Feeling like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck, I roll out of bed. The scent of cheap perfume lingers in the air, reminding me of the night before and the two dumb bitches I took home with me. As if the girls weren’t enough, I also remember Blackie showing up on my doorstep too. Pushing the pathetic scene out of my head, I grab my jeans from the floor and throw a wrinkled tank over my head before I start for the kitchen. I pull the each cabinet open and frantically search for a can of coffee. Of course, there isn’t anything but a can of beans and an expired box of baking soda.
Desperate for coffee and feeling as if my head is going to explode, I grab my keys from the counter and pull open the front door. The sun fucks with me some and I cover my eyes with my hands.
“Fuck,” I growl, forcing my eyes to get used to the sunlight. Shuffling down the stairs, I cross my lawn and spot the car blocking my driveway as I’m hit with another fucking reminder from the night before. Getting rid of the blonde and the brunette wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. The stupid cunt slammed into Layla’s car and by the looks of it she didn’t just tear the fucking bumper off. The goddamn radiator is leaking too.
Turning my attention to the house next to mine, the memory of Layla lunging for the two bimbos flashes before me.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. Recalling the way her son came out of the house to defend her makes me feel like a real piece of shit. I don’t know much about the woman next door or her kids, but I gather she doesn’t need my bullshit bleeding into her life. Since she’s moved in, I’ve given her nothing but shit, and now we can add a fucking wrecked car to the list.
I may be a self-destructive asshole but it’s never been my intention to bring innocent people into my personal hell. As much as it would be easier to ignore my actions and the repercussion of them, I can’t. There is still a sliver of humanity buried inside of me. Latching onto that, I drag my ass across the lawn and knock on her door repeatedly.
After several attempts, it swings open and my gaze travels downward to the pipsqueak staring up at me like I’m the big bad wolf.
Great.
“Uh, hey, kid,” I start. Uncomfortable, I run my fingers through my hair as a pair of big brown eyes level me.
“You’re the man who broke our car,” she says, shaking her little finger at me. Not only is the little pipsqueak a spitting image of her mama, but she has her sass too.
“I didn’t break your mom’s car,” I correct.
“But Tommy said—”
“Look, kid,” I say impatiently, cutting her off. Not really looking to go head to head with some little half-pint, I peek inside the house.
“Is your mom or dad home?” I ask, pausing as I realize I have no idea if Layla has a husband or not. Her son was quick to man up but that doesn’t mean his father isn’t in the picture. For all I know he could be enlisted or traveling for work and has left her by herself to take care of the kids. That would be some shit considering all the bickering she and I have been doing. It doesn’t help that I’ve been thinking about that wicked mouth of hers either.
Shit.
Huffing, the little one crosses her arms against her chest and rolls her eyes dramatically.
“We don’t live with Daddy anymore. He and Mommy are divorced,” she reveals, uncrossing her tiny arms as she plants her hands on her hips and angles her head. “Dad is living in our old house which sucks. Shit, don’t tell my mom I said sucks. She gets all pissy when I curse, but it’s not really a curse, right? I mean you should hear some of the things that come out of my mom’s mouth.”
Jesus, this kid.
Rubbing my temples, I look past her hoping to find her mother, but Layla isn’t anywhere in sight and the kid continues to ramble on, revealing all her mama’s secrets.
“Tommy says we’re here because Mom can’t afford a house in the city,” she adds. “But I think it’s also because Mommy hates Daddy and wants to be far away from him.” Her lips straighten into a thin line as she glances down at the floor seeming to be in deep thought. “That sucks too,” she mutters with a frown.
Dropping my hands from my face, I shove one into my pocket and stare at her. Not sure what to say, not really understanding why the fuck I care, I press my finger under her chin and lift her eyes to mine.
“Divorce sucks, kid,” I tell her.
“You said sucks,” she says.
“Yeah, you did too,” I point out, watching as the frown fades from her lips. Lifting her chin, she studies me curiously. Having a pair of little eyes on me, eyes that are full of wonder is a sobering moment for a bastard like me. It makes me think about how I’m perceived in the eyes of a child.
My thoughts are quickly jarred when I hear Layla scream from deep inside the house. I hear her other two kids shout and before I realize what the fuck I’m doing, I’m following the little girl into the house. Running into the kitchen, the kid comes to a complete stop and I stand behind her, taking in the chaos.
Water spurts from under the sink like a waterfall and Layla awkwardly holds a pot in front of her as if she’s going to catch the fucking water. The older boy grabs another pot and tries to help his mother while the other girl covers her face with her hands.
“Make it stop,” the girl cries.
“I don’t know how,” Layla shouts, emptying the pot into the sink. The water continues to rain down around them, making it clear they’re fucked. Unsure where to look first, I take the son in as he goes sliding across the floor. Instinctively, I reach for him, but Layla quickly grabs a hold of his wrist and stops his fall.
Watching them flounder around helplessly, I stomp through the puddles soaking the kitchen and kneel underneath the sink. Finding the water valve, I twist it closed and immediately spot the busted pipe. Suddenly the commotion comes to a standstill as the water trickles off and silence fills the kitchen.
Slipping my head out from under the sink, four sets of eyes peer back at me like I’m a fucking unicorn. Wiping my hands along the front of my shirt, I focus on Layla as she seems to be the least judgmental of the four.
“The main pipe under the sink cracked. I shut the water off for now,” I explain as she continues to stare at me in disbelief. Unable to help myself, I take her in too. Dressed in a pair of pajamas with her hair piled high on top of her head, she’s quite the sight. The thin tank top of her pajamas is soaked, molding to every curve of her body, revealing a narrow waist and hips that a man holds onto. Lifting my gaze higher, my eyes zero in on her tits.
Those perfect fucking tits.
Her nipples are hard and fully visible through the wet shirt, leaving nothing to my imagination. It’s hard to believe the tall boy standing next to her is her son or that any of these children came from that body.
Forcing my attention away, I reach for the towel hanging on the back of one of her chairs and toss it in her direction.
“Might want to cover up,” I tell her, eyeing the boy standing behind her, wearing the same stumped expression as his mother.
Recovering, she catches the towel and crosses her arms against her chest, hiding her perfect tits from my view. My gaze meets hers and I decide the view up top is just as sweet as everything from the neck down. I thought she looked pretty last night, but seeing her without a stitch of make-up I can honestly say she’s fucking beautiful.
“What…how did you get in here?” she stammers, finally finding her voice. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to thank me for stopping the waterfall in her kitchen but she just looks at me expectantly.
“I let him in,” half-pint offers.
Instantly, her brother turns to her and lectures her, claiming the role as man of the house.
“You can’t be letting strange men in the house, Lexi,” he reprimands, wringing out his t-shirt.
Half-pint rolls her eyes to the heavens before looking back at me.
“What’s your name?” she questions innocently.
It’s a simple question, yet I stare at her as if she asked me if I knew the cure for cancer. My first instinct is to tell her my name is Pipe, but I feel like I’d be lying to the kid. I’m not the man who got his road name because he made pipe bombs his club sold back in the day. I don’t ride with the Satan’s Knights anymore.
I don’t know who the fuck I am.
“Lee,” I mutter. “The name is Lee, kid.”
She steps forward and offers me her little hand.
“I’m Lexi,” she reveals as I awkwardly shake her hand with my massive paw. She drops my hand and turns to her brother. “Now, Lee isn’t a stranger anymore, Tommy.”
“Okay, party is over kids,” Layla declares. “Jenna, take your sister upstairs and help her get dressed.”
“Why do I have to help her? She’s five.”
“Because I said so,” she replies exasperatedly. Cringing as the words leave her mouth, she turns to her eldest child. “You too, Tommy.”
“I’m not dressing Lexi.”
“Go shower, now,” she orders. “We need to get a move on.”
The two girls prance out of the kitchen but Tommy remains still, sizing me up much like he did last night. It’s clear the kid is protective of his mother, and since half-pint squealed all her mama’s business, I can respect him for stepping up. In fact, I almost feel bad for yelling at the little shit.
Almost.
Then I remember assuring him last night I wouldn’t hurt his mother.
Suddenly, I’m not staring at the kid who smoked a joint in my garage, but I’m looking into the eyes of a younger version of myself.
A boy who loves his mother.
A boy who is worried for her.
A boy who isn’t sure how to care for her.
There’s a reason for it and I can’t help but wonder what it might be.
Holding his gaze, I jut my chin and silently vow that everything is okay here.
“Tommy,” Layla repeats and the boy finally tears his eyes away from me. He nods to his mom and a moment later he leaves the kitchen.
“Thank you for turning the water off,” she says once we’re alone and I turn my attention back to her
I nod, letting my eyes roam over her, wishing she’d uncross her arms now that her kids are out of sight.
“But you didn’t come here to fix my plumbing and I’m sure after last night’s events you’re not in any condition for another sparring match, so I’m confused as to why you’re standing in my kitchen.”
“Your car is blocking my driveway.”
“You mean the car your friends smashed?”
“That’s the one,” I reply, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “The fucking troopers up here won’t think twice about giving you a citation for the busted bumper, but on top of that your radiator is leaking. Which means you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” I pause, angling my head slightly as I continue to take her in. “I’m guessing that’s the last thing you need right now.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as her eyes narrow in anger. Grinding her teeth, she drops her arms and draws in a deep breath as she balls her hands into fists.
“And how would you know what I need?” she bites back.
Oh, I know what she needs. Any man with a pair of working eyes can tell this woman is wound tight. She needs to release some of that tension inside her. She needs to get fucked until she can’t remember her name let alone her troubles, but I doubt she wants to hear that.
“Your daughter has loose lips,” I say instead. “Might want to tell her not to spill your business to strangers.”
“Thanks for your input but I think I’m going to pass on the parenting advice from a man who took two girls home that were probably old enough to be his daughters.”
“Suit yourself,” I retort with a shrug.
“I’ve got everything under control,” she adds, and for a moment I wonder who she’s trying to convince.
“Good to know,” I say as I push off the counter. “Give me your keys.”
“Are you crazy?”
Ignoring her, I spot the keys on the table and make a move for them. She reaches around me and I quickly side step her, caging her against the table.
“Easy, killer.”
“Layla,” she whispers before sighing. “My name is Layla not killer,” she adds, emphasizing the name by adding air quotes.
“Nice name,” I say as I start toward the door.
“You can’t just take my keys, Lee,” she calls after me.
Hearing my name causes me to pause for a beat before I continue heading for the front door. My hand closes around the door knob when I hear her curse and my lips quirk slightly.
Half-pint was right.
Her mother has a filthy mouth.
A wicked mouth.