“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Cody warns, elbowing Hunter.
“There’s no ring on her finger and I’ll be eighteen in a year and a month. I like older women.”
I burst out laughing at that. Jordan follows along, Cody and Hunter joining in. I’m not surprised Garrett’s silent. That’s not really his kind of joke.
“Well, I gotta get home so I can deal with some shit before school tomorrow. Thanks for the pizza and cookies.”
Hunter climbs to his feet, bumping fists with Jordan and Cody. I stand up from Garrett’s lap and hug Hunter tightly. He squeezes me tighter and groans a little. Teenage hormones.
“Hunter,” Garrett grunts and he instantly lets me go.
I can hear Jordan muffling chuckles as I look down into Garrett’s quickly turning brown eyes. I look back at Hunter afraid he’ll be intimidated by my man. Instead, I find a cocky smirk on his mouth.
“Put a ring on it and I’ll back off. Until then, she’s fair game, Sharp.”
With that, Hunter saunters out of the house, his bright green sneakers glowing as he moves. I can feel my eyes doubling in size as I watch him go. Continuing to stare at the door after he closes it.
Jordan chortling finally brings me back to the room.
“Don’t pay attention to him,” Cody apologizes for his friend. “He has a problem with the filter from his slow brain to his mouth.”
“Kid’s always been like that,” Jordan informs me as Garrett deposits me in his lap again.
“How do you know him?”
“My mom hung out with his a bit,” Jordan responds with a shrug.
After his father was murdered, Jordan’s mom moved to Florida. She couldn’t be here anymore according to Jordan. I understand that. It sounds like even though Jordan’s parents hadn’t been together since he was a baby, they still cared about each other.
“And I obviously live on the same street as him,” Jordan continues with a bratty tone.
“Are you all set for school tomorrow?” I ask Cody, ignoring my annoying friend.
“I’m good.”
“Any homework you need help with?”
He looks at me strangely for a moment before shaking his head.
“Do you eat school lunch or should I make you something?”
“Uh,” he mumbles, looking around the table nervously. “I haven’t been doin’ lunch lately,” he whispers.
“You only have the money from your job,” I state.
He nods and I feel irritation climbing up my spine. Not from me, but from Garrett.
“Hunter’s mom been feedin’ you?” Garrett growls.
“Yeah.”
“I hated school lunch. The food always tasted like something that had been forgotten for a month before it was served. The cinnamon rolls were awesome though. They always served them with chili. The chili was disgusting and not even ten packets of crackers could fix that mess. But the cinnamon rolls were to die for,” I rattle on.
I see a smirk forming on Cody’s lips and a bit of the tension is easing from my back while Jordan chuckles. My rambling seems to have a positive effect on more people than just Garrett.
“School lunch still sucks,” Cody informs me.
“You swing by my shop on your way to school. I’ll pack you a lunch. Garrett doesn’t have much here, otherwise I’d just leave you something in the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“She rocks in the kitchen, man. I’d take her up on it. I eat anything she puts in front of me,” Jordan pipes in.
He drives me nuts, but I love this man.
“I don’t wanna be any trouble,” Cody whispers and my heart breaks for him.
I had my grandparents and my father to help me heal when I lost my mother. I still have friends in Kansas City who were there for me too. Those relationships aren’t what they once were because of distance and work, but they were there when I needed them. Cody’s alone. And in this moment, he looks completely lost.
“You’re not trouble,” I assure him. “You’re a gift.”
He watches me for a long while in silence, his emerald eyes scanning my face. I smile as he watches me. He’s safe with me. I want him to know that.
“I’ll swing by,” he agrees and I beam brightly.
“Good. Are you going to play video games for a while longer? I’m a bit of a party pooper. Three o’clock comes early.”
“I gotta head out,” Jordan says. I feel bad instantly because we were supposed to spend the night together. Maybe I should give Cody and Garrett some space. “I don’t think your man’s gonna let you come with me. I’m good. We’re good. I’ll see you at the shop.”
He stands up and throws a wad of cash on the table. Garrett starts to argue, but my best friend hits him with his own gaze that says shut up. Then he presses a long kiss to my forehead and leaves with a two-finger wave.
“I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll head to bed,” Cody says as he starts gathering up the trash on the table. He’s a good kid.
I hop out of Garrett’s lap and clean up with Cody. It’s easy with all of the disposable plates and cups. I follow Cody to the end of the living room and down a long hall that leads to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
It’s full of trash bags with an unmade bed. Garrett comes in a moment later carrying bedding that looks brand new. I take it from him and start making the bed.
“I can do that,” Cody says, trying to take over. I shoo him away and continue working.
When I finish and turn back to the room, Cody and Garrett are just standing there staring at me. I shake my head at them and tear open the closest trash bag to me. I dump it on the bed and start folding the clothes.
“You can watch, but it’ll get done faster if you help,” I inform them.
Cody’s at my side instantly, folding right along with me. It takes a little longer for Garrett to join in and he kisses the breath out of me before he folds his first hoodie.
The three of us make quick work of the limited amount of stuff Cody has. I hang up the last of his T-shirts and note he could use some more winter clothes.
“What days do you work?” I ask Cody.
Garrett’s leaning against the doorframe watching me with kaleidoscopes that make me weak in the knees.
Cody shuts the drawer on a dresser I’m certain Garrett made and tells me, “Monday through Thursday from three to close. And Saturday from open to six.”
“Do you eat at work?”
He shifts his gaze and I note that means no from him.
“I’ll bring you dinner after I close up.”
He nods without argument.
“I’ll take you shopping later this week. You need some more winter clothes, unless you have more in storage.”
“This is all I have,” he replies, shifting uncomfortably.
“I’m not much of a shopper, but my friend Jenna is. I’ll bring her along. Maybe when Garrett closes he could meet us for dinner.”
I look to Garrett who offers me a chin lift as a response.
I walk to Cody and wrap him in my arms, holding him tight as his arms tentatively move around my waist.
“I know how much you’re hurting right now. I don’t know if that hurt ever goes away, but it will get better. I promise you it’ll get better. Sleep well, sweetheart,” I finish, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
When I let him go, I see that sadness in his gorgeous face. He’s in pain. I run my fingers across his smooth cheek and offer him a small smile. He nods and bobs his throat, showing me he’s on the verge of losing it.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
With that, I make my way to Garrett.
“Night,” he grunts at his brother. “We’re upstairs if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Garrett. For everything,” Cody whispers thick with emotion. “You too, Emily.”
I smile at him broadly before the tears I’m holding back spill ov
er. Garrett tugs me away and pulls Cody’s door shut. When we enter the living room, he pats my butt and pushes me toward the stairs. There’s still a mess in the kitchen from the cookies that I’d like to deal with, but I know he won’t let me. I’ll do it in the morning.
“Lockin’ up,” Garrett growls. It’s not an angry growl; it’s just how he talks most of the time.
He pats my butt again and I move where he wants me. I climb the narrow staircase and study the truly awful wallpaper that lines the area. This house hasn’t seen an update in decades other than Garrett’s room, which is breathtaking, albeit a bit empty.
I dig my toiletries out of my bag and head into Garrett’s ensuite. I stumble a little when I flip the light on. It’s huge, tiled to the ceiling with pale green glass. It shimmers and shines beneath the recessed lighting. There’s a massive glass shower at the end of the room and a separate two-person soaker tub on claw feet next to it.
My attention is drawn to the vanity. It’s a dark wood, mahogany maybe. It looks more like a dresser than it does a vanity. The edges are ornate and detailed with heavy bronzed drawer pulls. On top are two white ceramic basins with tall bronze taps. The wall above the area has one massive mirror with sconces at the sides.
It’s amazing.
There’s no toilet though.
I look around and find a pocket door across from the shower. Sliding it open, I find a toilet in another glass tiled room.
Business done, I set about my nightly routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth. I pack my stuff back up, but leave my bag on the vanity for the morning.
I didn’t bring one of Adam’s T-shirts. I didn’t want that tension again, but it means I don’t have anything to sleep in. I’ll have to steal one of Garrett’s. Hopefully the one he wore today so I can bathe in his wood and cologne scent all night.
When I walk into Garrett’s room, I find a glorious sight. He’s half-naked. I study his muscular back that has flashes of the ink that covers his chest and arms. I haven’t had the chance to get the detailed look at them that I’d like.
I know his arms are covered in different pieces that fit together like a puzzle. The art stops at his elbows on each arm and travels up to meet the ink that covers his chest. There’s a script running across his collarbone that says, “Time is an illusion.” The i of illusion is formed by a sinister looking grandfather clock, that’s seemingly decomposing into his skin. It’s an ominous piece to look at, but I don’t feel sad when I do.
Garrett toes off his boots and walks to his closet surely to dispose of his clothes.
“Can I have that?” I call out.
He looks over his shoulder at me with a quirked brow.
“Your T-shirt. I don’t have anything to sleep in,” I explain my request.
He doesn’t respond as he disappears into his large closet that I spy being very empty. Maybe I need to shop for him too. Garrett appears in the doorway and all thoughts of clothes vanish as his naked frame prowls toward me. I ignore the ink I was so interested in a moment ago and focus below the waist.
I knew he was big today because I couldn’t wrap my hand around him, but seeing him in the flesh…oh my. I’m instantly wet and concerned I may be drooling. A white T-shirt waving in my face stops my perverted eye molestation.
I take the fabric that’s still warm from Garrett’s skin and hold it to my nose, covering my embarrassed face.
“You won’t be wearin’ it much, Sugar,” he purrs in my ear as he passes me and shuts the bathroom door.
Oh my.
I quickly take off my clothes other than my thong and race under the covers snuggling into Garrett’s heavily scented T-shirt and sheets.
We need to talk. I know we need to talk. I want to talk. But I want to have sex more. I’m sure that says something about me that’s probably shameful, but it’s the truth. Billy was the last man who touched me and I was so sorrowful, I can’t even remember it.
Occasionally, there was some heavy petting with Adam, but nothing that would cause an orgasm.
My five-year self-imposed drought is over and I’m ready to bask in the glow.
Jordan obviously got some of the details about Garrett’s past and he wasn’t worried about leaving me here. If I were in danger, Jordan wouldn’t tolerate it. He’d drag me away kicking and screaming.
I know I’m safe with Garrett. I don’t need Jordan’s opinion on the matter to be sure of that. What I need to know is, how can someone so protective be responsible for something that ended another person’s life? Because the man I know wouldn’t kill someone without cause. Just like my father.
The door to the bathroom opens and all thoughts of fathers and killing fade away. Garrett fills the doorway with a small towel around his narrow hips, drawing attention to his eight-pack and man V.
Yum.
I flick my gaze over his tattoos and take in the sight of his clean-shaven face, wet, swept to the side chocolaty caramel hair and sex-filled swirling eyes.
I think my panties just burst into flames.
“Seein’ you in my bed, in my shirt…” he trails off in a husky deep rumble. “Never gonna let you go, Sugar. Get me?”
“I get you, Garrett,” I whisper, silently praying to my mother that she sent me the man who will protect my heart just as she always promised.
I swear as I stare at the imposing, dominant man in front of me, I hear her soft voice.
Yes.
She gets me.
I don’t know if Emily will still be mine once she knows the man I am at the core of my being.
“I’m gonna put on some sweats and then we’ll talk,” I grind out, wanting nothing more than to rip my towel off and bury myself inside her. The disappointment on her face says she feels the same.
I stalk into my mostly empty walk-in closet and force myself to do the right thing. When I’ve dragged sweats over my hips, I leave the closet, roughly rubbing my wet hair.
The smoldering look I find in Emily’s eyes when I drop the towel has me digging deep for control. Remembering her limbs clutching me while I filled her with come has my steely hand trembling.
“I mainly stole electronics and drugs,” I start. The reality of the situation removes the lust from her golden greens. I sit on the bed facing her as she pulls the comforter up over her tits. A protective move. I get it. I fucking hate it, but I get it.
“I started small jobs with my dad when I was twelve. I think you know Clyde was in prison before he moved here.” She nods so I keep going. “Well, he worked with my dad before that. Daryl Sharp is his name. He’s not a father. Never was.”
I clear my throat past my building anger and continue.
“Once he didn’t have Clyde, Daryl started training me to pick locks. I was a quick learner so from there it was how to pick pockets. Then it was boosting cars. I could drive anything on wheels by the time I was thirteen. So for years we robbed homes, stole cars, picked pockets, small smash and grabs, things like that.”
This fucking sucks. The look on her face as I’m explaining the simple shit is crushing. She looks heartbroken.
“I was sick of the small stuff by the time I was sixteen. We were still dirt poor living in a trailer park not fit for people, even scum like us. That’s when I started to take over. I found out where the local Kansas City mob was intercepting large shipments. It seemed easy enough to get the trucks before they did. I was right. By the time I was eighteen, I was runnin’ a small crew and my dad worked for me.
“It wasn’t enough for me though. I made good money. Had a nice loft. An easy life, but I wanted more. I craved the power. So I got into drugs. I never did them or sold them. I stole them from small drug outfits. It was easier than the electronics and made me twice the money. It’s how I know Devlin. I worked with his old man,” I say quietly, letting her absorb the reality of what Devlin is.
Her face is no longer heartbroken. Emily looks more worried than anything. She’s probably worried about Jenna and what her relationship with Devl
in means.
“Thousands turned into millions for me. I had twenty guys workin’ for me. Daryl always as my right hand. He shouldn’t have been, but I felt loyal to him. That’s how it went for four years. I made more money than a kid from a trailer knew what to do with. So I hid that shit away. Daryl didn’t; if it was in his pocket, he spent it. Fucker never learned.
“I started seein’ a chick when I was twenty-two. She was a lot like Sarah. Too much of everything. Hair, face, fake boobs…just too much.”
Now there’s pain in Emily’s stunning face. I have to tell the truth. It won’t work if I try to sugarcoat this shit.
“Angelique was my biggest fuck up at that point in my life. I quit payin’ attention to jobs in order to pay attention to her. She was a stripper. I was content to let her keep strippin’. Back then, I wasn’t the man I am today. I didn’t feel territorial or protective of her. In hindsight, I should have seen that’s what she wanted. She did little shit to try to get to me. When making out with one of my crew didn’t get the reaction she wanted, she upped the anty.
“So I spent months cleaning up messes she made, breaking up fights she caused, spendin’ fuckin’ money to keep her whole when she got in deep with drugs…she kept me distracted. One night she tells Daryl there’s an art gallery that’s gonna have ten million dollars’ worth of art and artifacts stored there for the next two days. I could practically see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes.
“It wasn’t our usual game so I shot the idea down. Angelique promised not to cause any more trouble if I did the job. I was ready for that fuckin’ break. So I agreed.”
I’m leaving out the night of crazy sex the bitch used to convince me. Those details are unnecessary.
“Daryl cased the place the next day and decided we needed to do it alone. Just the two of us. I didn’t think it was a great idea, but he assured me the place was too small to have a crew movin’ around without drawing attention.”
I scrub my hands over my face, no longer able to look into Emily’s horrified eyes. I’m losing her and what I’m about to admit will be the nail in the coffin. I close my eyes, remembering every detail.
Daryl and I walk in the back door of the small shop. It’s in an industrial area with a few bars and restaurants around it. The lock was simple to pop and the alarm even easier to disable. We make our way into the little storage room and start loading up frame after frame of art. We need more hands than we have, but this will have to do.
Mugs of Love Page 19
