12. Mack
12
MACK
I may not know a lot about women, but I do know a fair amount about Gigi. And I know that when she clams up after our fight at Shamrock’s, she doesn’t want to talk. So we’re not gonna talk.
When we’re done with our burgers, I signal for the check. Gigi insists on paying her half. Fuck it, so be it. If that’s what she wants, I’m not gonna argue over twenty bucks.
I want to make her talk to me. I don’t want this bullshit hanging between us. But something tells me that’s not the right move. Gigi is too proud for her own good. And right now, she’s decided my parents feel sorry for her — which is the one thing Gigi Mattson cannot tolerate.
Gigi had a rough childhood. She’s always felt she was the reason her mom died — though I bet she doesn’t know I know that. Like it could ever be any baby’s fault that their mother didn’t survive the childbirth. But her dad sure did seem to hate her for it, so I guess it’s not surprising that’s how she feels. He was pretty shitty to both her and Mack during their childhood, but he especially seemed to have it out for G. He’d ignore her most of the time, and she seemed to mostly just try to stay out of his way. But when he did pay attention to her, it was mostly about finding ways to put her down. When he was drinking, he’d sometimes talk about how everything would have been different if Fury and Gigi’s mom had lived. I don’t think he ever hit Gigi — though I wouldn’t swear to that — but I do know he did whatever he could to make her feel as small as a bug.
Gigi has always tried so hard to not need anyone, for any reason. I know she already hates feeling indebted to the club for putting her under their protection. Considering our history, it’s even less surprising that she’d hate me being chosen to be the one to be her bodyguard. I should probably just take her back to the clubhouse and leave her be for a while. But for some reason, I can’t just leave her there with things the way they are between us right now.
“Hey,” I grunt when I’m back behind the wheel of my truck. “I need to stop off at my house for a bit. You okay with that?”
In the passenger seat, Gigi shrugs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say, and put the truck into gear. I drive back across into Minneapolis toward my neighborhood. Gigi doesn’t acknowledge my presence for the longest time. But as we get closer, I can see her getting confused. “I thought you said you were going to your house. Not mine.”
“I am. I live pretty close to you, as it turns out.”
My place is about a block away from one of the many lakes in the Twin Cities, Lake Nokomis. I’m about a mile away from Gigi as the crow flies. But she’s never seen where I live before. I pull up into the driveway and hit the garage door opener.
“Why did you want to stop here?” she asks. I can feel her curiosity winning out over her need to not talk to me.
“Wanted to get my bike instead of the pickup.”
“But what about my stuff?”
“After.”
“After what?”
“Come on, Let’s for on a ride.”
“No.” She flops back against the seat and crosses her arms defiantly. I suppress a chuckle. Of course she’s gonna be difficult about this.
I climb out of the cab and go around to her side to open her door. “Look, Cupcake. I know you’re pissed off at me, and at the world in general. But it’s a beautiful fucking day, and you’re stuck with me as your bodyguard. We either take advantage of the fact that it’s a perfect day for a ride, or I drive you back to the clubhouse and you just sit inside with nothing to do but stare at your four walls. Is that what you really want?”
The girl’s warring emotions are written all over her features. She wants to refuse, just to be a bitch. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s cut off her nose to spite her own damn face.
In the end, she lets out a dramatic huff and hops down off of her seat and onto the cement.
I feel like gloating, but I keep it to myself.
Minutes later, we’re cruising southeast headed out of town. It’s a perfect day for a ride, and I take her toward Hastings, cruising along Highway 55 along the Mississippi River. Gigi’s no stranger to being on the back of a bike. She settles in behind me, arms around my waist and thighs wrapped around mine. It gets me hot as fuck, to be honest, but that’s not what this shit is about right now. After a while, I can feel her body relax into the rhythm of the tires on the road. This is the best way I know to wash away the cares of the day, and I’m glad as hell it seems to be working on her. I don’t stop when we get near Hastings, just keep driving on to Prescott across the river in Wisconsin. From time to time, Gigi lets out a long sigh that I feel rather than hear. She melts into me, pressing her chest against my back.
As she relaxes, though, I get more and more worked up. It’s not exactly easy to keep my cool with her pressing her gorgeous fucking tits against my back. It’s been hard enough being around her pretty much twenty-four-seven lately. I’ve managed to mostly keep my shit together around her, even though I’m so fucking attracted to my best friend’s sister I can barely see anything else but her. Having her body being so near to me for this long is something I really should have fucking thought about before I suggested this ride.
And the longer she’s back there, the more I start to hope that she’s feelin’ it, too.
Eventually, it’s time to turn the bike back toward the Cities and head us back toward my place. On the way, I find myself slowing my speed, not wanting the ride to end. But like all good things, it does, and before I know it, I’m pulling the bike into my garage. I cut the engine and wait for Gigi to get off the bike. But before she does, she leans forward.
“Thanks,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier.”
“Baby, you couldn’t be a bitch if you tried.”
Gigi huffs out a laugh. “That’s not what you’ve been telling me for the last decade.”
She slips off the bike before I can say any more. I climb off myself after her. “I’m pretty parched,” I say casually. “Let’s go inside and grab something to drink before I take you back.”
It is true I’m thirsty. But more than anything, I just want a little more time with her now that she’s calmed down. Just the two of us, with no one else around.
Gigi runs to use my bathroom. I grab both of us a beer. We drink them right there in the kitchen, with me leaning up against the counter and her sitting beside me on the countertop. Like this, our heads are almost at the same height. Gigi’s looking wind-blown and relaxed. Gone is the tense chick of a few hours ago. Her smile lights up her face.
“I haven’t been on a bike in so long,” she enthuses. “Maybe I should think about getting one myself. God, that ride was like therapy.”
I look at her over my bottle. “You can always ride on the back of mine.”
Gigi’s face flushes a pretty shade of pink. “Don’t you think people would get the wrong idea if I started making a habit of that?”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be the wrong idea.”
Shit, Mack. You gotta get a muzzle on yourself.
But the thing is, I don’t want to.
Gigi purses her lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sweet-talking me.”
“How do you know better?” I ask with a challenge in my voice.
“Uh, you should know better,” she says, nudging me with her elbow. Her touch sends a jolt of current straight to my dick.
“All I know is, you felt damn good snuggled up behind me on that ride,” I say.
She looks up into my eyes. “Shit,” she murmurs.
“What?”
“You are sweet-talking me.” Gigi takes a swig of her beer, then sets the bottle down.
“Is it working?” I ask.
“Yeah. That’s why I said shit .”
I turn to face her, putting one hand on each of her knees and parting her thighs. I step into the gap between them. My cock is instantly hard as a goddamn baseball bat, being this close to her. My right hand slides upward on her thigh. I drag my thumb along the seam of her jeans that covers her core. Gigi lets out a gasp, her lips parting in surprise. God, they’re inches away. Luscious and ready for me.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“What I think we both want,” I rasp. “But you have to stop me if I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” she whispers. “But I think I’m wrong for wanting this.”
“Tell me what you want, G. Need to hear you say it.”
“I want to know what this feels like.” Her eyes are hooded with desire, her pupils blown. “With you.”