Charge to My Line

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I’d agreed to have dinner with Molly only because she was worried about Cleo, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

  Cleo seemed fine to me. More than fine, in fact.

  He had a new woman. One who’d agreed to become his old lady a few days before.

  If I was being honest, that was what was bothering Molly.

  She was no longer Cleo’s pride and joy, and in her place was a woman Cleo couldn’t live without.

  There was one major thing that Tru made me realize that night, three months ago, and that was that Molly was incredibly selfish.

  She needed attention.

  When she wasn’t the center of everyone’s universe, she tended to insinuate herself there whether you wanted her to or not.

  “I knew you could do it, big man. I’m going to go get you some ice, and then we’ll talk about some of the things I’ll discuss with the occupational therapist you saw last week. Sound good?” Tru asked, startling me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” I rumbled, while raising my hand and running my fingers over my brow.

  She left, and I watched her ass sway in her scrubs.

  Her hair, at some point, had gone from flowing down her back, to up in a bun at the top of her head, and I found it adorable.

  There were a lot of things I found adorable about her, in fact.

  She was incredibly different from Molly.

  Molly was dark, where Tru was light.

  Molly had ash black hair while Tru had sunny blonde.

  Tru’s complexion told of minimal, if any makeup, while I’d never seen Molly with anything less than the whole shebang.

  Molly had a smoking hot, toned body, while Tru had full, rounded hips, and legs that begged to have them thrown over my shoulders while I fucked…

  “Here you go,” Tru said, thrusting the ice into my lap, and taking care of the problem that had popped up while I thought about how her legs would look pinned to her chest while I fuck…

  “Hey,” Tru said. “Are you okay?”

  I blinked, looking down at the ice covering my hard dick, and grimaced.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Tired.”

  She nodded and looked at me warily. “Okay, well you did a good job today. I just wanted to be honest with you. I don’t want you to hold back, because I’m sure getting back to work is very important to you. If you just keep giving me a hundred and ten percent, I’m sure you’ll be back in three or four months.”

  I grimaced.

  Getting back to work wasn’t the only thing I was missing right now.

  I couldn’t ride my bike because I couldn’t hold my hand up. I couldn’t work on cars because I couldn’t hold a fuckin’ wrench. I couldn’t weed eat my lawn. I couldn’t even cut my own meat.

  The last time I’d been out to eat, I’d had to ask them to cut it up for me, catching so much shit from the guys at the station, as well as the Dixie Wardens, that I’d vowed not to eat around them again until I was able to hold a knife and fork.

  “I know. I’m a pain in the ass when it comes to being a patient. I’ll try harder,” I replied as I was finally able to lift the ice off my cock and put it on my shoulder.

  Tru was right about one thing, for certain.

  I needed to get better.

  I was a firefighter and paramedic with the Benton Fire Department, which meant I couldn’t do a damn thing until my shoulder was, at least, up to eighty percent.

  Company regulations ensured that.

  “It’s okay, big guy. I’ll walk you out. It’s closing time for me. I’ve got a hot date later,” she said, patting me on the shoulder, and then turning to grab a backpack off the desk at the back of the room.

  “Date?” I asked, unsure as why I was all of a sudden pissed off.

  Fuck, but technically I had my own date.

  Why was it a big deal if she had a date?

  “Yep. It’s one I’ve been looking forward to for a week now,” she smiled widely and started walking.

  I caught up to her, walking with her as she waved to the lady at the front desk, the one that was always scared of me, and walked out the front door into the late afternoon sun.

  “Huh,” I said as I walked. “I have a date, too. One I’m probably late for, but oh well.”

  She looked up at me and smiled tightly. “Well, I’ll see you next Monday at the same time. Remember to keep up with your physical therapy, too,” she said quickly before going to the same little truck she’d spun the tires on in the parking lot of Halligans and Handcuffs in her haste to get away from me.

  She looked cute driving the little Ford Ranger.

  Even cuter when she rolled down the window, waved, and then started blasting country music as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 2

  Save a horse. Ride a beard.

  -Tru, Note to self

  Tru

  “What a small world! I can’t believe, out of all the COTA’s in Shreveport, you’re the one that has him!” Iliana exclaimed as I stood at the sink and washed the dishes. “You lucky bitch!”

  We didn’t have a dishwasher.

  It was so old and decrepit that it now served as a pantry since we didn’t have one. Most of the time it only held bread, but I had an evil bastard of a dog that liked to eat stuff off the counter, so if we had a cake or something, it’d go in there, too.

  “I know. He’s so freakin’ hot. And I had my hands on him the entire afternoon. I pissed him off, though, when I told him he wasn’t trying very hard,” I snickered, remembering the expression on Grayson’s face.

  The look on his face had shown me the fire I knew was hidden in there.

  Grayson struck me as calm, cool, and collected.

  I wondered if he ever got mad enough to yell.

  Even after nearly an hour of exercises, and me telling him he wasn’t giving his all, he still didn’t frown, or even get snappy, like some clients did their first few times. My job was always interesting, that was for sure.

  Pain had a way of changing how even the most respectable of people acted. Even the little old ladies who’d fallen and broken hips got moody when they were hurting. I’d have thought at least I’d have gotten a frown out of the man. Instead he smiled and joked the entire time, keeping me very entertained throughout.

  “Hey,” Iliana said, interrupting my recollection of the afternoon. “Do you want to go run at the trail, and then go grab a burger?”

  I snorted. “Getting a burger after working out seems kind of counterintuitive.”

  Not that it didn’t sound damn good, though.

  She grinned. “Yeah, but if I run, it’ll be like the cheeseburger never happened. Then I’d feel no guilt tomorrow morning when I step on the scale.”

  The girl was pretty particular about her weight.

  Where I fluctuated in between one thirty and one forty, Iliana was a cool one twenty, and she never deviated. She was the most annoying person on the planet, and it was depressing at times to live with her when I’d look at a cookie and gain ten pounds, while she could eat two boxes of Oreos and lose two.

  It was nice to have a workout partner, though.

  If anything else, I got to stare at her shapely ass while she ran in front of me, keeping me extremely motivated.

  “Sure, whatever you say, Ana. I’ll go get dressed,” I grinned at her.

  I’d just bought a new pair of running shoes. What better way to break them in than to actually run in them?

  ***

  “I’m just letting you know, that when my ass no longer fits into my jeans, that I’m going to come into your room at night and haunt your dreams,” I teased as I got out of the car and walked with Iliana into Halligans and Handcuffs.

  Halligans and Handcuffs was a bar, but still had a nice restaurant portion attached to it. Why Iliana wanted to go there when we were both sweaty and nasty was beyond me.

  I was fairly positive that tight shorts and a neon pink tank top was most definitely not approp
riate.

  However, Iliana had won the race, and I was never one to back down from a bargain.

  If she wanted to go, I was going, too.

  “I’m sure. I go to bed after you, so it’d be impressive if you actually woke up to do that,” Iliana laughed as she grabbed the door handle and swung the door open.

  I’d expected to be blasted with classic rock, which is what usually happened when we entered Halligans and Handcuffs.

  What we got was a celebration.

  “Shit,” I said as I started backing out of the door. “Turn around. I think this is a private party.”

  I was stopped by a giant hand coming down and wrapping around my wrist.

  “No, darlin’, you can stay. We’re just celebrating a friend’s life, that’s all,” an older man said.

  I followed the hand up until it reached a brawny shoulder, and even further to a leather covered chest.

  I blinked. The man I was staring at was the president of the local motorcycle club. The Dixie Wardens MC.

  I’d seen them around town, and in fact had known that they owned this place. What I hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet, was talking to one of them yet.

  And, of course, I would be choosing the president to make an acquaintance with first.

  “Oh, okay. Are you sure?” I asked worriedly, looking around at the massive amount of police officers and firefighters, as well as leather clad men, filling up the bar.

  There were women, too.

  However, they were all huddled in a corner of the bar, taking up three tables in the restaurant portion, while the men stayed on the bar side.

  Most of the women, at least.

  There was one lone straggler on the men’s side, and she was standing in front of the very man I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking about.

  She had her hand on Grayson’s chest.

  Her ample breasts that, might I add, were barely covered by her short, sleeveless blue jean dress, were thrust upwards into Grayson’s line of sight.

  He was leaning against the bar with his good hand cupping his bad shoulder. He held his arm at such an odd angle that I was sure he was in pain.

  “Is this for that cop that died a few months ago?”

  My best friend had a problem. She couldn’t seem to keep her foot out of her mouth.

  She said what she wanted, and didn’t seem to be capable of filtering.

  The old man, Silas, nodded. “Yes, it is. Today would’ve been his twenty fourth birthday.”

  Sadness panged in my heart, shadowing out the irrational jealousy I felt when I saw Grayson lean forward and tuck a stray lock of hair behind the beautiful woman’s ear.

  “Where do you want us to sit?” I asked solemnly.

  Silas smiled. “Anywhere. If you want food, though, you’ll have to sit at the bar. We’ve got no waitresses on staff tonight.”

  So that was how we ended up sitting at the bar, eating hamburgers, and listening to stories of Tunnel Morrison’s life.

  I studiously ignored Grayson and the woman.

  Or tried to, anyway.

  Were they dating? Did he love her? How long had they been together?

  Why couldn’t I find a man like that?

  The questions rolled through my mind like a firestorm.

  I’d secretly been hoping that Grayson was kidding about going on a date.

  Not that I wanted to deny anyone their happiness, but I’d started to entertain the possibilities of what’d it would be like to be with him.

  Now, though, I’d never know.

  The two of them looked pretty happy.

  Or at least the woman did.

  I was on the last bite of my hamburger when a glass crashed to the floor, effectively silencing everyone in the entire joint.

  I turned, following the noise with my eyes, to find Grayson bent over the bar, his head down and his body hunched as if in pain.

  I’d not even meant it to happen, but I was up and on my feet, walking quickly in Grayson’s direction before I thought through my actions.

  “Torren?” The woman asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

  “Cramp,” he groaned, stiffening when the woman placed her hand on Grayson’s shoulder and pressed lightly. “Get your hands off me. Don’t touch it.”

  I blinked at the harshness of the voice, surprised at the vehemence in the response.

  Even so, I didn’t hesitate to place my hands on him.

  “Grayson,” I said quietly, pressing into his body on the opposite side of the woman. “Sit up and let me work it out.”

  I felt bad.

  It was probably my fault he was hurting.

  If I hadn’t pushed him, he wouldn’t be feeling worse right now.

  That was, though, something he needed to get over.

  I’d push him even harder by the time this was all said and done.

  He didn’t stiffen up when my hands made their way under the leather vest he was wearing. Nor when I took the leather vest off and shoved it between my legs to hold it while I shoved his shirt up to lift it off the one shoulder.

  He lifted his arm, grimacing in pain as the fabric slid over his shoulder and bunched at the base of his neck.

  I reached into the purse that was around my neck, slipping out my lotion, and squirting a generous dollop into my hands before I started working it slowly into his shoulder.

  I ignored the looks from the various men that were surrounding us. Especially the evil one from the woman who very clearly did not want me touching her man.

  Well, too fucking bad.

  I’d do it if I wanted to do it.

  He’d feel better when I was done with him.

  “Where does it hurt?” I asked.

  However, the answer was irrelevant when my hands came in contact with the huge frozen muscle on the back of his shoulder. His trapezius to be precise.

  The entire thing was twitching uncontrollably, pulsing with his heartbeat.

  “Right there,” he gasped when my fingers met the angry muscle. “Your hands, God they’re magic.”

  I smiled as I worked my fingers along the muscle.

  “You were saying I was a beast this afternoon. In fact, I specifically remember something about my hands not knowing what they were good for,” I teased as I tried to take my mind off the perfectness of his skin.

  On how the muscles under my fingers felt like heaven.

  On how it’d feel to run my naked body along his.

  “Do you want me to do that, Torren?” The snotty woman’s voice broke in sharply.

  Torren shook his head. “No, Molly. Tru’s got it just fine,” he groaned as I worked the muscle with my strong, pliable fingers.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman, Molly, make the ugliest face ever before she practically exploded.

  “Well, that’s just rich. This is her, isn’t it? The woman that took you away from me,” the woman snapped crossly.

  I didn’t say anything, but inside I was jumping up and down like I’d won the lottery.

  Then, with his sadness tinged words, he made me feel a whole lot more for him.

  “Molly,” he said tiredly. “The world lost a great man a few months ago. If you paid attention, you’d know that I was present at the time of his death. I sure wish you’d think about that right now, the reason I even agreed to meet you tonight, instead of the fact that I haven’t been giving you the attention you’ve so desperately wanted in the last couple of weeks. Not even to get into the fact that I’ve been busy having surgery and all.”

  I blinked, surprised that he’d been so harsh.

  On the other hand, the man was in pain.

  Both physical and emotional.

  Now was most definitely not the time to have a discussion about your relationship when we were surrounded by...holy shit.

  At least ten men. All watching the show as if it were a soap opera.

  Their eyes were not just on Molly, either.

  They were on me.

 
On me and Grayson.

  I tried to block them out as I watched the knot in Grayson’s shoulder relax.

  It started slowly. At first it only stopped twitching, but the more I worked my fingers over the knot and the surrounding area, the more it went down until there was nothing left.

  “What’s that feel like?” I asked as I smoothed my thumbs over the area, running my fingers on either side of the incision that was a nice, healthy pink.

  He groaned. “Magic.”

  I snorted, which was seconded by someone else behind me.

  I did not rise to the bait.

  Or tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.

  I looked behind me.

  The same man who told us to come eat, the one with the beard. The president of The Dixie Wardens.

  The king of beards.

  I turned around and smoothed my hand down over his shoulder, happy with my work.

  It wasn’t until I looked down that I could see his eyes were on me.

  They were fixed solely on me.

  He was peeking out through the gap between his arm and the bar, head hanging upside down as he watched me work.

  “You okay?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

  He blinked, then lifted his head from the top of his hands and turned towards me.

  “Other than I’m going to smell like a Bath and Body Works explosion, I think I’m pretty damn good. My arm had been cramping up since I got here. Then all of a sudden it locked down tight and my hand lost its ability to grip a beer mug,” he grinned.

  When he turned, I got my first good look at his chest.

  It was thick and defined.

  His shoulders were broad, and his ab muscles, the ones I’d only gotten glimpses of all day, looked superb, even after being off of work for the last three months.

  His eyes watched as I cataloged his physique, coming to a stop at his waist where the deep V of his lower abdomen disappeared into his groin.

  Which, sadly, was covered by a distressed pair of blue jeans.

  The blue jeans hung low, giving me the ultimate teaser, yet covering all the good parts.

  “Thank you,” he rumbled as he worked the t-shirt back in place.

  Then he held out his hand, and I grabbed it and squeezed.