Poker Face (10 page)

Yeah, he was sick alright.

He bet against you screwing her—his father’s hateful words.

Drew sighed, his head coming down to rest on her chest. He could
feel and hear her heart beat slowing from the near miss. He expected to be
slapped, cussed, knee’d in the groin, bit, clawed… but never, in not one of the
possible outcomes of this night had he expected her to turn into a sex craved
temptress under him: arching, whimpering, moaning, begging… and kissing. What
the hell? She’d kissed him like she actually… liked him. His head was a jumbled
mess. One thing was certain, he needed to get away from her, out of the bed,
before he did something they’d both regret in the morning. It wasn’t supposed
to happen this way. It was supposed to be easy and entertaining. Where was her
anger? Her disgust. Oh God, he was losing all self-control.

“Drew, talk to me!” she demanded grabbing a hand full of his dark
hair to lift his head up off her chest.

“What is your fascination with hair?” he growled in pain. She
sought out his eyes, hers full of questions and hurt. They held gazes. “I told
you I don’t do the whole talking thing.”

“Oh, that’s right. You just screw whoever’s handy. If that’s the
case, then why did you stop?”

He winced at her words camouflaging his shock with a smirk. “The
real question is why didn’t
you
stop me? Looks like you don’t have a
problem accepting charity.”

She went still under him. “Is that what you were doing… being
charitable
?”

“I don’t know. I did feel sorry for you earlier… being left out.”
He brightened from a sudden thought. “Bailey might be interested in a
threesome, if you’re interested, it would definitely sweeten the deal….maybe
make me more interested if she’s involved.”

He couldn’t help smiling when her eyes darkened with unleashed
anger. Bingo. He had managed to officially piss her off, again, a skill he was
honing in on the more he was around her, the only thing he could predict at
this point. One minute he was on top of her savoring her warmth, the next
minute he was flat on his back on the hard, cold floor, clutching his side as
his laughter filled the bedroom.

She had a temper, one that pretty much kept everyone at a safe
distance. Oddly, it only made him desire her all that much more. Was it
possible to go insane from wanting? He was in the middle of hell, close to heaven,
but unable to go there. What he needed was an ice cold shower, and a lumpy
couch to sober up on.

A pillow struck his face, then a heavy blanket hit his gut, the
weight of it didn’t amount to much, but the surprise caused him to suck in a
strangled breath.

“If you try to get back in this bed, I swear… I’ll… I’ll make you
regret it.”

Day Five

“I’m thinking you’re wasting your time with that one,” Megan said
peering under the popped hood of the ugliest cream colored car she’d ever seen.
All she saw was a black charred motor, lots of little parts, weeds poking up
from underneath and one greasy old man wearing a pair of dingy coveralls.

Tink gritted his teeth stretching his arm as far as it would go in
what she assumed was the bowels of the broken down car. “Hold up… bout got it.
Ah, that’a girl.” He came back up smiling. A wrench clanked in the toolbox at
her feet. “How about handing me that rag? Thanks beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“A 1962 Chevy Nova…. they don’t make ‘em like her anymore.”

“There’s probably a reason. Why don’t you let “her” die in peace?”

Megan leaned against the side wrinkling her nose at the rust
staining her hand. A frown came to the old man’s face as he blotted the sweat
from his brow. “Some things are just worth the effort, Meg. With a little work,
this car can be made into a keeper… noticed Drew was back on the couch this
morning?”

So they were talking about Drew? “Yep,” she answered rubbing a
dull spot in the paint with her thumb, mostly to avoid elaborating on the
details, painful embarrassing details. Drew was already gone when she woke up,
thankfully she hadn’t had to face him.

Tink went back to tinkering with his car. Ha, the nickname suited
him. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” again, avoidance of eye contact.

“How ‘bout handing me a 5/8 socket?”

She picked through the assortment in the box. Metal clanked. “This
one?”

“Yeah, thanks,” grunts, tightening of lugs. Somehow it quickly
turned into her passing him tools as he requested them. Megan gathered her
thick hair back in a ponytail and peered under the hood assessing the work
being done as if she understood what was going on. No one had ever asked her to
help fix up an old car, afraid she’d whine over getting filthy, perhaps. Megan
found out she enjoyed being useful and it kept her mind off other things,
mostly things she couldn’t take back. Tink treated her like one of the guys. He
talked to her as if she had a brain. He made no sexual comments other than
calling her beautiful, which she found made her smile endlessly.

“We’re going to have to get you a pair of coveralls,” he teased
nodding at the black oil on the belly of her gray shirt.

“It’s okay. I’ve got three more identical to it.”

A bushy brow shot up. “Really? You bought four of the same shirt?”

“Gray’s my favorite color.”

“Do you smoke?” Tink asked after a while.

Odd question out of nowhere, one that caused her to cringe for a
moment. “No, do you?”

“Tried it a couple of times when I was younger…didn’t care for it
much. Do either of your parents smoke?”

“My mom and step father don’t, my father was a smoker.”

“Was?” Tink inquired.

“He died when I was six…lung cancer.”

He shot her one of those pity looks she used to get right after it
happened. “Ah shit, I’m so sorry beautiful…I didn’t know.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s okay. I guess that’s why I never
tried it… smoking. He was pretty miserable in the end, kind of turned me off
watching all he went through because of it.”

“Completely understandable, it seems kids who grow up watching
their parent’s smoke, either follow in their parent’s footsteps becoming
smokers too or hate it so much, they avoid it all together. Have you ever met
Drew’s father?”

She’d almost forgotten about him. Her stomach flipped flopped with
dread over what she’d have to face eventually. Drew would be his usual
obnoxious self, assuming he’d shot her down cold. Someone who didn’t have a
problem having sex with just about anyone couldn’t muster up enough interest to
have sex with her unless another girl was present to make it more interesting.
She pressed a palm to where her stomach where it hurt. Why, oh why, did she
even consider having sex with him? Loneliness? Desperation? Her skin heated
from the memory of how he’d made her feel. Tink was waiting for her response.
Right….Drew’s father. “I’ve met him a couple of times. It was awkward. He…” her
words trailed off as she realized it wasn’t nice to talk ugly about the man
when he wasn’t there to defend himself. Drew was wrong, she did have a filter.

Tink’s laughter caused her to blush. “Awkward, what a
nice
way of explaining what it’s like to be in the presence of the biggest jackass I
know. Go on… finish what you were about to say.”

“It was nothing.”

“What did he do? Pinch your ass? Fondle your breast? Proposition
you for sex?” he spit on the ground, rubbed his greasy hands over his round
belly. “Don’t look so shocked….I know Jonathan Mackenzie really well, too well,
the son-of-a-bitch. He’s known for the outlandish remarks he makes to women.”

“Well, it wasn’t anything he said or done, more the way he looked
at me.” Mackenzie’s creepy gaze had slowly raked over every inch of her as if
he was somehow… familiar with her. No sexual context had been implied. She had
felt completely unsettled without him even laying a finger on her.

“You got out light compared to most. I’m afraid it’s not only
women Mackenzie terrorizes, his son’s been the target of his fucked up way of
thinking until it has left a lasting mark. Griff…..” the old man stopped and
shook his head. “Forget it. I’m just rambling.”

Megan was sure it was a mistake, an innocent drop of the wrong
name. What would Griffin have to do with any of this?

“You meant Drew?”

Of course he did. Yes, she couldn’t imagine both womanizer’s under
the same roof. The house had to have overflown with an abundance of male
testosterone, filthy words and inflated egos.

Megan heard the crunch of footsteps and she held her breath at the
thought of who it most likely was and braced herself for the worse. What was
the worst? Drew could mention what had happened in front of Tink, embarrass her
miserably. No. He wouldn’t dare. It would only serve to expose him for the
heartless bastard he truly was in front of one of the few people who still
thought he was decent. Although, Tink was probably well aware of the
real
Drew, and pitied him for being born into it, isn’t that what they were
discussing only minutes earlier. She felt her temper rising. Pity him? Why?
Every person decided their own path in life, and from what she’d seen his was
lined with money, women, and free rides. Ew, she guessed women
could
fall under the “free rides” category.

Tink leaned to see who was approaching, and his eyes lit with
humor, “Speak of the devil…”

“You two look awful chummy,” Drew commented offering Tink a
genuine smile. His intense brown eyes settled on Megan and the smile faded
instantly. She blushed under his heavy scrutiny.
Oh no, here we go
. “I
didn’t realize you’re a mechanic?” was all he said.

“It’s not polite to tease a lady,” Tink scolded.

“It’s okay Tink, you can’t teach it manners.” She glared at Drew
as a warning to keep the details of last night to himself. He held his relaxed,
in- control composure completely unfazed by Megan or any of her little quips.

“So now I’m an ‘it’?” He was barefoot wearing worn tattered jeans
that hung low on his hips and no shirt, as usual. His chest was distracting.
Her fingers had been on that chest, felt its warmth, and the light dusting of
hair there. Well, that thought only caused her gaze to drop to his narrow
waist, to the sexy trail of hair that disappeared under the waist of those
jeans, jeans that appeared extra soft to the touch. She imagined hooking her
fingers through the loops while she kissed him until he learned some proper
manners. Oh no, that thought only made her think of his scorching hot kisses.
Her cheeks heated, her eyes coming up to meet his again, which were crinkled at
the sides.

Oh no… he knew the direction of her thoughts. Not only did he,
more or less, say he wasn’t interested last night, now he also knew she was
still affected by him. “I thought you had already left for the day?” she
snapped annoyed he made her feel so deeply.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I just went to feed the horses.” Yes,
the all-important horses, the only thing that seemed to hold his attention.
How
pathetic, Megan, you’re jealous of a freaking horse
. He went on, “Birdie
says lunch is on the table… if either of you are interested.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Tink said closing the tool box lid.
Drew came over and leaned, “Here, let me carry that,” he said taking the heavy
box from the old man’s crippled hands.

Megan closed her eyes for a brief moment an inhaled a shaky
breath.

Contradiction
was his middle name
.

*****

Paul Stratford was a persistent man. He was not one to welcome
defeat easily. It was that insatiable drive that had him at the kitchen table
in his two million dollar home making a list of
prospects
.