“Do they even believe you when you tell them I make this stuff?”
Johnny is the last person you would expect to see baking cookies and cakes when he gets stressed, or any time, really. He’s covered in tattoos. Seriously covered. I’m not positive, because there’s parts of him I don’t want to look at that closely, but I’m pretty sure his face is the only part of him not tattooed. Yes, including his dick. But that’s just a rumour I heard, because, again, I don’t want to look that closely. And I only say that because his face is mostly uncovered. He has a couple of smaller tattoos on the left side of his face, some Latin word I don’t recognize, and a little heart. So, yeah, to think of him in an apron, measuring ingredients, and covered in flour, it’s a tough pill for some to swallow.
“They think I make them and that I’m too shy to tell the truth. Apparently I made you up to divert attention away from myself. One of these days you’ll need to come with me when I deliver them.”
I pour each of us a coffee.
“But that’s not really why you came here, is it? Got something on your mind?”
I’m the oldest member of Sleeping Dogs, and somehow that makes me the go-to for advice when the other guys need help. But I’d much rather they come to me than go to each other. These guys could really get themselves into a lot of trouble with some of the ideas they’ve had in the past. They’re all impulsive, jumping into things without thinking them through fully.
“Yeah, kind of. I mean yes, definitely. It’s just this whole thing with Becca. She doesn’t seem to be all that interested most of the time. It’s getting me down.”
“Doesn’t she work, like, all the time? And she works for herself too, right? Photographers don’t exactly keep regular hours. She has to be available when the clients need her. She might be interested, but just doesn’t have enough time for relationships right now,” I tell him.
“You think?”
“I mean, it’s possible? But she probably just doesn’t like you.” I laugh.
Johnny just stares at me while I laugh. I really shouldn’t take pleasure in what is clearly causing him pain, but the guy kind of deserves it. He’s pulled the same hot and cold routine with lots of women. It’s about time it came around to bite him in the ass.
“But seriously,” I add. “Just relax. Maybe ask Alex? If anyone knows anything about what’s up with Becca, it’s her. Or maybe Ryder, but he’s a little too busy these days, what with getting ready to be a dad, and reading all the baby books for Denise.”
Since their wedding almost four months ago, Denise and Ryder have been spending a lot of time getting ready for their baby’s arrival. In just two short months we’ll be welcoming the first baby to our Sleeping Dogs family. And somewhere around three months after that we’ll welcome babies number two and three when Alex and Connor have their twins.
We’re going to be overrun with kids before we know it. And it’s about time, if you ask me. None of us is getting any younger. Not that I’m going to be having any of my own, mind you. That’s a no go for me.
“I don’t know how you’ve never had a girlfriend. Out of all of us, you’re the most stable. And you’re definitely the most mature. Doesn’t it ever get lonely living here in this house by yourself?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say, cutting that conversation short. The guys know a little about my history, but they don’t truly know how abusive my dad was.
It’s not something I like to talk about. But I do know that having him as my father means I could end up the same way. I refuse to allow that to happen. In the interest of safety, I just stay out of relationships. No relationship and no kids means I will never need to worry about becoming an abusive asshole like he was. It’s best this way. Maybe a little bit lonely, but I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with, though, is the thought that I could ever do to my family what he did to his.
I’m more than happy to just be Uncle Aiden. I don’t need to have kids to feel fulfilled in my life.
Chapter 3
Rhea - Pity Party Interruptus
“So that’s it then? Those bibbity bobbity bastards! How can they get away with that?” Xena is foaming at the mouth on my behalf, and when she’s mad, she uses some incredibly creative language. “What about Kaden and the cuntwaffle’s wife? Wouldn’t their witness statements count for something? Prove that you didn’t use excessive force with that abusive dick weasel?”
The police commission took less than seven days of my initial thirty day suspension to determine that I did use excessive force during that arrest three months ago. And I just got word that they’ve denied my second, and final, appeal just like they did the first. It’s official. I am no longer a police officer. My lifelong dream, destroyed, because I dared to arrest a man who was friends with the mayor.
“His wife refused to press charges against him and recanted her witness statement. So it was only Kaden’s word against theirs. There’s nothing left to be done. It’s time for me to start really thinking about what to do for work now.”
I have a dual major in Criminal Justice and Social Work I could use when looking for a new job. I initially wanted to be a police officer so I could help kids the way a police officer helped me when I was a kid, but now I need to find another way. This will require some coffee and some quality time on the computer.
“Well, that sounds like a big wet puddle of septic system contents to me,” Xena says, employing some of her creative cussing again. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, for now, I’m going to take the biggest coffee you have, to go. Then I’m going to go home and sit on my computer and see what I can find. Maybe this is a chance to do something totally different?”
Xena grabs a travel carafe and fills it with the dark roast that I like. She fills a box with assorted donuts for me, too.
“Ha! That’s funny. A cop getting donuts. Good one,” a masculine voice behind me says.
I spin around to see Kaden’s friend Devon standing there.
“Oh shit,” Xena says with her eyes wide. “I didn’t even think of that. I’m so sorry, Rhea.” She overreacts in typical Xena fashion, and before I can say it’s no big deal, she’s thrown the box through the little pass-through window that leads back into Bump & Grind’s kitchen.
