Chapter 4
FOUR
Dutch
She’s changing me.
No, that’s wrong.
She’s already changed me. She did that from the very first letter.
Because of her, I’m turning into someone that thinks about the future. Our future.
Someone that wants to know everything about her. Her hopes, her dreams, her desires. Make sure she gets enough sleep. Make sure she takes her vitamins and doesn’t forget to eat.
I want to know when she gets her period. I want to count the days every fucking month and hope like fuck she’s late.
This pulsing desire inside my soul to breed her has taken on a life of its own.
Still, this whole new world is a mindfuck. The family, the legit business, the way they all care for each other and have a common goal. As simple as it is, that’s uncharted territory for me. I know that if I fuck up, I’ll lose her. Or worse, I’ll be the man she doesn’t need. And if that’s the case, I’d rather not be here at all.
I’ve never wanted anything the way I want her. Before this, romance was a fucking shelf in the library. It seemed so goddamned unnecessary to put someone before myself.
But, with Daphne? Fuck, I want to give her everything she wants. Keep her safe. Be her port in the storm. Be here for whatever will inevitably come. Anticipate her every need from the moment I wake until I put her to sleep, my dick nestled inside her through the night.
My chest has been tight since I saw her earlier today, and it’s not just that I want to fuck her so bad my johnson feels like it’s tied in a square knot.
It’s bigger than that. Because the truth is simple: I don’t want to disappoint her.
What the hell can I offer to a girl like her? I’m not even a day out, with a record that will keep almost anyone from trusting me, including her if she has any sense. She should run a mile. Fast. And now.
But, God, I want her to trust me. I need her trust so I can be the man she deserves.
Now, I’m in Walter’s office at the garage. They’re going back and forth about upgrading their security system. More missing parts from their storage behind the shop. That’s what the call was about back at the house. Serious shit but I’m barely listening. Because I can still smell her on me. Honey-sweet. Lusty and all mine.
Walter’s desk is covered in neat piles of receipts and files. On the back wall, keychains hang on numbered hooks. The rest of the garage is par for the course: the wall above covered in old calendars with bikini-clad women sitting on the hoods of hot rods and classic roadsters holding up cans of Mobil oil. Curves in all the right places. But not even close to Daphne. Not even fucking close.
I force myself to focus on what’s going on around me. On the smell of motor oil and the clank of carburetors. I know my way around engines. My dad and I bonded over fixing them. I took on other jobs at garages and some chop shops through the years.
Walter grilled me hard about my skills, telling me I’d be doing oil changes and brake jobs until he could trust me to do otherwise. I proved my worth. But still I can see he’s fucking wary.
James shoves back his chair, saying he’s going to go tweak the cameras again.
Which leaves me alone with Walter.
He stays quiet, tapping on his keyboard, then settles back in his chair, hands clasping over his gut, eyes on me. For a second, I can see him on the wrong side of an interrogation desk. There’s judgment in his eyes and who can blame him?
“Just so you know, I asked James a lot of questions before I agreed to this. He’s vouched for you and I trust my son, but…”
I swallow hard. I’ve never given two shits about what anybody else thinks of me. Until now.
In my past life, this fucker would have meant nothing to me. Just another asshole in a line of assholes. But things have changed, and I’m fucking nervous about what’s coming next.
Because this man holds the keys to Daphne’s approval. If he sends me away and tells her I’m no good for her? Then what? Would she ever contact me again? Would I ever see her loops and swirls again? I don’t know but I fucking doubt it.
I think about that for a second and realize, even if that happened, I wouldn’t leave.
At the very least, I’d become her stalker. I’d make damned sure no one else got even an idea in their head she was available. At the very worst, I’d throw her in the back of my car, when I get one that is, drive us up to some deserted mountain cabin and fuck a baby into her even if I had to tie her to the bed to do it.
I shake the thought away. Walter’s staring at me, my dick starting to rise again. I grit my teeth and force my erection down. That’s going to have to fucking wait until I have her under me.
“James told me who you hung out with. In the past. Told me what happened. Said your so-called friends let you take the fall for whatever reason. Something you and my son have in common.” He clears his throat. “If we find out you’re starting up old friendships…you’re out. And, just for the record, I told James the same fucking thing. This is a big, small town. I know who’s who and for all I know, those former friends of yours are the very assholes that are stealing parts and breaking in here. I don’t believe in coincidences. I won’t give you a second chance. I protect my own. We clear?”
I nod on a sniff. The old Dutch wants to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead I offer my hand to shake his. “I won’t need a second chance.”
He nods back, taking my offer, our hands clasped together. “Good. I’m going to have a word with James, then we’ll be ready to go.”
All this shit makes me uneasy. These big talks, these warnings. But it’s necessary discomfort.
Walter’s fatherly protectiveness makes me think of my own dad. Thinking about him makes my heart knot up. He did his best. But his best wasn’t great.
My dad always said that nothing worth having comes easy. For the first time in as far back as I can remember, turning things around may help repair things I’d thought were broken forever.
My eyes move over the photos behind Walter’s desk. Glossy prints in cheap frames. I see him with what looks like maybe his sister, and that makes me think about my sister, too. The last time we spoke, I was a complete ass. Pushed her away hard. Like a wild dog unwilling to let anyone get close.
I didn’t want her seeing me that way, didn’t want my shit to be her problem. But goddamn. Sitting here. Thinking about family. Part of me wants to call her up, hear her out, listen to what she wanted to say.
Apologize for not being there for her after Dad’s death. For being an ass.
“Hey.” James pops his head into the office, breaking my slow slide down Unhappy Family Memories Lane. “You ready?”
I nod and stand, brushing my hands down the front of my shirt, the memory of Daphne’s flavor on my tongue sending a twinge through me. I follow James down the hallway toward the main garage.
“Sorry if my dad is a bit of a hard ass. He doesn’t trust people easily.”
“It’s cool. I get it. Nothing worth having comes easy.”
But even as I say the words, Walter’s speech in the office makes me wonder if I’ll ever have his approval, ever have his blessing with Daphne. He made it clear that until I prove myself, I’m an outsider. He’s giving me a chance.
But I know that if I so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, I’m out. That’s some thin fucking ice for a guy like me.
And if he knew I had my tongue in his virgin daughter’s sweet cunt about an hour ago? My ass would be on the pavement out front with my teeth scattered around me like Tic-Tacs.
But it would still be worth it. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to come to terms with me and Daphne. My plans with her are already set in stone. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Back at the house, the table is set for dinner, and fuck if Daphne hasn’t changed into this hot fucking yellow dress that hugs her curves, making my mouth water for more of what she gave me earlier.
Still though, there’s all this family shit to deal with. So many people here, cock blocking me. But it’s fine. It’s fucking fine.
Daphne sits across from me at the table. She smooths her napkin and rubs her lips together like she’s smoothing out her lip balm, while darting a quick glance at me. I adjust the tablecloth to hide my growing hard-on. Christ.
“So, Dutch…” Joan sets a platter of fried chicken down and waves for me to sit as Daphne’s eyes hit me from across the table. “I hope Walter wasn’t too hard on you today. He can be a little less than tactful at times.” She winks at her husband, who grumbles something as he takes his seat at the head of the table.
“Not at all,” I answer, taking in the smells of the food, the Norman Rockwell image of the table complete with a lacy sort of tablecloth. Have I ever been at a family dinner like this? I don’t think so. I can’t even remember the last time I sat down at a dining room table for a meal even before my last stay in prison.
“I remember the first day I met Walter.” Joan gives him a flirty, wistful grin as he motions for me to take my share of the chicken from the platter. “I was waiting tables at the diner. He came in for coffee. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest the first second I saw him. So handsome. But, he played it cool. Barely looking at me, until…”
James snorts a laugh as I look up and see Daphne’s sparkling emerald eyes glowing. Waiting for the punchline.
Walter picks the story up on cue. “…Until some piece of shit smacked her on the ass.” Walter grunts, then takes a scoop of mashed potatoes from a bowl. He slings the potatoes onto his plate with a thwack. “Dickhead. I spent the night in jail for busting his jaw and sending him to the emergency room. But no regrets. I protect what’s mine.”
Jesus.
He glances my way and I sit up straight on a nod. Apparently, imagining my teeth scattered like Tic-Tacs wasn’t off base at all.
“That’s the way it should be,” I say. I lock eyes with Daphne, whose cheeks turn bright red. Goddamn it. I get a sudden impulse to jump across the table and kiss her right here in front of her family and make it perfectly fucking clear that she’s mine. The muscles in my legs twitch, but I hold myself back. Barely.
“You have family, Dutch? A mom, dad?” Joan sounds hesitant, like she might be asking something painful, but I give her a tight smile as I shake my head. This whole thing, the meal, the family, the talk—it’s magical but so fucking bittersweet. I’ve had no family to speak of for so long, I wonder if it’s something I’ll ever have. Or even deserve.
“I have a sister. My mom died long time ago. Dad more recently.”
“I’m sorry.” She reaches out and takes my hand, and something about it feels familiar. Like when my own mom would make the same gesture. Daphne offers an encouraging smile which eases some of the ache in my heart. “Your sister lives around here?”
Joan’s eyes are eager. She’s sweetly hell-bent on making conversation, which is yet another thing I’m not used to. When prisoners eat, they eat. When they talk, they talk. But they don’t chit-chat over chow. Still, though, I know I have to get used to it and fast.
So I swallow my potatoes and nod. “She does. I have an address for her. Not sure she’d want to see me again, though.”
“I’m sure she would,” Daphne says. “You should look her up.”
“Maybe I will. If you’d go with me. Being a sister yourself, you might be able to help.”
Daphne looks down into her lap, her cheeks flaming hot. I can see her fucking pulse in her throat.
Joan’s smile catches my eye and I manage to look away.
“I’m sure Daphne and James would go with you for moral support, if that’s what you want. But I’m equally sure your sister would love to see you again. That’s what family is about.” She butters her biscuit tidily, just to the edge, not a crumb lost. “Doesn’t matter how much you mess up, they’re still there for you.”
Back down Memory Lane. I think about the last time we spoke, her insisting that I should take my share of the inheritance from dad, his investments, his insurance. How she said it would help turn my life around. I didn’t want any of it. I told her to spend it on herself, that it would be wasted on a guy like me.
It’s yours. I’ll keep it for you. When you’re ready.
Her words ring in my head. I wonder if it’s still there, waiting. Or if she spent it on something or someone more deserving. I don’t want it; I don’t want her to think that the only reason I’m getting in touch is for money. I never even asked for details on how much it was all worth. I didn’t want to know. None of that mattered.
Not until I had someone who mattered to me.
All my thoughts are overshadowed like a total eclipse by Daphne, as she takes a bite of her chicken. How the fuck is it possible that I am jealous of her fork? The way her lips encircle it. The thought of her tongue on the tines.
Under the lace tablecloth, my balls won’t stop pulsing.
And now there’s only one question in my head: Will she show up tonight?
If she doesn’t, then what? What happens when I lose control? What’ll this lovely little family say when I break into their house and take her in her own bed? How will that fucking conversation go over breakfast tomorrow morning?
By the end of dinner, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. My cock hurts so fucking bad. I help clear, but Joan refuses to let me do the dishes, which is kind of a fucking problem because I was planning on hiding my nonstop erection against the sink.
“I was gonna take Dutch into town. Have a beer at Van Dyke Racers. It’s NASCAR tonight…” James gives me a wink.
“No beer for me, man.” I shake my head. “I’m not screwing up my parole.”
“Okay, well, I’ll have a beer for us both,” James says with a grin, eyeing the front door and jingling his keys in his palm.
“Oh no you don’t.” Joan turns from the sink where she and Daphne are loading the dishwasher, wiggling her finger at James.
I silence an impatient groan. All this needling each other, all this good-natured teasing, it’s fine. I love it. But I’ve had enough. All I want is for midnight to come so I can strip that butter-yellow dress off her tits and suck her nipples into my mouth.
“Daphne, you go with them. You drive. Keep them from getting into trouble.” Joan plucks the keys out of James’ palm and hands them to Daphne.
Now James takes the keys away from Joan and hands them to me. “Dutch can drive.” James gives me a hopeful look. “Having my sister along isn’t exactly what I had in mind. If you catch my drift.”
“Man,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and discreet. “I don’t have a license. I just got out.”
James rolls his eyes. “This shitty parole system, am I right?” he says.
A-fucking-men to that.
But I stay quiet about all of it while they sort it out for themselves. Daphne gives me a look, but Joan points her finger at us both.
“You want me to go get your father? Tell him you’re going to go drink beer then drive home? You’re a slow learner sometimes, James Foster.”
“I’ll go, Mom.” Daphne bends over, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher, and her ripe, round ass makes my balls twitch. “I’ll be the chaperone.”
She nibbles into her bottom lip as James grunts but heads towards the door. Daphne eases past me, giving me a quick wink and I inhale her sweet, peaches and cream scent.
Waiting for my release date was bad. But waiting for midnight is worse.
Way fucking worse.