Finding mayhem, p.25
Finding Mayhem, page 25
My husband used his free hand to grab my ass. “We always make too much food.”
I pulled the foil off the smoked ribs. “But this is really too much.”
“We have a lot of friends.”
Not just Ward. Not just Ward and they tolerated me.
We had a lot of friends.
And thanks to the new house we’d built, we had enough room to have them all over.
Even though we’d moved right before Maeve was born, a piece of land opened up down the road from O and Judge’s new house. It’d been fate. Kismet. A wild coincidence.
I’d moved next door to my best friend.
Years later, we built a house and moved next door to our best friends.
Well, not right next door since the houses were separated by a couple dozen acres, but still. Kind of next door.
The timing of the building finishing could’ve been better. Or maybe the timing of my son’s arrival. Because smack in the middle of supervising the truck unloading—no way would Ward let me lift a finger—I’d gone into labor three weeks early. We’d barely made it to the hospital before Axel Julian Garrison made his entrance.
While I’d been birthing a whole human, our friends—minus Ophelia who was on Maeve duty—had finished moving us in.
Since we were all home and unpacked, we were having everyone over for a barbecue to thank them.
And also because I wanted barbecue.
“Go sit, Mama,” Ward ordered when I tried to bowl up the cold salads.
“I just gave birth. I’m not incapable.”
“Sit down, or I’m not telling you where I hid the cupcakes.”
I gasped. “You hid them from Maeve and her sidekick, not me.”
Our daughter and her cat teamed up to steal food way more than what could be considered normal.
The cat formerly known as Dumpster had been renamed Maze—after Maisie, the little girl I’d unknowingly helped Mayhem rescue. From the day we’d brought Maeve home, Maze had been attached. Ward had told me that Maisie was a self-proclaimed crazy cat lady, so it made sense to name our cat after her.
“Things change,” he said.
“Okay, then give me Axel.”
Ward shifted our sleeping son, but not into my arms. He moved him away from me.
Greedy baby-hoarder.
“My help or the baby,” I said firmly.
With a resigned sigh, he finally handed off my son. “Now sit.”
I was happy to.
Who wanted to do work when they could snuggle a newborn?
Ward brought everything out to our backyard paradise as our friends started arriving, carrying even more food.
More presents, flowers, and their own babies, too.
“Where’s my best friend?” Scythe loudly called the moment he walked through the door.
Soft footsteps—followed quickly by soft paw-steps—came from upstairs.
Maeve would’ve launched herself down the steps if Scythe hadn’t ordered, “Slow, kid.”
She gripped the rail and did as he said. But the moment her feet touched the floor, she was at full speed again. “Uncle Shit!”
We really have to work on her pronunciation.
I watched the quietest of the brothers laugh, just like every time she tried to say his name.
Never mind.
Ward had made it abundantly clear—with his words and actions—that our Maeve was just that.
Ours.
I hadn’t realized his found family would feel the same. No one said a peep about her not being his by blood. No one questioned why he’d sign on for it. No one asked him if he was excited to have a baby that was actually his. They’d been just as happy about Maeve as they were about Axel. No difference at all.
Before long, our backyard was filled with brothers, prospects, old ladies—and one old man—bunnies, and kids.
Friends.
Our family.
I stood in the open doorway and took it all in, still not believing it was my life.
The laughter.
The comradery.
The happiness.
My husband’s arms wrapped around me from behind.
“Now you have to tell me about the cupcakes,” I said, covering his arms with my own. “Going rate is one cupcake.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d remember the joke from all those years ago while we’d waited at my doctor’s office.
I should’ve known better.
“I thought it was three,” he rumbled in my ear, “and I got a discount.”
“You gave me all this,” I said, rapidly blinking back tears.
But happy ones.
Only ever happy ones.
“You get a bigger discount now,” I finished.
Ward, being Ward, moved his hand up to rest right below my breast. He pressed me tighter to his body so I could feel his hard-on. “Welcome home, neighbor.”
I never thought I’d ever have a place where I felt at home.
But I had it.
By finding Mayhem.
The End
Read through for a sample of Hyde and Seek
HYDE AND SEEK
CHAPTER ONE
“Babe, that van you?”
It had only been me and two guys, who based on their leathers, were most likely guys of the biker variety, in the waiting room. And neither of those dudes struck me as the type to be called ‘babe’ by another dude.
Not that I judge, of course. It just seemed unlikely.
Seeing as I was reading, and lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even noticed anyone else entering the room until the deep voice called out.
Another quick room sweep out of the corner of my eye confirmed I was the most likely candidate to be called ‘babe’. Probably the only one there with a van, too.
“Babe, van?” he asked again as he turned around and began rifling through papers.
“Um, yeah,” I answered to his back.
It was a back. I’d seen lots of them. Backs were backs, right?
Yeah, no.
This was a back. Broad shoulders, and what I was sure were a lot of muscles somehow visible through his dark gray t-shirt. I’d never thought of backs as anything, but this was a good one.
“They do the paperwork with you?” he asked, turning back around with a stack of papers.
“Uhh,” I mumbled. They hadn’t. I knew they hadn’t. My brain fully acknowledged no paperwork had been done with me. Getting my mouth to communicate that, however, was not happening. Not once my eyes saw his front. I liked his back, but I liked his front a whole hell of a lot more. So much more, in fact, I couldn’t say the word ‘no’ about some simple paperwork.
There’s a whole lotta other things I wouldn’t say no to either.
Facing away and bent over, I’d noticed he was tall. Straightened up, though, I saw he wasn’t just tall. He was tall.
As in very.
At five foot four, I was used to looking up at people. Since he was at least a foot taller than me, I could develop a serious crick in my neck from craning my head to look up at him.
It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make.
Because, along with being tall and built, he was hot. Beyond hot. I don’t think there’s a word to describe what he was. Scorching, maybe, if the heat I was feeling was any indication. His damp, dark blond hair was pulled into a messy knot at the back of his head. It wasn’t very long, probably only around shoulder length.
Since he looked to be in his early thirties, his face had long ago lost any boyishness. Amazing bone structure and hard angles came together in an almost beautiful way if he weren’t so overwhelmingly masculine.
His strong jaw was covered in at least a few days’ worth of stubble. Scruffy stubble that should have screamed “I need a shave!” Instead it beckoned “Run your fingers over me!”
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to do just that.
The thing that seemed to cut off communication between my brain and my mouth, though, were his eyes. Vibrant green eyes, lined with thick, long lashes. Sexy as hell, they left me mumbling like I didn’t have a brain.
Get it together! So, he’s tall. And hot. With those green eyes. And those muscles. And… Where was I going with this?
Oh yeah. Get it together!
He shook his head, his eyes shining with amused frustration. “Nope, no paperwork. Not a surprise, they never do anything that even slightly feels like work. Come on up, babe. Let’s take care of this.”
The sound of my heels clicking on the linoleum echoed in the room. I cursed my decision to wear them. High heels, in general, weren’t known for being easy to walk in. Four-inch ones, especially. Heels with jello knees forced me to focus extra hard on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other.
I’d already mumbled like an idiot. I didn’t need to fall on my face like one.
I reached the counter, staying upright the whole time, and silently congratulated myself. When I looked up at him, his gaze was intense as he looked through me. And I mean through. Into my mind, my soul. I was sure he was sifting through my deepest and darkest secrets.
What he found must have bored him because his eyes quickly lost their intensity. Using a pen, he tapped a beat on the counter. “Name?”
“Piper,” I breathed. Yup, I breathed it. My voice came out soft, airy, and slightly raspy. I internally shook my head, attempting to lift the fog.
Way to go, Piper. You remembered your name, and were even able to talk this time. Now let’s see if we can’t start sounding less like a wannabe phone sex operator, hmm?
“Yeah, definitely no paperwork with that name. Last name?”
“Skye.” I spelled it out while he wrote.
“Piper Skye.” My name rolled off his tongue like it was one he’d said often. His lip quirked up. “I like it.”
I liked my name. I always had. Hearing his deep, gravelly voice rumble my name, though, made me love it. I found myself wondering how it would sound if we were doing other things, none of which were appropriate to be thinking about.
My cheeks flushed and I tried again to clear the mental fog. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on with the van, babe?”
I liked the way he said my name, but I really liked it when he called me babe. I knew he probably called every chick that, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hot.
“It needs to be colder in the back.”
“Air not workin’?” He raised his eyebrow. “Why’d you come here for a repair?”
Hyde was a body and custom job shop, not a regular garage. I, along with most everyone, knew that. It wasn’t where you came for an oil change and a tire rotation. Hyde was where you brought a sweet ride you wanted made sweeter.
“Um, no, it works. It works great but it needs to be colder. I use the van for work and my stuff keeps melting in the back.”
“What type of stuff—” he started before being interrupted by a golden god entering the room.
“Jake, dude, you will not believe the sweet piece I had last night…” His words trailed off when he saw me. “Sorry, didn’t know you were busy,” he said to Jake, though he was definitely still looking at me. “Hey. Kase.” He extended his hand.
Since he was only an inch or two shorter than Jake, I still had to crane my neck to look up at him. It was not a hardship. His dark hair hung in dreads past his shoulders, and his groomed facial hair was slightly longer than Jake’s scruff.
I was sure he had to be wearing color contacts because no one had eyes like his. They were the most startling crystal blue I’d ever seen. Rimmed with black lashes and his golden skin, they stood out in sharp contrast.
Starting from his fingers up, intricate ink covered his arms, small patches of tanned skin peeking through here and there.
His skin tone and dark hair hinted at some exotic heritage, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
But I’d totally be willing to try. Finger, hand, tongue, whatever.
“Piper.” I reached my hand to meet his. I smiled, unsurprised by his sudden personality change. I knew I came across to most as more conservative, shy, and quiet. My real friends knew that couldn’t be further from the truth, but I was only that close with a handful of people.
My general vibe screamed ‘introvert!’
Actually, I don’t think you can scream introvert, but it definitely mumbled it.
I understood his thinking. I was in a body shop waiting room in four-inch heels, stockings with the seam up the back, and a white fitted blouse tucked into a pale pink pencil skirt. My black hair was pulled back in a neat twist. I knew I looked conservative, uptight, and very out of place.
However, I’d come straight from a meeting at the bank that had been unexpectedly moved up. And, unfortunately, meetings at the bank require you to look conservative, uptight, and very in place there.
It’d been a minor miracle I was able to get my van into Hyde. I wasn’t about to cancel just because I was in a skirt.
Kase lifted his chin. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about that. I, uh, I didn’t know there were customers here.”
I fought the urge to laugh. He came through the garage, which meant he saw vehicles there. He had to have guessed there were people waiting, and he was talking loud enough that I had no doubt the bikers against the far wall heard.
“Seriously, not an issue,” I said. “Congrats on the sweet piece.”
Kase’s smile turned sheepish before I was distracted by a throat being cleared. The throat of a very tall, very hot, impatient man.
“Kase, if you’re done, you got work to do,” Jake said, glaring at Kase.
Kase grinned at me, unfazed by Jake’s look. “Nice to meet you, Piper. Let me know if you need anything.”
I returned his smile. “Thanks.”
As Kase left, Jake turned back to me and began tapping his pen to a fast beat. “So, coolin’ in the back, got it. Anythin’ else?”
“Yeah, uh, Z is installing some new speakers.” I congratulated myself again on being able to actually form words while looking him in the eyes.
In an attempt to not blurt out something embarrassing or start drooling at his hotness, I distracted myself by thinking about Z. Since I doubted his real name was Z, I started forming ideas about what it stood for.
Jake finished writing something and looked amused. “Your work need louder speakers?”
“Well, yeah, kinda.” Maybe not my work, but I definitely did.
Leaning down, he placed his forearms to the counter. His head tilted to the side as he looked at me. “How so?”
“I drive a lot, for deliveries.”
“What stuff you deliverin’, since I’m doubtin’ it’s pizza?”
“Desserts. Mostly cakes and cupcakes.”
“Really? Awesome. What bakery you work at?” Kase startled me by asking.
I belatedly noticed him and three other hot guys standing in the doorway.
Apparently name guessing is a good distraction technique.
“No bakery. Not yet, anyway.”
“Hey. Eli,” one of the other hotties said as he stuck his hand out. He was shorter than the rest, around five foot ten or so. With his short brown hair and warm, brown eyes, he looked wholesome, boy next door. He almost seemed out of place at the shop, until you took in his ink. It was good ink. He must have agreed as there was a lot of it.
I took his hand. “Piper.”
“Xavier,” another introduced himself with a nod. This yummilicious man was all dark eyes and overgrown dark hair. It was hot, and worked for him. “Your desserts any good?”
“Well, people order. A lot, actually. So… yeah.” I knew my desserts were good. Based on the swell of my chest, hips, and ass, I knew this fact well. I had to sample stuff though. Quality control and whatnot.
You’re so good at lying to yourself.
The popularity of my desserts was what had brought me to the bank that morning. When I’d started making cakes for friends, I did one or two a month. Those one or two turned into three or four referrals, which then turned into three or four more referrals.
Before I knew it, my side hobby became a business, a Piper’s Cakes was born.
Up until last semester, I attended college but hadn’t picked a major. Since Piper’s Cakes was quickly growing, thereby solving the dilemma of what I wanted to do with my life, I cut back my classes and switched to a business major.
It was a scary decision, but in a good way.
In order to do all I wanted to do, I needed money for better equipment, more space, and maybe even some help. I was turning away a lot of orders because I didn’t have time. I couldn’t make money turning away orders. It was a cycle I was trying to break.
“Key,” a quieter voice said with a nod, the last of the hotties. He was a leaner and lankier hot, more Steven Tyler or Mick Jagger rock ‘n’ roll. He had slightly shaggy, light brown hair with moody looking brown eyes. “You got any dessert on you?”
I shook my head. “Nope, sorry. Maybe if I come back.”
I was rewarded with a half-smile from Mr. Brooding. As I was pretty sure that was as close to happy as he got, I was cool with it.
My answer was welcomed by a bunch of smiling, eager faces and murmurings of desserts to come. Most guys were predictable when it came to food. I’d delivered cakes for children’s birthdays, and it was the men that were hanging around, looking for a chance to swipe some.
“Guys, seriously, work,” a rough, annoyed, and very in control voice bit out. I almost jumped up and started working at his order, it was that firm. I, apparently, was the only one since the guys still stood around talking about desserts they liked. Jake looked up and inhaled deeply before going back to his paper. “Moving on. Why do baked goods need better speakers?”
“No, the baked goods don’t. I do.”
“Yours broke?”
“No.”
“Then why the speakers?”
“I spend a big chunk of time making deliveries. Have you ever tried driving without being able to really crank up your music?”
“What do you listen to?” Kase questioned.
If my vibe mumbled introvert, Kase’s seemed to shout extrovert, complete with neon sign, marching band, and flares. His friendly bordered on flirtatious, but there didn’t seem to be any actual interest.
