“Probably best not to think about my bed too much or wewill end up talking about your tits after all. Want some of my meat?” I asked, jabbing my fork into the last bit of sausage I had on my plate and holding it up to her with a smirk plastered on my face.
Her eyes met mine, her body leaning forward as her lips closed around the tip of the sausage. She froze for a second, something that was clearly deliberate, before she bit down hard and smiled, her hand moving to cover her lips as she chewed. “Thank you. Be rude not to.”
My hand flew out to grab her chin with as much subtle force as I could before I slowly pulled her back towards me and watched as her eyes popped and her mouth stilled. I wasn’t sure what forced me to do it, but even as she froze beneath my touch, all I could think about was squeezing my fingers even tighter together and showing her how much power those tiny little muscles held in them. I wanted to feel her squirm. I wanted to shove, not justthatsausage, farther down her throat, but the whole fucking plate of food in front of me.
“Careful, Ayda. I could have a lot more fun with you than I first planned.”
Her voice was barely there when she responded. That one action had swept all of the confidence she’d been wearing away, and left in its place was the fear that I’d seen earlier. “I… I’m sorry. Anything you need. I’ll get my schedules from work and be there when you need me. I’m normally capable of keeping my mouth shut. Apparently lack of sleep makes me mouthy.”
My fingers continued to press into the hollows of her cheeks, my voice dropping lower into a whisper. “Sunday nights, Monday mornings, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I don'twork to anyone else's schedule. You work to mine. You want me to leave you and your brother alone, you show up, do your work, and then you go home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. If not…”
“But…” Whatever she’d been about to say seemed to disappear as her eyes met mine, and the words were replaced with a nod.
That nod finally made me smile. Releasing her from my grip, I moved the palm of my hand to one side of her face before resting it against her cheek and tilting my head. “See? That wasn't so hard, was it? It's so much easier when you just agree. Saves us both time. Now…” Pulling my hand away, I picked up my cutlery again. “You can go. My food's getting cold and quite frankly, you're a distraction. Be at the yard on Sunday at five. I'll be waiting, and don't let that big mouth of yours get inside your brain and make you do anything stupid between now and then, Ayda.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ayda
My conversation with Tate had, inevitably, been postponed. The coach had demanded they all stay at school and work through the plays before the game. I should have known better than to expect anything from him on a Friday night. We lived in small town Texas. The whole place revolved around the team, the mood reflecting just how well the season was going. This year was, thankfully, a good year.
Of course, I wasn’t complaining about the lack of time to talk. This was the kid’s meal ticket and, like for most of the people in this town, the team came first. For the first time in a long time, I was getting to watch Tate play.
I was standing alone in the stands, barely able to compose myself every time he was on the field. It didn’t matter who was looking at me or what they were thinking because my sole focus was on jersey number ninety-nine. Tate was a natural. He dominated the place and made the other guys look like a peewee squad. His best friend, Rubin Walsh, was the quarterback and it was obvious that the two of them had played together since they’d met in the park all those years ago. Rubin was a little pervert, but knowing someone for fifteen years meant I could give him a hard time and not feelguilty about it.
The excitement all around me as Rubin shouted out the plays went silent the second the ball was snapped. The defense from the other team was fast and smooth, but our boys were faster, and the handoff to Tate was so smooth that the other team missed it completely, allowing him to get a ten-yard head start.
“Go! Run, Tate!”
Our side of the bleachers were on our feet, chants of Tate’s name coming hard and fast the closer he got to the end zone. The school colors were waved around with fierce intent like a sea of red and gold. The moment he crossed the line, a roar went up, the metal below us vibrating as we bounced around in excitement.
When half time finally rolled around, I was breathless and ready to drop in my seat. Babylon High was up twenty-eight to seven.
I’d forgotten how much I loved being present at his games, just watching. With the electricity in the air, the excitement and the unity of cheering for the same team, I felt like I was a part of something bigger, something good and bright. It was something I wanted to be a part of, rather than being included in.
I didn’t have any money for a pennant with my brother’s number on it, and I sure as hell didn’t have money for food or soda, so I stayed where I was, taking in the good vibes around me, while trying my hardest not to think about the effort it was going to take to change my schedule. More to the point, trying my hardest not to panic about how I was going to pay the mortgage or bills when I was missing out on so many precious hours that I should have spent working, to repay a debt.
I’d thought long and hard about how to break it to Tate, but I’d already seen the damage that had caused. I wasn’t going to risk him messing up again and doing something exponentially more stupid than he already had. Though, I wasn’t entirely convinced that was possible. Short of murder, there wasn’t much that could have landed us in more trouble.
I was so lost in my own world, I barely noticed the crowd beginning to filter back in, but more to the point, I failed to notice that the seat next to me was taken by someone that was even more out of place than I was. I’m not sure what tipped me off to his arrival. Maybe it was the distinct smell of leather and engine grease that clung to him. Then again, it could have been the ominous air that seemed to surround him wherever he went. Either way, I knew, and the moment I did, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I felt every eye in my section of the bleachers turn to stare at me. This was probably unheard of. I wasn’t at many games, but even I knew no one from the MC had ever shown up to one, because if they had, it would have been headline news.
Peering around me, I forced my hands under my thighs and kept my eyes trained on the empty field. I could already see people leaning in to gossip to one another in my peripheral vision. I would forever be known as the girl who’d brought the pack down on them.
“Umm, I thought you said I’ll see you on Sunday?”
“I heard this place sold good hot dogs,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t anything unusual or out of place for him to be there. He didn't seem to even care that everyone around us was staring at him with wide eyes. “Anyone ever told you you’re kinda skinny?”
“Not until now,” I said, pulling my hands from under mythighs and resting my elbows on my knees. “And I don’t think they stock a hundred and twenty pounds of amalgamated meat product, either, so you’re out of luck.”
I realized a little too late that my sense of humor would probably be taken as sarcasm, or worse, an insult to the man that was Drew Tucker. I really had to learn to keep my thoughts to myself.
“I changed my mind,” he said with a mouthful of food.
Swaying from side to side, I looked over at him and saw a small smudge of mustard on his lip and pointed at it, the words that went with the gesture being swallowed compulsively. How the hell did I have a conversation with a man like this? He’d made it clear that the only thing he was interested in was making my life difficult, so polite musings about the weather were out.
I was, mercifully, saved by the second half starting up. The high school band was playing the school song, which had Rubin and Tate bursting out onto the field, followed by the rest of the team. As the noise died down a little, I looked over at Drew again.
“What is it you changed your mind about?”
