I head up my walkway and into my house, when the roar of a motorcycle fills my ears. I go inside, close the door, take the stuff out of my pockets and bra, and set all of it on my entryway table. “Open the door, July. I know you’re in there.” Wes yells from outside but I ignore him and walk back to my bedroom, take off the kimono jacket and my heels, and walk back out to the living room, opening the door when he begins to pound so hard the pictures on my walls shake.
“Can I help you?” I raise a brow and his eyes narrow.
“You wanna be a smartass after walking out on dinner?”
“Oh, honey, you’re confused.” I put on my biggest smile, open my screen door, and step out onto my front porch, shutting the door behind me. “You say I walked out on you, right?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You did,” he growls.
“Interesting,” I mutter, leaning back on the heels of my feet, looking him over. “I sat across from you for fifteen minutes, got up from a table I was sitting at with you, and you didn’t notice. I stood across the room from you for five minutes before I said ‘Screw it’, and left. I don’t know what type of women you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. Good luck in life, Wes,” I tell him, opening my door, stepping inside, and then closing and locking the door behind me.
I plop down on my couch for a minute and put my face in my hands. This was not how I expected my evening to turn out. After a few minutes, I stand and head for the kitchen, scooping up Juice on the way, letting his soft purrs sooth my wounded ego. Then I go to Taser and check on him before placing Juice on the counter, and pull down one of my large mixing bowls from one cupboard and a box of Fruity Pebbles out of another. I fill the bowl half-full and go to the fridge to get milk, and pour some on top of the cereal. I grab a spoon from my cute holder on my counter and take the bowl with me, heading towards my bedroom, when there is another knock on my door.
“What?” I ask, wrapping my arm around the bowl of cereal as I open the door.
“You’re not eating that. I ordered pizza,” Wes says as soon as he spots my Fruity Pebbles.
“Are you drunk?” I ask him as he pushes past me into my house, taking the bowl out of my hand.
“No, and don’t do that shit again, unless you want a red ass,” he says, and I ignore his comment and follow behind him. “Sean had some information I needed, so I didn’t even think; I just went into work mode.” He walks into my kitchen, sets my bowl of cereal in the sink, and turns the water on.
“You did not just do that,” I hiss, watching my favorite food in the whole world literally go down the drain.
“I ordered us pizza.”
“Did you hear the part where I said ‘have a nice life’?”
“I’m ignoring that, ’cause I know you’re pissed, but I also know you’ll get over it.”
“Get over it?” I breathe out, watching as he takes off his cut and places it over the back of one of my kitchen chairs.
“You’re right. You’re not like any woman I’ve been with before.” He runs a hand over his jaw, and I notice he didn’t say ‘dated’.
“No shit.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest, and his lips twitch.
“I also know that’s the reason I’m pursuing you. I can get pussy anytime I want. But a woman I see myself having a future with,” he shakes his head, “never had that.”
“Uh…I just met you, and I hate to be the one to bust your little bubble, but you’re not someone I see myself having a future with. I can’t even see us having a second date.”
“We’ll see,” he mutters, walking over to Taser’s cage.
“No, we won’t see. You need to leave.” I pick up his cut and head towards the door, hoping he’ll follow but when I open the door, the pizza delivery guy is standing there with his hand in air, ready to knock. Crap. I step back as Wes comes to stand in front of me, talking to the delivery guy.
“Babe, take this into the kitchen while I pay for it,” he tells me, handing me the pizza box and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
I stand there for a moment, looking at him like he’s insane, but then stupidly walk the pizza back to my kitchen, setting it down on my counter. Then I put his cut on the back of my chair again and stand there in the kitchen with my arms crossed over my chest as I wait for him.
“You gonna get plates?” he asks, walking around the corner.
“No.”
“Are you always this difficult?”
“I would like to remind you that I went out to dinner with you, but you ignored me,” I say haughtily.
“Told you it was business.”
“And I told you I don’t care.”
“I know you believe in second chances. Most people, especially a vet, would take one look at Capone and Max and put them to sleep, but you didn’t do that.”
That was a low blow. I look at him, and my gut is telling me to do it, to give him a second chance, but my brain is screaming at me, telling me that if I do it, then it will be the end of life as I know it.
“We can be friends,” I compromise, and he grins.
“Sure, baby. Friends,” he mutters then steps closer to me, and I cover my mouth again when I see his eyes drop to my lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t kiss you until you’re begging me to,” he says, and I scoff, take a step back, reach up with my free hand, and open the cupboard that holds my plates. I pull two down and shove them at him, and then remove my hand from my mouth when I open the fridge to grab two beers.
He opens the box of pizza, and the smell filters to my nose, causing my stomach to growl. “Ewww, you got Hawaiian and supreme.” I scrunch up my nose. His eyes come to me and he blinks as I press my lips together to keep from smiling.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, shaking his head and smiling as he slides a slice of each on a plate and hands it to me, then does the same for himself. I walk back to the living room, and he comes with me, setting his plate and beer on the coffee table and looking around. “Where’s your TV?” he asks, confused.
“In my bedroom,” I tell him, taking a bite of pizza.
“You only have one TV?” He frowns, and I frown back.
“Yes, why? How many TVs do you have?”
“A couple.” He shrugs.
“When I’m home, I usually hang out in my room,” I tell him, watching as he takes a bite of pizza. How can eating be sexy? I think, and then realize I forgot napkins, and I will definitely need them. I set down my plate, get up, and go to the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels off the roll before coming back and handing one to him.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking a drink of beer.
“So what do you do?” I ask, sitting back on the couch and pulling my feet up under me.
“Me and a few of my brothers have a parts store and bike shop.” He says then wipes his mouth.
“Brothers, like brothers, or brothers, like ‘This is my brother’?” I ask, doing a fist bump in the air.
“It’s all the same.” He smiles. “We were all in the military together, and when we got out a couple years ago, we decided to settle down and start a business together.”
“That’s cool,” I murmur, taking a drink of my beer then pulling the crust off my pizza before finishing it off.
“What about you? How long have you been a vet?”
“A couple years.”
“How old are you?” he questions, and I feel my skin heat as his eyes roam over me.
“Twenty-six.” I shrug then continue when he looks at me doubtfully. “I graduated high school at seventeen then started college right away. I knew I wanted to be a veterinarian since I was a little girl, so I worked extra hard until I got my wish.”
“Why?” he asks, and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
“We had a dog growing up, and his name was Beast. He was a black and white Great Dane, but to me, he was my best friend. When he got older and became sick, I knew one day I wanted to be able to help other people who loved thei
r animals as much as I loved Beast,” I whisper, taking another sip of beer, hoping it will help wash away the pain of talking about my best friend.
“Is that why you don’t have a dog now?” he asks, reading me, and I nod.
“I don’t want to replace him.”
“I get that,” he says gently, setting his empty plate and beer on the table.
“How old are you?” I ask, setting my own plate down but keeping my beer in hand.
“Twenty-nine. So how long have you been riding?”
“Since I was fifteen. My mom is actually the one who taught me to ride. My dad hates it, but knows he can’t stop me. It was one of my mom’s hobbies, and something that only she and I share, so it makes it that much more special.”
“You have brothers and sisters?” he asks.
“I have four sisters, all younger, all in college.” I smile. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child, raised by a single mother.”
“How did you end up in Tennessee?”
“My mom lives in Nashville, and when I came out to visit her, I drove through this town and liked the feel of it, so I talked to my boys and we packed up, got on our bikes, and drove out here from California.”
“That must have been scary, huh?”
“None of us had anything to lose,” he says, and I try to think of something else to say then look around my living room, wondering why the hell I didn’t just buy another TV.
“Do you want to go to bed with me?” I ask then cover my mouth and feel my eyes grow large.
“Sure.” He smiles, and I cover my face.
“I mean do you want to watch TV with me?” I say peeking out from behind my hands.
“I know what you meant.” He chuckles, and I feel his hand on my knee. I remove my hands from my face and look at him, shaking my head.
“Let me just clean this stuff up,” I mutter, standing and grabbing my plate.
“I’ll help,” he says, picking up his plate and taking mine from me, so I pick up his beer bottle and follow him into the kitchen, watching the way his ass moves as he walks. “Are you checking out my ass?”
“Definitely.” I smile, walking past him to the garbage can.
“Pain in the ass,” he mutters, but I hear the smile in his voice. “You kept the bird,” he says, standing in front of Taser’s cage.
“Yeah, he probably won’t be able to fly again. His wing didn’t heal like it was supposed to.” I smile when Taser tweets at Wes as he sticks his finger into the cage. “Do you want another beer?”
“Sure.” He nods, and I open one for him and another for myself then lead him back into my bedroom. I set my beer on my nightstand before climbing up on my bed. I watch as he walks around to the other side, his presence making my room feel small. My insides start to twist thinking about how my ex-boyfriend was allergic to cats, so we always spent time at his house, and the only guys who have been in my room since I moved here are my cousins.
I try to see what he sees as he takes in my room. I painted the walls a light blue that matches an antique chair I set in the corner of the room. My dressers and night stands are all antiques, as well as being all different in design, the old cream paint chipping and peeling, giving them character. My bedding is ruffled white duvet that covers the large down comforter I have inside it. You can tell it’s a girl’s room, but it isn’t covered in pink flowers.
I watch as he slips off his boots then slides onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard and crossing his ankles. I let out a breath and flipped on the TV, and Juice decides to come out of hiding, jumping up on the bed and climbing into my lap.
“Do you like cats?” I ask Wes while running my fingers through Juice’s soft fur.
His eyes come to me, and I see something flash within their green depths before he replies, “I love pussy.”
I start to giggle and bury my face in Juice’s fur. I hear Wes chuckle, and I shake my head and hand him the remote, not knowing what he likes to watch. “You can pick whatever,” I tell him, curling up on my side with Juice curled into my belly.
He flips through the channels for a few minutes then stops on the movie Back to the Future. He leans back farther, putting his hand behind his head and resting the one holding the remote on his abs. The urge to scoot closer to him is almost painful, but I keep myself still, making sure to keep my breathing normal.
“So…can we at least cuddle?” he asks, and I tilt my head back to look at him then without thinking I move Juice and scoot over to him, and his eyes get wide. He shakes his head and holds his arm up, and I lay my head on his chest. Both my hands pillow under my cheek while I pull my knees up, tucking them against his side.
“That was easy,” he mumbles, wrapping his arm around me.
What can I say? I’m a girl; I like to cuddle. And no one in their right mind would turn him down if he asked them.
“Babe.” I hear Wes say but I’m so comfy that I don’t want to open my eyes or move.
“Hmm?” I mumble.
“I gotta head out.”
“Later,” I mutter.
“Babe.”
“What?” I whine, and he starts to laugh.
“You gotta come lock up.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need to lock up,” I grumble.
“Baby.” I open one eye and look at him. “Come on.” He pulls me out of bed and sets me on my feet.
“I’m up.” I yawn, stumbling out of the room and to the front door. I open it for him while he goes to the kitchen, gets his cut, and slips it on over his shirt then comes toward me and I cover my mouth, making him smile.
“I stole a kiss while you were sleeping.”
“Liar.” I say as he stops in front of me.
“I told you I won’t kiss you until you beg me to.” I pull my hand away from my mouth, and bite my lip when my eyes drop to his mouth.
“Thanks for the pizza, Wes,” I tell him as my gaze travels back up to his.
“I’ll call you, baby.”
“Sure.” I nod, and he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead that catches me off-guard.
“Lock the door,” he says over his shoulder, and I roll my eyes then open them wide when something I hadn’t even thought about clicks into place.
I have grown up around crazy-ass alpha men my whole life, men like my dad and uncles, and as I watch Wes walk to his bike, I know the kind of man he is.
“Babe, lock up,” he shouts, swinging onto his bike. I slam the door shut, lock both locks, go to the blinds, and peek out as he pulls away.
“What have I done?” I whisper as he drives out of sight.
Chapter 3
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask Jax as I open the front door.
“I need to use your shower.”
“Why?” I ask, seeing that he’s carrying a large bag in his hand.
“Water heater went out and I don’t have time to wait for the repair guy to come look at it before I have to be somewhere.”
“Oh, well you know where it is.” I swing my arm out for him to enter, and then I go to my kitchen and start a pot of coffee, set out food for Juice, and clean Taser’s cage. Once my coffee is done, I take my cup out to my back deck along with my Kindle and start to read.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hear roared through the glass of my sliding door, and I get up, quickly setting my stuff on the table, slide the door open then make my way to my living room, where Wes is standing in the doorway with Jax, standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jax asks Wes instead of answering, and I step into the mix, push my cousin back, and stand in front of Wes.
“You go finish showering,” I tell Jax, shoving him away.
“Are you shitting me?” Wes snarls, and I wait glaring at Jax until I see him go back into the bathroom before I face him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask then look down and see that he
’s juggling two cups of coffee and a bag, and my heart melts, because he brought me breakfast.
“What am I doing here? Are you fucking kidding me?” My head flies up and my eyes meet his. “I left you last night, and you already have Jax Mayson in your house, showering? Now you’re asking what I’m doing here?”
His words punch me in the gut as his eyes roam over me in my long shirt that hides the boxers I have on. He shakes his head and mutters, “Bitches,” as he walks off.
I stand there for a second as my stomach crawls up my throat, and watch as he opens the door to his truck. My mind is reeling from what he just said.
“You said his name’s Jax Mayson, right?” I shout, and he looks at me then shakes his head.
“Well, you fucking asshole, my name is July Mayson. He’s my cousin, and you’re a fucking scumbag,” I yell then slam the door shut and stomp down the hall to my bedroom, getting my scrubs on quickly, and then my shoes. I don’t even bother with makeup. I just tie my hair back into a ponytail, walk to the guest bath, and knock on the door, calling to Jax that I’m leaving and to lock up.
I grab my bag, stomp out to my garage, pull on my helmet, and shove my purse under the seat. I put on my helmet and press the remote for the garage. I get on my bike start it up then pull out of the garage, noticing that Wes is still sitting in my driveway. I close my garage, shove the remote in my pocket then flip him off while simultaneously trying to kill him with the lasers I can feel coming out of my eyes.
When I get to work, I look at my phone and see that Wes has called every few minutes since I left my house. I turn off the stupid thing and head to the building. The moment I get to the front door, I see a large black mass in front of the double doors and my heart instantly sinks, because I know exactly what it is. I have already had such a horrible day; this just makes it worse.
“Hey, guy,” I whisper, crouching down in front of the dog that is bleeding from his mouth and ears. His head barely lifts then drops to the ground again and his eyes close. I scoot closer and can see that his breaths are few and far between, and the blood coming from his nose tells me he’s not going to make it. I head around the back of the building, go through the back door, drop off my bag, and get a small stretcher. Carrying it out front, I carefully get him on it before taking him inside.