UnScripted Page 6

  “She likes you, you know.”

  I grunt, picking up a stone and watching it skip over the water after I throw it.

  “When I was at her place the other day, I saw her phone. She has you in her contacts as ‘Silver Fox’. Sorry, I might’ve mentioned it to a few guys, I was pissed that you took me off duty as her guard.”

  “You like her?”

  “Yes, but not like th-that,” he stutters, and I pin him with a hard gaze.

  “She’s too young for me. Besides, she’s my employee.”

  “So? Who gives a fuck? If you like her, go for it.”

  I turn to face Toad fully, cocking an eyebrow. “Since when do you give a fuck about my love life?”

  “I don’t. But I care about her. She’s cool as hell and you’d be a fool not to go for it,” he answers walking back to the fire. I bend down and pick up another stone, bringing my arm back, I let it fly.

  Plunk, plunk, plunk.

  It skips three times before falling to the bottom. Just like my heart did when he told me she thinks I’m fine.

  “I’d be a fool to go for it,” I shake my head.

  “Should we change your nickname from Meat to Silver Fox?”

  “Shut up Smith.” I reach out and grab his shoulder, shoving him towards the embankment. I caught him off-guard and he stumbles, catching himself just before his ass was about to plant in the freezing cold water.

  “Ass-wipe,” he mutters climbing up.

  I shrug, sip my beer, feeling my lips curl into a smile.

  “I don’t believe it. Half your wrinkles are from frowning all the time, not age. Damn, Meat, she might be good for you.”

  “Nah, she’s jailbait.”

  “What? She’s thirty.”

  “True. But she’s jailbait. It’s not her age that would get me thrown in the slammer… it’s what I’d do. How far I’d go to keep her safe if she were mine. If she were mine…,” I gulp, just thinking about it makes me burn. “… I’d skin a man alive for puttin’ one finger on her. I’d chop his nuts off for runnin’ his mouth. She makes me feel shit, I haven’t felt in years, if I ever did at all.”

  “Hell, first Duke and now you?” He shakes his head, “Christ. I hope I’m not next.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks past me, “We’re ridin’ in twenty. Get your shit together.”

  I grunt, take out my phone and find Devon in my contacts. Grinning like an idiot, I change her name to Jailbait.

  TWO DAYS.

  It’s been two days since Rog rode out with the men from Creed. I try not to think about him every friggin’ second. I’m worried as hell. Lord knows why when he’s prickly as a cactus and gruff as an ornery bear.

  But I sigh, remembering how it felt to have his arms around me. Sassy’s is closed until they come back, and I miss the place; the smells, the people, the sound of clinking glasses. In a short time, it’s become more than a job, it’s become a place I feel happy.

  My hands grasp the shovel, plunging it into the rich earth.

  “You could help you know. Instead of just standing there staring at my ass.” I wipe my brow with the back of my dirt stained glove. I’m almost done with the small square garden I plan to fill with as much as I can cram in.

  Federico doesn’t even move one muscle. How the man stands still like a damn statue all day is mystifying. He’s watched me break soil and dig up rocks until my back aches not even offering to get me a bottle of water.

  “What’s your story anyway?” I glance up leaning my hands on the top of the shovel. He’s standing with his arms crossed accentuating his thick biceps and Ray Bans cover his dark eyes making him look like a Secret Service agent. Well, one with tats.

  “You know you’d be pretty hot if you didn’t scowl constantly. Have you heard from any of them? Because I’m going nuts worrying about Toad.” And Roger.

  He grunts, pressing his lips into a thin line.

  “Shut up Federico. I can’t concentrate with all the talking you’re doing.”

  “Yes! Finally. Hallelujah!” I exclaim letting the shovel fall from my hands when he finally cracks a grin.

  “I don’t have some infectious disease. You could at least talk to me.”

  “No. You drive all the men loco. Especially jefe.”

  “Jefe?”

  “Lo siento, ‘boss man’ in Spanish.”

  “I don’t drive him crazy,” I snort, “he drives me insane. He’s always grunting at me, staring at me like I’m a worm shitting dirt out of my ass or he just plain ignores me.”

  “Damn girl, you’ve got it bad…”

  “No, I don’t,” I answer, bending down to pick up my water bottle. “No way would I ever fall for a guy like him. He’s too bossy and stubborn and—” I stop realizing what a fool I’m sounding like.

  “Fine. So, maybe I like him like this much,” I measure an inch with my fingers. “but you won’t say anything. Right Fed? I mean, you barely speak.”

  He shakes his head at me, “I think you need a break. Maybe you have sun-stroke or something.”

  I pick up my shovel and stride towards him, “Excellent suggestion. Here you go.” I lean the shovel against him and head up to the apartment calling out behind me, “Turkey sandwiches with chips good with you?”

  He doesn’t answer but I watch as he walks to my garden to finish where I left off.

  These men are all the same. They might look like they will crush you with their bare hands but inside they are all gooey and soft like cookies fresh out of the oven. The only thing they crush is women’s hearts.

  “Let’s call it a day.” It’s past five and the summer evenings here greet you with a chill as soon as the sun starts sinking low. I’m satisfied. We busted our asses for the rest of the day and Federico was able to lay down the cedar logs and posts around my bed. All that’s left is to attach the chicken coop wire and gate to keep the critters out and I can start planting.

  “You got jefe’s permission to do this right?”

  I freeze, my pause giving me away. “Shit. I didn’t think I needed it. It’s just a garden.”

  “Yeah, on his rental property.”

  “Whatever,” I shrug, “so tell him to sue me.”

  “Damn sugar, he’ll collect in other ways. I’m sure.”

  “Pfft, let him try.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say another word. Can’t say I’m surprised. The sound of a car coming down the road has us both tensing, his hand instinctively resting on his hip where his gun holster resides.

  “What the hell?” I murmur at the yellow cab barreling down the gravel drive. Federico strides towards it gesturing me to stay behind him.

  “Surprise!” Lucy yells, flinging the cab door open, climbing out.

  “Luce?!” I screech running towards her. We meet in the middle of the lawn giggling, shrieking and clutching each other’s hands as we jump up and down. Federico comes up behind me and picks her bags off the ground muttering something about women being, “bat-shit crazy.”

  “Come on, I need a drink,” I lead Luce up the stairs into my apartment.

  “Who’s that?” She whispers still clutching my hand.

  “Oh him? That’s Federico. He’s just my bodyguard slash gardener.”

  She arcs an eyebrow, “Girl, we’re going to need a bottle of wine for this story…”

  “I know,” I smirk.

  I showed Luce my small but homey apartment and then took a quick shower. I grinned remembering the stunned look on Federico’s face as Luce started firing questions at him. His eyes pleaded with me not to leave him alone with her. But I had just shrugged my shoulders in response and left.

  Padding across the floor in bare feet, with a towel wrapped around my head I look around.

  “Where’s Federico?”

  “I sent him for Chinese.”

  “What? The nearest Chinese food place is in Exton two towns over.”

  “Oops,” she shrugs tucking her feet up underne
ath her.

  “No way. There’s no way he would leave. Roger would kill him.”

  “Oh, yeah… he did get a call on his cell. He cursed before answering; something about jefe? Anyway, it seemed to be good news because all that man said was ‘hells yeah,’ and ‘that gringo bastard’s gonna burn,’” she finishes with air quotes.

  I shuffle over to my phone where it’s charging on the counter. Sure enough, there’s a text from Toad telling me they came to an understanding and Creed’s riding back home. My heart thumps in my chest.

  Rog is coming back and I need to be honest with myself—he’s doing dangerous things to me. Making me want more than we both should have. I crave his touch, dream about his kiss, but know once he finds out whose blood runs in my veins, he’d freeze me out. Hell, Creed might ride me out of town, literally. He’d kick me out of my apartment, pack my shit and shove a plane ticket in my hand—if I’m lucky. Depending on his mood, he’s more likely to plant the tip of his snakeskin boot on my butt and kick me into the patch of mud out front.

  “So, where’s all these, tatted, flannel wearing, bad-ass hotties you were bragging about?”

  “First off—it’s still summer. I never mentioned anything about flannel. But yeah, they’re riding back from Canada. My guess is they’ll be back in the next day or two.”

  “Good. We have time to do something about your hair.”

  My hand automatically goes to my towel covered head. “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

  “Fine. Your nails. Definitely your nails.”

  I bring my hands down from my head and hold them out. They’re jagged and beat after digging in the soil for days. But damn if I’ll let her have the last word.

  “Whatever. Fine. My nails can be fixed, but what are we going to do about the ten extra pounds you put on your ass?”

  “Bitch!” She yells jumping off the couch and grabbing me by the waist trying to rip both towel and hair from my head.

  We fall on the floor in a heap of giggles just like we did in our teen years when Federico busts in with his gun drawn.

  “Oh great. You’re just in time to save me from the wedgie Luce was about to give me.”

  He stops, in stunned disbelief at what he’s seeing: two grown ass women shrieking like teens and fighting on the floor.

  Holstering his gun, he mutters dropping the bag of delicious smelling food on my table and turns walking back out.

  “Wait you’re not going to join us?”

  He shakes his head, “Nah, I’m done babysittin’ your ass Dev. As nice as it is, I gotta bounce.”

  “O-kay,” I stammer feeling slightly disappointed that the big shadow that’s been behind me for the past few days is suddenly leaving. “Hey… wait!” I scramble to my feet as he’s about to shut the door. “I just wanted to say thank you, for helping me in the garden.”

  He grunts, nodding his head with one hand on the knob about to shut the door in my face. I stick a foot out, “I just need one tiny little favor…”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “Can you bring some wood up for the fireplace?”

  “You want to light a fire in the middle of August?”

  I bite my lip, “It gets cold at night and Luce is sleeping on the couch.”

  He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath in Spanish.

  I turn back to Luce who gets busy opening the cartons and getting out the chopsticks. Unwrapping, the towel from my head, I shake my damp hair out and reach into my cupboard for the bottle of Merlot I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Having my best friend fly in to surprise me from Chicago definitely is one.

  Pouring two wine glasses more than half way, I offer one to Luce and sit across from her at my table. She’s staring at Federico down in the yard, carrying an armful of wood.

  “Are the rest as fine as him?”

  “Yep.”

  She takes a long sip from her glass and sighs. “So, who else lives here anyway?”

  “Some guy lives above me. I’ve only seen him in passing since he works third-shift and sleeps all day. He’s nice enough. Widowed, I think. And supposedly the teacher who went to Cabo on spring break last year and never came back lives on the first floor. Toad told me she keeps paying rent and all her things are still there.”

  “Toad?”

  “Yeah, you’ll meet him soon. I really like him.”

  “What? I thought you had the hots for that Silver Fox, Roger.”

  My cheeks turn as red as my wine as Federico nudges the door open with the tip of his boot, eyebrows to the roof overhearing Luce.

  “Shut up,” I mouth, picking up a dumpling with my chopstick.

  We eat in silence as Federico arranges the logs on top of some smaller sticks, opens the flue and lights us a fire. A few twigs crackle as they catch, shooting sparks up the chimney.

  “You sure you can’t stay and eat with us?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you at Sassy’s tomorrow night.”

  “What?”

  “Your Silver Fox called when I was out back. They’ll be back by sundown and he wants his bar open.”

  “Oh my god,” I groan burying my face in my hands, “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “Not a chance,” he laughs shutting the door behind him.

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, you’re dead.”

  She gestures with her chopsticks, “I’ll pay for your manicure and blow out tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, you will,” I mutter chugging my Merlot.

  We finish quickly and take our wine to the couch by the fire.

  Luce chooses to sit cross-legged on the floor with her wine next to her. “I ran into Jeff at Whole Foods. He asked about you.”

  I grimace. Talking about my ex is the last thing I want to do.

  “He was floored when I told him you moved to Oregon. I almost texted you, because I swear the man started losing his shit.”

  “What? That’s crazy. He dumped me.”

  “Yeah… I guess knowing you weren’t within arm’s reach anymore really got under his skin.”

  “Well, I was within arm reach. Every damn day, for five years. And where did that get me? Dumped on Valentine’s Day, because he felt like being with me was ‘settling’.”

  “Douchebag,” she mutters.

  “Douchebag,” I agree.

  “So,” she leans back on her elbows, “Roger a.ka. Silver Fox—what’s his story?”

  “I don’t know. The man is a damn enigma. He barely speaks to me. He won’t even tell me how old he is.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  I shrug. “Do you think it’s weird I’m attracted to somebody at least twenty years older?”

  “No. Hell-o, Brad Pitt, George Clooney? They’re all over fifty and hot as fuck. Besides, I think love is love. If you believe gay people can love who they want: Why shouldn’t you? Age is just a number and all that.”

  “True. And they have nothing on Rog. Nothing. The man in finer than Charlie Hunam was in Sons.”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  “I swear. But the thing is, he was around when Dee was alive and living here. He knew her Luce. What if finding out the answers to my past jeopardizes what I want for my future?”

  “I don’t know Dev. But if he was meant to be your future, he won’t hold her sins against you. She wasn’t your mom anyway. Your mom is in Chicago wringing her damn hands and calling me every ten minutes.”

  “She knows you’re here?”

  She nods. “Since you’ve been gone, I’ve stopped by several times a week. She’s hurt Dev. More hurt that you haven’t contacted her than because you came here.”

  My face falls; I stare into my wine like it holds all the answers I’m looking for. “I just don’t know what to say…”

  “Bullshit. How about, ‘Hey Ma, I miss you. How you been?’.”

  I swallow my wine, feeling the guilt hit the back of my throat along with the heady alcohol and te
ll myself I’ll call her tomorrow, knowing I won’t. I’ll text instead.

  “Enough about me. Tell me about the guys you met at the shore this summer.”

  She twirls a few tendrils between her fingers and shrugs, staring at the fire. “There’s nothing to tell. It was a total bust. None of them were interested in anything but scoring weekend ass. I swear to god, Dev, it’s a lost cause. I’m more likely to own a herd of cats than get married at this point,” she grumbles standing up to refill her wine.

  “I don’t have the answer to that either,” I groan, staring at my ring finger remembering a time when I thought for sure that by now I’d be wearing Jeff’s ring. I thought by thirty, we’d be married with a baby on the way. But here I am, on the other side of the country, starting a new life and dreaming of a man with the devil’s smile.

  NOTHING MAKES SHIT CLEARER than sitting on an old log, sippin’ a beer and staring into the flames of a campfire.

  “What’s eatin’ at ya’?”

  I shrug, not meeting his gaze. How do you explain the ball of wadded up shit rumbling around inside of you—tangled up in knots of memories and emotions. Choking your heart, fuckin’ with your head, and squeezing all the air out of your lungs?

  “Take a walk with me.”

  Reluctantly, I stand and follow Smith out the back door of the Canada chapter of Creed’s clubhouse. Shit went better than expected but I still have my back up and eyes open.

  We both nod at the men drinking by the fire and keep walking to the edge of the woods where no one can hear us. He takes out a cigarette offering me one. I shake my head and watch in envy as he cups his hands around his mouth lighting it.

  “You haven’t been right in weeks.”

  “I know,” I sigh, hands fisted in the pockets of my jeans, I throw my head back looking up at the night sky. “I haven’t been right since Colin died. I miss that fucker so goddamn much. He really was a brother to me.”

  “I know,” he clasps my shoulder with one palm, “that shit’s gonna take time.”

  “His death’s fucked me up more than I thought. I mean… it felt like a sucker punch, I won’t lie. Sometimes I look up realizing I drove myself to his house; checking on him was such a routine for me. My truck idles in the driveway and I stare at the house that holds so many memories. But the fucked-up part? It was never my life—it was his.”