After We Met, page 17
“Honey, stop pacing. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” I turn to look at my dad while I dial Brock’s cellphone again. It goes right to voicemail . . . again. Something’s wrong—I can feel it.
“Dad, what if he’s in trouble? Can I borrow your car and go drive by his house?” Brock should’ve been here an hour ago. He hasn’t called, and his is phone shut off.
My dad gets up and comes toward me. “Sweetheart, if he’s not here in thirty minutes, then you and I will drive by.” I frown, folding my arms over my chest. “You know why I can’t let you go over there by yourself. I’m sorry honey, but I don’t trust his dad. The answer is no.”
At that moment, I hear Brock pull up, and I watch through the window as he stares at his steering wheel. Normally he’d be out of the truck and coming to get me, but he’s just sitting there. My stomach turns as different thoughts go through my mind. I let the drape go, grab my purse, and head toward the door, only to be stopped by my dad. “Let me check on him first.”
I can only nod as I watch him disappear outside and walk slowly out to Brock’s truck. I head out onto the front porch. Dad leans against the driver’s side door. They talk for a while and I’m getting worried, but then my dad steps back and Brock climbs out. That’s when I see Brock’s got a split lip and his cheek is slightly swollen.
With all of my might, I hold in the cry that is threatening to spill from my lips. My dad climbs the stairs first and I shove past him to get to Brock. He immediately wraps his arms around me. “Sorry I’m late.”
I put my finger over his lips. “No, you don’t have to apologize. Are you okay?”
He kisses my finger. “Yeah, I’m okay. You look beautiful.”
I circle my arms around his waist and snuggle in under his chin. “Thank you. Let’s go inside. We’ll watch a movie.”
“No, I’m good. I promised we’d go, so we’re going.” I try to argue but he shuts me up with a kiss. “This is our last high school party. We’ll go hang out for a bit, then go see a movie, how about that?”
“Yeah, okay.” I tell my parents bye through the screen door, mouthing a thank you to my dad.
We’re both silent during our drive out to the Miller’s farm. I want to ask what happened, but I’m afraid it could set him off, and I don’t want to ruin our night. He lifts our intertwined fingers and kisses the back of my hand. “Two months.”
I turn toward him. “Two months?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
“Two months until we’re moving to Macomb.” A girly squeal escapes my lips and I squeeze an arm around his waist.
“I can’t wait.” We pull down the gravel road the farm is on then Brock parks his truck and I climb out the same side as him.
Hand in hand, we walk toward the huge bonfire. There are people
everywhere.
“You’re finally here!” Kat runs toward us and it’s very clear that my bestie is hammered. I hug her as she sways, then she cups my cheek and Brock’s. “I love you guys so much. You’re going to get married and have beautiful babies, and live happily ever
after.” She pulls me in for a drunken kiss on the lips then kisses Brock on the cheek, and then just like that she’s gone, off to do whatever she was doing before we got here.
Brock smiles down at me and I smile back, but my stomach knots up when I look at his split lip. I reach up and stroke it with my thumb. “Rip, it’s okay. I promise.” Nodding, I let him lead me over to Cale and other friends of Brock’s from the football team.
I’m nursing my second beer when Kat drags me toward the makeshift dance floor. I smile at Brock as I sway to the music, and he gives me a chin lift along with a smile that makes my belly warm. One of his teammates grabs his attention so he signals to me that he’ll be back then disappears into a mob of huge football players.
I’m finishing my second beer and dancing to the music with Kat and a couple other girls, but they’ve busted out the stripper moves. They’re all shitfaced, of course. My best friend smiles at me before lifting her arms in the air and grinding on an invisible pole. I can only shake my head because that girl is so wild, but I’d do anything for her.
I need a drink, and before I go, I lean toward Kat. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get a drink and go to the bathroom.”
“Do you want me to come with?” she asks.
I shake my head and wind my way through the thick crowd, stopping to talk to people and give out hugs. Brock and I haven’t decided yet where we want to live once we finish school, so I may not see some of these people ever again.
By the time I make it to the porta-potties I have to go so badly. Luckily one is open, and I go in to do my business. Once I’m done, I check my face in the little mirror on the door, then I freeze when I step out of the stall. “Go away Jonah.” Obviously my prayers that Jonah would skip the party weren’t answered.
“Go away? Oh come on, don’t be like that.” I quickly move away from him, not listening to anything that jerk has to say. He doesn’t even like me; it’s just a game to him because he hates that Brock is better than him.
I know he’s following me through the throng of people, but I refuse to look back and acknowledge him. I find Kat on the dance floor and keep close to her. I’m pretty sure Jonah is afraid of Kat because she’s loud and in your face, and she has no problem telling people what she thinks. Last year at a house party, he kissed her and she slapped him across the face. My hope is dancing with her will keep him away, because I know he’ll try to start a fight with Brock again if he can.
I begin to relax, figuring Jonah has slunk off to mess with someone else, and continue dancing. As I move to the beat, my eyes scan the different crowds as I look for Brock. I don’t spot him, but I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Arms wind around me and I smile because it’s rare that Brock will dance with me. I place my hands on his and begin to move my hips, but then Kat freezes. She is looking at me strangely and I stop moving.
Brock’s a lot taller than I am, and I suddenly realize the person against me isn’t. I spin around and come face to face with Jonah then reach out and shove him hard with all my might. He grabs my wrists and pulls me toward him.
“Let me go.”
“No, I don’t want to. When are you going to stop slumming with that piece of shit? Baby, I can take you places you’ve never been. What can he give you that I can’t?”
I’ll blame it on the two beers causing me to lean forward and say, “Multiple orgasms.” Of course, a crowd has gathered and they all whoop it up when I say it, but I ignore them and try to pull my hands free. Still, he won’t let go.
The crowd parts and Brock comes over to us, followed by Kat and Cale. She must’ve gone and got Brock. I wrench my arms out of his hold and move to Brock. His arm immediately wraps around my shoulders and he hugs me tight.
“Mitchell, I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from Rip.” Brock’s body is strung tight, and I’m afraid he’s going to freak out.
Jonah steps closer to him with a cocky grin on his face. Something ugly coils up in my belly and leaves me feeling uneasy. “It won’t take long before she realizes she’s hitched herself to fucking loser. How long do you think it’ll take before she walks away from you? Apparently the only thing you can give her is orgasms.”
A gasp leaves my lips as Brock advances on Jonah. I hustle to get in between them but Brock shoves me out of the way. I don’t even think he knows it’s me; his eyes are focused on Jonah. Kat grabs my arm to keep me from trying to stop them and says,
“Let Brock deal with it.”
“I can’t. Jonah’s trying to push him to lose his temper and I can’t let that happen.” I move toward them and get between them both. “Brock, let’s go. He’s not worth it. Please.” He still won’t look at me and his body is held so tight, I’m afraid he’s ready to strike.
“Brocky boy, how long is it going to take before you become your dad? Before you’re nothing but a drunk and a wife beater?”
It feels like things move in slow motion. Brock tries to shove me out of his way and stalks toward Jonah. As I move right in between them again to stop Brock, I see his fist moving, hear screaming, and feel arms grab me right before I go down, and then…nothing.
Realism: Sugar and Spice, Ink
"A single parent, opposites attract romance that will captivate you from the very first page"- New York Times bestselling author, Kaylee Ryan
Ordinary, typical, conformed, are words never used to describe me. I've never been one to play by the rules. It's my world, my life and I do things my way.
I see the way they stare at my body covered in tattoos and my lavender hair, I just don't give a damn. There is only one thing in this world that can get me fired up, that's screwing with my daughter. As a single mom, it's my job to protect her, fight for her. She is and will always be my top priority.
So, when I get a call that she's in trouble at school, with a boy- no less, my claws are out and ready to strike. And the boy's father, some high society stockbroker, isn't about to deter me. I don't care how sexy, smart and rugged he is.
Opposites may attract, and I've been down that road before, it's one I never plan to travel again. A man like that would never be interested in a woman like me. That I know for certain, after all I'm a realist.
Chapter 1
Mona
My alarm clock blares, causing me to groan. Those last couple tequila shots last night were such a mistake. Tequila has never been my friend, and I don’t know why I thought last night would be any different. I push myself up into a sitting position, but that is a mistake because it feels like my brain is rattling around in my skull. I grab my head as I crawl out of bed and gingerly make my way into the bathroom.
After quickly relieving myself, I grab a bottle of Ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet. I shake a couple into my hand, pop them into my mouth, and stick my mouth under the faucet. After swallowing them down, I shuffle back to my bed, crawl under the covers, and pray for death.
While buried under my blankets I feel my orange tabby, Peanut, jump on the bed, spin in circles, and then snuggle into my side. As soon as his furry ass begins to purr, I feel my eyes get heavy and let sleep pull me under.
I finally feel semi-human and climb out of bed, heading back into the bathroom. I brush my lavender-colored locks up into a bun on top of my head and jump into the shower. Once I’m scrubbed clean I feel more like myself.
Back in the bedroom, I throw on a pair of black leggings, white camisole, and a blue off-the-shoulder t-shirt. I pad through the house and stick a piece of bread in the toaster and brew some coffee. When the toast is done, I slather it in Nutella and then pour myself a cup of coffee.
Keys jingle, and the front door flies open. My reason for living comes running into the kitchen. “Mommy!”
I catch my daughter and lift her into my arms. “How’s my beautiful girl? Were you good for Uncle Miles?”
My brother leans against the open doorway. “She was perfect as always. We had a blast, didn’t we, Goober?”
“Yep, Uncle Miles bought me lots and lots of candy.”
Of course, he did. My brother has been such an incredible help with Iris, but the man can’t ever tell my daughter no. I set her on the ground. “Why don’t you go put your dirty clothes in the hamper, and go play with Peanut because I know he missed you.”
She kisses me and my brother before running out of the kitchen, yelling for our cat. I grab my brother a cup of coffee, and we sit at the little dinette in front of the window. “How was your girls’ night?”
“It was good. Sierra was in rare form and forced me to do two shots of tequila after mass quantities of beer, and then I had to Uber it home.”
There are four daughters and one son in our crazy family. I’m the oldest, then Sierra, Miles is in between us four girls, and then there are Greta and Heidi. We’re super close, especially Miles and me. Maybe because he stepped in to be there when Iris’ dad split, which was basically the moment the pregnancy test came back positive.
“I’m sure she had to twist your arm too.” He stands and pulls me up into a hug. “I’m gonna take off. I’ve got a book to plot.” Miles is a crime fiction writer and, the amazing man he is, a New York Times Bestselling author.
“Have fun with that, and thanks again for keeping Iris.” I smile up at him.
“You know I’d do anything for my girls.” He calls out goodbye to my daughter, and she comes running out to her uncle.
Iris launches herself into his arms. “Bye, Uncle Miles.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow from Kiddie college.”
He leaves, and I smile down at my champagne blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel. “Today is a Mommy/Daughter day. We’re going to make a veggie pizza, some chocolate chip cookies, and have couch snuggles.”
“Yay! Can you polish my nails?”
I nod. “Of course.”
She hops up and down. Her joy is infectious, and we start our Mommy/Daughter day, which indeed ends with snuggles on the couch.
At the end of our day, I tuck her into bed, brushing her hair out of her face. Iris gives me that smile that’s like a balm to my soul. “Sleep well, baby girl.”
“I love you,” she whispers before rolling to her side and closes her eyes. I don’t move right away; I sit and watch as she falls asleep. The steady rise and fall of her chest signals she’s out.
From the moment she was born I’ve watched her sleep more times than I can count. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done, and Iris makes me proud every day.
Is everything always rainbows and unicorns? No, definitely not, but my girl can handle anything thrown our way.
“What do you mean they want to have a meeting about Iris?” I look down at the paper that my brother brought to me after he picked up Iris from Kiddie College. He dropped her off at the tattoo studio I own with my sisters, just like he does every day.
Sierra and I started Sugar and Spice, Ink four years ago. We’re all artistic and fell in love with tattoos and piercings. When I decided that I wanted to be a tattoo artist, I met with the one who did a lot of the ink on my body and got him to agree to mentor me. As his apprentice, I cleaned up the shop and answered phones all while learning to tattoo.
Sierra followed in my footsteps almost a year later.
Over the past four years, we’ve worked our asses off to make a name for ourselves. Because our studio is exclusively female artists, a lot of people didn’t take us seriously. We had to work hard to get word of mouth referrals and prove we were just as talented.
We started getting followers on social media and really used the power of the web to make a name for ourselves. Now, four years later, we’ve been featured in Ink’d magazine twice, we’ve been interviewed on Atlanta’s morning news, and we were even approached for a reality show, but declined.
I focus back on Miles. “I’m not sure, but they want you there tomorrow morning.”
Miles and I step out of my office and head into the main part of the studio. I’m always in awe of the place we’ve created. The walls are a deep purple, almost an eggplant color, with white swirls. Our tables and chairs are black and chrome.
We have a lot of our artwork on the walls in frames. Some of the tattoos on display are ours, and Greta is on display for her piercings. My favorite photo is of the four of us girls in black Sugar and Spice Ink, sleeveless t-shirts, jean shorts, and red Converse. Heidi did our hair and makeup pin-up girl style.
We find my daughter and Sierra sitting in the waiting area drawing together. Through the entrance to the back, I hear the buzz of a tattoo machine, which is so fucking relaxing.
“Hey, sweet girl, why do they want me to come into the school and talk to them?”
She doesn’t look up from her drawing. “I kissed Max,” Iris says it so matter-of-factly that I’m taken aback.
“Who’s Max?”
“Max Pena. He’s my best friend.” She has a smile on her lips. Man, I’m in trouble with this girl.
I sit next to her. “Did he not want you to kiss him, is that why I have to go in?”
She shakes her head. “No, he wanted me to,” Iris says.
I don’t have much longer to think about that because my last appointment of the day has just shown up. Since I have Iris, my sisters and I agreed it best if I open the shop daily, then I can get out of there by five or six, and I love them for it.
After my appointment, I clean up my workstation and find my girl in my office watching Tangled on my iPad. “Are you ready to head home, baby girl?”
“Yep.”
I help her gather her stuff, and then hand in hand we head out to the work area and say our goodbyes.
Once we get home I make us some veggie quesadillas. Iris and I are vegetarians, which I wasn’t until I was up in the middle of the night with a newborn and watched a documentary about where our meat comes from. After that, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t set out to make Iris one too, but she loves to do what her mom does.
We eat at our little table in the kitchen, and she tells me about her day at Kiddie College. Things have been much easier this summer with Iris able to go there during the day.
After dinner, we snuggle on the couch and watch Modern Family. I can tell she’s getting tired when she starts slowly tracing the tattoo of her name on my forearm. Sierra did it for me when Iris was a year old. Iris is done in beautiful calligraphy surrounded by gorgeous flowers.
Before she falls asleep, I maneuver her to the bathroom so she can go and then brush her teeth. In her bedroom, she changes into her pink nightgown with sugar skulls all over it.
Iris climbs onto her bed and under her purple butterfly-covered comforter. “Are you all snuggled in?”
“Yes, Mommy.” I know my girl’s tired. She only calls me Mommy when she’s sleepy—much to my chagrin. “Will you lay with me?”
I crawl into bed with her and lean against the headboard. She rests her little blonde head in my lap. “Do you want me to tell you a story?”
