Bad Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 3) Page 12

  When he rings the doorbell, I count to ten to calm my raging heart. I open the door and my pulse kicks into overdrive all over again. I feel a hard pang of lust deep in my belly. Oh my womb…

  He’s so beautifully rugged and rebellious. He’s wearing a white button down with a slim black tie under a black velvet blazer. His dark hair is brushed back off of his forehead. His piercing dark eyes canvass my body from head to toe and back and his gaze sharpens with passion. I’ve never experienced this kind of handsome before and it’s messing with my balance.

  His tattooed knuckles clench on the lip of the helmet he’s holding in his hand. “You look fucking gorgeous, Vivian.” Despite his classic attire, the grit in his voice reminds me that he’s a creature of pure primal instinct once he has me pinned down beneath him. I flutter at that knowledge.

  “You look so handsome,” I manage to squeeze out around the lump in my throat.

  “I figured I’d step up my game since I’ll be walking through the front door of the place with the prettiest woman in town.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly, shyly tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  He leans in slowly and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Happy birthday…”

  The way he says it—low and husky with a hint of a growl. I keen into his embrace as chills sweep up the back of my neck. I whimper when he pulls away.

  With a crooked grin, he stretches the helmet out to me.

  I furrow my brow and stretch my car keys out to him in response.

  Silently, he cocks his brow and wiggles the helmet around.

  Nope. I shake my head and jingle the keys.

  Giving up on our silly game, he laughs and shrugs as he lowers the helmet to his side. “I guess it was worth a shot.”

  Smiling at my little victory, I step out of the house and lock the door behind me. Clinton offers me his arm and we stroll down to the car together.

  He keeps me laughing on the ride through the quiet streets of Hoovertown and down toward the heart of downtown Copper Heights. By the time we’re walking through the front door of Gallos, I’m giddy. I’ve nearly forgotten that we’re here to celebrate the milestone that I’ve been dreading for way too long.

  I just hit the big 3-0.

  I’ve had a mild case of nausea all day. It still hasn’t sunk in yet but the day isn’t as tragic as I’d expected it to be, I guess. The earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole when I rolled out of bed this morning. I didn’t find a big, red X etched in blood on my front door. I didn’t wake up with an unexplained tremor in my hand the way my mother had when she got to my age. Maybe I’ll survive after all.

  As the hostess leads us in the direction of our dinner party, Reese waves us over to the table where she’s sitting with our group of guests. She reserved the private section at the back of the restaurant. Leo sits to her left with his arm draped around the back of her chair. Charlie and Nova are there too and thank god, this time, they’ve left the matching tracksuits at home. Sophia sits somberly next to them, clutching her round stomach and staring despondently into her glass of orange juice. Cleo and her man are cuddled on each other like lovedrunk teenagers. Then there’s my yoga instructor, Isla with her husband, Reuben. Plus, Uncle Phil, Aunt Jean and a few of our distant cousins. Sadie motions to the two empty seats next to her and waves Clinton and me over. I introduce him to the whole table and everyone greets him warmly. A tickle of pride dances in my belly when I see how well he fits in with the group.

  I’m afraid to admit to myself how excited I am about this guy. It’s disorienting. He’s so not what I was expecting to fall for. He doesn’t fill all the carefully-selected criteria that I thought I needed from the man I’d give my heart to. But he’s kind. Funny. Patient with all my many quirks. Perfect.

  And so damn good at that whole giving-orgasms thing. I mean really good at that giving-orgasms thing.

  For once, I’m enjoying myself and I’m enjoying my friends. I’m not worrying that the curls in my hair might be falling loose or that I’m laughing a bit louder than might be socially acceptable or that I maybe shouldn’t have let Clinton feed me that delicious, sinful bite of fatty, cheesy manicotti. This is a new feeling for me. I’ve felt isolated for so long. Suffocated by the walls I built up around myself. This feeling of togetherness warms me all the way to my toes.

  Everything is going perfectly until Nova asks someone to pass her the bread basket. Her glimmering diamond catches the light and Sadie’s eyes bulge. “Wait! You’re engaged? What?!”

  As all eyes turn to her and Charlie, Nova gives me an apologetic look. “Yeah, it just happened yesterday but we didn’t want to say anything since it’s Viv’s big night.”

  The table bursts into a boisterous round of hollering and applause as people take turns congratulating my brother and beautiful fiancée. I’m proud of them. He and Nova are perfect for each other. I can say that without even the slightest sting of jealousy. Those two belong together and they’ll make each other happy for the rest of their lives. I know it.

  “Well, something is definitely in the water with you Hartley kids this year,” Uncle Phil points out. “First, Reese. Then, Charlie. Then…” His eyes travel over to me and his words trail off awkwardly.

  Aunt Jean stage-whispers under her breath and pours herself yet another refill of wine. “Don’t hold your breath for Vivian. You know what they say; uptight prudes finish last.”

  One of my cousins hisses. “Mom…Stop it.”

  The woman shrugs carelessly and a brittle, hoary tuft of hair falls out of her unkempt bun. “Ugh! We all say it all the time. Why be a hypocrite when you can just say it to her face?”

  Uncle Phil seems mortified. He slams his fist into the table. “Jean. Enough drinking. Please.”

  The inebriated woman turns to me. “Viv, make sure to keep a tight grip on the man by your side. We wouldn’t want him running off on you like the last one did because at your age, you just never know if and when another one’ll come around.” She taps a finger to the watch on her wrist. “Tick-tock, honey.” The whole table falls dead-quiet at that.

  I feel the blow of her words deep in my belly. I try to ignore the tickling feeling at the back of my eyes, but I know it’s only a matter of seconds before the tears start falling. “I need some fresh air,” I mumble as I push away from the table.

  Reese calls my name and I hear Charlie scolding Aunt Jean as I stagger in the direction of the exit. I push against the restaurant’s back door and blunder into the alley behind.

  Shoving away the tears of embarrassment with my fists, I open my mouth and pull in a long inhale. I can’t believe I let that old hag get to me. Aunt Jean has always been a bitch and she drinks too much, especially when someone else is footing the bill. Yes, it was humiliating to hear her say those things about me but I think the worst part was having Clinton right next to me, hearing them too. Maybe I am unlovable. Maybe I’m destined to be a spinster. But I definitely don’t want him to see me that way.

  When the backdoor bursts open, I quickly dab my eyes again. I spin around and it’s Clinton standing there.

  “Are you okay?” Anger vibrates from his body as he comes up to me and cradles my face in his palms. They’re strong and warm against my cheeks.

  I force a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t want to overstep and I really hope you don’t mind…but I told that fucking bitch to get the hell out of here.”

  I gasp in shock. “You told her to leave?”

  He nods unapologetically.

  “Clinton! That’s my father’s brother’s wife!”

  He angles his head to the side. “I don’t care if she’s the Duchess of fucking Uppity Ville. She hurt your feelings. Deliberately. I couldn’t just stand by and let her get away with it.”

  My shoulders heave when I push out a loaded exhale. So many feelings swirl inside of me. No one’s ever stood up for me like this. I’ve always sort of been on my own. I’m the oldest of my siblings so growing up, i
t was my duty to be someone they could rely on. But no one was ever really there for me. My parents weren’t ill-intentioned. They just thought they were teaching me to be responsible. The result was that I never had a soft place to fall. When I needed a shoulder to cry on, I learned to suck it up and put on a happy face. But now, there’s Clinton in front of me, being my person, being my rock. It does something indescribable to my heart.

  I lean forward and catch his lips, brushing my mouth on his. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. I bury my face in his shirt. “Aunt Jean always was a bitch!” Saying it out loud is kind of liberating.

  Clinton chuckles, his mouth pressed against my scalp.

  “She has no idea how much her words sting sometimes. I already have a complex about turning thirty.”

  He steps back with his eyebrow hiked up. "A complex about turning thirty?"

  "Y'know...there are things I thought I'd have by this age. And I don't have them."

  "Things like what?"

  I suck down a deep breath. "A family..."

  We stand frozen, staring at each other in the dark, shadowy alley.

  "You want a family?" I can't quite decipher the look on his face as he asks the question.

  I feel insanely self-conscious but I decide to stand by my truth. "Yes. I thought I'd have a family by now." I drop my gaze to the ground because his penetrating gaze has me feeling too unstable.

  He nods slowly. "Mmm..."

  Whatever the hell that means.

  More silence before he says, "You've got a brother and sister. Your parents. Aren't they your family?"

  "They don't count."

  "They count if you don't have any."

  My heart squeezes in my chest at his words. I stutter when I ask, "D-do you not have any family?"

  "I do," he concedes as he kicks at something on the ground. "But at the same time, I don't. I don't remember the last time my brother wished me a happy birthday. And my mother? She’s so deep in her misery that she hasn't even noticed me in years."

  My brows furrow. "Oh my god, Clinton...I'm so sorry." A long silence sweeps over us. But there's so much noise in my mind, so many questions I want to ask. It takes a while to figure out just where to start. "What happened to your mother?"

  He yanks roughly on his tie, pulling it away from his throat. Suddenly, he looks like he's suffocating. "She got trapped in a life she didn't want. She was the daughter of the president of a motorcycle club. She was expected to marry her father's successor. To keep it in the family. She ran away to get out of it but she just landed herself in more trouble—she got pregnant with me." He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs roughly.

  Even in the dark alley, I can see the agony etched in his features. "Oh Clinton..."

  "She didn’t know what to do so she went back to the compound. No one asked any questions. They just married her off to a man who was way too old and too hardened for her. Growing up, I just remember her being a robot. No emotion. No feeling. Nothing. Now that I'm older, I see that it was the effect of the drugs and probably the beatings, too."

  My heart is splintering for him. "How did you end up in Copper Heights?"

  "My stepfather was on his deathbed and I was technically next in line for president of the MC. I was being trained for the position but I didn't want it. Not after the things I've seen. So I went to Prez and told him I wanted out. He paid me off, gladly. He gave me a shit ton of money and told me to get lost so that his son could inherit the ‘family business’. Now my younger brother—the kid I taught to catch grasshoppers, the kid who’d come to me for advice about girls—he’ll inherit the kingdom and sit on the fucking throne of blood..."

  More and more questions come to me. I start with the one that seems like the simplest. "Do you know who your biological father is?" My words seem to echo in the quiet of night.

  He nods a little. "It took a lot of digging but I figured it out. It's something I'd rather just put behind me now."

  “And you said you have a younger brother. Were you ever close?”

  “As kids we were close. That changed when he was about fifteen and I was seventeen.” The look in his eyes speaks of unimaginable pain. “Prez has this initiation that he does. All the teenagers have to go through it if they want to become full members of the club. Basically, we were sent on a mission. It was supposed to be just a simple break and enter. Steal a few things. Rough some people up if we had to. Well, that plan went to hell real fast. The target was balls deep in a member of a rival gang when we got there. There were gunshots. One of them was fired by my brother. A child got hit.” Clinton pulls in a breath that shakes his entire frame and my heart breaks apart for him. “I’ll never forget the look in his eyes as that little girl lay there taking her last breath…The blood on his face…His trembling hands…He was never the same after that. That’s the day I lost my little brother. But the Prez?” Clinton laughs bitterly. “The Prez was proud of his son. He bragged that his little boy was now a man.”

  It’s unimaginable. Something like that would never happen in my family. Growing up, were fiercely shielded from the evil in the world. In a place like Copper Height, in a family like the Hartleys, Clinton’s story would have been nothing more than an urban legend. I immediately feel like an idiot, like the world’s shallowest person, for not being insanely grateful for the family I have. I’m incredibly lucky to have my life and I need to remind myself of that instead of obsessing about what’s missing. “Oh Clinton. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t want your apology, Vivian. What I want is for you to appreciate yourself and the people around you. That’s what I want. Because life can be cruel. You got lucky. You got amazing family and friends…Aside from that Jean woman.” I laugh a little. He swings his arm toward the door. “You’ve got a brother and sister who set up this birthday party for you, parents who are there for you.” Looking forlorn, he digs his hands into his front pockets. “Me, I’m truly alone in this world. And from my point of view, it sort of feels like your loneliness is a choice.”

  His words slice me like a knife. I’ve been so busy feeling sorry for myself that I’ve been overlooking just how good I’ve got it. How childish of me.

  “We’ve all got stuff that we’re afraid of, Sunflower. We just need to face the light every now and then. So we don’t get swallowed up by the darkness.”

  I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze my body to his, letting his warmth close in on me. I breathe him in, becoming intoxicated in the best way. My heart is swollen with emotion. Clinton just shared a huge part of himself with me. I can tell it wasn’t easy but he did it anyway. To me, that connection is a birthday gift that money can’t buy. “This night is getting kind of heavy. I think we should just get out of here.”

  He nods in agreement as he steps out of the hug. His long fingers work on his tie, tearing it off of his neck. “That’s a very good idea.” He carelessly tosses the tie into a nearby dumpster and unbuttons the top of his shirt. He cranes his neck from side to side and I giggle at the look of utter relief on his face.

  “I should go say bye to my sister and my friends.” The idea of facing them isn’t exactly thrilling but I can’t just sneak out of here after all the effort that Reese put into this night. I turn toward the passageway that leads around the building to the front door.

  “Okay. Let’s go say goodbye. Then, we’re gonna go back to your place and we’re gonna celebrate every single old-ass inch of you.” Clinton heads back toward the service exit.

  My laughter cuts off as my gaze follows him. “Wait—you can’t get back in through the backdoor,” I tell him. “It locks from the inside.”

  He scoffs. “You can’t get in through the backdoor.”

  I take a few more steps to close the space between us. “But the county bylaws forbid any person from attempting to gain entry to a business establishment without the use of a key.”

  He pins me with a look that is so dark and sexy that my toes curl in my shoes. “Vivian, I don’t
care about the rules,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “But I think you already know that.”

  With a little jiggle, a quick poke and a bit of a nudge, he pries the door open. My jaw drops in amazement. So…that was kind of hot. He reaches a hand out to me and pulls me inside.

  By the time we get back to the table, most of my guests have scattered. I’m glad that Aunt Jean, Uncle Phil and their damn children are gone. Only my siblings and their significant others remain at the table. Reese fusses over me, apologizing profusely. I assure her that I’m okay and that our aunt’s verbal assault hasn’t left an indelible scar on my ego. I give her a tight hug and thank her for the thoughtful gesture of organizing this dinner. Then Clinton and I say good night to the crowd and head out to my car.