Under Locke (21 page)

And Dex snickered. “You tellin’ me I’m an asshole?”

“Grumpy
with a side of extra grumpy.
” D
id that really just come out of my mouth?

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip in a way that looked pensive. “
Huh
,” he paused like he was searching for words to explain his nature. “I have a temper.” Like I didn’t know that. “It’s hard for me to shake things off.”

“Like what kind of things?” I asked though it wasn’t my place to. This was something I’d talked to
yia-yia
about
multiple
times. The inability of a person to let go of things that harmed or bothered them. Everyone was guilty of it. "I can keep a secret."

I swear I think he laughed nervously. “Well, when do you want me to start, babe? The day I said that shit to you? My ma had rung me up and said that Pa had called.”

Okay, it was safe to assume he wasn’t a fan of his dad. That I understood. Simply thinking of my dad had almost ruined my day in the past, too. Check. That was acceptable. “Okay.”

“The day after that? I found out my property taxes were goin’ up—“

“You get that pissed off about property taxes?” I asked him incredulously.

“They went up a fuckin’ ton,” he explained like that would make perfect sense.

"You were in a terrible mood, looking at me like I ruined one of your tattoos, all because your property taxes went up?"

Dex had the decency to grunt. Decency only because
tracing
the root of his anger to taxes was so absolutely ridiculous it didn't need to get cemented into a fact. I hoped it would
ha
ve been something better, more worthwhile. Like...finding out his girlfriend had cheated on him or something. That I could understand.

“Then I'd found out that somebody was stealin' from the bar," he added in afterthought.

"
S
omeone was stealing from the bar riles you up that much?"

Once again, he grunted.

Oh boy.

"The day after that, I got into an argument with Luther about him messin’ around with girls who aren't old enough to rent a damn car on their own, “ he prattled on until I blew a long breath out of my lips.

The idea that I could and probably should keep my mouth shut was right there, telling me to not bother saying anything. I couldn’t do it though. It wasn't my place to give him advice or call him out on things he could fix. I had a whole list of things I should fix about myself but I'd never bothered picking it up to look it over.

“Dex? I completely understand that you get pissed off about stuff, but I don’t think it’s worth you getting so
mad
. You can fight your property taxes, right?” He didn’t say anything. “You
’re
smart, you can figure out a way to find out who's stealing. And Luther sleeping with girls that young…”

Was I going to say it? Yup.

"It’s pretty friggin’… weird but they’re old enough to know what they’re doing. It’s consensual, and you think it’s going to stop him from doing it?” No answer again. “Probably not. So I don’t think you should waste your time away brooding or calling innocent people bitches and friggin' idiots in retaliation. And the receipts missing? That sucks but don't let it ruin your day. You're going to give yourself a heart condition by stressing out so much about things that don't matter. Trust me. It isn't worth it.”

Silence. More silence. Triple silence.

Dex fidgeted in his seat during all of this. Arranging then rearranging his butt position.

Failing to bring up how right I was, he sighed. "I did have a few ideas on how to figure out who's been takin' money from the register..."

An hour later, we were still talking over ideas.

~ * ~ *

The three of us dragging our way across the hotel lobby was more than likely one of the most pitiful sights any possible observers would ever see. I probably resembled some sort of hybrid zombie raccoon with my rundown eyeliner and sleepy groans. I know without a doubt that Slim had a line of dry drool from the corner of his mouth down the side of his neck that Dex and I had silently agreed we wouldn’t tell him about. And Dex, carrying his backpack, my little duffel, and something that looked like a toolbox on absolutely no sleep, didn’t look like such hot stuff anymore either.

Well, that was a lie. Dex, with his disarray of blue-black hair and dry, pink lips, still looked attractive. Just more like an attractive hobo with his wrinkled clothes rather than a stunning one.

Slim had explained to me through several yawns and eye flutters that Pins usually reserved one hotel room that three people shared to keep the guys focused—on tattooing, I assumed. Not landing between two thighs. Two people got beds and someone tackled the
sleeper
sofa
. As nice as Slim was, he hadn’t already said, “I’ll sleep on the pull-out,” so I wasn’t going to assume he would either. Sleep and hunger always brought out the worst in people and I totally got it. If I went too long without eating, everything annoyed me. Plus, he was actually tattooing when we got up. My job was just to stand there and say hi to strangers.

“I’m go
nna
knock out,” Dex finally yawned from a couple steps behind me.

I staggered, blinking back the fight of slumber. I’d already asked him about four times if he wanted me to help him carry stuff but each time he’d insist that he didn’t. And shoot, I wasn’t about to ask again.

Instead, I yawned as well. “Me too.”

Dex’s mouth was wide open, recovering from the nonstop trip that took us to the Hyatt closest to the convention center. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with another yawn, exhaling something that sounded like a groan. A two and a half hour drive in the middle of the night after a full work day would kill anyone.

After the
confessional slash strategy session
we had back in the truck—which he finally mentioned belonged to Luther—we’d exchanged maybe twenty more words. Each and every single time consisted of me asking if he was fine, and Dex responding with an assured “Yeah.” One heart-to-heart was enough.

The second that the door was unlocked and the hotel room was open, I beelined toward the couch the instant I was inside. It was almost six in the morning and we had to be up by ten and parked in front of the convention area to unload around eleven before setting up the booth.

The idea of unpacking—even worse—the idea of even taking off my clothes to crawl onto the couch made me sleepier. I pulled the cushions off and threw them on the desk across the carpet before unbuckling my belt.

"Ritz."

My mind was completely focused on getting in that friggin' bed as quickly as I could, as I yanked the mattress out. "Yes?"

"What are you doin', babe?" Dex asked.

"Going to sleep," I said, shoving my pants down to my ankles. It was a blessing my shirt was so long it covered the most important piece of my anatomy.

“What the hell?” was Slim’s lazily yawned question.

I barely turned my head to look over my shoulder. Barely. My eyes were somehow managing to stay open but they were about to lose the battle. So I hardly managed the effort to see Slim standing at the foot of the bed the closest to me, holding the hem of his shirt in hands. Dex meanwhile, stood at the sink across from the bed,
a
hand braced around the edge of the sink, eyes on me through the reflection.

I didn’t even have the decency to blush.

“So sorry guys. I’m tired.” It was the truth. I was embarrassed that I’d just been an exhibitionist and yanked down my pants in front of two men that I didn’t think even knew my last name.

"Get the bed, honey," Dex said.

I waved him off. "You can have the bed. Just wake me up please,” I muttered, smiling in the general direction of where they’d been standing a moment before. “Goodnight, suckers.”

Two "goodnights" wafted through the room. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. As tired as I'd been the entire drive and walk to the room, I couldn't shut off my brain. The sound of the sink running, sheets rustling, and low murmurs kept me up. No matter how hard I tried to fall asleep, I couldn't. The light from the guys' half of the room was right smack on my face either way I lay.

At some point, the whispers and the running water stopped. The sheets shuffled once more, and I heard one sigh after the other before silence ensued. I tried to steady my breathing, and I still couldn't fall asleep.

And then, I heard it.

It started as a whisper, a hiss, a
pssssssssst
.

And then it grew progressively louder before the smell hit me.

But by that point, my stomach was hurting. Pure, pleasurable pain stabbed me right in the gut. And I started giggling like crazy.
Crazy
. Tears pooled in my eyes and I gasped.

A deep growl of a laugh mixed with mine from the other side of the room. It was Dex. Dex!

"Oh my God," I wheezed, smothering my mouth with my hand. "Did you crap your pants?"

Another bout of grumbling laughter came over Dex that made me suck in a breath.

My stomach hurt even more as I heard his wind-breaking in my imagination. The badass Dex Locke that Trip and Sonny had told me about so carefully, the one who probably beat a man for talking smack to him, was passing gas like he was on the verge of pooping his pants. And he laughed about it.

"I thought you were sleepin'," he muttered before laughing even harder. The sound was even richer, more pure in the dark room.

I pinched my nose to keep from laughing louder. It was only a miracle that Slim was a heavy sleeper and didn't wake up. "Holy moly, I want my own room."

“Go to sleep,” his gruff voice barked at the end of a laugh.

“Sleep?” I gagged so loud it was another miracle that Slim still hadn’t woken up. “How am I supposed to go to sleep after that?”

Dex groaned. “Ritz.”

My stomach hurt from how hard my muscles were cramping. “Your butt should be a weapon of mass destruction.”

Dex chuckled low, rough and sugar sweet at the same time. “Get to bed.”

I let out a long breath trying to control myself. It worked.

For about half a second.

And then I started laughing all over again, pulling the extra pillow over my face to muffle it. I really had no idea why I thought it was so funny. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been around Will the Farting Machine most of my life. His goal for the longest time had been to fart the alphabet. I mean, everyone passed gas. Everyone.

But this was Dex. My smoking biker boss that wore black on a regular basis.

I pulled the pillow away just long enough to hear him having another laughing fit as well.

So I said what came to mind. “You’re funny.”

Because he was, who would have known? My chest felt all loose and fun for the first time...in forever.

It might have been because the dark took away the intimacy of my admission but whatever. It just came out of my mouth. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much.”

“Me neither,” his low voice carried across the room right before I felt something hit my stomach. It was a pillow. He’d thrown a pillow at me. “Night, baby.”

I rolled over and tossed my leg over my new pillow with a snort. “Night, Charlie.”