I grab the braids with one hand, pulling gently as I use my other hand to push her chin up. The exposed length of her neck begs for a mark, and I kiss and suck, testing her. “Can I?”
Her moan of agreement turns my cock to steel against her pussy. She pulls at the collar of her coveralls, sliding her tank top over too. “Not visible. It’s unprofessional.”
“Fuck professional,” I snarl, already licking my way down to where her neck meets her shoulder.
I kiss and nibble and suck, swallowing the taste of her skin. Her hips grind against me, her hands grabbing at my chest for leverage. Her short nails dig into my skin, marking me too, and I know that tonight, when I’m sharing a hotel room with Mark before the biggest day of our ranching year, I’ll appreciate the half-moons of her claim.
Suddenly, the door opens. “Hey Rix, Mr. Turner wants—Shit.” Reed freezes in the doorway of the breakroom, the horror on his face quickly morphing to fury.
Erica’s back goes straight and stiff, her walls erecting from one instant to the next as she climbs out of my lap. Standing tall, she glares at Reed, who’s moved on to grinding his teeth, not saying a word.
Erica snaps her fingers, prompting, “Mr. Turner wants . . .”
Reed drags his gaze from mine to Erica’s. “You, to talk to you.”
She adjusts her coveralls, but not quick enough to hide the bruising mark from Reed’s eagle eyes. I see it hit him like a punch to the gut, but Erica’s beelining for the door, focused on work. She tosses over her shoulder, “Play nice. Don’t get blood on the lunch table.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving Reed and me alone in the breakroom.
He glares at me, any pretense of politeness evaporating. He’d beat the shit out of me if he could, but we both know he won’t. One, because he can’t. I’m a big fucker, and even if he wanted to, he can’t take me. Two, he won’t hurt Erica that way. And that tells me more about him than anything.
He’s hurting and that Band-Aid needs to get ripped off like I told Erica ages ago. She’s been doing it, but not fast enough, not with enough yank. For all her blustering, she’s kind at heart. I am too, but I have no softness for Reed. Not when softness is cruelty.
“Guess I’ll have to play nice and not fuck you up for hurting her like that.” He’s spouting off about the hickey, knowing full well that it didn’t hurt her. But it hurt him. The too-fast rise and fall of his chest and the pain deep in his eyes tell me that much.
I lace my fingers together, putting them behind my head with my elbows and legs spread. It’s a show of force, that I’m totally at ease in what should be his environment, with him throwing threats.
“She was telling me to play nice. You” —I lift my chin his way— “are actually nice. Me, not so much.” I smirk and tilt my head, knowing the cocky arrogance will irritate him.
“Asshole,” he snarls.
“Meant it as a compliment.” Truthfully, it is. Reed is a good guy. He’s just a mouse caught in a wheel, and he doesn’t know how to get out. I’m gonna show him, though.
Band-Aid removal in three, two, one . . .
“I get it, Reed. You’ve had a vision your whole life. Whether it was yours or someone else’s doesn’t even matter anymore because it plays in your head like a favorite movie. Problem is? She ain’t watching the same one. She cares about you, she loves you, but not like you want. If it wasn’t me, it’d be someone else. But it’s not you, won’t ever be. You need to move on from her.”
He flinches, probably because she’s told me so much and also because it’s all true, and though he won’t admit it, not even to himself, he knows it. “Fuck you. You think you’re special? Nah, you ain’t nothing. And when she needs a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, I’m who she comes to.”
Time to hit the jugular. “Maybe so, because that’s what friends do for each other. But what about when she wants dick? It ain’t yours she’s going for, hasn’t been in a long time.” What Erica and I have is a lot more than dick, but it’s what he needs to hear to get it through that thick skull of his.
His hands curl into fists, but he holds his ground, booted feet rooted to the floor. I stand slowly, making no sudden movements, cross my arms over my chest, and look him in the eye.
“She loves you, but not like that. I swear to fuck, I’m not being an asshole here. I really am trying to play nice. Because you’re important to her, but so am I.” The weight of that is heavy, but it’s a responsibility I welcome. A reminder that I can handle so much more than what I’ve been shouldering recently. That I’m good at it, even if seems like I’m stumbling around aimlessly.
“What the fuck ever, man. Just don’t fucking hurt her or I will fucking kill you.” He points a finger at me threateningly. He might be tied with Erica and me on the record number of curse words in one sentence.
“Let’s be honest. I’m not going to hurt her. When and if this ever implodes, it’ll be me left broken and hurting.” The similarity to how Reed feels right now is painfully obvious to us both. “Luckily, I’ve got brothers with the balls to tell me to tape my shit together, build a bridge, and get over it.”
It’s silent for a long second, the tension thick, and I realize that I might have to actually fight this fucker. It’ll break my longest streak of not punching someone since elementary school. Not that I take particular pride in the number of fights I’ve been in. It’s nice not having swollen, bruised knuckles, but if that’s what it takes, I’ve never backed down. And I won’t start today.
Reed kicks out, shoving a chair my way. It screeches along the floor but I don’t react. My arms stay crossed. My feet stay still. But the growl in my throat won’t be stopped.
Luckily, Reed spins and stomps back out the door to the garage. I shake my head as I watch him go, sadly wishing that he would listen. But he can’t hear the truth yet. He’s not ready to give up and chase a new dream. I get that, having been forced into that situation myself, but it really is for his own good. He deserves to be happy . . . with someone other than Erica.
Alone, I clean up our lunch mess and throw the leftover tacos in the refrigerator for Manuel and Reed. He might be mad, but no one turns down free food. Especially not tacos this delicious.
Once I get it all picked up, the door opens again. “Seems that went well.” Erica’s sarcasm is sharp, her lack of surprise dry.
I shrug. “No bloodshed. Winning.”
She shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.”
I sweep her up in my arms, our bodies pressed together with her on her steel-toed tippy toes. “I’m gonna miss you too. Two days, Lil Bit.”
Two. Whole. Fucking. Days. Without her.
I don’t know how it happened, but I don’t know if I can handle being apart from her. And yeah, I’m well aware that makes me as sensitive and fragile as . . . fucking balls. Whatever.
The goodbye kiss is almost worth it, though, with her trying to climb into my skin with me and our tongues tangling together. I swear I can taste her soul, sour and sweet and prickly and kind, all at the same time.
I hope that I’m wrong, that my fears are just ghosts. I’d be broken if Erica’s ever done with me. If that ever happens, I might make Dad’s decline after Mom seem like a positive coping mechanism because I would destroy the world for her. And like Reed, some fucker telling me to move on would be like pissing into the wind. Ill-advised and messy as fuck.