Chapter 13
“Hey. Sparky.” His voice was soft. Gentle. Coupled with the feel of his fingers in my hair, I was coaxed from slumber. I pried my eyes open and realized I was on my belly, stretched out across Twister’s couch, in hardly more than the shirt he wore when I showed up at his house the night before.
It was the third time I woke under his roof, which made it the third time I’d gone to sleep lying next to him.
I still wasn’t sure what that said about me.
About him. About us. I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea—but when I focused my gaze on him, squatting beside the couch and looking at me with a satisfied smirk pulling at his mustache—I couldn’t deny how much I liked waking up to his face.
This truth didn’t stop me from muttering, “Stop callin’ me that.”
He chuckled, and it irritated me how much I liked the sound first thing in the morning.
“I’ve gotta go, baby. Store opens soon.”
“Okay. I’m up,” I replied pathetically.
Truth be told, I had no idea what time the store opened or how early it was.
Neither could I recall when it was we found sleep.
In my drowsy state, all I could remember was the simple chicken dinner he made me before he fucked me in his kitchen again.
I came twice. Then, after a couple episodes of “Yellowstone,” it was my turn to take him for a ride.
I came twice more on the couch before we crashed.
“Don’t get up. You can go back to sleep. Stay as long as you want. Leave through the garage. Just didn’t want to go without sayin’ bye.”
Relieved for permission to sleep some more, I closed my eyes and murmured, “My late nights and your early mornin’s are gonna suck for you.”
My breath caught and my belly bottomed out when I felt his lips and the whiskers of his beard as he kissed me beside my ear. He didn’t pull away as he said, “Yup. But it sounds like someone’s catchin’ on to the fact that we’re a thing, which makes it worth it.”
His second kiss was accompanied by his touch as he reached beneath his tee and squeezed one of my panty-clad ass cheeks.
It took everything in me not to giggle.
Fucking giggle .
Shit.
“Bye, baby,” he said.
And then he was gone.
I replayed his goodbye in my head over and over, until it put me back to sleep—like a fairytale.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I knew it was nearly ten when I sat up, jonesing for a cup of coffee. Remembering Twister didn’t drink the stuff, I reached for my phone, feeling snarky, and sent him a quick text.
We’re not a “thing” until you get a coffee machine.
Rather than wait for his reply, I tossed my phone aside and ventured to the bathroom. After I handled my business, I realized I was in Twister’s house—all alone—with no place to rush off to.
Truth of the matter was, in spite of my text, I couldn’t reasonably deny he and I were a thing.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever. It wasn’t in his nature to settle down or claim an ol’ lady any more than it was something for which I was stupid enough to hope.
It was that knowledge which gave me the gumption to indulge the desire in the first place.
He would get bored or restless, as I imagined he always did, and we would end.
Before either of us could get hurt.
Before my secrets could break us apart.
In the meantime—he was too handsome, too persistent, too hard to resist.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
I still wasn’t sure what his monster looked like or what could wake it—but I was beginning to trust he had a handle on it, and I didn’t need to be afraid.
Regardless, I was smart enough to recognize an opportunity when I saw one. If there was anything he was keeping from me—anything to give me reason to second guess him—he’d unwittingly offered me the chance to find it.
I spent thirty minutes searching the house.
I opened drawers, cabinets, and closets.
The only thing I found even remotely interesting was a gun safe.
He kept the thing, which was taller than me, tucked into a corner of his walk-in closet.
I didn’t bother trying to open it. I had a feeling the only things inside were guns.
As I stood in the middle of his bedroom, looking around, I thought back to the night of our first date.
Rather than remembering the awful way it ended, I considered how it started.
Him sitting across from me at Humphrey’s.
He answered every one of my questions, as if he was an open book.
Then, I’d meant it as a challenge, but he rose to the occasion.
This morning, him leaving me by myself in his house, it was further proof of his openness; his honesty.
He wasn’t hiding from me.
I wanted to believe he was as real and upfront as he claimed.
After snooping around, I couldn’t see a reason not to.
Given I was in a house with no food or coffee, I didn’t stick around for much longer. I got dressed, left through the garage, and headed home to get on with my day. I had enough time to caffeinate, tend to my garden, scarf down a quick lunch, and shower before it was time for me to leave for work.
I breezed through my weekly inventory tasks, put in an order for the bar, and was already started on nightly prep when Rodeo arrived.
He bellied up to the bar, jerking his chin at me before he greeted, “Yo. Need anything?”
I offered him my most charming smile, batting my eyelashes playfully, and he burst out laughing.
“Bathrooms?” he asked knowingly.
“Mmhmm,” I hummed with a nod.
“On it.”
He disappeared into the back hallway without a single complaint, and my smile lingered. As I continued my task, I realized Rodeo’s willingness to do what needed to be done wasn’t the only reason behind my good mood.
I hadn’t heard from Twister since he left me on his couch, but he’d been on my mind more than I was willing to admit all day.
Strange as it was, whatever we were doing—whatever we were becoming—it was satisfying.
I meant that physically, of course. I hadn’t had sex on a regular basis in years.
It had been even longer since I had a partner who took ownership of my pleasure.
In part because I didn’t allow it. But with Twister it was like something new.
With Benson I was safe .
‘I’m your daddy now, baby.’
I felt heat crawl up my neck and into my cheeks as the memory surfaced, and I shook it away as I shifted my thoughts. Fact of the matter was, I was more than sated . I felt something close to happy .
It was different than the contentment I was so grateful to have found with my life in Gillette. It was bigger. Riskier. A part of me felt stupid for even entertaining the thought—but it was too bright, too warm a feeling to shove into a dark, hidden corner of my mind.
Twister was too big to stow anywhere.
If I thought about it too hard, it seemed ridiculous. Maybe even dangerous.
There was comfort and then there was complacence . I couldn’t afford to fall into the latter. I couldn’t afford to fall at all . But what I could do was enjoy the moment. For now, I could pretend my life was normal and I had every right to happiness—even if it was far from the truth.
It had been a good couple of days, and I was going to let myself have that.
Eventually, it would all come to an end. I would get what I deserved; but this felt like a miscalculation by the universe I didn’t have it in me to discard.
Mustang arrived as the bar opened. As per usual, he left Rodeo and I out front for a while so he could get some work done in the back office. We had a slow flow of patrons until around seven, when the band that night took to the stage.
It was when things began to pick up that I heard Rodeo mutter, “Oh, shit.”
I glanced over at him in confusion and noticed Mustang gave him the same look of curiosity.
Rodeo paid neither of us any mind, his focus aimed toward the front entrance.
I followed the direction of his gaze and saw Lyla headed toward the bar.
I still didn’t understand Rodeo’s reaction until I registered the look on the brunette’s face.
The look aimed unwaveringly at me.
“Me and you, we need to talk,” she all but demanded as she approached.
It didn’t take a genius to surmise what this was about—but there was no way in hell we were doing this.
“Unless you’re here for a drink, I’ve got nothin’ to say to you,” I replied.
“I know you’re fuckin’ him. I saw him carry you through the clubhouse the other day. And you think you’re hot shit, playing with his head, gettin’ him to be exclusive—but he’s mine . Everyone knows it.”
I felt my face get warm, but it wasn’t a result of my embarrassment.
Fuck embarrassment.
I was pissed off.
I had zero tolerance for this catty shit.
Especially while I was at work.
Pointing toward the door, I muttered, “If you don’t get the fuck out of my face?—”
“Hey—hey,” interjected Rodeo, gently pressing down my arm. “I got this.”
I freed a shaky breath, willing myself to remain calm as he put himself between us.
When he began to address Lyla, I glanced at Mustang and noticed him already staring at me.
He jerked his head, signaling me to the back, and I got the hint.
Stomping toward the swinging door, I barreled through it and began to pace up and down the length of the hallway.
Safe to say, my good mood was gone as if it never existed.
Happiness was always so impossibly fragile.
I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew about Twister and Lyla. Hell, I knew she wasn’t the only one. He was no angel—but neither was I. Where he put his dick was none of my business. I never asked him for exclusivity. I never asked him for any of this.
Now, I felt blindsided by this blatant reality check.
There was a reason I never met Twister at the clubhouse. Given no one had been dumb enough to ask me about what happened during the length of time I’d been closed in the VP’s room, I’d all but forgotten the place was never empty, which meant my presence the other day hadn’t gone unnoticed.