by Jessica Joy
Something isn’t right here.
I have to talk to her; I have to call Lexi. I know it would be stupid and a huge risk I can’t afford, but I can’t let her go through this alone. I pull up a new email, maybe that’ll be better, and I send her a quick note. I try to stay as vague as possible about Evan and I and keep it focused on how she is holding up. After hitting send I stare at my phone for a few minutes, willing a response to show up in my inbox even though I know there’s no way I’ll receive anything back so soon.
When I finally snap out of it and look up from my phone; the movie is about half over and Evan is rolling around oblivious to anything other than his quest to eat his own foot. Deciding I need a distraction and more caffeine, I get up and head to the kitchen to refill my mug, almost tripping over a stuffed animal in the dark room as I do.
“Bud, it’s such a cave in here! Mind if I open the curtains? Of course, you don’t… Because you’re a baby… And if you do, I’m gonna anyway. Because I'm the mommy. So there,” I say with a mock attitude, sticking my tongue out at him. He giggles at my antics, squealing and flailing his arms in his adorable little way. I laugh as I cross to the window and push the curtains open over the large window. My laugh fades to a quiet hum when I catch sight of what’s going on across the street.
It’s been a week since I saw Sawyer as I was leaving for my run. A horrendous encounter that still has me wondering if someone performed a lobotomy on one, or both of us. I can’t think of a more painfully awkward moment in my entire life post puberty, probably during as well. But now, looking out the window, I feel my mouth run dry and my traitorous lady bits tingle to life. As if that man wasn’t good looking enough fully clothed, now he is freakin’ mouthwatering, jaw dropping, brain melting, stunningly gorgeous. Forget panty-melting, this man is panty-disintegrating hot.
That crazy man is up on a ladder cleaning his gutters in the morning chill wearing well-worn faded jeans slung low on his narrow hips, his work boots… and that’s it. Yep, he is gloriously naked from the waist up and I’m pretty sure my ovaries just deployed troops to receive boarders. I’m so thankful he’s facing away from me; I don’t think I’d be able to remain standing at the sight of the delicious set of abs I’m sure he’s sporting. His broad shoulders and the lean muscles of his back ripple and move have me absolutely mesmerized. His back is surprisingly free of ink, but I can see some curling up his sides and over his shoulders. My eyes follow down his spine and… god damn I want to lick those little dimples at the base of his spine.
Did I really just say that? Lick his freakin’ back dimples? Ah fuck it. Yes, yes I did, and dammit I want to lick those little fuckers while sinking my fingers into that deliciously tight ass of his.
If I thought the view from the back was delicious, I’m seriously not prepared for the heart stopping, drool worthy, wondrous sight of his naked chest when he turns to throw something down into the snow. I swear that man is chiseled from marble. He makes me think of some Greek warrior, like those guys in that 300 movie. You know, the one where they have abs so deep you could just curl up and take a nap between them? Yeah. I want to feed him peeled grapes and fan him with palm fronds.
What the fuck is wrong with you?! Calm your tits you insane thirsty bitch! Don’t you dare forget his corkscrew cock!
No. Screw the corkscrew cock, I don’t care right now. This man’s chest is a work of art; it’s strong, defined, and covered in scrolling tattoos that curl up his arms, over his shoulders and continue onto his chest and reach down along his ribs. At this distance, I can’t make out what any of them are, but the effect is stunning. I want to trace the lines with my fingertips while curled around him. Hell, I want to trace them with my tongue.
I should stay right here. Right damn here. Yep. Moving would be a terrible idea. Totally ill advised. But you know, there is this dirty screen over the window, it may be distorting the view. If I looked from the front door maybe I could assist with his cleaning efforts, see if he missed a spot or something. Yeah. It’s really the only neighborly thing to do, offer some assistance that is. Checking on Evan as I pass, he’s happily playing with his toys which are covered in drool, before I go to the front door and ease it open as quietly as possible, can’t alert the object of my stalking to my presence.
Mr. Abs-For-Days has turned back to his task and I’m left staring at the glorious lines of his back again. I seriously don’t know how he can get that much definition. How does he have time to do anything but work out? He’s sporting muscles where I didn’t even know they existed. And for the love of god, those back dimples at the base of his spine are just taunting me now.
Sawyer turns and looks down the road and I hear the sound of pipes rumbling down the street, but I’m too busy watching the way his muscles ripple and move as he hangs from the ladder by one hand to care about a bike. I swear to God I feel my entire body respond to this man, everything tingles, every nerve ending becoming aware and primed for him.
Do you want more babies? Cuz that man is how you get more babies.
A motorcycle pulls up to the curb in front of Sawyer’s place and a man in a Forsaken Sons Cut gets off the bike. When he takes off his helmet, I get a view of an overly long mess of dirty blonde waves.
Seriously, are all the Sons ridiculously good looking? Do you have to audition or something? How the hell can he get his hair to look like that after wearing a helmet and I can’t make it do anything when I spend an hour on it?
Of course, being the nosy little wench that I am, I can’t leave well enough alone. Nope, I need to hear what the hell Goldilocks is saying to Leonidas. Maybe I can open the screen door just a crack, just enough to hear a little. It’s quiet enough on the street their voices should carry right? Totally. Yep, that’s absolutely what I’ll do. Holding my breath and with a quick glance back at Evan, I ease the screen door open an inch and it thankfully moves soundlessly.
Score! See? Best idea I’ve had all morning. Go me.
With a cocky smile on my face I push the door a little harder and am rewarded with the loudest screech of rusty metal hinges that I have ever heard in my life. I freeze in terror and send up a prayer to whatever deity might listen that the men didn’t hear that. But of course, all the gods out there are looking down and laughing their asses off at the stupid chick who is too nosy for her own good. Both men immediately turn and look in my direction when they hear the unearthly squeal from my door.
Please, let the earth open up and swallow me whole right damn now. My mind shuts down as our eyes lock and I can’t move. I stand there struck dumb for another couple of heartbeats, completely under the spell of Sawyer’s amused smirk. My eyes go wide with panic and I hear myself let out an awkward squeak before I slam the front door and dive for the living room floor.
I land face down on the rug near Evan and lay there with my forehead pressed into the rug. Evan giggles again and I roll my way toward him, looking up at his little toothless grin. When he sees me looking, he lets out another squeal and flails his limbs as he giggles at me.
“Yeah, yeah. I know buddy. Mommy is a loser. A certifiably insane loser. Laugh it up, I deserve it,” I groan, rolling my face back into the rug and closing my eyes.
Well, today is a good day to die of mortification, right? Yeah. Well done dipshit.
Chapter 8
Sawyer
Caught ya Babydoll
Tessa’s front door slams shut as she disappears into her house again and I can’t help but smile. My satisfaction is short lived when I hear the cackling of the asshole coming up my sidewalk. Fuck me. Of course, the bastard had to drive by right now. I swear he has “Sawyer is doing stupid shit” radar, fuckin’ Spidey senses or something. Gage has no reason to be riding down this goddamn street; the universe hates me.
I close my eyes and take a breath before looking down at the hyena below me. I watch Gage stumble up my front walk, clutching his sides as he laughs his ass off. He stops a few feet from the foot of my ladder and looks up at me, lett
ing out a long cat call whistle. I’m so in for it.
“How’re ye Brother?” he drawls up at me with a shit eating grin on his face.
“What do ya want Gage?” I say, trying to sound bored in the faint hope he will give up and go away. Useless I know, but worth a shot.
The bastard looks up at me for another long moment, that grin on his face only growing as he steps back, throws his arms wide, and puts on a posh British accent as he calls out, entirely too loudly.
“Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more frostbit
Rough winds do shake the frozen nips of Bae
And Sawyer thou hath all too small a prick”
The fucker stumbles backward and almost falls ass first into the snow after I peg him in the face with a snowball. His cackling increases ‘til his howls echo down the street and I can see tears streaming down his face.
“Fuck Gage. The Bard would spin in his grave if he heard that shit.”
“Oh, come now, I’m just takin’ the piss. Ye know I’m brilliant, Ol’ Willie would be tickled to hear my improvements,” he snickers, wiping the snow from his face.
Rolling my eyes, I climb down the ladder and gather up the couple of tools I had tossed around to make it look like I was working on the damn gutters. I was only out here hoping to get Tessa’s attention. After that spectacular showing the last time I saw her and then disappearing for a week, this seemed like the most logical way to catch her attention again. Admittedly, now in the moment and staring down my mentally deficient friend laughing his ass off at me, I may be questioning this particular course of action. With any luck, my cackling friend will get bored and wander off by the time I finish putting things away, or maybe he’ll laugh himself into asphyxiation, slip on the ice, and crack his head open- something horrible and tragic. Either way, I’m not picky.
Deciding to avoid further dealings with the witless wonder, I head into the house through the mud room door off the back patio. I kick off my boots and dig through the laundry basket sitting on the dryer for a shirt and pull out a black Henley. Tugging the shirt over my head, I walk into my kitchen.
I have to admit, I really do love my house. It wasn’t much to look at when I bought it just over a year ago but a couple of the Brothers and I all but gutted the place and rebuilt everything. We finished the last of the renovations not even a month ago and it feels good to finally be done.
To my utter shock - note the dripping sarcasm - Gage is already in the kitchen. He’s puttering around going through my fridge and pantry, setting out ingredients and starts making breakfast without even noticing I’m in the room. I head over to the coffee pot and pour two mugs, setting one next to Gage that says “Coffee… You can sleep when you’re DEAD!” and move to sit on a barstool across the large island from little Suzy Homemaker.
Watching Gage chop vegetables and beat the eggs for his killer omelets, I sip my coffee and attempt to brace myself for the questions I can feel coming. As if on cue, Suzy Gage starts the interrogation.
“So… I understand wanting to catch the lass’ attention, but did ye have to whore around without a shirt? Jaysus Sawyer, ye’re such a fuckin’ slag.”
There it is. I grab an apple from the bowl in the middle of the island and chuck it at his head instead of responding. Let’s be honest, there is zero defense for my being out there in the damn snow without my shirt today. It was up to thirty-five, but still mostly frozen. I claim temporary insanity. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but my frosty nipples disagree.
Gage swats the apple away with the spatula and it crashes against the toaster and rolls to the floor. He raises an eyebrow at me, condemning my predictability and poor aim, and probably for making a mess. I eye him over the edge of my mug, wondering if I really got lucky and he’s given up for now. With a flourish of the pan he flips the omelet perfectly onto the plate in front of me and joins me at the island, still not saying a word. I give him one last sidelong look and just as I am bringing the first bite to my mouth, he finally cuts in.
“So… gonna tell me why this one’s got yer bollocks in a twist?”
“Tessa. Her name’s Tessa,” I should have known I wouldn’t get out of this without telling him the whole story. The asshole never lets anything go once he gets the scent of it. If I ever want another moment’s peace, I might as well just tell him. God forbid the idiot gets curious and went to talk to Tess… shit, what if he’s already done that? I take a swallow of my coffee and start from the beginning.
“Remember the day King had me chase Rox all over town to decorate the rental? Yeah, be fuckin’ glad you were busy that day.”
Gage raises his coffee mug in salute.
“I got stuck setting up all the baby shit when we got everything back to the house…” I stop for a moment and take another bite, deciding to leave my epic battle with the mobile out of it. Might as well try and keep at least a little of my dignity today.
“Well Clay brought Tessa through the house, showin’ her around and all that, and somehow I got ‘volun-told’ to watch the kid for a while. Should have seen it man, you’d think he was gonna sprout tentacles and attack me or some shit from the look that kid gave me at first. I didn’t stick around long after that though. She came and took the kid back and I left. Thought I wouldn’t have to see her again if I could avoid it.”
Gage raises an eyebrow and looks toward the front door then back at me.
“Oh, shut up. I know she lives across the street but how often do I go out the front? The garage is out back, and the alley leads away from the street so when the fuck would I see her?”
Gage just grunts and shakes his head as he turns back to his food.
“Well, as I was saying… I didn’t think I would have to see her again, at least for a while. I was here the morning before our run down to St Louis last week, I thought I’d gotten out of here early enough to miss anyone but, holy shit man, she came out to go for a run…”
“How’s the ass?” Gage interjects.
I slap him upside the head and growl, “Don’t even fuckin’ go there ya asshat.”
Gage chuckles as he shovels another bite in his mouth. “Fuck, ye really got it bad.”
“You shoulda seen it. I was standing there like a fuckin’ twelve-year-old caught with his dick in one hand and the lotion in the other. I couldn’t string three words together.”
Gage throws his head back and laughs, slapping his hand against the counter to keep from falling off his chair.
“It’s not THAT funny you fucker.”
“Oh, fucking yes, it is.”
“Whatever asshole,” I say, as I take another bite before continuing. “After that spectacular showing I tried to…”
“Tried to what? Write her a love note and slip it under her door?”
“We’re not in ninth grade you idiot.”
“Hey, yer the one who said ye were actin’ like a fuckin’ teen again!” Gage laughs.
“God you’re a moron. No. I tried to fuck her outta my system. Happy?”
“Aww poor Kiki.”
“Oh, you know Keek gets hers when she wants it. She’s just fine. But yeah… tried to work my shit out on her,” I say, realizing what a total shithead I sound like.
“Tried? What, needed a little blue pill? Couldn’t rise to the occasion? Needed to…”
I cut the fucker off with an icy glare, “You’ll be my first stop for an upper you fuckin old man.”
Gage gives me a knowing look.
“Fuck you… Fine. I couldn’t get Tess off my mind. I ended up picturing her. Ya happy?”
“Very,” Gage says with a smile, returning to finish the last of his breakfast.
“Thanks for the solidarity fuckhead. After the mess with Keek I took off and rode all night. Went up the Shore and back trying to sort my head out.”
“Ah, that’s why ye were dead on yer ass the morning we left. I swear to Christ I was ready to make ye ride bitch on my bike if ye
swerved one more time.”
“Yeah. Didn’t sleep. Spent the whole week in St Louis thinking about those goddamn eyes…”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling tits now? Good to know,” Gage says with a lascivious wink.
I go to smack Gage again, but he ducks as he stands and starts to clear the dishes.
“So… spent a week obsessing and watchin’ yer dick invert over this broad. Whatcha decide?”
“Something’s different with her. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Just need a little fuck and release?” he asks over his shoulder from the sink.
“Naw… it's more than that. She’s not a onesie.”
“Damn, she really has yer balls twisted, doesn’t she?”
I don’t respond, taking another drink and get lost in thought again. I snap back to the present from a sharp pain on my head. I jump and look at Gage who is smiling back at me wielding a spatula.
“What the fuck man? What was that?” I sputter in confusion.
“That was my magic wand working wonders for yer scrambled brains.”
“The fuck?”
Gage takes a dramatic curtsy, pulling out the sides of an imaginary skirt “I’m declaring myself yer Leprechaun Godfather, laddie.”
“Leprechaun Godfather? Ya got a pot-o-gold to give me?” I scoff, giving him a look like he’s an escaped mental patient.
“Fuck that… I’m Irish, not a fuckin’ fairy. I’m gonna work my magic and help ye get yer lass m’dear boy. Yours will be a courtship for the history books.”
I scoff and can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous look of pride on Gage’s face and his little twirl of spatula.
“Fine, tell me oh wise one. How do I win the affections of my fair maiden?” I ask, deciding to play along.
“Oh aye, ye need to woo the lass. Need to win her over and show her yer worth the risk. With the littl’un in tow it’s even more important for ye to woo her and make it so she doesn’t have any choice but to let ye in. Win her heart if that’s what ye want. I’ll say this though. I ain’t helping ye if all ye seek is a fuck and release. That littl’un deserves more than ye buttering her up and runnin’,” Gage says, pinning me with a firm stare.
