by Elle Aycart
“You don’t have to worry about me, but if you continue to appear in public together and there isn’t any yelling involved, people are bound to wonder.”
True. “Maybe I should stage some sort of fight with him.” The fact that she’d rather fabricate a brawl than stop spending time with Adrian in public wasn’t lost on her, but she decided to ignore it. Annie apparently too, because she said nothing.
They picked up their drinks and snacks and headed back. Then Rachel noticed XL waving at her. He was sitting with Sara, near Rebecca. Ash and Monti sat on the other side of the OGs and were laughing with the grandmas.
“Ladies, that chair is occupied,” Annie said to the fluff once they arrived.
The women grumpily left, shaking their booties like there was no tomorrow. Cole and Max were laughing.
“Outdoor movie night is magic,” Rachel whispered to Adrian as she sat.
“I’m always popular with females.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that, Boomer. Today is Saturday night. Your thugs are here with the OGs and the Haddicans, instead of being in Boston stripping cars. Score one for Alden.”
“We don’t need to do this,” Adrian muttered, dragging his feet. How this small woman could be so strong, he didn’t know.
Rachel continued pushing him from behind. “You visit your granddad once a week. Holly mentioned it when I asked about the errands I should run for you.”
Traitor. He was going to rip his nosy dispatcher a new one. “Then you go. I’ll wait for you in the car,” he said, digging in his heels. Heel.
She went on tiptoe and spoke in his ear. “If you go in with me, I promise I’ll leave early from the senior dance at the community center. Instead of staying to the end and driving the OGs back, I’ll come to your place.”
Fuck, that was so damn tempting. His blue balls were about to kill him, and getting time alone with Grease Barbie was damn difficult. She was much busier than he’d expected her to be. If she wasn’t at the garage, she had business to attend to in Boston, ordering spare parts and whatnot, or she was on OG duty. Or she was dating.
She must have noticed he was wavering because she continued, her voice even huskier. “You have condoms, or should I stop at the drugstore?”
He had that covered. After the last time, he’d put rubbers in every room in his house. He sighed out loud and began walking. She had him by the balls, literally. And she knew it.
“That’s my Boomer.”
This was such a bad idea. He was going to keep his trap shut and hope for the best—which, when it came to his granddad and him, meant avoiding a screaming match.
“Horatio keeps to himself, but he’s good-natured and polite. No one has problems with him ever.”
Ha. Granddad had created a new life for himself: Horatio Skehan, harmless, quiet, and all-around nice guy. What a fake.
They knocked, and, after a while, Horatio, with his oxygen tank and his walker, opened the door, which meant the nurse who came several times a week wasn’t there. He smiled at Rachel. To Adrian, he just nodded. Then he saw Adrian’s foot in the walking boot. “Are you okay?”
As if the old man gave a rat’s ass. Please. Adrian didn’t even bother answering.
“A little accident,” Rachel hurried to explain, probably uncomfortable at the long silence. “That’s why I’m here, to see if you need something. The sheriff won’t be able to do much more than visit.”
Visit? In her dreams. Adrian let Rachel talk. Safer that way. She asked about Horatio’s health and if he needed them to buy anything.
“I’m okay. The lady from social services came yesterday.” And then Horatio had the balls to invite them in to sit and drink coffee.
“We’re busy,” Adrian curtly answered. “We need to leave now.”
Rachel gave him the evil eye. Whatever. He knew very well what she saw: a sick and frail old man who’d had a bad stroke three years ago. Adrian saw a deceptive asshole who wouldn’t die because the devil himself didn’t want him.
“You can’t have a coffee with your old man?” Horatio asked, tempting the fragile status quo. At Adrian’s lack of response, he turned to Rachel. “Kids, huh? You break your back bringing them up, and it’s all for nothing. They forget easily.”
“You didn’t break your back. You broke ours,” Adrian said, trying to keep himself from exploding. “And the problem is that I didn’t forget, old man.”
Horatio got a very timely coughing attack that forced him to use the oxygen mask. “Kids are ingrates,” he muttered afterward.
Adrian turned around. Enough was enough. No amount of sex could force him to suffer through this.
He heard Rachel excuse them and tell Horatio they really were in a hurry. Once in the car, he waited for her to bitch about his behavior. Instead, she just looked at him. “Sorry. You didn’t want to come. I shouldn’t have insisted.”
He offered her a curt nod and decided to keep silent. Somehow, his mouth had other plans. “My brother and I came to live with him when my parents died in a car accident. He was authoritarian and abusive. Especially when he drank, which, thankfully, wasn’t often. He shouldn’t have taken two kids in, but my grandmother forced him. Great lady. A pity she died a couple of years later, leaving us with that ass, who began drinking heavily after that. He worked and drank, and the more he drank, the more unruly we became. My brother and I ran away when I was sixteen and Ricky fourteen.” They’d known Horatio wouldn’t bother going to the cops, and they’d been right. By that time, they were getting too big for Horatio to hit them, so he wasn’t that interested in having them back.
“We did okay on our own—I made sure of it—until Ricky started messing around with drugs. And hell started again. The rest I told you the other day. I’ve been surrounded by addicts, in one way or another, my whole life. Can’t stand them. They don’t change. Horatio is just putting up a front because he’s too old to show his true self.” He’d been living in Alden for fifteen years. A model citizen, ha! A former drunk who thought apologizing made him squeaky clean. Although Adrian didn’t recall the guy ever apologizing to him.
“People can change,” she said softly, her expression somehow somber.
“Not in my experience, Grease Barbie.”
“The scar across your eyebrow?” she asked in a whisper.
“His doing. Although he didn’t remember afterward. Lucky him, huh?”
“I’m so sorry. Why did you move here when he got sick?” she asked, putting the car into gear.
He wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t see the old man much. Aside from making sure everything was in order and Horatio had food and a nurse checking on him, Adrian didn’t even talk with him. “Maybe kids aren’t the ingrates he thinks they are. But enough about that.” The trip down memory lane hadn’t put him in good spirits.
Asking about what he’d wanted to know since yesterday evening wasn’t going to help either, but he had to, or he was going to spend another night tossing and turning. “How did your date go yesterday?”
She shrugged. “Nothing special.”
He’d convinced her to take her car, so she couldn’t drink. No fucking way was he agreeing to have her shit-faced and in the hands of a stranger. “You’ll never find anyone special on that app.”
“Can’t quit.”
“Why?”
“My grandma felt I wasn’t dating actively enough and offered to knock one thing off the OGs’ bucket list for every date I go on. And speak of the devil…” By now, they had made it to Wilma’s. The three OGs were dressed up and waiting for them in the driveway. “I agreed to pick the ladies up. You okay with it, or do you want me to drop you off first?”
“It’s fine.” Which was just as well, because the grannies were already jumping in.
“Good evening, Sheriff. What are you doing here? Are you escorting us or arresting us?” Wilma asked.
“I came to keep an eye on you.”
“You’re on sick leave,” Greta said accusingly. “It’s al
l up to Walter and Jensen.”
Right. Wouldn’t the OGs love that. “Bags, ladies,” he demanded, stretching his arm out to them.
Greta’s eyes brightened. “Oh, we’re being frisked, girls. How exciting. We don’t have drugs, Sheriff. Not even a liquor flask.”
“Speak for yourself,” Rebecca muttered. “I’m the one in charge of the alcohol today. And we are carrying drugs, Greta.”
The old lady, looking stunned, glanced at Rebecca. “Are we?”
“Check the pill dispenser,” Wilma explained. “It’s full.”
“True.” Greta turned to Adrian. “We’re carrying drugs. And alcohol. If we can call dibs, we want the happy-hour cell.”
Jesus fucking Christ. He checked the three bags. “Here you go,” he said, returning them. “No tasers. Good enough.”
Rachel looked amused but said nothing. She parked in front of the community center. “Have fun, ladies,” she said as the OGs got out of the car. “Don’t burn the place down.”
“That was an accident,” Wilma grunted. “Won’t we ever live that down?”
“No,” both Rachel and Adrian answered, but the OGs ignored them.
Rachel jumped out of the car herself. “I need to make sure Mike’s parents are here. If we’re going to bail, we need them to take the OGs back home. You can wait for me here.”
And risk her getting stuck at the dance? No way. He followed suit. “We are bailing,” he emphasized and leaned into her. He stopped himself mere inches from kissing her. He quickly moved away, surprised and horrified at how natural it had felt to reach for her, even in public. He was losing his marbles. Testosterone poisoning probably. “Let’s be quick about it.”
They walked in, and he lost sight of Rachel right away. Half the town was in the ballroom. One of his deputies was too. As far as he was concerned, all was in order. Time to bail.
He spotted Rachel talking with Amanda, Mike’s mother. Rachel saw him too, because she gave him a thumbs up. Good, they were done here. He pointed toward the exit.
They met halfway and walked down the corridor together. They were almost home-free when they heard a bunch of ladies coming their way. Rachel opened the first door she saw and pushed him in. “If we’re seen leaving together and we don’t have a plausible excuse ready, there will be questions,” she whispered.
Right. The only glitch was that she’d pushed them into a bathroom. She looked around in panic, so he took her hand and dragged her into the farthest stall. Maybe the women would pass them by—after all, this wasn’t the closest bathroom to the ballroom, but if that wasn’t the case, they needed a foolproof hiding place.
“Why do we always end up in bathrooms?” The only saving grace was that they were always clean.
“No clue.” She giggled, muffling the sound by leaning her head on his chest.
Now that no one was looking, he could do what he’d been dying to do for a while. He lifted her head, cupped her face, and kissed her.
“At least you aren’t in a foul mood anymore,” she whispered when they came up for air.
It was true. At the moment, horniness trumped everything else. Her little hands, pressing against his pecs, were scorching his skin. All he could see and feel and hear was her.
Until, of course, the main door to the bathroom opened and the horde of ladies came in, chattering.
“Fuck me,” he mumbled. Of course they hadn’t passed by.
An “Out of Order” sign was hanging from their stall door, but he’d locked it. Just in case.
Rachel didn’t seem to give a flying blip. Her fingers began moving, her nails raking his nipples. Fuck. He looked down and moved to stop her, but she lifted her face, her grin mischievous, and shook her head. “Quiet,” she mouthed. Lifting his shirt, she placed her soft lips on his chest.
The women were talking all at once, laughing and making a ruckus, but Adrian stopped hearing them. The roaring in his ears was too loud, Rachel’s lips too soft and moist, and he needed her too much. And that was just the start, because when she moved her ministrations south, his legs faltered. Thank fucking God he was leaning against the door.
He tried to stop her, he really did. He covered her hands with his when she was unbuckling him, but she nuzzled his hard-on, and that was it. He forgot he was in a public bathroom stall, surrounded by babbling women already a bit tipsy. He forgot everything except for her breath on his groin. He looked down—he knew he shouldn’t, but he did. She’d finished unbuckling him, and her hands were on the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down.
Now was definitely the time to stop her. Too bad he couldn’t. His cock, already throbbing and leaking, sprang out, at the ready and begging. She chuckled softly and began placing soft kisses on his shaft.
Adrian braced his hands against the walls on either side, hoping that would help him stay upright, and groaned between clenched teeth. “Fuck. You’re killing me here.”
A part of him registered the chaos happening on the other side of the door. The loud conversations, the laughter, the water running, the blow of the hand-dryer. This was insane.
“Relax,” she whispered. Right, like that was easy to do. He looked at her. Wrong move. He threw his gaze at the ceiling, stifling a groan. He was going to come in about two seconds, just from her light touches. Adding visual input to that would be too much.
She splayed her palms on his abdomen and stroked upward until she found his nipples. After teasing them, she caressed her way back down while her mouth got bolder, kissing and licking his cock.
“Enough,” he growled.
Rachel didn’t obey. No surprise there; she never did. She kissed the slit on the tip and then engulfed the crown in her hot mouth while she fondled his balls.
Holy Mother of God. His whole body tensed. Too fucking good.
He wasn’t sure where he got the strength, but he grabbed her by her arms and pulled her up. “I said enough,” he whispered against her mouth. Fuck, she was beautiful.
“You don’t like it?” she asked, feigning innocence and licking her lips. Vixen. She was going to be the death of him.
“Don’t you see how hard I am? I love it, but I don’t want to bend you over in this bathroom stall and fuck the living shit out of you.” Which was going to happen if they didn’t stop. “Let’s get out of here and go to my place. Right. Now.”
For once, things went his way. The chatter was fading. The women were leaving.
He buckled up, grabbed Rachel by the hand, and dragged her out of the bathroom. No one was in the corridor. So far so good. Pity he wasn’t wearing his uniform; otherwise he could cuff her and walk out of there without anyone blinking an eye, used as the locals were to their clashing over the OGs.
They made it to his car, and she opened her mouth. “Not a word,” he ordered. He was too on edge, and they needed to get home.
Laughing huskily, she saluted him. “Yes, Sheriff.”
The drive to his place was a mere five minutes that felt like an eternity. As he parked in the driveway, the headlights of his car showed a bundle on his doorstep. It was XL, his face bloody, a big duffel by his side.
Adrian took a long, deep breath. He should have bent her over in the bathroom stall.
Chapter Eight
Rachel’s heart almost stopped at the sight. “Oh God. That’s XL dripping blood all over your doorstep.” She jumped out of the car before it stopped and ran to the kid.
When she reached him and XL lifted his face to her, she gasped. His nose was busted and bleeding. His lower lip was mangled, and his left eye was swollen shut. Multiple cuts and bruises were all over his face, and by the way he was holding his side, he must have some cracked ribs. She heard Adrian walking toward them.
“That bad, Grease Barbie?” XL mumbled.
Yeah, but he didn’t need to hear that. She steadied her voice. “What happened?” Not waiting for the answer, she helped him stand. “Never mind. Let’s go to the ER.”
Adrian inspected him. “Tito and his me
n?”
After XL grudgingly assented, Adrian’s face went stony. “Right. First ER, then we’ll file assault charges.”
“No need for ER, I’ve had worse. You know. And no filing assault charges. I’m not suicidal.”
“XL…” Adrian warned him.
“I’ll leave.” He tried walking, and Rachel grimaced at the sight.
“Don’t be an ass.” Cursing, Adrian put XL’s arm over his shoulders and, holding the kid’s weight, headed for the front door.
“Who’s Tito?” she asked, taking the keys Adrian handed to her and opening the door.
“A scumbag of the highest order and the one XL answered to.”
They entered the house and Adrian lowered him into a chair. The kid groaned in pain.
“Emergency kit?” she asked.
“Bathroom.”
She was back in a flash. Adrian was inspecting XL’s chest, which was also bruised and cut. “I don’t think you’ve broken anything.” He went to the kitchen and came back with a bag of frozen peas. He wrapped it in a towel and put it on the kid’s side, where the biggest bruise was. “That will help,” he said, as XL hissed.
“I’m no expert, but some of these injuries look like they might need stitches,” Rachel said, looking at XL’s face. Now that Adrian had turned on the light, everything looked worse.
“Nah,” both answered.
She didn’t believe them. Rebecca had been a nurse all her life, so Rachel snapped a pic of XL and sent it to her, asking for advice.
The reply was fast: We’ll be there in five.
There, where? Rachel hadn’t told them. Thank God Adrian seemed too busy patching XL up to realize what had happened and ask her about it.
“How did you make it to Alden?” Adrian inquired, his tone stern.
“A buddy gave me a ride.” XL hissed as Rachel tried to clean the blood from his face.
“What about your foster family? They live closer.”
The kid shrugged, uneasy. “The old man blamed it on me, threw my duffel bag at me and shoved me out the door.”
Adrian cursed under his breath. “I’m going to have a talk with that asshole.”
