No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (25 page)

I flick his crotch again, but I’m not fast enough withdrawing my hand. He catches it and brings my fingers to his mouth. He bites one pad, causing me to yelp. “I love you touching my balls, but if you thump me again, I’m going to assume you’re in to pain and that adds a whole new level of pleasure to our relationship.”

Oh my!

A large man carrying our food on a tray interrupts our heated stare. He places everything on the table and then slides a white sheet of paper under the bread pudding plate.

I know exactly what it is and grab it first before Johnny Money Bags can get to it. I extract my credit card from my wallet and hand it to the waiter. The unhappy look on Aaron’s face doesn’t go unnoticed, but I just choose to ignore it, like he ignores my concerns.

Arranging the food between us, I slide a fork in his direction. “Dig in.”

He doesn’t pick it up. He just continues to scowl. I sample my Bloody Mary and take a bite of the red beans and rice. My goodness they’re good. I gather another fork full and offer him some.

I can tell that I’ve momentarily knocked him off-kilter. Just a hint of a grin curls his lips before he goes back to being stone-faced. I won. He wants to be pouty because I told him I don’t like being tracked, or I picked up the tab. I’m not sure which one. It could be both—I don’t care.

With the full fork still pointed in his direction, I say, “If you decide to pout through lunch it just means more for me. Then I’m going to get fat and develop heart disease and diabetes, which will lead to my untimely death, and it will be all your fault because you chose to be a pouty pants.”

He fights the smile, but fails. “Not giving up the guilt trips?”

“It’s a process. When you come from this long of a line of guilters, it’s not an overnight thing.”

He leans forward and lets me feed him a bite. When he’s done chewing, he says, “Why did you leave work so early?”

I take a bite of the cabbage. “I’m not telling you until we come to a resolution on you electronically following me.”

Aaron pulls my chair so there isn’t an inch between us. He rests his forehead on my shoulder, and I lay my fork on the table so I can rub his neck.

His blue eyes meet mine. We’re almost nose-to-nose. Soft puffs of cinnamon breath tickle my lips. He rests his hands on my thighs. “I’ve never had anyone besides my mom, sister, and Jude that I’ve really cared about. I don’t know how to do this, MK. As long as I know where you are, then I feel like I can protect you. Once people find out about us, your life will change. Unscrupulous reporters will dig through your garbage and pay off your friends for scoop on us. Every poor choice you’ve made will be detailed on gossip websites. Then there are the fans who will want to kill you because I’m giving you ‘their’ attention. Shall I continue with the kidnapping plots, blackmail threats, and breaches in our privacy?”

The longer he talks, the wider my eyes become. I never thought of any of that. That must be part of the eighteen-wheeler full of baggage he’s towing.

He leans back some and runs his hand down one side of my face. “Look, this connection between us is only growing stronger. I think it’s pretty evident that we need to have a serious discussion after lunch about what you’re getting yourself into.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he says, “I need for you to read my history and decide if you’re willing to be publicly linked with me or if you want to walk away.”

I go to shake my head but his hands go to my cheeks, stopping me. “Don’t be so willing to assume you already have the answer.” He softens the conversation by leaning forward and kissing the tip of my nose. “Now feed me, wench.”

Smiling, I pick up the fork and offer him a bite of cabbage. This is how we continue to eat our lunch. One bite for me. One bite for him.

I don’t taste the food. I’m too nervous about Googling him. What if it is too much? Will I walk away from him? I can’t imagine doing that, but I also can’t fathom what he wants me to read.

As we eat, I fill him in on my blow-up with Michael. Once again, Aaron wars with himself. He’s pleased I don’t have such a tight schedule anymore, but he makes a couple of references to ripping off Michael’s head for being such an asshole.

When it comes time for the bread pudding, I push the plate towards Aaron. “All yours. I’m drinking dessert.” I hold up my glass.

He grows quiet and looks tense. After taking two bites, he asks, “Can I tell you why I went to rehab?”

“Sure. I’d much rather you tell me everything you want me to know than having to read what others think of you.”

After a couple of more bites, I begin thinking he’s not going to share but then he says, “I beat the shit out of a kid while I was drunk and high. It was either rehab or serve time for assault.”

Wow! That puts his comment about ripping Michael’s head off into a whole new light. I take a deep breath to keep my cool. “What did the guy do?”

He points his fork at me. “What makes you assume he deserved it?”

I shrug. “Well, you don’t come across as someone who’s violent for no reason. But then again, I didn’t know you before you got help.”

He pushes back the plate and crosses his arms over his chest. His face is sullen. “He worked at the barn where we kept Jude’s horses. She was sixteen. He was eighteen. He charmed her and behind my back, she started seeing him. The amount of time she spent at the stables increased, but I didn’t think much of it. She has a passion for horses and horseback riding. One night, she didn’t come home. I panicked. Called her phone. She didn’t answer. I used Find My Friends and saw she was still at the barn. When I got there, I caught him forcing himself on her. I ripped him off and threw him into a wall. I picked up my hysterical daughter and drove her straight to the hospital. He hadn’t raped her but he was seconds from doing it if I hadn’t shown up.” He swallows hard. “Jude only wanted my mom and Grace. They held her all night and took care of her while I polished off a fifth of Jack Daniels and got high. I wasn’t willing to let the police deal with him. I went to his house. Kicked down the front door and knocked his naked, puny ass all over the living room. Then I stumbled away from his house and passed out in someone’s hammock in their backyard. Cops found me. The punk had to have five facial reconstruction surgeries, and I got a trip to rehab.”

Geez, what a story. The Bloody Mary feels like acid in my stomach. My body temperature rises by a couple of degrees for the man who looks tortured sitting next to me, and his beautiful daughter. I can’t say I blame him. When Bella was hurt, I wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch responsible. I’ve had dreams of hunting him down and torturing him. The justice system and the star ink on my wrist helped me deal with the anger. I’ve let Quinn go, but I will never forget.

I don’t think Aaron’s actions were unjustified. His behavior seems in line with how most dads would be likely to respond if their little girl was in the same situation. I wish he hadn’t been drunk and high though.

“How’s Jude?” I rub his knee.

He stands up so abruptly his chair tumbles backwards. Fortunately, he catches it before it hits the ground, and he pushes it under the table.

Everyone is the restaurant turns towards us. “Let’s go,” he says. His fists are clenched at his side, and he leans forward on the balls of his feet, as if he’s about to pounce.

I haven’t finished my drink and I’m not sure if he’s more than four bites of his dessert, but his eyes are crazy. Now is probably not a good time to argue. I’m confused. I don’t understand why he seems upset right now. It was a simple question about his daughter’s wellbeing.

Sighing, I pick up my bag, and he follows me out of the restaurant. When I exit, I turn towards the right, which is away from the car. I just want to go home and hide under my covers. I’ll Google him tomorrow. Aaron’s admission as to why he worries about me has put me on alert. He’s agitated and needs to cool off before our relationship is more public than either of us is ready for.

“Go to my car,” he orders as I keep walking.

“No. You’re out of control, for some reason. I don’t understand why and I’m not getting in the car with you.”

He grabs my arm from behind and pulls me into an alley. He pushes me against the brick wall and uses his body to keep me in place as a bruising, desperate kiss mashes against my lips. His hand goes up my skirt as he tugs at my thong. He’s as wild as a lion on the Pride Lands in Africa, manhandling me as if people aren’t a mere twelve feet from us walking past on the sidewalk.

“Stop it. You aren’t going to have sex with me in alley like I’m a whore.” I push him back, and he lets me. “You’re like a crazy man, and you’re scaring the shit out of me. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I don’t like it. You’re the one so concerned with my privacy that you’ve tracked me. Yet, you’re willing to fuck me in this dirty place putting me in danger of the paparazzi snapping lurid photos.”

Aaron is an enigma. In some ways, he’s so mature—more grown-up than me. He’s certainly been more successful. Then, when he acts like this, I wonder if he ever matured past his first pubic hair.

He throws off his hat and it falls to the nasty ground. Tugging his hair, he says, “I told you all the horrible stuff I did and your only response was to ask about my daughter.”

“Yes,” I yell. “Because I don’t give a fuck why you were in rehab. That’s in the past. I care about now. What’s happening this moment. And I care that your daughter was almost raped, and I hope she’s had counseling and moved on.” I run my finger over the points of my star tattoo. “God knows I’ve had experience with how vicious men can be.”

Slipping under his arm, I pick up my bag and walk out of the alley.

“Where are you going?” he yells as I turn the corner.

I don’t turn around and continue walking. Throwing up my hands, I yell, “Home. I’m going to Google you like you asked.”

“I’ll drive us.”

“No, you won’t!”

He races up beside me and takes my hand as he puts the hat back on. “It’s a nice day. I’ll join you for a walk.”

I take a deep, calming breath and let it out. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?”

“Just the people who love me the most.” He swings our enclosed hands in a very childish manner. “Give me your bag.”

I slide it off my shoulder and hand it to him. He carries it for me as if he’s my high school boyfriend carrying my books.

“Isn’t this better than you being mad and yelling at me?” he asks.

I ignore his rhetorical question. “What makes you think that I won’t read about your past and say, ‘You know what, Aaron? You’re right. Your life has been way too messed up for me to deal with. I’m outta here.’”

His playful energy shifts again to serious as he seems to ponder my statement. He gives my hand a squeeze. “I guess I think I can just make you see past it. I mean, I told you about beating up the rapist and all you cared about was Jude.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t want you to leave me. I just don’t want you to be blindsided.”

And that’s one of the more rational points he’s made. “Fair enough.”

We cross over Canal to the business district and walk past people with their heads down or on their phones, rushing past us. I wonder what they think of us? I’m dressed in work-appropriate clothing. Aaron is super casual. We’re holding hands and strolling through the bustling city. Do we stand out? Is someone making up our backstory right now like I did for the couple earlier?

We’re farther from my apartment than what I thought. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t been stubborn and had taken the ride from Aaron. My legs feel like jelly. It’s like my day has caught up with me, and I just want to be home.

“Do you mind if we Uber the rest of the way?” I ask as I walk towards a bench. “My feet are killing me.”

“No need to Uber. I’ll call Seamus.” He pulls out his phone and taps away on it. “He’ll be here in ten.”

“Thanks,” I reply, resting my head against his arm. “Any other highlights you want to share before I read about them?”

“Hmmm . . . does it bother you that I’ve been with a lot of other women?” His hand rests high on my thigh.

I think about it for a second. “Does it bother you that I’ve been with other guys?”

He’s quiet for a minute as a cool breeze swirls a pile of leaves. “I don’t think about it. It’s just like shitting—only guys do it. Only I’ve been with other women. You, sweetheart, have no asshole and are as virginal as the new falling snow.” He kisses the top of my head.

“That’s absurd . . .”

He places his finger over my lips. “Shhhh . . . sweetheart. No need to argue. You’re still a virgin.”

We’re quiet again, and I think about his question. He’s in his mid- to late-thirties and has never been married. Add in the fact ‘rock star’ is his chosen profession, and I can see lots of women readily willing to spread their legs as being a perk of the job. A sick feeling washes over me. “Aaron.” I sit up and look at him.

He smirks. “I prefer angel.”

“Okay. Angel, you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he says seriously.

“I’m not sure if we have a title for what this is between us, but I’m a one-guy-at-a-time sort of girl. And I expect the same in return. If you feel the need to have sex with someone else, tell me you don’t want to see me anymore, but don’t, under any circumstances, think that you can have me and a side piece too.”

He nods. “You’re the only piece I want.”

We spot Seamus in the black SUV hanging a U-turn and we both stand. Aaron opens the passenger door and I crawl through to the other side, and he takes the front passenger seat.

Aaron turns around. “Your casa or mine?”

“Mine.”

I look out the car window as my city flies by, Aaron and Seamus whisking me off to my new life which is still yet undefined. New career. New guy. And a new set of challenges.

MK Landry
@NoPinkCaddy

Is Google my friend or foe? About to find out. #BoysMayBeMoreTroubleThanThey’reWorth

Heart-Shaped Pizza
@HeartShapedPizza2001

Is this a picture of
NoPinkCaddy
and her new boy? That’s freakin’
RealJohnnyKnite
. #RockStarSex