SIX (12 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“Parker going on a fucking date,” he clarifies.

“Do you want to date her?” I ask, bored of having this same conversation over and over.

“I want to fuck her,” he huffs.

I dig the needle in further than I should and make him yelp.

“Asshole,” he snaps.

“Bastard.” I point the gun at him.

“Why don’t you find an easy girl to put it in?”

“Because I want to put it in Parker.”

“Then man up.”

“You can talk.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He goes back to playing with his cell and I finish up his leg.

He wanted some of his own work tattooed on his skin and drew a lifelike dragon with its tail curling down his leg. Detailed, intricate scales span the entire length and bring it to life, making it look 3-D so the top half is taking flight off the skin.

It’s impressive.

“Swix!” Emma shouts as I enter the rec room.

She’s playing with some dolls and has chocolate around her lips.

“Hey, little lady. Who’s watching you?” I ask, checking outside the door, but no one’s back here. She stands up and hands me one of her dolls.

I study it, a frown marring my forehead.

Why is the doll so out of proportion? This shit is why women think they’re fat.

I had a plump foster mom once.

She used to spend the whole day exercising and then binge eat all night, complaining about her body to anyone who would listen. She had these huge tits, a round stomach, stocky legs that were rock solid from all the working out, pretty features, and long curly brown hair—but she couldn’t see all the beauty she possessed, just that she was heavier than what society deemed right.

Men looked her way, but she was blinded to it.

If she just listened when her girlfriend told her men like women of all varieties, and most men, if a woman is naked in front of them, don’t see fat, skinny, imperfections, cellulite—we see pussy and tits.

We’re carnal.

Our body is designed to fuck, and the sight, smell, or hint of pussy is all it takes.

And when you love a person, nothing about them is imperfect.

She could have saved herself a lot of turmoil if she embraced her beauty.

A small crunching sound alerts me that I’ve broken the doll by accident.

It’s so flimsy, the head popped right off in my hands.

I was only twisting it to see if it was posable. Emma stares at me wide-eyed and her bottom lip begins quivering as she shakes her head no.

Argh, don’t cry…don’t cry.

Pushing the head back on doesn’t work and her quiver turns in to a full-blown sob. Reaching down, I pat her shoulder.

“Don’t cry, please. I’ll get you a new one.”

She shakes her head no.

“A better one,” I try with a smile, but she’s hard to please.

“Two. I’ll get you two—three…and a house for them to live in.”

“Wreally?” she sniffles, her tears subsiding.

“Really.” I nod, feeling the panic at making this little girl cry ease.

Now I just need to figure out where the hell I buy shit like that.

Misty will have to get it.

She’s not working.

“Lucky,” I shout as he passes the rec room moving toward the kitchen.

He pushes open the door.

“What’s up?”

“Wait here with Emma.”

“Who’s Em—wait, no, Six…Six!” I ignore his calls and bound the stairs up to Misty’s apartment.

Pausing in front of the door, I debate over how to proceed.

Do I knock?
Fuck it
.

Opening the door, I call out, “Misty.”

A
thud
and
whoosh
sounds from her room.

Tripping out the door and righting herself, she appears in panties and a fucking tank top, her hair all over the place.

“What were you doing?”

“Who…me? Oh, exercising.” She looks to the bedroom and then reaches for the handle to shut her door.

Sickness bubbles up in my gut, and then rage.

“Is someone in there?” I bellow.

Her mouth goes wide before she composes her face and puts her hands on her full, exposed hips.

“What’s that got to do with you?” she shouts back, but my feet are moving before she even finishes her sentence.

I barge into her room with her screeching, “Get out!” at my back.

The room is warm, like the sun kissing my skin.

The scent in the air is musky and sexual.

Her bed is all messed up and lying on the covers is a pink vibrator.
Shit

“Is that yours?”
Of course it is.

Pushing past me, she throws the comforter over the mattress, taking with it the pink cock.

“Thank you for this mortifying experience. If you’re just going to walk in here whenever you feel like it, I’m going to have to find other arrangements.”

She’s pissed.

She can’t look at me and her cheeks have never been that shade of red before. But why wouldn’t she be? I’ve invaded her privacy and caught her being a dirty girl when all this time I thought she’d be one of those women who sneezed to get off—not expressive and wanton with her little toys.

Mmm
, watching her would be something else.

My eyes stay glued to the bed.

She was in here fucking herself.

Fuck, I want to suck that stupid rubber cock just to taste her.

“You can’t do this! You act like I’m your property, but then you don’t want to take it anywhere. You need to decide how you want it because if there was a man in here, it wouldn’t be any of your business, and you can’t go around throwing that huge, muscly body about.”

She just doesn’t get that I wouldn’t be good for her.

If only she knew the real me.

“Sometimes the coin is just too big to fit through the slot,” I tell her.

Her eyes squint and she rears back. “Are you talking about your cock?”

Why did she have to say cock?

“No, it’s a metaphor. Maybe we’re just not compatible,” I clarify, trying not to let the smile that wants to lift my lips from doing just that.

“Sexually? You mean because you have some mammoth cock? You need to get over yourself, King of the Shlongs.”

Who is this feisty, funny as shit woman?

“I’m not talking about my junk, Misty. Fuck.”

I run my hands through my hair. “I mean, a circle doesn’t fit a square.”

Her eyes get big and she raises one eyebrow.

“We’re very different people,” I clarify again.

“Or you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of anything.”

“You’re scared of feeling. You’re scared of being with me and actually liking it and wanting to come back for more.”

She wasn’t wrong and I didn’t know how to answer.

“You think if we give in to this heat between us, you’ll want it to be a one-time thing and I’ll slit my wrists and make you clean up the blood or some shit.”

My head jerks on my shoulders, my nose crinkling.

“No, that’s dark.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “When you realize I’m a risk worth taking, you let me know. Until then, don’t tell me how to dress, who I can fuck, and if I can date.” She goes to walk away, but I grab her wrist, stopping her.

“What do you mean who you can date. Do you have a date?”

“Maybe.”

“Mist.”

She huffs. “No.”

And with that one word, she just saved someone’s life.

I don’t want to be with her because she deserves someone better, but there would never be anyone good enough.

Shit, I’m an asshole.

“I have no problem with you dating your pink friend in there.” I smirk.

“Get out.”

“I came here for a reason.”

Her frustrated little body goes to the back of mine and tries to push me, but she’s fucking tiny and I don’t budge.

“Get out,” she tells me again, but I grab some cash from my pocket and toss it on her bed.

“I need you to take Emma to the toy store.”

“No, I’m busy.”

“When you’re done.” I grin.

“Out!” she roars, pointing to the door.

Stuffing another cinnamon bun in his mouth from a batch Jo dropped off, Lucky continues to talk, but all I can focus on is how he chews with his mouth open while hoping I don’t get sprayed with chunks of pastry.

What a pig.

“So, she been talking about me?”

Was he serious? Why was I his go-to for playground crap?

Grabbing some glasses discarded on a table and dumping them on the bar to wipe down the rings they left, I roll my eyes.

“Yes, she said how you being an asshole and eating like an animal makes her hot.”

“Really?” He lifts his body from the slouched position, his face brightening.

“No, Lucky, not really.”

He deflates and stuffs another bun in his mouth.

I didn’t know where he puts the amount he shovels in.

In theory, he should be huge.

“It’s pretty pathetic how you pine after her but don’t want anything to do with her because she has a kid.” I shake my head in disgust.

“It’s not the kid, it’s…I don’t want to get into anything serious.”

“Why—you waiting on something?”

Narrowing his eyes at me, he steals the last bun and disappears through the door to the tattoo shop.

“Something you said?” Samuel asks, coming through for his shift.

“I will never understand men. No offense.”

“None taken.” He smiles, and I’ve never really paid attention to how good looking he is. Young—on his job application it said he was twenty-two—blond hair, short and spiked, green eyes, and full lips.

He’s broader than Lucky, but nowhere near as big as Six.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me.” He blushes and I reflect his rouge.

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about how I really haven’t gotten to know you.”

His smile is warming. “Do you want to?”

“No, she doesn’t. Keep your hands to yourself,” Six barks as he walks in the door Lucky left through.

My mouth drops open, lines crinkling around my narrowed eyes staring in his direction.

“Did that little shit eat all the cinnamon rolls?” he complains, shuffling through the baked goods, nonchalant to the fact that he just interfered and warned someone to stay away from me.

He has no right and I’m getting real tired of his bullshit.

“Actually, Samuel, I do want to. Would you like to get a drink after your shift?”

The rustling of the bag Six was rummaging through stops and I know he’s watching our exchange.

“Like, here?” Samuel asks.

“No, let’s go somewhere else.”

I lean into the bar, my fingers turning white from the grip they have on the rag I’d been using.

I’m willing myself not to look over in Six’s direction, instead keeping my attention on Samuel.

He looks between me and Six and his eyes come back to me as he nods his head. “Yeah, okay.”

His gaze darts back to Six, and Samuel shakes his head.

“Or maybe no?” He poses it as a question, his eyes remaining on Six.

“Stop it!” I shout at Six, and he just shrugs.

“Look, I don’t want to lose my job,” Samuel says.

Six coughs and mutters, “That’s not all you’ll lose.”

Storming over to him and snatching the bag from his hands, I begin throwing the contents at him one by one.