Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ivy
Why can’t my life be simple? All I wanted when I moved from the Dallas area was to have a simple life, enjoy spending time with my friends, and maybe find a guy who was worth dating and possibly end up marrying one day.
I don’t know. I mean, I’m twenty-seven years old and have hardly had a serious relationship.
I’ve had a total of three serious relationships altogether.
The first one being my boyfriend from eighth grade.
We dated until he moved with his parents right before our sophomore year.
My second boyfriend was in the middle of my junior year, through my senior year.
The guy ended up cheating on me with the captain of the cheerleading squad and knocking her up.
He did this all because I wouldn’t put out for him.
Good thing I didn’t since he was doing someone else.
Then there’s my college boyfriend. He was my first. Sex was okay, but not the best. Honestly, it was maybe mediocre.
He and I had dated throughout college. We broke it off our senior year, because we both knew we weren’t meant to be.
Since then, I’ve dated guys, but haven’t found anyone worth giving that much time and effort. I think the longest I’d dated the same guy was three months. I then decided I was okay being alone for the most part.
At least I thought this until meeting Reaper.
The two of us having a one-night stand, then five days ago him rocking my world all over again.
So much so I spent the rest of the day and into the next aching for more.
Only I didn’t get to get more of his amazingness, because right after he pulled out, kissed the daylights out of me, Reaper had left, which pissed me off more than he already did.
I’m still beyond pissed with Reaper. Enough so, I might rip his head off if he shows his face.
Not only for the way he’d left me aching for more of him but for what he said about my father and myself.
I should hate myself for having sex with him.
I really should. Only I can’t. Reaper is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, and even if he’s rough around the edges, he has a way about him that makes me think there’s a softer side to him.
How can I figure this out with the small amount of time we’ve been around each other?
I’m a cop’s daughter. I know things. My dad made sure I learned to know what to look for in people’s eyes.
Since he left, I keep asking myself the same question over and over again, what’s wrong with me?
I’m constantly feeling insecure about my competence in my skills.
Well, not just my skills, only the fact Reaper has all but fucked and dumped me twice.
I get one-night stands are supposed to be like that, but damnit, I want more.
I want to be able to prove to myself that I’m not incompetent in the bedroom.
Damn the man and his wicked massive cock that makes me yearn and crave him like no other.
I can’t get Reaper out of my head. No matter how much of an ass he is. But he’s walked away from me twice, and the only time he’s spoken to me is to talk down to me. Normally I would knee a guy for daring to speak to me the way Reaper had.
The next time he shows his face, I might just have to do so.
Staring at the screen of my computer, I finish putting in a major order the guys need ASAP for one of the builds being worked on in the garage. My mind is all over the place, but when it comes to my work, I’ve made sure to get everything done and put my wallowing aside.
Ghost was thrilled to know Reaper hadn’t scared me away Friday. In fact, the guys had made a pool about whether or not I would show on Monday. Ghost won the bet and split the thousand bucks with me. I couldn’t believe each one of them had bet a hundred bucks on me.
I put the money in my desk, deciding to use it to buy pizza on Friday for everyone.
My cellphone rings. I pick it up to see who’s calling.
I groan at the sight of my uncle’s number.
I wish I could just block his number. If I do that, and he’ll just call me from another number.
I even changed my number once. All that did was give me two days of peace.
He was back at it, constantly calling me.
It’s a pain in the ass and worrisome. His pettiness is only growing as he continues to call and text.
The text messages are new. He’d started them this past week.
Some of them are far more graphic than I want to read.
His threats of me not giving him what he wants will end in me getting hurt in ways he made sure to describe in his messages.
Hitting the ignore button, I go back to work.
Getting up from my seat, I smooth down the denim skirt I’d decided to wear today with one of my Jeep topless shirts.
The guys have gotten a kick out of my shirt and how it says Jeep girls prefer to go topless.
I grab the clipboard with the inventory sheet attached to it.
I need to work on getting that completed so by the end of the month, we know what all needs to be ordered.
I round the side of my desk when a woman clad in a leather mini skirt barely covering her twat and top that’s more of a bandana wrapped around her tits than anything else.
This woman is leaving nothing to the imagination.
If I weren’t at work and needing to be polite, I would definitely be calling this woman exactly what she is and telling her where the corner is.
“Can I help you?” I ask, placing the clipboard back on my desk.
“Yeah, you can help by leaving and staying away from my man,” the woman sneers.
“Excuse me, I don’t know who you are or who your man is,” I say, informing her of this.
“I’m Claws, and you know who my man is since you’ve been fuckin’ him,” Claws snaps. What the hell kind of name is that? I mean, seriously, what is she known for catfights or something?
“I . . .”
“He’s not just my man, but the others as well.
We don’t need some strange piece coming in and stepping in on what’s ours.
All the other bitches around here know the rules and know not to fuck what’s ours.
We especially won’t be sharing any of them, especially Reaper with some plain Jane, hippie, tree hugger,” she announces, interrupting me before I could set her straight.
Now I’m pissed. I’m not a hippie, tree hugger, or a plain Jane. The fact this bitch wants to talk down at me only angers me more.
I open my mouth to say something when I notice we’re not alone. Reaper’s standing in the doorway, looking beyond pissed. His eyes go from me to Claws as he stalks into the room and grabs her by the neck. She hadn’t even seen him come in; her attention still locked on me.
Claws cries out in surprise when Reaper snatches, not so gently, onto her neck. “You wanna repeat that for me to hear?” he snarls.
“Reaper,” she gasps his name.
“I don’t wanna hear it. You need to be showing some fuckin’ respect.
Ivy’s my ol’ lady, and I’m not about to have you speak to her that way.
Now get back to the clubhouse before I call Scythe or Styxx and tell them to punish you for what you decided to do here,” Reaper snaps, turning to shove her through the door and closing it behind him.
Reaper turns his attention to me, and oh boy, I think I’m in a different kind of trouble. A part of me wants to scream at him. Another part wants to jump his bones. But the sensible part of me wins, and I cross my arms over my chest while whispering, “Ol’ lady?”
What the hell did he mean by this?
I barely know this guy, but he keeps my mind consumed with thoughts of him.