Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (17 page)

“What –?” I started to say as my body went solid but a hand came up and yanked the pad out of mine and tossed it on the bar.

I felt the pencil yanked out of my other hand when I twisted my neck to see Tate had hold of me. Tate with a beard, a
full
beard. It looked a little straggly but it also looked
hot
.

His eyes were aimed at Bubba. “Get Wendy to serve her drinks, Bub, Laurie’s on break,” he ordered then he had my hand and he was dragging me down the hall.

“Hey!” I snapped, trying to tug at my hand but he held true and kept dragging me. “Tate!” I cried but he kept going, right by the office, right by the storeroom to the dark, poorly lit, very back of the hall.

Then his hands were at my hips and he was pushing me against the wall.

“Tate,” I snapped but he was concentrating on studying my body, his eyes at my chest as his hands slid up my sides to stop with his thumbs right below my breasts, his fingers splayed at my sides.

“Jesus,” his eyes came to mine and then scanned my hair, “what’d you do to yourself, baby?”

“Tate,” I repeated but said no more because his head bent and he kissed me.

His lips and tongue worked wonders against my mind, as in clearing it of all thoughts of him being a cheater and not calling for a month and me being with Wood and filling it with only thoughts of kissing him back as hard as I could. The beard helped, I’d never been kissed by a man with a beard – it was scratchy but in a very sexy way.

When his lips broke from mine, they didn’t actually break, they just stopped kissing me but stayed where they were so our breath mixed.

“Sweet as I remembered,” he muttered against my lips.

“Tate,” I whispered.

His hand left my side and came to the side of my neck and his head lifted two inches.

“I couldn’t find him, babe,” he said as his thumb trailed my jaw.

“Sorry?”

“That fucker who killed Tonia. Been everywhere. Asshole left nothin’. He’s a ghost.”

“Oh no,” I breathed.

“Cops, Feds, everyone’s fuckin’ baffled. Includin’ me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Now I gotta tell her folks that I got nothin’,” he went on.

“Tate.”

“That’s gonna suck,” he finished.

I pulled in breath and in pulling it in, life as I’d come to know it re-established its place in my brain.

“Tate –” I began and his thumb slid across my lips.

“Sucks, but
fuck
Laurie, it’s good to be home,” he whispered, his thumb disappeared and his head started to come down.

“Tate!” I cried and pulled back against the wall.

His head went up.

“What?” he asked.

“Can you please step back?” I requested.

His eyes scanned my face in the dim light.

Then he answered, “No.”

“We need to talk,” I stated. During his kiss my hands had slid around his neck. Now they were pressing lightly against his shoulders.

“All right,” he replied.

“Later. I’m working. Tomorrow, we’ll, um… go to the um –”

He cut me off. “You’re right here,” his hand beside my breast slid around my back, “I’m right here,” his hand at my neck slid up into my hair, “talk.”

“I need you to step back,” I said to him.

“And I been gone a long time, Ace, I need you where you are.”

My head tilted to the side. “You mean you didn’t swing by Neeta’s any time this past month?”

It was more than a little scary feeling his body go rock solid against mine.

“What the fuck?” he asked in an even scarier voice.

“You might want to let me go,” I suggested.

“And I might not,” he shot back.

“I know about Neeta,” I told him, trying not to make it sound like an accusation but pretty certain it did.

“Yeah? What do you know?”

“I know enough that that’s the last kiss you’ll get from me.”

“Maybe you’ll explain,” he bit off, his voice even scarier.

“Okay, I’ll explain this.” I pressed on his shoulders but nothing came of it so I gave up. “My husband left me for my best friend and he’d been fucking her for five years.”

“I already knew that, Ace.”

“So let’s just say that I’m not fired up to get involved with a man who doesn’t care that he’s carrying on a long term affair with a married woman.”

He let me go then, faster than I’d ever seen anyone move. So fast I wasn’t ready for it and both my hands had to slam back in the wall to hold myself upright so I wouldn’t tumble over.

He’d taken a step back but other than that he didn’t move and he didn’t speak.

So I did. “I see I’ve made my point.”

“And I see we’re back at square fuckin’ one,” he returned.

“What?”

He leaned in, his face all I could see and I realized the aggressive way he did it that I’d vastly misjudged the situation
and
the atmosphere. I’d seen him very angry, scary angry.

Now, I realized he was enraged.

“Did you think,” he growled, “for one fuckin’ second, Ace, to maybe ask
me
about Neeta?”

But two could be enraged.

Because he showed me the promise of something special that night on his bike and through his kiss.

Then he walked away and didn’t even
fucking
call!

“Wood explained things pretty clearly,” I replied acidly.

“Wood,” he whispered.

“Wood,” I repeated.

“He fuck you yet?” Tate asked coarsely and I tried to step back forgetting I was already against the wall.

“That’s none of your business!” I snapped.

“He hasn’t fucked you but he will,” he stated. “Too bad for you there’s no one helpful around like Wood to tell you a few things about
Wood
.”

“Yes? Like what things?”

“Too bad, babe, with this scene, you lost out. You’ll have to find out on your own.” And with that he turned on his boot, walked away and I watched him, realizing I was breathing heavily until I stopped breathing because he stopped and turned back to me. “So all that’s for Wood?” he asked bizarrely.

“All what?” I asked back.

His hand did an annoyed flick that encompassed the whole of me.

“No,” I snapped.

“You looked better before, Ace. Now you just look like all the rest.”

And with that highly successful parting line, he disappeared down the hall.

Chapter Eight

Martinis and Manicures

It was the day after Tate came home and the day after I drove to Wood’s after work, pulled off my clothes, pulled on one of his t-shirts, crawled into his bed waking him just enough for him to roll me into his arms before he fell back asleep (but I didn’t). 

In Wood’s arms, I didn’t toss and turn because I didn’t want to wake him but I couldn’t get that scene with Tate out of my mind.

Or his kiss.

Or him saying,
But
fuck
Laurie, it’s good to be home.

Or him saying,
You looked better before, Ace. Now you just look like all the rest.

Eventually I fell asleep and as usual Wood was gone by the time I got up.

I was lying out in the sun wearing my periwinkle blue tankini with a top that was made of netting that had royal blue embroidery at the hem and the top of the bodice. The shelf bra covered my breasts but the netting at my midriff hinted at the skin underneath. I had the royal blue sarong on the bottom of my lounge chair, a diet pop on the cool deck by my side next to my cell phone, sunglasses on my nose, sunscreen oil that made my body glisten and a trashy magazine in my hands.

I was also waiting for the last load of my laundry to dry. Ned and Betty had a laundry room at the top end of the building by their house, across from the room with all the vending machines in it. The washer and dryer cost a whack, much more than the Laundromat in town (I’d checked), but I paid it because it was convenient, just two doors away, so close, I could pretend it was just inside my garage instead of two hotel rooms away.

I was reading about celebrities going to jail and viewing pictures of them in orange jumpsuits when I heard the pipes of a Harley. It was summer. It was Carnal. Harley pipes were de rigueur so I ignored it totally.

That was, I ignored it totally until I heard the beat of motorcycle boots on the cool deck.

I looked around and up to see Tate heading my way. He was walking toward me but his head was turned to look into the parking lot so I twisted around to look over my shoulder.

Four Harley guys were outside looking like they were working on their bikes but two of them, one standing, one crouched, were looking in my direction.

My eyes moved back to Tate to find he was towering over me.

“Great show, Ace,” his rough voice growled. “Word gets out you live here, Ned and Betty’ll have a full house.”

Why had I ever even considered the option that this man, as beautiful as he was, was
not
a jerk?

“Can I help you?” I snapped.

“Yeah, baby,” he replied, his voice an insinuation and I knew that because his eyes were moving down my body. He had mirrored sunglasses on (and they looked good on him, which
sucked
) but I could tell his eyes were moving the length of me.

“Well?” I prompted irately, trying not to squirm under his stare. Tyler was a fantastic trainer but he wasn’t a miracle worker.

His shaded eyes came to mine.

“Krys needs you to train the two new girls. You’re on days for awhile.”

“And Krys couldn’t tell me this because…?”

“Because she’s at the bar on her own. We got some boys who rolled in and she’s busy ‘cause the minute Bubba saw me back, he took off. He was gone this mornin’.”

I stared at him. Then I thought about Krystal.

Then I whispered, “Darn.”

“So, you’re on days,” he finished and he looked like he was done and ready to leave.

“Tips during day shifts suck,” I muttered as my phone rang. I said this not to stop him, just to whine.

“You’ll survive,” he muttered back as I reached for my phone,
his
phone really as he’d paid for it, saw my sister’s name on the display and hit the button to take the call. This surprised me, she should be at work and she never called when she was at work.

“Carrie, honey, what’s up?” I asked.

“Laurie.” Her voice broke saying my name and my body darted up, my legs separating so both my feet were on the cool deck.

She didn’t say more.

“Carrie, talk to me, what?” I prompted urgently, too focused to note that Tate had stopped walking away and was moving back toward me. “Carrie!”

“It’s Daddy,” she whispered and then burst into tears.

I curled into a ball, it was automatic. My knees came up, my heels went in the lounge and my torso pressed to my thighs.

I did this because I loved my Dad and the tone of my sister’s voice made me lose my tenuous hold on my new biker babe and regress straight to an eight year old Daddy’s Little Girl.

This was a bad trait I had. It must be said I was
not
good in a crisis. It was all Dad’s fault, he had three women in his house and he was the kind of male who was all about being the man of the house so he was. He was the one who took care of everything most of my life and made me into a Daddy’s Little Girl.

“What’s Dad?” I whispered but she didn’t respond. “Carrie, baby, what happened to Dad?”

Tate crouched down by my side but I was still focused on the phone.

“Heart…” she hiccoughed, “heart attack.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead into my knee. “Talk to me,” I croaked because my throat had closed. When she didn’t, I begged, “Please, honey, talk to me.”

“He’s… he’s alive, Laurie, but they… they’re worried.”

My body bucked with the sob and I barely felt my cell slide out of my hand. Though my hand knew it was freed because both my arms curled around my legs as I listened vaguely to Tate speaking while I wept.

“This is Tate Jackson, who’s this?” He paused. “I’m a friend of Laurie’s, you’re her sister?” Another pause. “All right, is there someone there with you?” Another pause. “Give him the phone.” Pause. “This Mack? Tate Jackson, friend of Laurie’s. What’s happened?”

I felt strong fingers wrap around my hand and then it firmly, but gently, guided me up and forced me out of the lounge and to my feet.

“Hang on a second,” Tate said into the phone. “Baby, put your wrap on and grab your stuff,” he ordered softly.

Automatically, I did as I was told. Once I had my stuff and slid my feet into my flip flops, he took my hand and guided me out of the pool area toward my room.

“Back,” he said into the phone. “I’ll get her sorted out and on a plane.” Another pause. “Yeah.” Another one. “Right, call back in an hour.”

We were at the door, he touched the phone and then slid my key out of my hand which I had held against my chest because most of my stuff was cradled in my arm.

“What’d Mack say?” I asked.

“Inside, baby,” he replied gently and opened the door.

I walked in and tossed everything but the can of pop on the bed. I put the pop on the nightstand and turned to Tate.

“What’d he say?”

“He’s in surgery,” Tate answered and I closed my eyes. “Babe, you need to get on a plane.” I opened my eyes.

“Right,” I whispered.

“Get in the shower,” he ordered.

“Okay,” I whispered, dutifully starting toward the bathroom.

Tate headed to the door but I stopped him when I called his name.

“Tate?”

He turned and looked at me.

“Did Mack say…” I swallowed. “How’s Mom?”

“Hangin’ in there,” he lied.

“Tate,” I whispered, wrapped my arms around my middle and Tate’s long legs had him in front of me in what seemed less than a second.

His hands settled on my neck right where it hit my shoulders. “She’s not good.”

I fell forward so the top of my head was against his chest.

“He’s the strong one,” I whispered to the floor.

His hands gave me a squeeze. “Laurie, get in the shower.”

My head tipped back and I looked at him, holding myself up with hands planted in his abs.