Page 32 of Property of Mongrel

Mongrel

“Be home by ten,” Jonah calls out as I leave the clubhouse to go and pick up Addy for our date. I don’t even bother looking back, I just flip him off and as the door closes behind me, I hear him laughing hysterically.

“Jerk,” I grumble as I reach my truck. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask myself as I get in and crank it up.

I took it this morning for regular servicing, then had it professionally detailed. A bag sits in the back seat filled with the things I picked up for her at the last farmer’s market I went to; I just need to stop and grab a bouquet of flowers, since I remember my dad telling me that I needed to show the woman I took out that I respected her. Actually, he said to never show up empty-handed, and to take them something, whether it was flowers or candy. Gretchen added so many items to what I was looking at, I have ‘stuff’ for at least a month.

I also went and got my hair shaped up and some new jeans. I roll my eyes when I think of the shit that Jonah gave me when I walked back into the clubhouse. As far as I’m concerned, I want to put my best foot forward where she’s concerned. I figure I’ll get him back once he starts prospecting… and am looking forward to it!

Pulling into a parking space, I park and shut off the truck, then grab the flowers and gift bag for Addy. Hitting the key fob, I walk to her door and ring the bell, nerves suddenly coursing through me.

You’re going to be fine, Son, my dad’s encouraging voice whispers in my head. She’s your anchor, trust she’ll help keep you steady in turbulent waters.

I wish I had him physically here to talk to him. He’d understand my fears because he knew about the bullying I went through when I was young. He always told me then that it didn’t matter what the outside looked like, what was important was how I treated others and how they reciprocated. But kids and even some adults can be cruel when someone is different from them. Some girls I dated in school didn’t care that I was biracial, while others had parents who did care. Definitely a mixed bag, all in all, but the unwarranted bigotry and hatred left its mark that I’m still trying to get eradicated from my memory. Being a Kings member has decidedly helped because when I’m wearing my cut, nobody fucks with me. Plus, my club brothers have my back. Now, with Jonah back in my life, as well as Uncle Leroy, I suspect it’ll help even more.

Knocking on her door, I wait for her to answer, willing my nerves to slow their roll. Even though our conversations were limited to my physical therapy sessions, I feel like we formed a connection. The part of me that has been afraid to dream about a future with someone who’ll walk alongside me has begun to hope that I’ve found the right person. It’s fragile and there’s still a bit of fear there as well, but I’m going to use the lessons my dad taught me to build a strong foundation.

“Hey, Mongrel,” she says, opening up the door. “Come on in, I just need to grab my purse and keys.”

“Hey, Addy. These are for you,” I reply, handing her the flowers and the gift bag.

“Oh, wow, thank you so much!” she exclaims as she sniffs the bouquet of wildflowers. “Let me put these in water first then we can go.” She heads into the kitchen with me trailing behind. As she fills up a vase then does whatever women do when they’re taking care of flowers, she peeks into the gift bag. “Mongrel,” she breathes out and my cock thickens as I imagine it’s what she sounds like during sex. “You shouldn’t have.”

This bag has some of the hummingbird cake pops she seemed to enjoy, as well as a lilac candle with several bath bombs of the same scent. “See what you’ve been missing?” I tease.

“There’s something about delayed gratification,” she retorts, although there’s no heat behind her tone. “And to answer a question you haven’t asked, you’re the first-ever patient I’ve ever dated. I’ve been asked in the past, of course, but it never felt right before. This time, it does.”

I’m not sure how to respond so I don’t say anything, just watch her as she arranges the flowers in the vase then moves it to sit in the center of her small kitchen table. Looking around, I note that her place is as neat as a pin. There’s nothing out of place and it’s absolutely spotless. She then dries the sink with a paper towel and tosses it before she turns to me with a smile on her face and says, “I’m ready!”

“Then let’s blow this popsicle stand,” I tease, using a phrase that Jonah and I often said as kids.

“Kinda glad we agreed about what snacks are appropriate when you’re watching a movie,” she says as we walk across the parking lot to my truck. I hit the fob to do a remote start because it’s a bit sticky outside and I want her to be comfortable. “I mean, I like butter on popcorn but whatever they use is definitely not butter as far as I’m concerned.”

“I agree,” I reply, opening her door and helping her up since it’s slightly lifted. Not enough to be obnoxious, just enough for my height. However, Addy’s shorter than me and I don’t have running boards, which I plan to get as soon as I can.

My hands on her waist are surprisingly steady as I make sure she’s settled. Closing the door, I round the front of the truck and slip into the driver’s seat. Once we’re both buckled, I switch the car from remote to actual driving power and head toward the Mexican restaurant, eager to spend time talking to her.

“So, what did you do to keep busy during your two-week pause?” she asks before dipping her chip into the bowl of queso in front of us.

“I do the books as the club’s treasurer, so I got all of them caught up, then helped Gretchen. She did so well at the last farmer’s market that we decided to double her inventory for the next one. She made all the cake pops and I dipped them, as well as the strawberries before she decorated them. Then, we had an assembly line of sorts to bag and tag them.”

“Is it messy?” she questions, eating another chip.

I’m rather impressed at this point. The restaurant is a bit busy, but I’m not fussed about waiting for our food, so we told our server to handle the large table first. As a thanks, they brought out our chips and salsa, then added a bowl of queso before I could order it for us, stating it was on them.

“Not so much for Gretchen because she’s got more hands-on experience than me, but yeah, I had drips and splatters on my shirt, my arms, and my jeans,” I admit, causing her to giggle.

“What about your cut?” she probes.

“I wisely had it hung up behind the door,” I reply, smirking at her. “It’s bound to get dirty occasionally, of course, but I wasn’t about to explain to Rio or Abyss, my president and vice president, why I had melted chocolate on my cut.”

Her peals of laughter have me joining her as our server returns with another basket of fresh chips before she asks, “Are y’all ready to order?”

“Addy?” I question.

“I normally get the same dang thing every time I come in,” she murmurs as she looks at the menu. “Do you like fajitas? Because they’ve got an entree that’s fajitas for two. I can’t eat more than one tortilla, but I do enjoy the guts.”

“The guts?” I tease. “You mean the meat and veggies?”