Tainted Love: A Lovestruck Novella, Book 1 (12 page)

“Wow,” he says with a chuckle.

“Silly, right? To think that something so ridiculous could work.”

“Well, maybe. But it did lead you to my garage…” he trails off.

“Where you did the work for free. No wonder you need a side job,” I tease with an elbow to his ribs.

“I didn’t do much, and you still need a paint job,” he replies.

“Anyway,” I say on an exhale. “Do you think it’s stupid to believe in a potion?”

“Not stupid, no. Whether it was fate or coincidence or a love potion, I’m just glad you found your way to my garage, because everything’s been looking up since I met you.”

“Except for your business,” I finish, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Lawson. I know how important it is for you to keep your grandfather’s garage. Maybe you should talk to your dad. He works at a bank, right? He might be able to help come up with a financial solution. And you should probably tell your employees, see what they can do about cutting back or helping out.”

“I hate admitting that it’s going under, you know?” he says with a kiss to the top of my head, holding me closer to him. “But trying to figure it out on my own isn’t working, so it can’t hurt.”

“Good,” I tell him. “So, um, tomorrow the love potion expires unless I convince Reagan or someone else to drink it.”

“Really?” he asks. “What happens if it expires?”

“Madam Tess, the psychic, said that if it doesn’t get passed on, the potion will run out and so will any love it created.”

“Huh,” he mutters. “So your friend Reagan is gonna drink it, right?”

“You actually believe in it?” I ask, pulling back to see his face.

“Well, better safe than sorry, right?”

“I guess so,” I agree.

“So, we’re good?” Lawson asks, hauling me on his lap so that I’m straddling his legs.

“Oh, we’re better than good,” I tell him, brushing my lips over his. “How about a repeat of last night? You know, before I left?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says, pulling me down with him when he falls backward on the bed. “But this time, I want you on top.”

Lawson

“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming in on a Saturday,” I tell Ryan, Blake and Carly, who are all standing around the front lobby of the garage while I sit with my feet propped up behind the counter. I’m still trying to figure out what to say to them.

“Oh, fuck. Something’s definitely wrong,” Blake pretend whispers to Ryan. “Boss is being nice.”

“Listen, you little shit,” I warn the young, tatted up asshole who is late every damn day. If he wasn’t the best mechanic I’ve ever had, I would’ve given him the boot a year ago. “Maybe I would be a little nicer if Ryan and I didn’t have to bust our asses
every
morning until you decide to grace us with your presence.”  Blake mimes zipping his lips when I get to my feet. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, I try to start spilling the beans. “So, you guys should know that, unless things turn around, you may not have jobs here much longer.”

“Son of a bitch!” Ryan immediately shouts as he starts to pace, his fingers laced behind his head. “No one else will hire me without a GED or some shit.”

“Look, I hope it doesn’t come to that,” I tell him. “But I thought you all should know since it’ll affect you, possibly sooner rather than later. So, if any of you know of ways to cut back or whatever, let me know.”

Nothing but crickets chirping.

“How about social media?” Carly eventually asks softly from where she’s sitting with her legs crossed in one of the plastic waiting room chairs.

“Sorry, little girl, but I don’t think taking selfies will help the boss very much,” Blake replies with a scoff. “Unless you want to get naked…” he adds, eyeing her lewdly up and down.

“Watch your fucking mouth, asshole,” Ryan says, getting in Blake’s face and giving him a shove backwards.

Shit. I knew this was gonna happen. Having a woman in a garage is like the old superstition of having a woman on a ship. No good can come of it because of sexual harassment, and, well, violence if Ryan thinks he has to defend his younger sister every second of the day.

“You two, enough. Blake, that’s the last sexist comment I want to hear out of your mouth in this garage or you’re fired. Ryan, go easy. You can’t punch every man who speaks to your sister.”

“Yeah, but I can punch
him
,” Ryan responds.

I point at the chair across the room next to Carly; and after a moment of hesitation, Ryan relaxes his tense body and strolls over to take a seat in it. 

“What about social media?” I ask Carly, because I don’t know shit about that sort of thing.

“I mean, does the business have a social presence? Can it be improved?”

Running my fingers through my hair, I consider it for a moment before I respond. “We have a page or whatever, but that’s about it. I don’t have time to fool with it.”

“If you want, I can set it up and manage it on all the popular sites, at least until I leave for school in August,” she offers.

“Good, yes, thank you,” I say. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help.

“What about custom shit?” Blake asks.

“Custom shit?” I repeat.

“Yeah, you know, like steering wheel and seat covers, rims, floor mats and shit. You could buy it wholesale and mark it up to sell it in here,” he says, nodding around the lobby that’s empty other than the plastic chairs, a counter and the register.

“We could try a few things, I guess. Advertise some specials on social media, and see how it goes.”

“Whatever you need, boss,” Ryan says. “But you’ve gotta stay in business.”

“Hopefully we will, but I just wanted you all to have a heads-up,” I tell them, more than ready to have this conversation over with. “Now you three get the hell out of here and enjoy your weekend.”

Josie

I knock on Reagan’s apartment door that faces the soccer field on Madison’s campus. After she walks across the stage in a few weeks with her graduate degree in journalism, I wonder if she’ll stay here or move. She hasn’t said, and I’ve been too afraid to ask. I don’t want her to move. Hell, I don’t want to move either. This afternoon when I get home, I’ll start looking for job prospects in the area. But first…I have to knock again before Reagan finally opens the door.

Her warm chocolate eyes are narrowed, lips pursed in a thin line. She doesn’t look very happy to see me.

“What do you want, slut?” she asks with her hand on the hip of her long, russet-colored bohemian dress. Her harsh words catch me off guard, until I remember our last conversation.

“I ditched Bryan,” I assure her. “And I slept with Lawson!”

“Oh, thank God,” she says, slapping a palm to her chest. “I thought you were gonna screw everything up. In that case, you may now come in.”

Stepping into her apartment that I’ve been in dozens of times, everything still looks the same, like a homeless person’s been camping out. The girl insists on buying nothing but organic, natural, fruit of the Earth shit. No consumer goods for her. As far as technology goes, she’s in the Flintstones era, owning only a landline phone. That’s it. I only just recently convinced her to upgrade her tin can with a string, and I think that was more for her mom to reach her in case of an emergency than for herself.

“So, how’s it going? Ready for exams? Drank the potion yet?” I ask before sitting in one of her bamboo Papasan chairs.

“Ah, it’s going good. There’s a week of class to go before exams, and what do you mean, have I drank the potion?” she asks, sitting on one of the oversized pillows on her floor since she doesn’t have a sofa.

“I mean, you’re gonna drink it, right?”

“Didn’t you say you don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo?” she asks, tossing her long, brown hair that hasn’t been cut in over a decade over her shoulder.

“Um, well, I didn’t, but now Lawson and I are together, and it’s…perfect, and he thinks it’s better to be safe than sorry, you know?”

“Huh,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, followed by silence.

“So, you gonna drink it?” I ask.

“Can’t,” she says. “I lost it.”

“You lost it!” I exclaim when I jump to my feet. “How did you lose it?”

“I dunno. It may have accidentally got put in the glass recycle bin last week.”

“No, no, no! This can’t be happening! Not after everything we’ve been through this week. We’ve got to find it!” I say in flurry of panic. “Or find Madam Tess. She probably has more, right?”

Yanking my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, I pull up the search engine and type in her name. “No results! Zero. How the fuck is that possible?” I ask Reagan.

“Already tried looking her up in the computer lab at school,” she answers, which surprises the shit out of me that she used the internet. She still turns in most of her assignments handwritten, unless it’s absolutely necessary for her to use the computer.

“What are we gonna do?” I ask, chewing on my fingernails. “I can’t lose him, Reagan! I can’t!” My eyes start to water, and I realize just how much faith I have in that stupid liquid.

“Aw, Josie. Don’t worry,” Reagan says when she stands up and strolls carelessly from the living room to the adjoining kitchen. When she comes back she holds out the familiar glass bottle with a purple liquid.

“Oh, thank fuck,” I say as I wrap my arms around her. “I should slap you for lying to me!”

“I just wanted you to admit that you believed in it.”

“Oh my God, yes. I believe, okay? Now will you drink it for fuck’s sake?” I ask.

“Fine. But you’re gonna owe me lunch when I toss my cookies,” she says, pointing a finger at me in warning.

“Yes, sure, whatever you want!” I assure her.

Reagan tugs the stopper out of the bottle with an echoing
pop
, and then she tips it up to her lips and chugs. While it’s going down, I run to the kitchen and grab the trash can to have it ready for her in case she can’t make it to the bathroom.

“Yum,” she says when I return, licking the drops from her lips, before putting the stopper back in place.

“Yum?” I ask. “Yum? Are you kidding? That shit tasted like the rotten eggs you hide at Easter and don’t find until the summer!”

“What? No,” she replies. “It tastes like pineapples.”

“You gonna barf or not?” I ask, holding out the trash bin in offering to her.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Stomach not doing flips?” I ask.

Reagan rubs her palm over her flat stomach in thought. “Nope, just hungry. Wanna grab some lunch?” she asks. “I could really go for a roasted corn fiesta bowl from that Hawaiian joint down the street.”

“Ah, sure, but can we make it quick? I think Lawson’s waiting on me at the garage,” I say, a flush warming my face when I remember his parting words before he left my apartment this morning. “
Meet me at the garage after you see your friend and don’t wear anything you don’t want me to tear off of you or stain.”

“Ugh,” Reagan grumbles as she grabs her hobo purse and keys. “You’re already one of
those couples,
ditching everyone and everything else to be together.”

“No, we’re not!” I reply indignantly. “It’s just really new and great and…don’t you have your soulmate to go find?”

“Yeah, you have a date with Mr. Perfect, and I have a date with destiny,” she says with an eye roll.

“Well, watch out, because that shit is liable to spank you in the ass when you least expect it,” I warn her with a little Freudian slip foreshadowing of how I expect my afternoon to go with Lawson. 

“Don’t worry,” Reagan says as we step out onto the sidewalk so she can lock up the apartment door. “I’m ready for anything.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that,” I respond with a laugh.

Lawson

Three months later…

“We’re closed,” I huff from underneath the car, not bothering to slide out. Yet. “And you’re not supposed to be back here.”

“But…but I…I need my car,” she says with a fake stammer, and I can’t help my smile.

“Did we call you? Didn’t think so, toots, because it’s not ready,” I tell her when I roll out, unable to resist seeing her even though it’s only been a few hours since I woke her up with her legs on my shoulders, and her first words were to beg me to fuck her harder.

Taking her in now, my first thought is,
It would be so fucking fun to dirty her up
.

My second thought as I stare up at this beautiful woman is,
I have a girlfriend, but hopefully not for much longer.

Josie’s tight, sky blue dress shows off every curve of her bangin’ body, and her mile-high heels make her lovely legs even more tempting. This was her first week working for her new boss, Clark Bell. After he took over all of her retired boss’s cases, he needed two assistants because he was already swamped with his own clients. Josie was so relieved that she gets to stay with the firm she loves; and I was, of course, ecstatic that she wouldn’t be leaving the city anytime soon.

It’s funny how things can change so drastically over just a few months. I went from stressing over my business and ignoring the bitch I was living with so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her, to everything working out just fine. All it took was a little help from my employees and implementing their ideas and my dad getting me a loan with a much better interest rate than five years ago for the building and land the garage sits on. I have to say that I was surprised by how much everyone wanted to help out. And then, of course, there’s Josie. The girl of my dreams, beautiful inside and out, with a killer personality and sense of humor.

Since we officially became a couple, I ended my lease and moved in with her, not to save money, but because I spent more time in her apartment than my own. When Josie told me she wanted me to make it official, even after the hellishness of living with my ex, I didn’t hesitate for a second before Josie and I became roomies. She’s my best friend. My parents and friends adore her, and I love her so much that it makes me crazy.

Maybe a love potion or fate or a higher power led her to me. All I know is that every day I’m thankful she unexpectedly walked into my life.

While she’s eye-fucking me in my coveralls that I intentionally pulled down to my waist, knowing she was coming by, I tell her, “Just so you know, I have a girlfriend.”

“Good for you, and her, too,” Josie says with a stunning smile, while licking her luscious lips. My cock jerks at the memory of just how good that mouth can make it feel. While the heat between my ex and I may have sizzled out quickly, I don’t see that happening with Josie, ever. “Your girlfriend is a very lucky woman,” she says when she moves over top of me, straddling my waist. I love how the move makes her skirt bunch up around her upper thighs, so far I can see that she’s wearing a matching sky blue, lace thong.

As soon as her heat grinds down on my erection, we both shout out a curse, hers louder than mine

“Watch your mouth,” I tell her with a smirk. “Or do you
want
a spanking?”

“You wouldn’t,” she replies softly, moving her hips on me so good I forget my own name. It starts with an L.

“Oh, I would,” I warn her, reaching around to lift the bottom of her dress higher. When her ass is exposed, except for the thin piece of fabric down the center, I haul back and smack it. That only makes Josie dry hump me harder. And the time for foreplay is definitely over.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” she says, because that’s how we roll. Sometimes it feels like the two of us can read each other’s minds. And since Josie hated the shot and just started birth control pills, we’re still using rubbers as a back-up. All my STD tests were thankfully clear, so in a few weeks I can’t wait until there’s nothing between us. But for now…

“I do have one,” I tell her, giving her ass a squeeze with both hands so that she has to hunt for it. “Front pocket.”

Josie’s palms caress down my chest and abs until she gets to the front of the pulled down coveralls and starts digging in my pocket. When her breath hitches and her eyes widen, I know she’s found more than what she was looking for. Now, her forehead is creasing like she’s debating whether or not to mention it. Curiosity gets the best of her, though, just like I knew it would, and soon she’s holding the black jewelry box between us.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“Oh, shit. I forgot about that. I found it in one of the cars I was working on today and wanted to keep it safe,” I tell her, biting my cheek to keep from smiling and giving myself away when her shoulders slump forward in disappointment.

“Oh,” she mutters, twirling the box around in her hands silently for several long seconds. “Think it’s okay if I look inside?”

“Go for it,” I tell her with a slap to her ass that gets a small smile out of her.

Popping the lid open, she sucks in a breath. “Wow! It’s beautiful.”

Thank fuck.

Lifting my head from the roller, I take a peek inside at the blue sapphire I know is surrounded by diamonds. “Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

Josie’s fingertips brush over it in what I suspect is longing while she bites down on her bottom lip. “Lucky girl.”

“Try it on,” I say and her eyes flash to mine in hesitation. “You know you want to,” I tease her. Unable to resist, she pulls the ring free from the box and slips it on her left ring finger before holding it out in front of her to admire it.

“It’s gorgeous,” she says softly, and I know without asking that it fits perfectly. “And it looks like an antique.”

“Yeah, from nineteen forty-eight,” I tell her.

“How do you know?” she asks, her brow furrowing again when she looks back down at me.

“Because that’s the year Grandpa bought it for Grandma Andrews.”

“Oh,” Josie says with a nod as she glances back at the ring. Then her eyes flick right back to mine in understanding at the same time her mouth falls open.

“Spewing a bunch of mushy words isn’t really my thing,” I confess. “But you already knew that. I hope that I’ve managed to show you each and every day for the last three months how much I love you, so that you’ll agree to marry me anyways.”

“Yes,” she replies instantly with a smile and watery eyes.

“Fuck yes,” I mutter, pulling her against my chest and letting out the breath I’ve been holding since she walked in.

“But…” she says with a sniffle against my neck. I already know what she’s gonna ask. “What…what if the potion runs out?”

“It won’t,” I assure her. “Because there’s no shortage of single people in the world. Just look at how many couples have you and Reagan to thank for passing it to them.”

“You sure?” she asks.

“Abso-fucking-lutey,” I tell her with a kiss.

And then, I do what I always do when she starts to worry about anything. I shove my hand down her panties and take her to orgasm heaven.

What?

That’s what you do when you love someone, right? You have mind-blowing sex, and then you live happily ever after.

The. Fucking. End.