6. A Good Night
Six
A Good Night
Amelia
“You’re back,” I say when I open the door to find Bullet standing there. “I thought it was Crush coming to let me know he’s done for now.” I’m rambling as I peek out behind him to see the van and his friends are gone.
“Crush and Risk did all they could for now. Are you going to let me in?” he teases. I feel all flustered, but Puss and Boots are all about showing Bullet love as they slither around his ankles, meowing to get his attention. He swoops down and picks them up.
“They’re usually very shy. They like you,” I tell him.
“What about you, Amelia? Do you like me?” His voice is deep and smooth, his blue eyes are mesmerizing, and I get a warm ache in my belly when he says my name.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He gently nudges me back so he can come in, closing the door behind him.
He reaches into his jacket and hands me a stack of money.
“Courtesy of Sal, a.k.a. Freddie. Owner’s name is Sal.
He bought the place from Freddie, and instead of getting new signs and shit, he kept everything as is. ”
“I—I don’t understand.” I shake my head in confusion. Bullet cradles my kitties in one arm and takes my hand in his, then leads me to my sofa, where we both take a seat. Puss crawls between us and settles, and Boots has decided she likes to sit on Bullet’s lap.
“He cheated you out of that money. The repairs he made were just enough to get the car working. He replaced some parts, but mainly with used parts that wouldn’t have a long life expectancy.
This is how he gets repeat business. He charged you for new parts, and the labor cost was way too high. I called him out on it.”
“And he just gave the money back?” I ask incredulously.
I’ve met Freddie, or the man I thought was Freddie, and he doesn’t seem like the kind who would be easily intimidated.
At the time, Sal’s shop was the closest mechanic, and I was in desperate need of having my car serviced. Like an idiot, I took a chance.
“Sal needed a little coaxing, but eventually he saw it my way.” He gives me a sly expression, which means there’s more to the story than what he’s telling me.
It’s the same look Robby Alner, a seven-year-old in Mrs. Milner’s class, has when he’s gotten into mischief.
He is the most adorable little boy, but I think that because he’s such a bright child, schoolwork doesn’t stimulate him.
When he becomes too rambunctious in class, he comes down to see me in the principal’s office.
He has the same expression as Bullet has right now.
It’s cute, that is, if you could call the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met cute.
I don’t reprimand Robby. In fact, we play chess, and once he’s relaxed, Robby tells me what’s going on in his head.
With two other siblings, he doesn’t get much attention at home, and he craves it.
Since we modified his work to give him more of a challenge and praised him for his efforts, his visits to my office have become less frequent.
I’m not sure if I want Bullet to come to visit less often.
I’m shy. Being a principal, I must talk to teachers, parents, and board members, but that doesn’t mean it comes easily. I’ve worked on becoming more social and interactive. But when it comes to men and dating, I’m very shy.
“I have a feeling there’s more to the story than you’re telling me.” I reach out and caress his cheek. “No marks or bruises.”
He covers my hand with his, and our eyes meet. “I’m going to kiss you, Amelia. I’ve wanted to since the moment I met you.”
My mouth goes dry, and I lick my lips. I want his kisses.
His eyes drop to my lips as he draws closer.
My eyes drift closed as his mouth meets mine.
At first, it’s a light touch of our lips, then his tongue teases my lips open, and it becomes more insistent and needy.
Suddenly, I’m off the couch and in his lap, while Boots is scooted aside to sit with her sister, Puss.
All I can do is hang on and enjoy the ride. My arms band around his neck as I press tighter to his chest. Bullet fists my hair, and the gentle tug feels good. He carries on kissing me for a good long while, then slowly moves his lips over my cheek, nips at my lobe, then my neck.
When he finally pulls back, he says, “We’ve got to slow this down.” His voice is raw and raspy.
“Why?” I answer breathlessly. I don’t want to stop! If anything, I want to stay like this forever.
“Babe, you’re the girl I want to get to know. I want to take my time with you. It would feel so good to bury myself deep inside you, but I want more. I think you do too. Am I wrong?” He slides my hair off my face, moving it behind my ear.
“No,” I whisper, still breathing raggedly.
He grins. “Right. Then let’s chill and watch a movie, and you can decide how to spend that newfound money,” he teases.
It’s so incredibly sweet that Bullet wants to take things slow, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve felt this way about someone. I feel all warm and gooey inside.
I’ve had two real relationships. One was in college, where Dave and I were both studying to be teachers.
We got on so well, and everything felt natural, until one day it didn’t.
Dave and I were both cramming for finals, but when our grades were posted, he saw that I had the top score in the class, and it didn’t sit well with him.
Dave’s score was in the top five, but instead of being proud of me, he concluded that the professor had been more lenient when marking my paper, implying that I didn’t earn the grade I received.
That shed a whole new light on the guy I thought I loved and loved me back.
Our relationship ended very quickly after that, and he hooked up with a new girl within a week.
It hurt like hell back then, but now, I’m glad I didn’t waste any more time on him.
Jesse came along several years after I started teaching.
He’d been at the school for several years, and we had a lot of the same interests.
We cared for each other, but I don’t think either one of us was in love.
When he took a job in another state, I was happy for him.
After a couple of months, I realized that our friendship was what I missed the most.
With Bullet, I feel a passion like never before.
I like how protective he is of his buddies, and I can see how close he is with Crush.
The idea of him wanting to right a wrong and go to see Sal on my behalf is humbling.
He’s a special man, and the more time I spend with him, the more I realize I could fall in love with this man, and I don’t even know his real name.
“What’s your name? I mean your real name?” I ask.
He shimmies me off his lap and turns to me.
“Aaron Foster. I was abandoned as a kid. There was a note in my pocket with my first name on it. My last name was a gift from the state. Since I was going into foster care, they thought it was appropriate. Sometimes I wondered who my birth parents were, but Helen, my foster mother, showed me what a real mom should be. Eventually, I stopped thinking about finding my biological parents.”
Aaron is a nice name. A strong name. He looks like an Aaron. Not that I know what an Aaron should look like, but it suits him.
“Aaron,” I say quietly. “If your biological parents did nothing else, they gave you a great name.”
“Yeah?” He raises his brow with a smile.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I’ll get snacks. We can order a pizza later if you want to stay for dinner.”
“I’m staying. And I’m paying,” he insists.
I giggle. “I got all this newfound money, remember?”
“I’m that guy, babe. When I’m with a woman, I take care of her.
If we go out, I take care of it.” He sounds very determined about this.
I’m not sure what to think. Partly, I love the old-fashioned thought of wanting to care for your woman.
The flip side is that I’ve been independent for so long, and I’ve always taken care of myself. I like my independence.
“You know this is the twenty-first century, right?”
He nods. “Yep. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to show you that you mean something to me.”
“How do I show you that you mean something to me?” I ask. “What if I want to surprise you with dinner one night, or something like that?”
“I’d love it. But honestly, having you beside me and just being here are priceless to me.
There aren’t a whole lot of people I give a shit about outside the club.
I learned the hard way that people aren’t always nice.
I’ve never had a woman in my life for long, and that’s always been intentional.
I’m sure I’ll fuck up along the way, but I’m hoping we can find our rhythm together,” Bullet tells me. “Do you think you can handle that?”
“I can handle it. But we’re going to have to negotiate on who pays for what. I’ve always taken care of myself,” I tell him truthfully.
He brushes his mouth over mine. “We’ll figure it out.”
Am I floating? My lids flutter open to find that I’m in Bullet’s arms and he’s taking me down the hall to my bedroom.
This is happening after we watched back-to-back action flicks and ate yummy pizza from Alfredo’s Pizzeria, which I had no idea existed, but I’m so glad I know about it now.
I must have fallen asleep during the movie.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Putting you to bed, baby. Got an extra key so I can lock up?” His voice is soft and low.
“In the drawer, in the kitchen,” I murmur. “Bullet, I had a really good night.”
“No, sweets. It was a great night.” He lays me down in bed, covers me with my blankets, then kisses me softly and leaves me to fall into a blissful sleep.