Linky, I Drinky
WHEN I GET BACK TO Reagan’s, I’m stressed as fuck. I’ve spent all day dealing with shit. Mainly, covering my tracks. There’s no denying it now. Louie has sniffed me out all the way down from New Jersey to North Carolina. If he finds me, I’m fucked. Deeply and horribly fucked.
I mean, who steals from the mafia?
A wannabe bookie who doesn’t follow rules well, that’s who.
I scrub my face with my palm before entering her cute bungalow. If I were a smart man, I’d bolt again. Leave this hometown of mine and head west. But I can’t. Not with Andie now married and with a baby. I’m a damn uncle, for crying out loud. I need to settle down and get my shit straight.
Plus, I can’t leave her.
Rey.
My best friend, who I’m fucking in love with.
Jesus.
A quick scan of the street tells me Louie’s signature gold-colored Town Car is nowhere to be seen. I’d been on my way to pick up lunch and swing it by Reagan’s work in case she hadn’t eaten, when I saw Louie standing in front of his car, talking to that prick who beat my ass the other day. Lenny or whatever the fuck his name was. I was so shocked they were speaking together that I slowed down and locked eyes with Louie’s beady ones. His cigar nearly fell out of his mouth when he grinned at me.
I’d spent the rest of the day driving in circles. Not only was I trying to get them off my tail, I also had to think. First thing I did was trade in my car for something nondescript with tinted windows. When I’d taken off with twenty-three grand of Louie’s money, I bought a car. I know he wants his money back. I’m not about to tell him I don’t have it all anymore, though.
With a huff of frustration, I walk inside Rey’s, whose door is unlocked. Irritation bubbles up inside me. Chase must have left without locking up. I’m going to have to have a talk with her about this—especially now that the fucking Italian mob knows I’m laying low in this town. Once I lock the door behind me and draw all the curtains closed, I’m annoyed to see her pants lying on the floor in the living room. An open bottle of Fireball sits on the coffee table that’s been moved a bit.
They fucked in here.
She used her research and sealed the deal.
Congratulations, Chase, but you’re still a fucking robot.
I drop my backpack to the floor and pull out the two yellow daffodils I’d picked from the car dealership’s front flower bed and hunt for a vase for them. I know the perfect vase. With a smirk, I fill up the coffee mug we stole from Roman and then sit it on the table before sticking the daffodils in it.
They were the only two in a bed full of colorful flowers. But these two were unique and stood out among the rest. It reminded me of her and me. How I wish I could claim her and make her mine.
My gaze falls on the living room and I get pissed. I don’t get her. Chase does. Fucking asshole. I grow angrier as I shut off all the lights. He doesn’t deserve her. The fucker doesn’t even know how to please her. She has to show him.
If she were mine, I’d tie her pretty ass up and do all the teaching.
I’m headed for my room, yanking my T-shirt off, when I notice her door is open and the lights are on. I kick off my shoes in my doorway and toss my shirt inside before sauntering over to her room. At first glance, I notice her bed is disheveled but empty. Some shit went down, all right. But not too much shit. If it were her and me, we’d tear up the sheets, not simply rustle them up a bit.
I’m smirking as I visualize having her beneath me when I find her lying on the bathroom floor. Naked. A dildo lying at her side. What the actual fuck? All lust-filled thoughts dissipate as I rush over to see if she’s okay.
“Rey,” I growl, worry making my heart speed up. “What happened?”
She moans and rolls over to face me, giving me a whiff of the Fireball that she’s clearly plastered from. Her brown hair is messy and drool runs down the side of her face. I frown and swipe her face clean before wiping it on my jeans. She’s naked, and of course she’s a fucking knockout, but I’m more concerned about how out of it she is.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” I urge softly, stroking her hair away from her eyes so I can see her. “How much did you drink?”
“Linky, I drinky,” she says before giggling. Her shaky hand reaches up and touches my chest. “My bird.”
I grab her hand and kiss the back of it. “I need to get you to bed. You can’t sleep on the bathroom floor, you nut.”
She groans when I scoop her into my arms and buries her face against my neck. “Spinnn.”
“Close your eyes,” I tell her and kiss the top of her head.
It takes a second of yanking covers, but I finally manage to get her into the bed and cover her up. I’m just turning off the bathroom light and heading out of her room when she starts to cry.
“Linc,” she sobs. She’s drunk as shit but the way she says my name fucking breaks my heart.
“Yeah, Rey?”
“I’m c-cold. I m-missed you.”
Groaning, I run my fingers through my hair and lean my forehead against the doorframe. All common sense tells me to just turn off the light and walk away. She’ll sleep it off and forget all of this in the morning.
I turn off the light.
“Please.”
Fuck. I’ve never been responsible. I saunter through the dark room and crawl under the covers beside her. I’d be more comfortable taking my jeans off but with her in her drunken state and me in my love-struck state, I don’t trust that we’d just stick to sleep.
I start to spoon her, but she turns to face me, pressing her bare tits against the side of my chest, and sighs heavily. Her palm roams up my chest and settles at my collarbone. “I love you,” she tells me and starts crying again.
“We’re best friends,” I agree. “I love you, too.”
Her body relaxes. “You’re n-not the k-kind of guy my family wants me to b-be with.”
I tense and grit my teeth. Ain’t that the fucking truth? “I know. I’m sorry I can’t be what they want.”
Her cries are soft but sad as fuck. I wish I were good enough for her. I wish I didn’t make stupid decisions and try to outsmart the mob. I wish I drove a Beamer and made a six-figure income every year.
I would give her everything and more.
She’d be so happy. So fucking happy.
And I’d be elated.
Reagan is a dream come true. A walking fantasy. She’s mine, but not in reality. In my dreams, I get to keep her. I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed that every gif or picture on my Tumblr is of dark-haired women—women who resemble her. She’s all I see. Hell, I haven’t been laid since I moved back because I saw her that first day.
Reagan.
Wide brown eyes. Sweet and innocent. Adorable as fuck.
Plump lips I’ve tasted. Cinnamon. Hot. Intoxicating.
Mine.
God, how I wish.
I can’t get her out of my head. I’m punishing myself but I’m okay with that. I’ll have her in any capacity—even if only a purely one-sided platonic one.
“Y-You’re the only person who sees the real me,” she breathes, her hot breath tickling my neck.
I stroke her hair and kiss her head again. “I see you, sweetheart. Always. You’re all that I see. And, Rey,” I confess, “I don’t want to see anything else.”
She lets out a small sigh and then begins to snore softly.
In a dream world, I could have her in my arms every night.
In a dream world, I’m not a fuck up. I’m worthy of a girl like her.
Too bad I live in a goddamned nightmare.
I wake to the sound of Reagan’s phone going off with an alarm. Grumbling, I swat the air. “Make it stop.” My head is fucking pounding as if I have the hangover. I’m love drunk. It’s real. She intoxicates, me and sometimes I sip too much from her. I get myself drunk on the what-ifs. Then, in the morning, reality stares me in the face and beats a damn drum reminding me I don’t get the girl.
Sliding out of the bed, unwillingly I might add, I stumble to the other side of the bed to turn the obnoxious blaring off as I rub sleep out of my eyes. She has several missed texts from Chase. All apologetic. He probably stood her up again. Maybe last night they didn’t have kinky sex. Who the fuck knows.
I glance over at her sleeping form. She’s still curled up where I was just lying. The sheet has been pulled down to her hips and her bare back is revealed.
Stop looking.
Stop torturing yourself.
And yet, I stare at her until it feels creepy.
With a sigh, I stalk out of her room to take a much-needed cold shower. I’m just getting out when I hear someone ringing the hell out of the doorbell.
Louie.
Fuck.
I throw on my jeans from the night before without even drying off and slip out of my room to go meet my fate. If it’s that prick, he can take me. Do his worst. I will not let Reagan get involved. Clenching my jaw, I open the door and wince, expecting a bullet to the chest. Instead, I lock eyes with a familiar lucky-ass pussy in a pink Polo shirt with a popped collar, holding the biggest vase I’ve ever seen. Full of red roses.
God, I hate this douchebag.
“Sup.” I nod my head at him before abandoning the door so he can come in.
“Where’s Reagan?”
“Sleeping. She didn’t feel well,” I tell him as I saunter into the kitchen to put on some coffee. She’ll definitely need it to deal with Chase this early in the morning.
He sets the vase on the table right in front of the two daffodils I’d stuck in the ant coffee mug we’d stolen from Roman. “You stayed the night?”
I guess she hasn’t told him. I’m not ratting her out. If she wants me to be her dirty little secret, I’m cool. “Needed a place to crash. Going through some shit.”
He snorts and my back muscles tense. “Aren’t you always going through some shit?”
“Shittier than usual,” I clip out. I cross my arms over my still-wet, bare chest and level him with a hard glare. I’ve got at least twenty-five pounds on the guy and several inches. If Reagan wouldn’t kill me, I’d enjoy pummeling the idiot. “I don’t think she’s going in today.”
Guilt flashes in his eyes. “Did she…did she say why?”
Fucker ought to feel guilty for always standing her up. “She drank too much.”
At this, his nostrils flare as if he’s annoyed, and I fist my hand. I’m seconds from hitting him in his perfect nose.
“Sometimes she’s so irresp—”
He’s cut off when Reagan walks into the kitchen while tightening the strings of her robe around her waist. Her gaze skims down my bare chest to where my jeans hang low on my hips. I’m not wearing any boxers, since I was in a rush, and when her cheeks burn red, I imagine they’re hanging low enough to show her some dark hair.
“Good morning, Pet,” Chase says in a sad, soft voice. “You’re not feeling well?”
She cringes when he speaks and tears her gaze from me. “Uh. What are you doing here?”
He straightens and lets out a huff. “We don’t have to be at work for another hour. I thought I’d come check on you. You know…” He trails off and shoots me a nervous glance. “After how awful I was to you yesterday.”
Her eyes well with tears and Chase takes the moment to pull her into an embrace. I feel as though I’m intruding. When I start to go, her panicked eyes meet mine. She probably wants to know if we fucked.
“Nothing happened,” I mouth.
A tear rolls down her cheek, and I can’t look at her anymore. Not without wanting to rip her right out of his arms and into mine. I stalk off without a backward glance. Quickly, I dress, brush my teeth, and tug a beanie over my head.
“Text me later,” I call out before slamming the door behind me. The last thing I need to hear is them having makeup sex. Fuck that.
I’m driving in circles when my phone rings. It’s Ram of all people. I don’t want to talk to him but I answer anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Hey,” he greets. “Remember that time you drew a picture of Roman taking a cock in his mouth?”
I snort. “Like it was yesterday.”
“Well, I kept the drawing.”
Now, I’m laughing. “Whatever floats your boat, man.”
“Can you draw other stuff or are you limited to cocks and my brother?”
“I designed all my tattoos. My mom’s friend had me draw animals all over the wall of her grandchild’s nursery. I just fuck around with it when I’m bored. Why?”
He lets out a heavy breath. “How would you feel about doing some freelance work for Holloway Advertising?”
I frown as I drive. “Like what?”
“Hand-drawn logos. Some illustrations as needed. We’re outsourcing it right now, but I hate the dumbass we use. He doesn’t respond to my calls. I need someone I can rely on.”
Rely on?
That’s a first.
My chest thumps. I could do it. I’d answer my phone. It’s drawing not rocket science.
“And you’d pay me?” I ask, astonished.
He chuckles. “Of course. We’d pay you by the hour. However long it takes. And if it worked out, we could always consider something full time.” The line grows quiet for a minute. “Look, I know we all started off on the wrong foot, but you’re family. We love Andie, and you’re a part of that. I know Roman is a dick, but that’s just his personality. I can design until I’m blue in the face but I need an actual artist on deck. I’d love to give you a shot if you’re interested.”
“I have a record,” I blurt out, instantly hating myself for all my mistakes.
“So does Roman,” he snorts. “And he’s the CEO.”
“What?”
“He does stupid shit when he drinks,” he tells me, humor in his voice. “It’s gotten him in trouble a time or two. Are you in? Can you stop by today and we’ll meet up?”
I don’t even realize it but I’m already heading to their building. “How about now?”
Ram laughs. “Eager. I like it. You show up here and after you leave, I’ll tell Stu he’s out. Lazy-ass motherfucker.”
“Thanks,” I tell him genuinely. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”
“Everyone deserves their shot at something good.” He laughs again. “Even fuck ups like you and Roman.”
“Asshole,” I grunt.
“Bring me coffee, and I’ll tell you what he did,” he offers.
“You’re on, man. See you in twenty.”