Lights to My Siren (7 page)

I joined in her laughter as I surveyed the cut. “I’ve got some 4X4s in the cabinet in front of you. Some alcohol in there too. Would you rather a Bandaid or vet wrap?”

She thought for a minute as she reached forward and took the alcohol down, removed the lid, and poured it wholly on her hand. She hissed in her breath and something in my chest twinged when I saw the pain she was in, but I tamped it down.

Moving closer to her, erection forgotten, I held her hand close to my face and blew on it.

“You know, that’s not very sanitary. There are thousands of germs in your mouth, and you just blew them all over my open wound.” She provoked.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed a 4X4 gauze pad and ripped the packaging open, placing it on her hand firmly. “Does this have medication you can take?”

“This is with medication. You should see how it was without. Are you a medic, too?” She asked out of the blue.

“Ahh, no. I’m a firefighter and EMT basic. Why?” I asked.

“I saw your picture in the paper. Just wondering if you were a medic and firefighter.” She explained.

“Oh,” I said, ignoring the part about the picture. I was pissed that night, and, even now, I was still pissed. If I wanted to stay in this good mood, it’d be best to avoid that conversation if I could help it.

“Yeah, I’m certified as a basic, but that was a while ago. I was a firefighter in the Marines. Then came home and joined BFD.” He explained.

“BFD?” She asked with a smile starting to break out on her face.

I rolled my eyes again. “How old are you, again?”

“Hey!” She snapped. “It’s not my fault that that’s the acronym for ‘
big fucking deal
.’ And I’m twenty eight, thank you very much.”

“Hmm,” I said as I reached for the large Band-Aids I kept in the drawer that Baylee’s leg was currently blocking.

Using my hand, I wrapped it around her lower thigh, and pushed her gently backwards until her back was plastered up against my front.

I couldn’t help but wish that her top was gone, allowing us to be skin to skin. However, that was too soon, seeing as I hadn’t even spoken to her about anything of significance since I’d met her.

“Watch your leg. Band-Aids are in this drawer in front of you.” I instructed.

I reluctantly let the smooth skin of her thigh go and opened the childproof lock on the drawer.

“Why do you have childproof locks on your drawer?” She asked curiously.

“My son is a curious little shit. Most of the time I keep my door closed, but there are times he likes to sneak in here when I’m not paying attention and dump all my shit down the toilet.” I said absently as I peeled the wrapper.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with shit?” She teased.

My eyes went from the cut I was covering, to her face. Her eyes were full of mirth, and I smiled back at her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. However, it’s kind of nice to be able to flush the toilet if I need to.”

“Yeah, I can see how that’d be a plus. I didn’t realize you had a son. Were you married?” She said breezily.

She said it so nonchalantly that I realized that she was truly interested in the answer, although she didn’t want to be.

“No. Johnny never knew his mother. Lindsey died in the same motorcycle accident that I was speaking about the other night.” I expounded.

“Oh, Sebastian. I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” She said sadly.

As she apologized, she turned in my arms so she could see my face, and I found myself nearly pinning her in. “I wasn’t that close to Lindsey. It made me feel awful that she died, but there was nothing I could do to change the outcome.”

She nodded in understanding. “Where is your son? I didn’t see him as I made my way inside.”

I stared at her. Her eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner. Not so much that she looked trashy or anything, but enough that it made her eyes pop with color. Today, those eyes looked more gray than blue, as they had the other day, and I wondered if they changed with her mood. She didn’t look like she was wearing anything else though, and that made me happy.

I wasn’t a big fan of primping. I liked when a woman looked natural.

“He’s with Lindsey’s mother. They have him every other weekend and Wednesdays.” I told her before backing away before I did something stupid like kiss her, and then fuck her against the counter.

“That’s nice of you. You don’t have to let them see him.” She said, sounding grateful that I’d given her space.

“Yeah, they’re good people. Older, but they have fun with Johnny.” I agreed as I held the door open.

“Thanks for fixing my hand. It happens a lot. I should be better prepared than I am.” She said to me as she walked through my bedroom to the door.

We both studiously ignored the large bed that dominated the master bedroom and walked back out into the family room. My place was a fucking mess already, and I hated that I’d have to clean all this shit up by myself later. Those stupid fucking so called friends of mine didn’t know how to find a trashcan if it was right in front of their God forsaken faces.

Baylee absently grabbed empty beer bottles and used paper plates as she walked past them, and tossed them in the trashcan as she headed out onto the deck.

“You have a nice place here.” She observed as she took in the new deck chairs.

“Yeah, I’ve been saving up for this place since I turned eighteen. Had it built on a plot of land my dad owned. He deeded it to me when I left the military.” I told her.

“When I got out of college, my parents offered me their house. They wanted to move into something on the lake there. I didn’t want it though. It was fucking massive and I didn’t want to mow the lawn.” Baylee laughed.

Hand on her lower back, I led her down the hill, heading for my spot I’d vacated earlier in my quest to get to a hurt Baylee. “Yeah, this place looks like a fuckin’ jungle if I don’t mow it once a week. Can’t deviate from that either, or there would be a ton of snakes hiding in the yard, using the taller grass as cover.”

“Hey, I wholeheartedly agree. Snakes are not my friend. Nor are frogs. Or bugs. Or rodents.” Baylee’s laughter tinkled, causing everyone to stop their conversation and stare as we made our way down the hill towards them.

A wave of possessiveness overcame me as I took in all the men from the station, as well as my own MC members, staring at the lovely vision before me. I wanted to rip their eyes from their sockets just for staring at my woman, but refrained.

Barely.

And when the hell did she become my woman?

Hell, I didn’t know. What I did know is that I wanted her. And that I wouldn’t be letting her go. Especially since Baylee was all I could think about. I’d catch myself doing that constantly, daydreaming when I should be working.

Shit like that was dangerous. In my line of work it could easily get me killed.

My hand went out to Baylee’s, grabbing it tight as I could, while I helped her up onto the deck, and led the way down the dock towards the gazebo, and the rest of the crew. As we got closer, everyone noted Baylee’s hand grasped possessively in my large one. Eyebrows raised, but no one asked.

They didn’t need to. Baylee was mine, and it was more than obvious.

“Who’s your woman, Su...” Dad asked before I interrupted him with a curt barked retort.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I snarled, making Baylee jump.

My father’s lips curved into an evil smile. “What’s wrong, Sue? You don’t want your lady friend knowing your name?”

My head fell back, and I contemplated the wooden beams of the gazebo’s roof while I willed my temper to take a back seat.

My father was such a dick. He knew how much I hated that middle name. Hell, every time I even thought about my middle name, I wanted to rage at someone. Sure, it wasn’t that bad. But, when you took into account my father’s obsession with Johnny Cash, and then the name, Sebastian, I never heard the end of it.

I sure felt for the man in Johnny Cash’s song,
A Boy Named Sue
.

Flipping my head back down and glaring at all the people giggling like little fucking girls I groaned. “Thanks, dad. Really wanted her to know that.”

“Anytime, son. Anytime. Take a seat. How’s your hand, sugar?” My father turned his probing eyes to Baylee.

Baylee smiled at my father and sat down gingerly on the bench that only allowed enough room for the both of us to sit within inches of each other.

She landed with a soft plunk, and I used the closeness of Baylee’s body to throw my arm up over her shoulders to run along her back.

Winter and Shiloh, who were sitting by my father, both with huge smiles on their faces; I glared at them to make sure they kept their shit to themselves.

“It’s okay. I’m a clumsy person. This happens a lot.” She told my nosy father.

Torren, the comedian of all The Dixie Wardens’ brothers, watched the interaction with a smile on his lips. Then, as if on cue, he stood and faced Baylee.

“Baylee, my dear. I’m Torren. It’s very nice to meet you.” He said as he held his hand out for Baylee to shake.

I knew where this was going even before Torren stood up, and couldn’t help the groan that slipped from my lips before Torren’s mouth even started to move.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Baylee said soberly.

“I want to ask you a serious question, and you have to promise to be truthful. This is an ongoing debate at the firehouse,” Torren was interrupted by groans by everyone within hearing distance. We’d all seen and heard this particular argument before. Many times.

He glared, but continued with the question. He asked every single woman that ever gets close to the club or firehouse. Why would Baylee be any different? “...do you watch The Bachelor?”

Baylee stayed silent for a few moments before shaking her head. “No. I think that’s the most ridiculous show on the face of the planet.”

Cheers rose throughout the men, and most of the women groaned. I found myself smiling, despite the ridiculousness of the entire debate.

“Thank you, Jesus!” Torren said, pumping his fist before taking his seat.

“What’s the big deal?” Baylee asked, pulling her feet up onto the bench, effectively getting closer to my own body without realizing it.

My hand came to a rest on her up raised knee, and she instinctively curled into my body, leaning her head on my chest.

I turned my head slightly, letting my chin rub against the top of her head. The smell of her shampoo rose up, and I took a deep breath, smelling the clean smell of her.

“You just screwed us, that’s what.” Shiloh whined.

“How?” She shouted.

My silent laughter shook my body. “The men think that’s the dumbest show on the planet. The women think it’s romantic. It’s just something that’s been a contention around here.”

“I hate that show. I don’t see how twenty women can become friends when they’re all vying for the same freakin’ man. I mean, who in the hell would want to share her man with that many women? Then again, the same goes for The Bachelorette. That shit wouldn’t fly with a man that really wanted you.” Baylee informed the group.

“That’s what the men think. The women disagree.” I agreed.

“You’re supposed to agree with the women, no matter what.” Allison pouted.

Allison was a cute little thing. She was older, as was Dave, her husband. Dave didn’t belong to the MC, but he did come to many of the parties. He and his wife married when they were young, seventeen. From there, he went on to join the fire department, and was the longest standing member. Allison stayed home with the children, and even now, eight years after the children moved out of their house to start lives of their own, she stayed home. They were there even before his own father was. Before the club’s particular chapter was, too.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t. There’s no way I could kiss a man that’d just kissed another woman. Let alone respect him. Seems to me that a man, a real man, wouldn’t want to share his woman. My best friend from college and I came up with an idea to patent a show called ‘The Alphas’ that had a bunch of alpha males on a show vying for a woman’s attention. It’d play out just about how the Bachelorette would play out, only instead of trying to be pansies; they’d just beat the ever-loving shit out of each other. They’d host the show on The Outdoor Channel. Ya know, so real men would actually watch it.” Baylee exclaimed.

Masculine chuckles and feminine peals of laughter filled the air; I even found myself laughing. That would be fun to watch.

“What does the woman do? Does she just sit back and watch the magic happen? Whoever comes out the winner gets the woman? Kind of like a modern day bride competition?” Dave asked.

Baylee’s lips pursed. “Yeah, except instead of doing competitions and placing in an event, like caber tossing or something, they just have bouts. Maybe a sanctioned fight where a referee is there and can stop the person right before he kills the other man. Then, they all fight each other, no weapons or anything, just their bodies, until there’s one winner. In the end, the winner gets the woman, and she doesn’t get to decide if she wants him or not. He does. He can also decide if he doesn’t want anything to do with her, and can give her the boot.”

“But wouldn’t it defeat the purpose if he gave her the old heave ho?” Winter snickered.

Winter was well on her way to drunk. She must’ve been drinking out of Dave’s punch, because that shit was laced with vodka out the ass. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I texted Jack, and left it open on my thigh waiting for the reply that I knew would come quickly.

The conversation continued around them. Everyone was contemplating the merits of ‘Alphas’ and whether it would sell.

“Why wouldn’t it sell? People pay Pay-Per-View all the freaking time. What makes this any different?” Baylee asked Shiloh, when my sister was adamant about it not selling.

“Well....” Shiloh hiccupped, but couldn’t come up with a good answer. “I guess you’re right. Why do you both have to be so freakin’ smart all the damn time.”

Shiloh was drunk, too. Fuckin’ great. My sister got chatty and argumentative when she was drunk. That was how my girlfriend in high school found out my name was Sue and told the entire fucking town. I’d gotten in more fights in high school about my goddamn name than I had when I was active in the Marines.