Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (10 page)

“Not until later, she had a big catering order of cupcakes and cookies to get out. Plus, I figured you’d only last an hour or so, and Mason said he’d take you home when you wanted. So, I told Brandy to hold off a couple hours. That’ll give me time to get a little toasted and visit with you, but Daniel is here now, and I bet he’d take you home so Mason could stay and work the bar, especially since he’s shorthanded tonight—not that I’m offering Daniel to take you home…or that you’d want him to…you know…since he must have a nice pack—. Shutting up now…really…” Jess trailed off to silence, shifting her eyes from Daniel to Mica, watching the reactions of each and grinning.

“I’d be pleased to take you home when you want to go, Mica.”

“I’m sure Daniel has lots of things to do. I’m fine Jess, really. No fuss, remember?”

They spoke at the same time, words overriding each other and leaving a confused silence in their wake. Picking up her glass, Mica took as deep a breath as she could without wincing, gulped at her drink, swallowed hard, and continued, “What brings you to Jackson’s tonight, Daniel? I’m glad to see you; I wanted to thank you again for helping me, but the police wouldn’t give me your number, and unfortunately, there seems to be a lot of people named either Daniel Rupert, or some variation in Chicago proper. Shoot, there were three exact matches in Schaumburg alone, so I couldn’t easily contact you.”

Daniel looked at her over the rim of his mug, seeing the pain lines in her face loosen slightly as the tequila hit her system. He was pleased she had wanted to talk to him, but was surprised that Mason hadn’t given her his number. “I live up in Glencoe, and if you would pass me your phone, I’d be happy to add my contact information,” he said smoothly, and accepted her phone as she passed it over.

Pressing buttons on the cell, he continued, “It’s a celebration, really. I play a little hockey, and we won a good, hard game tonight. I remembered Mason talking about Jackson’s being a good place to let off steam, so I thought we’d come here tonight to have fun. The group of troublemakers over at the bar with Mason is my team.”

He took his phone out as it buzzed, and added Mica as a contact in his phone too. Handing her phone back, he watched as she took another drink from her glass, her throat working as she swallowed. He shifted, realizing he was beginning to get hard from watching her, thinking about her mouth on him instead of the glass rim.
Good God, what is wrong with me?
He thought,
I haven’t been affected like this by anyone in years.

Closing her eyes, rolling and stretching her neck again, Mica missed seeing Daniel’s open-mouthed reaction to her moan of pleasure as muscles began to ease for the first time in days. Jess, however, was very aware of his interest, and smiled a little at his discomfort. Grinning, she watched him bring the heel of his hand down on his swelling cock, repositioning it in his jeans.

He tried to catch his breath, but his simple questions came out in a staccato fashion. “Um, how are you feeling, Mica? Stitches out yet? Where are your crutches? You aren’t walking on that ankle, are you?” He was hoping to regain his slipping control, but his cock had a mind of its own and focused his thoughts on Mica’s mouth again as she responded.

Picking up her glass and draining it, Mica smiled at him. “Stitches come out in a few days, but I can’t do crutches; my wrist won’t let me. So, I am a hobble-mamma for now, limping and gimping across the floor. Wow, that is good tequila, and it is jus’ what I needed tonight. Jess, darlin’, would you go get me s’more, please?”

With a jolt of alarm, Daniel realized there was no way he could stand up right now without showing both women his very evident arousal. Thinking fast, he frantically waved at Mason, circling his finger above the table once he got his attention in a universal, non-verbal request for another round of drinks.

“Mason’s getting it, Mica. No need for Jess to get up.” He felt Jess shaking with silent laughter beside him and frowned at her, not realizing she knew exactly what he was doing. “No, no—no need for Jess to get…
up
,” she stuttered, and then started howling with laughter. Realizing he’s been caught, Daniel closed his eyes at the innuendo, smiling sideways and shaking his head as Jess continued to laugh at his expense.

Jason trailed after Mason when he brought over the drinks, peering into the booth to see what had so captivated his friend. Seeing an open spot next to Mica, he sat his beer down, and was startled when three voices shouted, “NO!” at him as he was about to sit down next to her. The flinch forced him to spring back upright.

“What the hell, Daniel?” he asked.

“She’s hurt, Jason; don’t sit there, just…hang on a sec,” Daniel stood up. He quickly pulled Jess out of the booth behind him, and moved back in, scooting around closer to Mica. He nodded at Jess and Jason in approval as they sat down where he had been.

“Is this okay, Mica?” he asked quietly, pleased when she nodded her head back at him, reaching a hand out to rest on his leg.

“It’s jus’ fine, Daniel,” she said in an slight but unfamiliar drawl, and picked up her glass in her other hand.

Mason frowned down at her, grumbling sternly, “Slow down, babe, or I’ll cut you off now.” He kept his frowning gaze on her. “Are you sure you told Merry straight about the meds?”

She shook her head, scoffing, “Of course I did, Mason; I know betta than to mix medications and alcohol.”

“Well, then…did you eat tonight, babe?” he asked.

“You gonna make me a grilled cheese, Mr. Mason? Hmmm?” she responded with a grin, the first time she’d been able to refer back to those hard days following Emily’s death with anything other than sorrow.

Mason grinned; he was glad to see her finally moving forward, putting that pain behind her and using his friendship as her support to do so. “If you want a grilled cheese, I’ll move heaven and earth to get one for you,” he said, smoothing his hand over the top of her head.

Jason was quietly talking to Jess, leaning in and laughing at something she said. Daniel looked down at the soft hand resting on his thigh, and then out across the bar at his friends and teammates. They were mingling loudly, but in a friendly way with the regular patrons of the bar, and he nodded to Mason in approval. With a chin lift in response, Mason retreated to the bar, bellowing to Merry about drink orders.

Steve and Gary were watching the TV in the corner whooping it up, and gradually, the whole team focused in on the repeat of their game showing there. As the final goal was replayed on the screen, the players were shouting and pounding each other’s shoulders again, like in the locker room, filling the bar with the excitement of a good win on a worthy day. Rupert grinned; he knew he would be sore tomorrow from the hard hits into the boards, but he felt very good tonight.

Turning to Mica, he realized she’d been watching him with a smile on her face, one that grew once she recognized she had his attention again. “That was you makin’ those goals, wasn’t it?” she asked, her gaze moving slowly back and forth between his mouth and eyes. Her smile was making him even more aware of her lips, lush and full. Those lips were forming words he should be listening to, but the shape of her mouth was taking all of his attention right now, the wide plumpness, supple and perfect. “Daniel, was that you?” she asked again.

He realized he had been silent for far too long, caught up in a recurring fantasy of her mouth on him, sucking and rolling the head of his cock between those…lips…“Um, what? Oh…yes, that was me, for three of the goals, at least, but you have to remember—it’s never a single player making a goal; it’s a team effort, a joint effort.” Her hand slid across his thigh and back again, to the inside of his knee. It seemed unconscious on her part, but his breath caught in his throat.

“Um, Jason here…Jason, um…had assists on all four goals made tonight. And, uh…Gary fed me that last one; you haven’t met them yet. Um, Mica and Jess,” he pointed across the table, “this is Jason Spencer,” he pointed across the bar, “and Gary Millson and Steve Lebuvar are over there by the TV. These guys are my friends, and my teammates, but mostly my friends. Jason, this is Mica Scott; she owns MishMash Development, and she and Jess—there beside you—do web and application development.” He realized he was speaking too fast in an effort to cover up his inattention, and promptly closed his mouth.

Mica smiled at Jason and nodded her head slightly, then turned and waved at the two men across the bar. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

He responded in his deep voice, “Likewise, Mica, Jess.”

Daniel sighed; once again, he wouldn’t be able to stand up any time soon, and was glad Jess was occupied talking to Jason—although he saw a smile on Jason’s face he didn’t like, and was thinking he’d hear about this later for sure.

Pressing her head back gently into the cushioned leather behind her, Mica turned her neck to the side a little to shift off the stitches, but more importantly, in order to be able to look at Daniel’s face. He was as good looking as she remembered, for all the medication they had her on in the hospital that day. She wondered if he had thought of her since the hospital, and was embarrassed all over again about what she had said out loud in her room.

Mica then had a fleeting thought, wondering how he knew they were in this booth. Hadn’t he brought the first round of drinks they’d ordered from Merry? Had she told him about her business? It seemed he knew all about it, so maybe she had. That first day after the attack was so fuzzy she could have told him ‘Bob’s your uncle,’ and not remembered it.

Plus, these questions seemed too hard to contemplate, at least right now, especially since she was finally beginning to relax from the pull and pulse of constant pain. She knew if she took the meds, it would not be half as bad, but she had seen too many examples of excess in her own family to want to risk an addiction of any kind, so she’d decreed ‘no meds.’ She brought her good hand to her wrist, rubbing the sprained muscles gently.

Daniel felt bereft when she pulled her hand back from his thigh, but then realized she was trying to ease an obvious ache in her wrist. He’d seen how sore her neck seemed to be, and had a thought. His hand stretched across the distance between them, hesitating when he touched her left shoulder. He took a moment, making sure he remembered correctly that her right shoulder was the injured one before he laid a finger on her. Warily sliding his fingertips behind her neck, he rubbed lightly, covering more skin little-by-little. He felt the knots binding the muscles making them tense, tight, and sore slowly begin to loosen and ease.

Rewarded by her head drooping limply forward on her neck, he bit the side of his bottom lip and slid his hand a little farther over, massaging gently. “Does that help, Mica?” he asked.

“Oh, gawd, yes,” she said in response, her drawl thicker than before, “that feels so good, Daniel. Mmmm. Please don’t stop; it feels good.”

She looked up at him from under her lashes smiling, and then closed her eyes again, relaxing into his hand with complete confidence in him. He would never hurt her; she knew that for a fact—take it to the bank. At least, he would never
mean
to hurt her, which was just about the same thing where she came from.

“Mica, is that short for something?” he asked. “I didn’t ask before, but it seems diminutive, like a nickname. Is it?”

“Mmmm. Yes, Michaela is my given name, but my grandpa always called me Mica, so it kinda stuck with me. My twin brother’s name is Michael, so he got the boring end of the stick. He always said ‘better boring than ugly’, so there ya go. No one calls me Michaela up here, just down at home.” She realized she was rambling, but
oh, my…
this neck rub was making her unwind even more than the tequila had.

“So where is home, Mica? You aren’t from Chicago originally, then?” He already knew the answer, given her accent when she relaxed, but couldn’t tell where in the south she was from.

“Oh, no, sir, I’m not from Chicago. Great state of Texas, home of yeehaw, y’all, and yes, ma’am.” Mica knew she needed to stop drinking. She needed to put a stop to his hand on her neck, stop the whole lot and parcel, and get her butt back home, but everything was so nice at Jackson’s tonight.

She normally hated talking about where she had grown up, because of all the bad memories, but something tonight made everything feel safe and right. She also hated her accent, but couldn’t suppress it all the time, especially when she drank, like tonight.

“I grew up on a working ranch in northeast Texas, ‘bout halfway between Dallas and S’port. That’s Shreveport to non-Texans or Cajuns. My daddy still lives down there on the ranch; we’ve got family helping him out with everything.” She lifted her glass and drained it again. “Jest sent my brother back down to him, too. Hope Daddy can sort him out, ‘cause I sure as heck couldn’t.” Putting her glass back on the table, she sighed and rolled her neck muscles again, feeling them loosen even more. “Oh, Daniel, that feels so good,” she murmured.

Daniel watched this woman, who was slowly unraveling in front of him, and he knew unless he stopped her now, she would be unhappy tomorrow when she remembered the depth of her openness. It felt strangely like they were in a confessional, a private conversation with her hair hanging on either side of her face, blocking his view of her features as she spoke. Because he was touching her, he had felt Mica tense when she spoke of her father and brother. He knew there had to be some bad associations there, and he also understood she would not be pleased if he explored those areas, even innocently.