The Sweet Under His Skin (16 page)

Arielle bit her lip, put her hands on his head, and kissed his hair, tears stinging her eyes. "Oh, Peanut," she whispered. "I love you, honey."

"I love you too," he replied, muffled by her stomach. She hated herself right then for holding a one-person pity party. She was lucky, after all. She had Calvin.

"We're going to be fine," she assured him, ruffling his hair.

"Okay," he muttered back, then darted into the passenger seat, wiping his eyes.

She was scaring Calvin. That wasn't good. Arielle should have known he'd pick up on the nuances of her moods. She was cranky, tired all the time, her temper was getting shorter. He was spending more and more time with Quentin. Calvin probably blamed himself for her shitty attitude.

When she turned to her house and started up the stoop her eyes went to the neighbor's place, now dark and silent. The three days they'd spent there while her bathroom was demolished had passed without incident. As promised, they never saw him during their stay. The bathroom was removed over the course of three days, everything barricaded with heavy plastic and carried out in equally sturdy trash bags. The tests on the mold itself had come back as non-toxic, but they were assured that any mold was not good for people to be around.

Staying in the Quentin museum hadn't even seemed weird—there was nothing in the place that was him. Not a trace of his personality or interests could be found. Not that she was actively snooping. She left the vanity in the bathroom off the master closed. Ditto for the nightstands and the basement. And the hall closet. They did have to go back home for dishes and cutlery. Arielle had been shocked to find just three dessert saucers and four dinner plates all on their own in his kitchen cupboard, but other than that it was a lot like being at home.

Once it was all-clear to move back they did. The bathroom was down to subfloor and wall studs, roughed-in plumbing and a capped sewer line. Even if the bathroom never got replaced she felt better for having that shit gone.

Quentin showed up later that same day and Arielle gave him his keys back. She explained she'd cleaned both bathrooms, the bedding and the towels but he wasn't too worried, just asked Calvin if he was ready to put a motor together. Calvin had spent every possible hour with Quentin since then. Arielle was starting to feel…left out, actually. Calvin had been her buddy at one time.

Arielle sleepily made her way down the hall to the bedroom, about to take off her bra and shorts and crawl into bed when her doorbell rang. She blew out a breath of annoyance, the walk back to the entrance seeming three times as long now. She pulled the door open slowly, only easing it all the way when she saw it was a woman.

A woman she didn't know. A woman who seemed even taller than she was naturally, not because of the spiked heels on her boots but because of the way she held herself. Shoulders back, chin up, arms crossed under her breasts, hip jutting out to the side. Dressed in perfectly fitting jeans and a tank top that stretched tight across the killer chest that her arms were propping up.

Her body was incredible, and Arielle was only starting to notice that about other women because she was so conscious of her own suddenly. Arielle felt her posture weaken, her shoulders rolling in just from the sight of this woman who basically had 'Biker Bitch' tattooed on her forehead. Everything about her screamed self-assurance.

"Can I help you?" Arielle asked, on the verge of yawning.

The woman had been ready to verbally respond but that stopped and she paused, mid-thought, eyeing Arielle up and down. Something seemed to surprise her. Then she shook her head. "Sorry, just realized I don't even know your name."

Now Arielle was a bit off guard. "Well, I haven't given it to you yet."

That got her a raised eyebrow. "I'm Mandy."

"Hi. I'm Arielle."

Mandy nodded, then thrust a hand at her. Arielle shook it, still unsure what the hell was going on here.

"You're not what I was expecting," Mandy mused, giving her some more surveillance.

"I'm sorry, should I know you?"

Mandy shook her impressive mane of hair back over her shoulders. "No, not at all. I'm a friend of Quentin's."

Arielle felt a peculiar tremor in her chest. Of course this woman would be a friend of Quentin's. She looked the type that could not only get a man like that, but keep him enthralled for ages to come. Arielle felt even uglier, and again more confused than ever.

"Okay," Arielle filled the silence. What was this woman doing here?

"Can I come in?" Mandy's face and tone implied she thought Arielle might be a bit slow.

Arielle was really taken aback now. "I'm sorry, I don't know you—"

"Look, I'm a good friend of Quentin's. I look out for him. And when there's some piece of tail getting him all tied up in knots, I need to look that bitch in the eye and determine what she wants from him. So. Can. I. Come. In?"

Arielle felt her jealousy and self-deprecation fade. "I'm not in the habit of letting strange, rude people in my house. So…no, you can't."

Mandy dropped her arms, mouth open, head still to the side. Then she gave just a ghost of a smile. "Well. Pussy's got a bit of claw after all."

"What?"

"You wanna fuck him, have at 'im, honey. But don't play games with him, and know that the fucking is all you're gonna get."

The anger was the biggest emotion, but horror, mortification and embarrassment all rushed up to join in, too. Her face flushed, her heart started hammering faster, and she got…

Sick.

Arielle felt the heave shake her torso, then she became very still to see if that was the end of it. Mandy's head jerked back like she knew something distressing was going on, holding up a hand carefully. "Are you—"

But Arielle turned on her heel and raced down the hall to the en suite washroom, getting the toilet seat up just in time to completely empty her stomach of the oatmeal she'd had that morning. Her back bowed with it, and even when she was empty it was like she couldn't stop retching. It kept going until her ribs got too tired to keep it up. She closed the lid, put her hand up to flush, and rested her forehead on the closed seat, taking a deep breath.

Arielle jumped two feet when a hand was placed between her shoulder blades. "Sweetheart, you okay?"

She looked up, confused as to how this woman thought it was okay to follow her into her house and watch her throw up. She didn't have the energy to yell at her, though. She just started crying instead.

There was a long awkward pause, then this Mandy woman squatted next to her. "Honey, you got anything for nausea?"

She nodded. "Gravol. In the medicine cabinet."

They were chewable ginger tablets. Mandy held out the bubble packing, popping two into Arielle's waiting hand. She chewed it, the taste not mixing well with what was in her mouth, but she got it down and closed her eyes to wait for her stomach to stop rolling.

"What is this from?" Mandy asked, voice soft, concerned and downright motherly. "Is it just the flu or…something else? You knocked up, honey?"

That gave her a reason to laugh. "Radiation therapy," Arielle croaked. "I'm being treated for breast cancer."

Another pause. "Did they get it in time?"

Arielle shook her head. "I've had a lumpectomy on my right breast, mastectomy on the left."

Mandy inhaled with a "Jesus Christ" that wasn't for Arielle, she'd bet on it. "Are you the same neighbor that was cleaning houses?"

Arielle's brain wondered how she knew this, why Quentin would tell her that, yet the rest of her was too tired to care. "Yeah, I had to earn extra money to take time off work."

"Well shit," Mandy went on as though she was disappointed about something. "I’m gonna kill him. Come on, honey, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

Arielle let herself be helped up, and she leaned on Mandy while the taller woman led her to her bed. As Arielle rolled onto her side she caught how Mandy was looking at all the pill bottles on her nightstand. The woman placed the package of Gravol closest to Arielle, smiling down on her.

"We got off on the wrong foot." Arielle suspected that was as close as Mandy came to an apology.

Arielle had to half-chuckle. "You think?"

"Quentin can be too trusting. People can take advantage of that."

Arielle couldn't imagine anyone daring to trick the man that lived next door; not because he was so clever, just because you'd be in for so much hurt once he figured out what you did. Just like her sister. But she kept that to herself.

"He's been keeping quiet about the two of you."

"Mandy," Arielle stopped her there, "there is no me and Quentin. He's my neighbor. Yes, he's been very kind to me. I have no idea why." Mandy scoffed but Arielle kept talking. "He's taken a shine to my nephew for some reason. And he'sdoing Calvin a world of good, for which I am indebted to him. So if you're worried I'm out to get him in some way…don't worry. I'd rather amputate my foot than take advantage of him."

Mandy brushed her hair off her forehead in a comforting gesture. "That's a real good answer, sweetheart. But as far as they're being no you and Quentin, you might want to re-examine that."

Then the woman turned and left, a cloud of confusion and exhaustion in her wake.

Chapter Thirteen

Two days of riding, still no idea who Reuben was, and Quentin just wanted his shower and his bed. Yep, he was definitely getting too old for this shit.

Leaving the clubhouse he was half asleep on his feet heading for his Dyna when Mandy's voice came to him. "Quentin!"

He half-turned, digging a cigarette out his pocket. She was standing outside the clubhouse, waving him over. He lit a smoke and then answered her call, same as anyone else would if they wanted to keep their knee caps in working order.

"Mandy," he greeted her cordially. "Looking good today, doll."

She gave him her no bullshit face and snapped, "Inside. Now."

Eyebrows high, he followed her into the office, shutting the door. He was turning around with a smart-ass comment on his lips but she hit him in the arm before he could get it out.

He side-stepped the second shot, overplaying the violence by a mile. "Ow! Mandy, what the fuck?"

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, clearly pissed off.

"Can you fill me in on what the fuck you're talking about?"

She took a deep breath, hands on hips. "Henderson's office called, saying your bathroom is on the list for next week. Asked me to give you the message, then they confirmed your address. But it wasn't your address, it was the address for your pop-tart neighbor." Then she wound up and pounded his bicep one more time.

Quentin rubbedhis upper arm, confused. "Why’re you hitting me, Mandy?"

"I went by her house." Quentin felt his stomach drop like he'd been caught in a lie. But he hadn't done anything wrong…that he could think of, anyway. "Quentin, she's sick," Mandy's voice got soft, and her eyes had a strange compassion in them. "You never said she had cancer, for fucks sakes."

"How is that anyone's business?" he replied, and she had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"What’re you doing with her, Quentin?"

He straightened his back. "Nothing, Mandy. She made it clear she's not interested like that."

"Then why are contractors calling you about her bathroom?"

He took a deep breath. "She needs help. She's sick. No one's helping her and I can."

Mandy gave him a soft look, shaking her head. "Oh, Quentin."

He had to shake his head, close his eyes. He was busted. "Yeah, I like her. You saw her, she's so fucking beautiful, Mandy. And she…I dunno. I like how it feels to be around her. I can help her."

"You like that she needs you," Mandy filled in. Quentin lowered his head. "She's too tough to need you, honey." Now he frowned. Mandy smiled in reply. "A woman should want you, Quentin. The needy ones are trouble."

"You gonna bust my balls about this?"

"Not at all, honey. I went over there to see if the bitch had alternate motives to getting her claws in you. I was pretty sure something untoward was going on. Then I met her. And got pissed on behalf of the sisterhood because I thought you were taking advantage of her."

Quentin snorted. "How? You think I got a kink for surgery scars?"

Mandy put her hands to each side of his face. "This is one you've gotta handle with care, babe."

"I know that. But I can't…I can't ignore her. I try. I can't."

"She's going through a lot."

"I can't even imagine it."

"Just…make her feel pretty, Quentin. Make her laugh. I know you can do that.It’s obvious why she’s taken to you."

"She's got a lot of walls up."

"Be sweet and watch those walls come down."

Quentin had to smile, remembering her reaction to him making her breakfast. "Did you see the kid while you were there?"

"No, he wasn't there. Good thing, too."

"Why? What'd you do Mandy?"

She was smiling indulgently. "Nothing, Quentin. But she's had radiation treatments, and she got pretty sick. I left her in bed with Gravol."

"She was sick? From that?"

Mandy shrugged. "I guess. Don't know anyone who's had radiation."

"Shit." Full-on panic hit, and he didn't even take a moment to keep it in check. In front of Mandy yet. Yeah, he must be pretty fucking tired.

"Okay, settle down. She's fine. She needs rest. And she doesn't want you to see her like this, babe."

"Then I gotta be there when Calvin gets home."

Mandy was still smiling, furrowing her brow. "Shit. You're so far gone for the both of them, aren't you?"

He shrugged and backed away, forcing a laugh he didn't feel. "Come on, Mandy. The fuck I have."

"Quentin, honey, take this seriously and don't shrug it off, not with me. That little chippie lets you in, that's a big deal. And you can't just hit and run her, you know that."

"Yeah... I know."

"You haven't even slept with her, have you?" He just clenched his jaw. "Oh fuck, Quentin. I didn't know this was serious. Bishop said he caught you hugging her and—"