Merry with a Gambler (Love Beach Holiday Collection)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Stack (Dax)

I dozed off-and-on the first few hours as she gradually scoots closer and closer in her sleep. When she finally turned toward me, flopping her leg over my hip I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Until I realized she was sound asleep.

Her palm pressed against my chest over my heart. She rested her head under my chin. The sweet scent of her hair filled my senses each time I inhaled. The hard bud of her nipples through the thin cotton of the t-shirt taunted and teased every sensitive nerve ending hidden beneath my flesh.

Having her in my arms felt amazing. She fit me perfectly. Now, as she struggles to rise, she stokes the fire of need and desire I’ve barely kept under control. My cock hardens with a will of its own.

Placing my palm on her lower back I still her movements.

“It’s okay. Nothing happened and nothing is going to. But give me a second. We need to untangle carefully.”

Her snort-chuckle makes me smile. Slowly she extradites herself from my hold and I immediately miss her. Sitting up I pull my sweatpants on over my boxers as she heads to the door.

“I’d like us to check out some of the places your folks would have stayed or hung out in the past. I want to see if we can find them. I don’t like the coincidence that your place was busted into and then your old man shows up.”

Her gaze shoots to me and the color drains from her face. “I didn’t think of that. When I was with them, they would get me odd jobs like doing dishes at a diner or bar for a night. The pay for those was always given to my father. Later I started babysitting and that was usually paid to me. I’d give them part and keep the rest, hiding it in my books. One day I woke and saw my mom taking the money I’d hidden. After that I would still plant a little cash but kept the rest with me. It’s not like there was ever a lot. When they dumped me, I had fifty-seven dollars.”

Yeah, her piece-of-shit parents keep getting more and more on my bad side.

“Get dressed, we’re going out to eat.”

“No. I’m fine with yogurt.”

“Let me guess. You eat a yogurt when you get up and then don’t eat again until you get to the bar where Nyla and Pax comp meals.”

She lowers her gaze telling me I’ve guessed her secret. “Go get ready. We’re going out to eat then do a little checking around before I take you to work.”

“But…”

“The only butt here is going to be your red one if I have to tell you again. Now move it and get ready, flower girl.”

Her face is as red as I promised to make her ass. “Why do you call me that?”

My thoughts rewind to how good she felt against my body just moments ago and my cock twitches. I hate being lied to . “To remind me and my dick how young you are and how off limits.”

She cocks her head. “Why? How old are you?”

“I was seventeen and had joined the Army the year you were born. By the time you were five I’d already seen battle, lost friends, and killed.”

She holds my gaze. “By the time I was four, I’d learned to make do with only eating once every two, sometimes three days. How to stay quiet and hidden in a dark closet for hours while the adults partied, did drugs and had sex on the other side of the door. By eight I’d learned where to get food out of trash cans behind restaurants, or places I could get free food for a little work. And the best streets where I could find clothes and shoes in people’s trash. At least when we moved here, I didn’t have to worry about snow.”

She looks at me with her warm brown eyes reflecting all the hardship of her short life. “I heard once it’s not the years, it’s the miles that make the difference.”

I’ve known for months that I wanted her. That I’d take care of her. Then I’d circle back and think of the age between us. The things I’ve done.

Who the hell am I to try and tell her what or who she needs? Or wants? I’m hers. If, how, and when she wants me. For as long as she wants me.

“Go get ready, babe. I’m taking you out. Wear jeans, and your black Harley boots. We’ll be on the bike.”

I’ve got my cut on over my jean jacket and am wearing a durag. I hand her my helmet. I have plans before we eat.

Pulling into the Harley store, I cut the engine. “Hop off, babe.”

Ushering her inside with my hand on her back I cross straight to the helmets. I tell the clerk I want a Fury with bluetooth. While he goes to get it, I lead her to the leather jackets.

“Stack, what are you doing?”

“You’ll be riding with me on the bike, you need some stuff.” I know how hot she’ll look in the asymmetrical cut jacket and am pleased when I find the one I want. “Try this on.”

It fits her like a glove. Fuck, I’ll be fighting guys off her. “Oh yeah. That’s the one. Perfect.”

“Stack. Stop. What are you doing?”

“I’m buying you what you need to ride with me. I’m keeping you safe.”

Her eyes fill with tears. I watch her swallow twice before she whispers, “Thank you.”

Grabbing a pair of gloves, I help her size the helmet and then connect her bluetooth to mine. Outside, I tap the saddle bag on the right. “This one is yours. Anything you want to keep in here is fine.

“Now lunch. Any place you really like?” She hesitates. “Boots, this is for us. I want it to be special.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Giancarlo’s. It’s lunch so it won’t be so expensive.”

Nodding, I climb on, and she takes her seat behind. Reaching back with one palm on her butt I slide her tight against me. I need to feel her plastered to my back. I want her, all of her. I know I should be the better man and walk away. I can’t. For now, I intend to savor these moments.

At the restaurant I can tell she’s a little nervous of how we present as bikers and make sure she takes the seat next to me. Manners, kindness, and money can make people overlook appearances. Removing my durag, I run my fingers through my hair before the waiter approaches. He’s giving Boots the once over and I don’t like it. I will not plant my fist in his face.

“Hey man, how ya doing? Could we get a couple sweet teas, please.” He nods, hands us our menus and walks away.

“So babe, what looks good to you?”

“I—I don’t know. I haven’t had a lot of the stuff listed. But I love those frozen ravioli you can get at the store. At the apartment that had a stove, I’d buy the bag stuff once in a while. These are supposed to be awesome because they’re fresh. I really don’t know what to order. Can you just do it?”

“You like cheese or meat?”

“Cheese.”

When the waiter returns, he’s still staring at my girl. “Eyes here, buddy.” Red faced, he meets my gaze. “Well start with the balsamic burrata, one spring salad, one Caesar, anchovies on the side. I’ll have the meat lasagna and she would like the cheese ravioli.”

He nods and scurries away like I’d throat punch him or something.

Boots is glancing around the restaurant in awe. “Where do you usually go out to eat,” I ask.

“I don’t go out. I’m saving my money for my shop.”

“What’s your plan for that?”

“Tegan, my friend who’s teaching the small business class, thinks she may have found a place for me. Her boyfriend is renting the building next to her chocolate shop to sell his cheeses. But he doesn’t need the whole space yet. He’s willing to let me set up in part of the room.”

Her eyes light up and she leans forward. “It would be so perfect. People could grab the cheese and chocolates to take to the pier, and maybe bouquets for their sweethearts. Or people having parties might want my flowers to decorate their tables. She said he’d cut me a deal and work with me month to month if we had to. Rhone already ordered the coolers for his cheeses and has an extra one that I could use for my flowers in the beginning.

“Nyla said she’d give me shifts after the flower shop closes so I could still make money from bartending with her. Tegan said that she’d handle the pickup orders if I needed to leave for the bar job.” Her face drops. “I just don’t know how I can afford the start-up. Right now, I make do with the older flowers and discounted ones from the grocery store and other flower shops. But I will need fresher stuff for orders placed in advance for parties and weddings. I reached out to one of the flower supply companies to see what kind of deal we could make but haven’t heard back.”

“Have you thought of looking for an investor?”

“Tegan and I discussed it. I just don’t know anyone.”

The waiter arrives with our salads. I’ll do my own research and talk to this Rhone guy to make sure he’s legit.