeth and tried to force myself not to react to the stupid man’s terror tactics.
Langston Spacey was my ex.
My ex-boyfriend. My ex supervisor. My ex-lover.
He was also my first.
He was also o
ne of the worst mistakes I’d ever made in my life.
Things between Langston and I had started out awesome.
We’d met when I was trying to work myself through college.
He was the branch manager while I was only a lowly teller. We’d instantly hit it off, but I’d quickly found that Langston had two sides.
One side of his personality liked my curvaceous body. The other side despised it, especially when he had to take me out with his friends and introduce me as his girlfriend.
His mother also hated the fact that I couldn’t find anything that didn’t show off my ‘ample attributes’ or whatever the fuck that’s supposed to be.
I could never tell if she was talking about the amount of breast I showed while dressed up, or the amount of rolls.
Either way I never received approval from his mom or him.
Two peas in a pod, those two were.
And I’d broken up with the certain ‘pea’ in front of me over a year and a half ago and had promptly moved out of the city.
This was my first time seeing him in all that time, and I didn’t feel one single ounce of remorse.
None.
Not with Hancock currently in my bed only two rooms away.
“What do you want, Langston?” I asked carefully.
Langston narrowed his eyes at me.
“What’s happened to you?” he asked, letting his eyes linger on my breasts once again.
I gained weight after we broke up, that’s what happened.
Did I tell him that, though? Hell no. Then he’d just make a fat joke, and I’d heard enough of those to last me a lifetime.
“I wanted to ask you if you’d be interested in attending my work picnic.” he cleared his throat.
My brows rose in surprise.
“I’m busy,” I told him without hesitation.
“You don’t even know what day it is,” he countered.
I shrugged uncaringly. “It doesn’t matter what day it is, I’m busy.”
“I’d really like you to give us another chance.” He took a step forward.
“Angel!” Hancock bellowed. “Where are you?”
“Who is that?” Langston stiffened, trying to walk past me toward my room like he’d done a million times, and I stepped in front of him.
“That is none of your business,” I challenged. “Now please, I gave you my answer. You may leave.”
He growled.
Langston was a big man.
He was perfectly coifed at all times, and today was no different.
I would shit my pants if the man ever let a whisker grow on his face. He’d proven to me more than once that he was willing to shave twice a day so that he always looked clean-cut and presentable.
He also got his nails done once a month and made sure to always condition his hair for the recommended amount of time on the bottle.
I’d never seen him in anything that wasn’t perfectly starched and pressed, and the one time I’d seen him get dirt on his shoes he had a freakin’ conniption and demanded we go home immediately, even though we’d paid to go to the baseball game.
So yeah, all in all, Langston was a big ol’ pansy.
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe,” he denied petulantly.
I nearly snorted my stray hair up my nose.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I laughed.
“Kidding about what, exactly,” he asked defensively.
My brows lowered.
“You really think you can protect me?” I snickered. “Langston, you’d have a cow if you ripped a shirt, let alone your skin. How do you think you’d defend me when you’re too scared to get your hands dirty?”
Langston’s eyes narrowed.
“Please, just go,” I groaned. “This has been over for a very long time, and I don’t want to deal with your shit right now. I’m starving and could really use a donut; not to mention I’m tired and irritable.”
“You shouldn’t eat donuts. They’re not good for you. However, I’d be happy to take you to get a multi-grain bagel,” he offered pleasantly.
I could do nothing but shake my head.
“It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall sometimes,” I muttered as I skirted around him, heading for the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”
He didn’t move from where he was standing in the middle of the room.
At least not until Hancock’s angry, “She told you to leave,” filled the room around us.
Langston’s eyes widened at seeing the big man standing directly behind him.
Swear to God, the man moved like a cat! I hadn’t even seen him arrive in the room, let alone creep up on Langston.
The differences between the two men were staggering. Even Hancock, who you could tell was sick as a dog, looked ten times better than Langston at his most pristine.
How had I ever found a baby face attractive? When it came to Hancock’s beard, I was in love. The beard just made his already perfect self even more perfect.
Where Langston was soft, Hancock was rough.
Hancock had tattoos galore, where Langston wouldn’t be caught dead looking like a ‘hoodlum.’ His words, not mine.
And from what I could remember, Langston had never looked like Hancock in his boxer briefs.
“Who are you?” Langston snapped, his chest bowing up in his perfectly pressed button-down dress shirt and purple striped tie that I’d bought him one year for his birthday.
Hancock’s eyes narrowed.
“Why do you care?” he said pleasantly. “Angel, come back to bed.”
A smile started to pull at the corner of my lips, and the words were out before I’d even meant them to come.
“You were moving like crazy and woke me up. I need donuts and coffee, stat,” I shot back. “And, unfortunately, nobody’s come up with a donut delivery, so I have to go get them if I want them.”
He sighed. “I’ll come with you. But after we’re done, we’re going back to bed with them.”
I shook my head.
“Umm, hello,” I snickered. “Glaze flakes in bed probably won’t be very much fun to sleep on later.”
“But imagine the possibilities when I lick them off your naked…”
“That is enough, Sir,” Langston hissed, taking a step forward. “She is a lady, not a whore. Don’t talk about her like that.”
“I never said she wasn’t a lady,” Hancock shot back. “But a woman can be a lady in public and a whore in the bedroom if she damn well pleases. I’m up for anything Sway wants to give me.”
By this point my jaw was likely down around my knees…or, at least, that was what it felt like.
To hear him talk about whoring and bedrooms was a sick sort of turn on, and I found myself wondering if being a whore in the bedroom was a good thing.
“Langston,” I shook my head. “I think it’s time for you to go now.”
Langston turned his cold eyes on me.
“This isn’t over,” he assured me. “Not by a long shot.”
“It’d be a long shot for you to ever get her back, so it’s good you have the right mindset. You’ll never win her back. Not with that attitude…and especially not since she now has me,” Hancock grinned, making my heart flutter.
Langston headed for the door, but not before he stopped next to me and gave me his best glare.
“Your parents will be hearing about this…caveman in your house,” he sneered. “And I’m sure your mother’s going to love hearing about his filthy mouth.” With that parting shot, he opened the door and left like his tail was on fire.
The grin that spread across my face was lighthearted.
“My mom has a thing about dirty mouths,” I offered to Hancock who was looking at me to explain that last comment. “I’m sure you will hear about it very soon.”
“How soon?” he countered.
I looked at my watch.
“Ohh,” I pursed my lips.
“I’ll give it an hour.”
I was wrong. It was forty-three minutes.
Chapter 8
No pants are the best pants.
-T-shirt
Hancock
My ass was dragging.
It literally hurt to stand, but upon hearing some other man’s voice in the house I was sleeping in, I forced myself to get up.
Then I forced myself to walk into the unfamiliar living room and face off with a man who looked like a freakin’ Sunday school teacher with his starched pants and button-down shirt.
Hell, even his tie was annoying with its stupid purple stripes.
I owned one suit and three shirts that could pass as dress up.
When I went out to formal events—which I tried really hard to get out of if it was at all possible—I got my personal assistant to find me something to wear.
This man, though? Yeah, he looked like he lived in formal clothes.
“Thank you,” Sway smiled, interrupting my thoughts. “He’s…difficult.”
I snorted and moved to the couch, crumpling onto it the moment it was close enough for me to collapse on.
“Are you going to be able to play today?” she asked, looking at me warily.
I opened my eyes that I hadn’t realized I’d closed and stared at her blankly.
“I don’t have a game today,” I said. “I have a game tomorrow.”
“No,” she shook her head. “You’ve been passed out for a day and a half. All day yesterday you did the whole fever, in and out of consciousness thing. Today is game day.”
I groaned.
“I guess so,” I muttered. “This should be fun.”
“You know there’s a backup catcher for a reason,” she informed me.
I shrugged.
“Yeah,” I said. “But even sick, I’m still better than him.”
I snorted.
“Croft is good. In fact, given time, I think he could be excellent,” she admitted. “You could be nice and show him the ropes. Teach him some stuff.”
I gave her a look that clearly said what I thought about her opinion.
“And train him for my job?” I asked skeptically. “I think not.”
She sighed and took a seat on the couch next to me.
“So I noticed your wall.”
She promptly blushed profusely.
Pitch Please Page 5
