Chapter Nine

My Babies

Gage

I force myself to turn around, away from her. It’s like fighting a giant. Not easy. I have fought and won battles physically harder than this.

This fucking draw, this need, this white-hot heat in my balls every time she’s around is a force like no other.

I have fucking won. She has said as much. Now I just have to make sure I can do her right, physically and mentally.

I punch in the code and the garage door opens. I can’t help smiling at the sight in front of me.

“Oh, my God, are these all yours?” Phoenix asks from behind me.

I nod. “Yep. Now we gotta pick which one of these you’ll be driving.”

“I am not driving one of those things. No way.” She has disbelief in her voice.

I look over at her. “Why?”

“They’re old,” she says.

“Classics,” I correct.

“Yeah, well, what if one gets scratched or dented or—”

I cover her mouth with my hand, and she laughs at me.

“Don’t say shit like that in front of them,” I tell her, uncovering her mouth quickly.

She’s still laughing.

I roll my eyes and look at them. All my beauties.

“You’ll be fine. Just gotta pick one that’s automatic, because the driver isn’t experienced with the stick.”

I get an elbow as she walks past me and right to the Black Pontiac GTO.

“Stick?” she asks.

I nod.

Also, the only thing I have of my dad’s.

“Stick?” She points at the blue convertible Olds Cutlass with the white stripes on the hood.

I nod.

“Okay, so what are my choices?” she asks, now smiling.

“Yellow Plymouth Road Runner is automatic.”

“The banana looking one?”

“Easy,” I say, walking over to the car she just insulted.

“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t drive one of these.”

I look back at her, some sort of relief sweeping over me. She must see it because she laughs.

“I’ll drive you in. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, now go get your ass ready for work.”

She heads up the driveway, and I watch her walk. When she looks back, I look the fuck away. I want her so fucking bad right now that, if she gives me one of those looks, I’m going to take her ass right on the dirt road.

I carry the cut wood to the deck then head to the pickup to get her going, pulling up to the front of the cabin just as she’s walking out. I don’t like that she’s wearing a tit-hugging tee-shirt, but I can’t say fuck not about it.

I get out and walk around the car to open the door, and she looks at me oddly.

“Get your ass in or you’ll be really late,” I tell her.

I shut the door behind her and start to walk around. Then I decide she’s going to learn to drive a stick.

When I open the passenger side, she gives me that same confused look.

“Move over, Phoenix. You’re gonna learn how to drive stick today.”

“No. No, I’m not,” she says as she crosses her arms and looks straight ahead.

“I’m not fucking around,” I tell her.

She looks back at me stubbornly. “I’m—”

I scoop her ass up and push her over.

“You can’t make me.” She narrows her eyes at me.

“No, sure can’t. But we can sit here until you decide how late you really wanna be, and then do what you know you need to do.”

“Fine.” She looks away from me and grips the wheel.

“First thing you need to learn is the stick. You need to know your gears. This one’s easy. Four gears and a reverse. That stick won’t move easy unless you push the clutch on the floor. You use neutral when you start the car. When we’re going, the sound of the engine and the RPM’s on this”—I point to the dash—“tell you when to shift.”

“You’ll tell me, too,” she instructs.

“As long as you promise to feel it.”

She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help laughing.

“Trust me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Squirt, trust me.” I nod toward the ignition. “Put it in neutral. Foot on the brake.”

I watch her as she starts it up, looking deep in thought.

Sexy.

“Slide it into first, slowly let off the clutch, and—”

I laugh when the truck jerks forward and stalls. She doesn’t.

She starts to open the door to get out. I grab her thigh and hold her still.

Her face is red as she looks down.

“While letting off the clutch, give it some gas.”

“You could have told me that,” she huffs.

I bite back the comment that I tried but it was too late. She mentioned once that she ended up here because she was getting away from shit. If I’m reading her right, the need to be pretty fucking perfect is one of those things.

“Phoenix, happens every time. You’re gonna do just fine. Turn her over again.”

She nods, puts it in neutral, grips the wheel with one hand, turns the key, and eases the clutch, brake, and taps the gas.

“Fucking perfect,” I say, giving her knee a squeeze, and she smiles.

When the engine revs, she glances at me.

“Clutch, shift to second, and no worries.”

She shifts to second, her smile growing. I can almost visibly see a weight lifting off her shoulders.

I have her put it in neutral and coast to a stop. When I start to give her instructions, she says, “I got it.”

And she does.

I watch her concentration, her struggle, her excitement the whole damn ride.

When she pulls into the parking lot at the bar, she stalls it and gets pissed. Which, for some unbeknownst reason, is a turn on.

I bite back a grin as she starts it up and pulls into a parking spot.

“You did it,” I say, reaching over and squeezing her knee.

“No big deal.” She shrugs.

But I know different.

I get out of the truck and walk over to the driver’s side while she gets out.

“What time do you want me to come get you?”

“I can find a ride.”

Just then, a Ford pickup pulls in, and I see the fuck who stares at her tits.

I lean over, plant a kiss on the top of her head, and watch the son of a bitch’s jaw drop.

“What the heck, Gage?” she says, stepping back.

I pay it no mind while I watch the asshole still staring at us.

I get an elbow as she starts to walk around me.

“What?” I ask.

“What?” she mocks in a deep tone.

“Maybe he’ll leave you the fuck alone now.”

“He’s harmless,” she huffs. “Don’t pull that shit on me again.”

“Ate your pussy out”—elbow again, but it doesn’t stop me from continuing—“an hour ago. Plan on eating it on the regular. He needs to back off.”

“Grow up,” she grumbles as she walks by.

“What time can I pick you up?” I call behind her.

She flips me off.

“So, one o’clock?” I laugh.

She shakes her head and keeps walking.

And yeah, I watch her.

I spent the day keeping my focus on the ramp. Now Mags can get in the front door without any issue. Made sure I could take it down and move it to her cabin when she really starts getting pissed that I’m making her stay with me, but I give zero fucks and I told her so on the phone just moments ago.

Now I sit on my back deck with a cold glass of tea, looking up at the stars with my computer on my lap, ordering a hard top for that Jeep. I can’t believe she only has the soft top. There’s a ton of other cool shit for it, too.

After I take care of that, I hit my email and check in on the shit going on with Falcon Construction. We are spread out doing seven jobs in the city. Four are commercial with the others being residential work. Two are apartments just below my penthouse, and I’m trying really hard to let my very capable crews take care of it all. However, I make suggestions. A lot of them. I don’t ever want half-assed work to be done by my company. That’s the reason I hire the best of the best, and then work side by side with them for a few goddamn months so they can get better.

Took a solid year to build the crew I have now. Did it for Brand.

I look at the time and see it’s only ten-thirty. Not late enough to head down to get Phoenix and too late to call my boy and check in.

It was suggested that I only call once a week, like summer camp shit, but it’s fucking killing me. I made her promise me that she would let him call if he asked to. He hasn’t yet. I assume he’s trying to be strong, just like he and I discussed.

How the fuck can I expect him to be when I can’t stand it? Kids are resilient, they say. Well, who the fuck are they?

When I pull into the bar, it’s pretty damn busy, and it’s only just midnight.

When I walk in, the motherfucker is sitting in that stool, and unfortunately, there is no free stool next to him. He and I, we are going to get acquainted.

I sit at the end of the bar where Phoenix spots me. I nod, she nods, and then she turns to talk to Mandee.

Mandee comes over and asks me what I would like to drink.

“I see how this is gonna go,” I mumble to myself as I sit down in the stool. “Jameson on the rocks.”

She smiles up through all that hair and nods.

I lean in and ask quietly, “She won’t wait on me?”

“She’s busy down there.” She nods to her right. “Those three women are having a girls’ night out. All divorced. They like her.”

I nod and look down as all four of them look at me. “She talking shit about me?”

She shrugs as she sets a glass of ice on the bar. “Not sure.”

I sit back, and she pours my drink.

“Thanks, Mandee.”

“You’re welcome, Gage.”

I watch Phoenix interact with people as I sip on my drink. I also watch that fuck look at me, then her, then me. I give him a nod and a smirk. Okay, I give him a fucking look. A look that means I fucking see him.

Then she makes her way down to me.

“I told you I could get a ride home.”

“I brought you here; I’ll take you home.”

She grabs the bottle under the bar and fills my drink.

“I’m driving precious cargo. Easy on the pour.”

“The ladies down there think you’re hot. They want to buy you a drink.”

“Don’t care what they think. I wanna know what you think.”

She holds her hand up and turns it side to side a little. “Eh.”

It makes me laugh, and she smiles.

“Thank them for me, but feel free to tell them I’m already seeing someone.”

“You are?” She chuckles.

“Fine, I’m not seeing her. I’m enjoying getting her off.”

She smirks. “Maybe they’d like a lap ride, too.”

“You want me to give them one?” I nod my head, needing her to answer accordingly.

She shrugs.

“Fine. Buy them a drink and tell them how I got you off.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

“Which part? Me buying them a drink or you telling them?”

“Both,” she says then walks away.

I’m in.

“This seat taken?”

No mistaking that voice. Fucking nails on a chalkboard.

“It is,” I say without looking back.

“Just need a few minutes, Gage.”

I hear her sit, can smell the same perfume I smelled for years, and it turns my stomach.

“Brandon okay?” I ask.

“He misses Daddy Gage.”

Daddy fucking Gage.

Three years ago I came across some paperwork while looking for Brands immunization records. Mixed in with them I found a paternity test. It told me I was not Brands biological father. 99.9 percent, sure.

By the time she got home from shopping, the only fucking thing she did, I had Mom take Brand, got fucking loaded and she and I had it out. She told me she didn’t know who his fucking father was but I was his daddy in every way that counted,

Fucking right I was.

She stayed in the house for a month, became a fucking lush, took cash I waved in her face to sign divorce papers granting me full custody and she left, seeing Brand once every three weeks.

Fucking bitch is now having him call me Daddy Gage. Probably because someday she will introduce him to the man, whose name she said she didn’t know, who wasn’t capable of taking care of Juliana, but now is good enough to be called daddy? Then mom steps in and helps her get her shit together. Forces? Bribes? I got no clue, but now the bitch is back in his life.

“You and I have not a damn thing to talk about,” I tell her, eyes fixed on the bar in front of me. If I look at her, I may lose my shit.

“Brand, Mags—”

“I have to share Brand; got no choice. Mags, she’s not your concern.”

“She’s part of his life; therefore, she’s part of mine.”

I look up when Phoenix walks over. She looks to my left then back at me.

“You ready for a refill?” she asks.

“I’d love the same thing Gage is having,” Juliana says to Phoenix, who pays her no mind.

She’s staring at me, and me at her. I have no fucking clue why, but I get a sense that she knows who is next to me.

“I’m good. Thanks,” I tell her.

“You sure?” she asks, now looking at Juliana as she grabs a glass from under the bar and fills it with ice, sets it in front of Juliana, and pours her a Jameson.

“Thanks,” Juliana says.

Phoenix looks back at me.

“I’m good,” I tell her again.

She takes Juliana’s money and walks to the register.

“So, now you’re hooking up with bartenders?”

At that, I turn and look at her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I told you; Brand wanted to see Mags.”

“How the hell does he even know she’s in the hospital.”

“Your mother called to let me know, and he overheard Mags’ name.”

I stand, unable to listen to her voice anymore. I need to walk away because Phoenix is eyeballing me, no doubt wondering if I have a date lined up, which is fucked up on so many levels, given I want her so badly I am holding back on myself.

I walk toward the restroom, and she looks at me, then down. I stop and put myself between the fucker who looks at her tits and some chick who has been looking like I’m her next meal.

“That’s the ex,” I tell her.

She looks over at her, then back at me and shrugs.

“I’m gonna piss, then walk out of here. I’ll be back to get you.”

“I can find a ride,” she says, her face beet red.

I look at tit boy and back at her. “I’m your ride.” Then I walk away before I lose my shit.

When I walk out of the bathroom, I look at Phoenix, who’s looking at me. Too much care in those eyes to be confused with anything else, so I blast her back with a look she knows—want, need, and desire. Fuck, I wish I had driven it home balls deep in her when she asked for it earlier. Now this...This shit—Juliana...No, it’s not going to detour me from making that happen.

As I’m walking out the door, I hear the past screaming after me. Fucking embarrassing, infuriating, and almost deafening.

I don’t stop, I know the bitch will follow, so I walk out quickly and am almost at my truck when I hear it again.

“Gage Falcon, do not walk away from me. We need to talk!”

I look back. “Go fuck yourself, Juliana.”

“Grow up and think of Brandon!”

With those words, I turn around and point at her. “He’s all I have thought about. You...” I pause because cunt is on the tip of my tongue. “You have it made, Juliana. You manipulated your way into a family who can take care of your undeserving ass. You got a fucking degree, a house, alimony, and child support enough that you don’t even have to work!”

“For him. For my son!”

“Exactly, a little boy who I thought was my blood for years, and you fucking pulled the cuntiest move of all to do that to him for your own fucking gain! You are one sick bitch, you know that?”

“I have my reasons, and someday, you’ll understand.”

“I understand. You may have fucking manipulated me back then, but I’m no fucking fool. I know you want what’s best for you, hell maybe even him, but that doesn’t mean shit. Just fucking go. Let the winds of the south blow your ass back to bitchville.”

“That’s so mature, Gage Falcon,” she says like she has any room to talk.

Cunt.