I have already decided that Livi isn’t the kind of girl I can have hanging around. She is half crazy, indecisive, and now with all this making love shit talk, I’m not about to keep her around. To top it off, watching her in my clothes, in my place, telling me what to do is agitating.
I sit the plate with toast and a glass of water in front of her as I grab my own and take a bite. She’s looking at me while I’m looking at her, and I swear to God, I’m ready to tell her to step. I don’t want her damn money. I want her around longer.
“You work off your car debt Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday nights. Shouldn’t take long—”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that I need either Friday or Saturdays off.” She reaches behind her again and rubs her ass. What the hell is up with that shit? “I will keep Thursday nights, but I really would like to have time for my social life.”
“You mean, going to functions and getting fuck—”
She holds a hand up, stopping me. “It was a one night thing. A step to becoming.” She stops and shakes her head then pushes her toast back. “I’m not hungry, thank you. I will see you tonight.”
“Hold up, Livi.” I follow behind her as she runs down the stairs.
Once in the garage, she looks down at her hands.
“You forgot your keys.” I hand them to her then hit the garage door opener.
Keys in hand, she gets in her car, fires her up, rolls down the window, and then thanks me before backing out of the garage.
I think to myself, don’t thank me yet, Livi, I’ve got plans for you.
*.*.*.*
I walk into the bar and turn on the lights. The place is clean and doesn’t smell. I think back to only a couple weeks ago and what I walked in on. I hate that bastard. There’s no reason to look back, but today, I am in a mood. I guess we could say I’m finally hitting that fourth step in the grieving process. Depression. I’m not depressed; I hate that word. So, again I am ‘in a mood.’
How could a man do that to a woman? How could my father do that to a woman who gave him three children? Fucking cheating on ‘his girl” all these years and while she was in the hospital dying. Fucking piece of shit asshole.
Jagger walks in. “Hey what’s up?” he asks, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
“You been out all night?” I hand him a cup of coffee.
“Yep, I need to hit the gym and get some sleep,” he says before he takes a sip. “How’d our girl do last night? She was fucking tanked, man.”
“Yeah, not cool, Jagger. She’s young—”
“Old enough to go to the store, old enough to get bread, man.” He chuckles.
“She’s an employee,” I warn.
“Old enough to flirt, she’s old enough to squirt.”
“Bro, you’re to leave her the fuck alone.”
“Are you for real? Since when is ass off limits?”
I look at him, clamping my jaw shut, trying my damndest not to say a fucking word. But hell if I don’t want him to know she’s been had. He and Morrison may have shared a broad before, but the Caldwell rule is, if one of us has tapped in, the others don’t unless we tap out. I haven’t tapped out just yet. I need to, but I haven’t. Therefore, he sure as shit isn’t tagging in.
“Holy shit,” he gasps as my warning settles in on him. “You fucked Livi last night.”
“No, I certainly did not fuck Livi last night.”
“Oh, man, I know that look. You better fucking dish. Is she a virgin?”
I say nothing, merely look at him.
“Oh, man, she’s a virgin, and what, twenty-four, twenty-five? That’s fucked up. She needs to get laid. Unfair to her, man.”
“She’s not a virgin, and you better just leave it alone.”
“Fuck that. Since when do we leave shit like this alone?”
“I’m gonna say this once, and that’s it. Then, it’s dropped.”
“Do tell.” He leans in like a kid waiting on his mom to read the next chapter in a story book.
“You’re to blame. That fucking fundraiser is where we hooked up. We had masks on, so I had no fucking clue who she was, and she had no clue who I was.”
“Well, shit, I guess a fucking thank you is in order. How the hell did you figure that out?”
I don’t say shit.
“Did you rape her?” He snickers, knowing damn well I didn’t nor would I, but he wants to rile me.
“Are you out of your fucking—”
“Or”—he holds up his hand—“was consent fucking given?”
I shake my head and try not to smile.
“Holy shit, man, so that little panty tug-of-war was when the proverbial unmasking took place?”
“Not a word, Jagger. If she didn’t owe me for fixing up her car, she’d be done here.”
He laughs again. “Oh, really? Is that the mask you’re gonna hide behind?”
“I’m not hiding shit. True story.”
“So tag out.” He is challenging me, testing me, and I know it.
“This isn’t a game. I don’t do charity work. She gets square with me, and she can do whatever the hell she wants to do. Until then, back off.”
“Was she good?”
I look him in the eye. “I’m good, and that’s all that matters. Now go home and get some sleep. I need you back at the bar tonight.”
“Avoiding?” he jokes as he stands up to leave.
“No. I cook on Friday’s, asshole, and the crowds are getting bigger, so I need you to back her up.”
“Sure thing. Tomorrow night I have a fight, so she’ll have to be backed up against you,” he says over his shoulder as he strolls out the door like the kid who got a stocking full of candy for Christmas. I’m so glad one of us can find humor and happiness in all of this.
Livi, crazy ass Livi, does not need to be backed up against me again. No matter how much I’d like to revisit that pussy right now, I won’t.
*.*.*.*
I’m in the back when Livi walks in. “I came early.”
I glance up at the clock and nod as I rub the second prime rib down with the Caldwell rub. “It’ll be dead for an hour, so it wasn’t necessary to come early.” I flip the beef over and toss some more rub on it.
“Don’t worry; I’m not stepping on Sally’s shifts. I know she needs the money for her kids. I told her when I walked in I wasn’t here for that.”
“Well, what are you here for?”
“Well, I just…” As she stops and rubs her ass, I can’t help looking at her.
She is sexy as fuck, smells like heaven, and looks all put together, but the girl is fucking quirky as hell.
She looks up, and I look away. “I’m dedicated and determined to pay off my debt.”
“I didn’t doubt that, Olivia. I just don’t want awkward.”
“That makes two of us,” she says, blowing her hair out of her eyes. “Thank God your brothers don’t know. I mean, I was trying for a week to figure out if it was Jagger that I, umm, I—”
“You thought it was Jagger you fucked?”
She holds up her hand again, like a fucking traffic cop stopping me. For some reason, I let that shit go. “Sex. Had sex,” she retorts, and I shrug. “What, is there a problem with that, too?”
“Livi…” I put the roast in the pan and wipe my hands off on a bar towel. “You can say it anyway you want to.”
“But you prefer to say it in such a crude way,” she half-whispers, but I can tell she is trying to be assertive. I heard my mom use the same tone when she was talking to my old man.
“Not trying to be crude, Livi.” I put the roast in the oven then turn around. “No disrespect, all right? No judgment, either. You and I were both there. You and I both let go. The only difference between you and I is that I obviously have more experience.” I pause, trying to choose my words right, not something I am used to doing. I look up at her and lean casually against the counter. “I think fucking is better than having sex.”
Her eyes widen. “So you think…” She stops and starts chewing on a finger nail. Fuck if I don’t wish it was my lip she was chewing on.
“Go ahead; don’t hold back on me. If this little arrangement is gonna work out, we need to look it in the eye and own it.” I sure as fuck want to own that hot, little ass at least one more time before she is done working for me.
“Did you think I was…?” She covers her face and doesn’t continue.
“Okay, look, Livi, I enjoyed myself, you enjoyed yourself. It was fucking hot. We’re adults and, Livi?”
“Yes?”
I reach over and pull her hand away from her face. “Consent was fucking given.”
She looks mortified. I laugh, and then the cutest shit happens. She laughs, too. Thank fuck.
“So, we’ll be okay? You and I working together will be okay?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, if I’m reading you right, you don’t think I’m some, um…” A blush creeps over her face. “I’m not a whore.”
“Neither am I.” I give her a wink then turn to grab the third prime rib out of the fridge. “It’s gonna be dead around here for an hour; you don’t need to stick around. I think you got the answers you were looking for.”
“Yeah, thanks. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hang out. I brought a book, so I could just read.”
“You like this place that much?” I laugh.
“It’s warm.” She snorts, covers her mouth, blushes, then reaches in her bag and grabs a book.
“Your place not warm?”
She shrugs and doesn’t respond. She simply sits and reads.
I try to ignore the fact that she is in the room, but I find myself looking at her way too often. Although I notice the book reads Grief on the cover, I make it a point not to engage in a conversation about that topic. Fuck that.
I’m throwing together the mix as she yawns and stands up off the stool in the corner. “Need help?”
“No, I’m good.”
She pulls herself up on the stainless island to sit and watch me. “You don’t use a measuring cup or recipe?”
“Don’t need to. It’s all up here.” I tap my temple. “Family recipe.”
“Caldwell secret sauce.” The way she says my name fucks with my brain and makes my dick twitch. Now all I can think is Caldwell secret sauce and how much I want my sauce all over her crazy, pouty, little lips.
“It’s a rub.”
“So, you just use your hands? No gloves or anything?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I think to myself. “Yeah.”
“I’d like to help.”
I’d like to drag you in the fucking closet, you crazy-ass, sexy, little thing. I think that would help us both. I keep that to myself.
“Wash your hands and come on over here.”
She hops down as I stir up the spices, and then she stands beside me.
“Just grab a handful and rub it around like this.” I show her and she tries, making me laugh. “A little harder than that.” She does it again. “Give me your hand.” I take her hand, turn it over, and sprinkle the dry rub in it. I pull her closer and stand behind her. Then, I turn her hand over and show her how to properly rub beef.
She looks over her shoulder, holds up her other hand, and smiles. “Both hands like you did?”
I nod, and then she starts rubbing the beef with her other hand, as well, but she is not doing it hard enough again. So, taking both of her hands in mine, I help her rub down the beef.
The grit of the rub between our hands only adds to the sensation of my body pressed to hers, her hands in mine, and a table keeping her firmly in place. I am close enough to smell lavender and her clean, natural scent, and now I am half-mast.
I try to steady my heartbeat and close my eyes. When I open them, she’s staring at me from over her shoulder, her mouth slightly open. She leans against me a little as her head tips up more, and I can’t take it anymore. I lean in, ready to give her what she’s asking for.
Just as I am about to give in to both our desires, I freeze, hearing before seeing Jagger laughing his ass off from the kitchen doorway.
Fuck!
