Wrangled Mess Read online

  “What?”

  “They found the cupcakes ma’am. Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all.

  I laughed feeling relieved that somebody is finding some good out of this. I’m humiliated. “They’re welcome to whatever they want. I’ll bring some more to the firehouse tomorrow.”

  He patted Trace on the shoulder, “Keep her.” Then ran back inside.

  “Does everyone in your family have a sweet tooth?”

  “Those are for Kris. I think it’s date night.”

  “Kris?”

  “Oh, uh, she’s kind of his girlfriend. I think I’ll wait and explain that one another time.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t need explanations. I need wine and a nap.” I covered a yawn.

  “Did you break it off with Jud?”

  I laughed and smacked his stomach just hard enough to make a slight slap. “Jackson. I think I did. I mean, I wanted to. I threw my phone into the fireplace before I got the words out. Do you know what he said to me??” I looked up wondering if this is a mistake.

  That concerned look is back, with a peppering of protective possessiveness. “What did he say to you?”

  “I accused him of drooling over his boss’s skinny blonde wife. He denied it saying how I know he likes his women big. Basically he called me fat. He thinks he’s funny, but it never comes off that way.”

  He raised an eyebrow, “He should meet my aunt. That’s a big woman.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Seriously, she’s pushing four hundred pounds.”

  “If you tell me you like big women I’m going to punch you in your perfect abs.”

  “How do you know they’re perfect?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “You changed the subject talking about my perfect abs.”

  I giggled and poked him in his perfect rib. “Very funny.”

  Sawyer came back with a cake, “Hey, can I bring this holder thing back tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I won’t need those again for a couple days. Take whatever you want, I’ll come get the containers in the morning on my way back from Verizon.”

  “Haw!! Score!!” He thrust his invisible sword in the air at the guy coming out, “Seize the booty boys!! The Cappy says we can have all we can carry!!”

  I doubled over again. “That man ain’t right.” I can’t stop laughing.

  “They don’t get out much.”

  The guys finally cleaned me out. Literally. Not that I mind. The house smells good. Like my neighbors fireplace burning. I like that. Bits went outside to reclaim his territory as I closed windows and turned off a few of the unnecessary fans.

  Trace is cleaning up the carnage of my kitchen. “Sorry about my brother.”

  “Don’t be. I haven’t laughed that hard in years. I’m amazed he was able to grab two guys and get out here so fast.”

  “He was at the club waiting for his shift to end. Those two weren’t fire fighters. They were prospects.”

  “Club? Prospects? What are you talking about?”

  “Exiles. You know, the motorcycle club in AJ.”

  “Yeah, but… oh. Oh. Oh shit.” I took a little better look at Wrangler. Trace. “Santa Fe.”

  He looked suspicious and tossed the dish towel to the counter. “That’s where I moved from. Did I tell you that?”

  “No. Is your last name Colson?”

  “Yes.” He’s about to gnaw on his lip.

  “We can’t see each other.” Shit!! This is just my luck.

  “You’re going to have to tell me why.” He followed me to the living room where I stood by my gas fireplace. I wonder if you can burn real wood in this thing.

  I cringed when he bore down using his height to stop my pacing. “You need to talk to Robert, I mean Slider. I can’t talk to you about it. He has to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Intimidation is all but oozing from his pores. Colson. All Colson.

  “Go talk to him.”

  “We’re supposed to be going out to dinner.” He argued.

  “I need to get dressed if we’re still going out. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll be back. Go see your brother. Please.” Don’t take the pig. Don’t take the pig. I prayed to myself.

  He studied me for a moment too long, “I’m not going to take your pig. What kind of man do you think I am?” How does he do that?? Maybe it was written all over my face. I love the little Bacon Bits. He’s my baby.

  I exhaled, “I think you’re a good man, but I really need you to go see your brother.”

  “Shit.” He cursed and stepped back to withdraw his phone from his front shirt pocket.

  “Wrangler, go see him. Don’t call.”

  “Don’t tell me how to talk to my brother, and don’t call me Wrangler. What did I tell you about that?” He turned away from me into his phone. “Hey. I need to know why a doctor Celeste Skye is telling me to call you before I kiss her.”

  There was a long silence that sent me to the kitchen. I don’t want to hear this.

  Slider, aka Robert Colson Jr., is a patient. One I inherited from my father. My father is still alive and well, he’s just retired. The patients he coveted most were given to me the day of his accident. That’s when my father became the patient in more ways than one.

  He was hit by a truck driver who fell asleep behind the wheel, then dragged more yards than I care to remember. The fact that he survived is a miracle. The struggle to maintain that survival has been pure hell, for him, and for our family.

  I took a trip down memory lane while staring out the window to the mountains. It’s getting dark. Little hooves are tip-toeing across my floor. It’s peaceful and suddenly lonely at the same time.

  Everything is riding on Slider. If he says not to date his shrink, Trace will have to walk out that door and never look back. Just like the accident forced my dad to quit riding and never look back.

  I miss the days when he’d take me on rides. We grew up taking turns going for rides with Daddy. Sometimes it was just around the block, other times it was for hours at a time to pick up parts, or meet with friends that lived far from town. I wiped a tear away as Trace’s arms came around me from behind.

  He nosed my hair away from my ear. “You worry too much. He said you’re fired. Then he re-hired you because he can’t trust anyone else. I had to swear an oath, and promise him our first child as a sacrifice for the club, but I knew you’d understand.”

  His words both soothed, and amused. “You’re terrible. What did he really say?”

  “He said not to tell me where the bodies are buried.”

  “I don’t know where the bodies are buried.”

  “Exactly.” He turned me around in his arms and lifted my chin. “Don’t talk to me about Slider, and I won’t ask you to. Between you and me, if it’s something that could possibly save his life, you get a free pass to talk to me, and me alone. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough.” The only excuse for breaking the coveted oath of privacy is if there’s a life depending on the information. In a way it’s a relief to know I have someone I can go to if I feel Slider is in trouble.

  “Now. Would you like to go out to a nice dinner?”

  “I would, but what do we do with Bits?”

  “Put him in his carrier. He’ll be alright for a couple hours.”

  I pouted at the idea.

  He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, “You’re going to spoil him.”

  “I can’t help it. He’s so cute. Except when he spills his water dish. Five times. In a row.”

  My doorbell rang making us both look at each other funny. “Expecting someone?”

  “No. Maybe Sawyer forgot a cake?”

  “No, they’re very thorough. Stay behind me.”

  “I can get my own door.�
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  “I’d rather you didn’t since you don’t know who it is.”

  “There’s a peep hole.”

  “Which you don’t use.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you used the window earlier instead. Why is that anyway?”

  “The peephole’s too high. I can’t see.”

  He did a double take at the peephole, then at me. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.” He looked through the hole. “Grey suit, feathered 80’s hair.”

  “Oh shit. Jackson.”

  “Are you kidding me? He looks like Michael J. Fox.”

  “Oh hush. Get out of here. Go out back, I need to talk to him alone.”

  “Not a chance.” He grabbed the knob and dropped back behind the door. “I bet he drives a DeLorean. Don’t call him McFly by accident.”

  I tried not to laugh in Jackson’s face. Trace is right, he does look like a younger Michael J. Fox. How did I miss this??

  Jackson stepped right in as if he owns the place. “Did your phone die? I got concerned when the line went dead.”

  “The line went dead because you’re an ass.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him back outside. “I think this relationship has run it’s course.”

  He ran his hand through feathered brown hair that’s thinning by the week with all the hand molesting. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to break up. We’re never going to figure out who should move. I want kids, you don’t. I like my family, you don’t.”

  “I like your family, I’m just not big on family gatherings every Sunday. I like my days off to be peaceful.”

  “So do I, that peace just happens to include a lot of happy family background noise. You won’t even miss me. I see you eyeing the skinny little blondes whenever we go out. I’m not even sure why you’re dating me. Go find what you really want.”

  He turned away doing the hand thing again. “They don’t pay the bills.”

  It took me a second, “What did you just say?”

  He spun back around, “You can’t break it off. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be able to afford the condo.”

  “I don’t give you money.”

  “Well, you do, you just don’t know it. If you fire me, or break it off, I have enough evidence to bury you in IRS lawsuits for ten years.”

  “What did you do?” I stepped forward only to run smack into Trace’s arm.

  “Yeah. What did you do?” The deep voice of the warrior came out with a force that had me stepping back.

  Jackson backed up towards his car. “So this is the reason you’re acting like an idiot. All you had to do was tell me you wanted to slum it for a while. I would have understood.”

  I covered my mouth waiting for Trace to put his fist through Jackson’s face so hard it popped it right out the back of his skull. Instead I watched as the warrior intimidated Jackson all the way to his car. They exchanged words I don’t care to hear.

  I just want wine. Jackson has been fucking with my money. On some level I knew. It was too humiliating and scary to accept his betrayal, so I denied it. I ignored it.

  Trace locked the front door and met me at the bar with a piglet swimming in mid air looking for his mommy. “Here. Take your child.”

  I took the baby and put him in a now familiar football hold. “Poor Bits. So much drama for such a little piggy.”

  “I’m going to have Joe do a little digging into Jerry.” He said tapping his phone.

  “Jackson.”

  “Whatever.”

  “For your text. Get the name right.”

  “I don’t need a name. I have a picture and his license plate.”

  “Don’t do anything until you talk to me about whatever Joe finds.” I begged.

  He looked up from his phone, “We missed dinner. How about a bar full of bikers instead?”

  “Can we take Bits? I don’t think he should be alone after all this drama.”

  “Absolutely. Keep a close eye on him though.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s little, he could get stepped on by big boots.”

  “Good point.”

  4

  Turns out it wasn’t big boots I had to worry about, it was big boobs. Every woman in the bar fell in love with Bits, and he fell in love with them right back. I swear he’s posing for camera pictures. Talk about being a ham.

  Today is Joe’s birthday. The party is switching over from a club barbecue to a more rowdy biker party. The band is loud, the food seems to be floating on trays through the air between people.

  Slider has told me a lot about his family, blood and club. I haven’t met anyone except Salina until tonight. Joe barely acknowledged me. Red, his wife, on the other hand gave me a warm welcome and a hug, before heading back into the kitchen.

  It’s a struggle to keep up with where Bits has gotten off to. Sawyer is here tonight, so I got to meet Kris. Kris is a riot. She’s a girly-girl, and pink from head to toe, except for her blonde hair and creamy white skin. She could use some sun, but I imagine she stays clear of tanning to keep the wrinkles away. I know I do.

  The cheerful atmosphere of the place had me forgetting all about Jackson, and the phone I’ll need to replace tomorrow morning.

  Kris bounced over with Bits, at least I think that’s my little piglet. “We gave him a mani-pedi!”

  I took the sparkly little guy, “What is he wearing??”

  “I made him a shirt out of my scarf. He was naked.”

  I looked my poor baby over. Sure enough he’s in fluffy sparkly cotton with sparkly red tipped hooves. “Is that lipstick on his snout??”

  “Goat. He was being a brat. I wiped it off the best I could, but Bitsy likes the flavor and kept licking at it.” She explained scratching behind his ears.

  “Bitsy?”

  She put her finger to her lips shushing me playfully, “Shh. He doesn’t know he’s gender challenged.”

  I coughed she caught me so off guard with that one.

  Sawyer swooped in and stole her away like Tarzan, only he didn’t have a rope hanging from a tree for swinging on. Kris waved, “Bye Bitsy!! See you soon!!”

  “He’s not gender challenged!!!” I yelled in a bar full of bikers.

  It got quieter all of a sudden.

  I looked around at the people looking back at me and held Bits up in the air, “She pimped my piglet!” That sent us all into hysterical laughter. I needed this after today. Trace gets big time points for saving my night.

  He accepted my invitation to come inside for coffee before he drives home. It’s late, almost one in the morning, but since I don’t need to get up too early I think I’ll live. I could be milking my time with this man. He’s addictive to look at.

  Before I got a chance to start a round of small talk and getting to know each other, a strange scratching noise came frantically down the hall.

  Bits crashed into something behind Trace making me jump. I think there’s an end table missing now, probably on it’s side. Trace stepped back in time to reveal a piglet hauling ass in slow motion. Well, his hooves are hauling ass, he’s not going anywhere, fast.

  Then he started squealing at the top of his little lungs as the giant paper bag chased him from one end of the living room to the other. He’s squealing bloody murder slamming into everything like a pinball that’s just been launched.

  Finally the wrangler trapped him under an end table and untangled the terrified piglet.

  I gathered up the scared baby, “Awww. Poor baby. Did the big mean bag get you?” Somehow he’d gotten tangled in a brown paper bag with handles. The bag caught around his neck and chased him across the floor.

  “That stupid pig. He gets into everything. He needs a playpen so I can get my hands on you for more than five minutes.”

  “Trace. He’s a baby. He do
esn’t know any better.”

  “He’s got you wrapped around his little foot.”

  I snuggled the baby wrapping his blanket around him. “Thank you for tonight. I really appreciate you dropping everything and coming to my rescue.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He popped a mug off the rack and poured a cup of coffee from the pot.

  “Is it? I’m still having a hard time believing you’re here at all.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. You just don’t look like the kind of man who would go for someone like me.”

  “Again, why do you say that?”

  “Oh come on. Look in the mirror. You have amazing silver eyes, beautiful black hair that falls to your belt, and you’re built like an athlete.”

  He set the coffee cup down and took Bits away to set him on the floor. His long fingers dove into my hair on his way back up. The feel of his breath on my lips is making it very difficult not to kiss him.

  “You are absolutely, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t want a one night stand with you. I want an every night stand for the rest of my life with you. Now get some sleep. Text me when you finish your errands in the morning. I want to see you before you start your show.”

  “Do you like homemade pizza?”

  “Did you make it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I look forward to enjoying it. Goodnight sweet Cookie. I need to go before I don’t.” He pressed his lips to mine just long enough to make me consider kissing him back.

  Before I could react he slipped away and out my front door. I didn’t walk him there because I need a minute, and he has a key now. The memory of him finding and pocketing my spare key in the junk drawer and holding it up for me to give him a reluctant, yet approving nod.

  How strange is it that I barely hesitate to give this man a key to my house when I barely know him? Jackson still doesn’t have a key . He’s never asked for one. Wrangler wasted no time.

  I smiled to myself. No, Trace Michael Colson, aka Wrangler, wastes no time doing anything.

  The sound of him locking the door confirmed what I already knew. He really does care about my well being. My safety.