Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone (8 page)

“And why do you think I didn’t want you here
this
week?” Tango asks me condescendingly.

“This is my house, Tango, don’t you understand that? I need a place to call home. I spent my whole life savings on this, and you can’t just expect me to desert it now.”

“I’m not,” he argues. “We’ll get it up on the market and make your money back on it. Problem solved.”

“Dude,” Jags steps in past me. “Give the lady a break. Not everyone is a freeloader like we are. I can respect that this is her place here, and she doesn’t want to be forced out.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Jags,” I say.

“Mr. Jags?” Tango blurts out. “Aw shit, that’s funny.”

All of this squabble is making my face hot. “I don’t want to leave my house, Tango. And I don’t want to listen to you and Cali—”

“Boning?” he interjects.

The two of them, my goodness. Not a clean mouth to be had.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” Jags scolds Tango.
Okay, Mr. Sailor Mouth
.

“It’s just Sasha,” Tango replies.

“Well, you’re just rude,” I tell Tango.

“That he is,” Jags backs me up. “He’s the type of guy who will pretend he’s dead for six years before he tells his best friend he’s actually alive. You know what I mean?”

“I think I know what you mean,” I tell him. I’m pretty sure that dig was to Tango and not me but I’m not sure I understand their friendship completely.

“Jesus, will you two just go fuck or something and get it over with?” Tango says. His words force the heat that had already filled my cheeks to turn into a scorching hot burn.

“Dude, simma,” Jags says. “Take it down a notch or two. Or ten.” Jags turns around to face Tango and whispers or mouths something to him—something I wish I could hear. Whatever it was, it causes Tango to move into the kitchen, leaving Jags and me in here alone.

Being alone in here with Jags doesn’t make me feel as tense as I do when Tango is standing here. I constantly feel like I’m doing something wrong when Tango’s around. And even though I’ve only been around Jags for a week or so, I don’t get that feeling when I’m around him. I mean, he still has those alpha traits and qualities like Tango, but he also has a sweetness about him too. That and his eyes are not burning a hole into me as if he’s trying to figure out everything going on inside of my head. That’s just Tango—on and very intense all of the time. Jags’s eyes are large, and his eyebrows are angled in a way that makes him look like he loves everything, like he’s got a permanent smile on his face even when his lips are just in a straight line. Actually, anytime I’ve interacted with Jags, he’s usually smiling or laughing over something. It’s rare when his lips
are
in a straight line.

“Hey, doll-face,” he says gently. “Come here and sit down for a minute.” Jags’s hand connects with my back as he urges me toward my couch where I take a seat. He sits down next to me, keeping some space between us as he rests his elbows on his knees. “So, Tango and Cali are both worried about you as I’m sure you already know.”

“Yeah,” I laugh softly. “They haven’t exactly been quiet about it.”

“They love you, doll. I know you’re like a sister to Cali. She talks about you all of the time.”

“And I feel the same about her, most of the time, but I still need my own place, and it just so happens that I already have my own place.”

“You do,” Jags says. “And it’s a nice place you have here—except for that smell. What is that?
Oh no, that’s embarrassing
. “Anyway, that loony ex of yours is a little loco in the head, you know?”

I nod my head a little. It’s not like I don’t know what he did but I’ve been a little tired of people trying to dictate my life, and moving out of my house out of fear of Landon would be me allowing him to control my life too. It just doesn’t feel right. “I want to be home again, that’s all.”

Jags doesn’t respond right away. He leans forward, placing more weight on his knees as he stares through the fireplace. “I volunteer to be your bodyguard.”

I laugh loudly, a gut-rumbling laugh. What in the world is he talking about? “I’m sorry, what?”

“Someone’s gotta keep you safe, and if you don’t want to listen to Cali and Tango knocking boots all night, I can understand why you’d want to be in your own bed.”

“Jags, are you telling me you’re moving in here with me to be my…bodyguard?” The question makes me want to laugh, but the look on his face…the sudden straight line on his lips that I never see, tells me he’s very serious.

He tilts his head to look over at me. “I’m not going to force this on you if that’s what you’re questioning. But I’d be happy to sleep on the couch if you wanted to move back home. Plus, I’m sort of camping out in the Sawdust Motor Inn, which um…sucks.”

Why do I feel like the wind has been sucked out of my lungs at such a nice and generous offer? Probably because I don’t know how I feel about Jags yet. I haven’t made up my mind. There was a moment the day Landon pulled all of his crap on me when I felt fragile and weak and looked at Jags as if he were this big, amazing hero who saved my day. I had literally just met him then, and I still don’t feel like I know him much better now. Plus, with reality settling around me like dust, I realize my thoughts are everywhere. The only real thought I can focus on right now is the fact that my life feels so out of control that I don’t know if the right answer should be yes or no. I do want to sleep in my own bed, but I’m not ready to trust another human being. “The Sawdust Motor Inn? That place is run by roaches, like I actually think cockroaches scared away the owners,” I giggle. “Plus, I sort of imagined maybe an apartment or something of that sort when you said you got your own place?”

He settles himself into the back of the couch, placing his hands behind his head. “I did. I got a motel room. My own motel room, which you are completely correct about. I took one step inside last night and found a dude passed out on the bed. About an hour later, he was pronounced dead. So yeah, I’m not so eager to run back there. Though, don’t confuse my distaste for the motel with me pressing you to make a decision.”

A decision
. I’m supposed to make one of those right now when I can’t even get my thoughts straight? I don’t want people controlling me, yet when offered a chance to make my own decisions, I can’t seem to do that either. What a mess. “I’m not sure I know what the right answer is,” I say, joining him in leaning back into the couch. “I don’t know you at all, and part of me is thinking that agreeing to a ‘bodyguard’ is just as foolish as thinking Landon was a decent man.”

“I can respect that,” Jags says. “Why don’t you think about it?”

“Okay,” I agree. I appreciate not being forced into a thoughtless decision.

“Y’all done flirtin’ in there?” Tango shouts in.

My gosh, why is he always so brash? Jags grins at me as he likely notices the color change I’m feeling on my cheeks.

Yup, he’s noticed. He reaches over and gently pinches my cheek. “You’ll get used to him someday, doll-face.” It’s already been five years.

Jags might be right about that, but I don’t know if I’ll get used to the sensation his fingers just pulsed through my body when he touched me. That, I won’t get used to because
that
is not happening. He is not remotely close to my type. I don’t think. Why is this the only thing I can think to keep saying to myself about him?

JAGS

“I GIVE IT
a week,” Tango says, grinning, as he backs us out of his driveway now that Sasha is secured as their prisoner again.

“A week for what?” I question him.

“Until you’re hittin’ that.”

“Bro, she’s wound so tight, I’m guessing that is not in my future. Plus, I’d probably break her,” I laugh.

“She is pretty small,” Tango agrees. “I’m just messin’ with ya, man.”

It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind a thousand times in the past week, but a girl like that doesn’t end up with a guy like me. “You don’t think she’s going to get a little stir crazy being held a prisoner in your house?” I know Tango is typically a little headstrong with protecting people, but ripping a girl out of her house and dragging her to his house is caveman-esque.

“Cali’s home,” he says. “She’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t she have a job or anything? She doesn’t strike me as the type who sits around all day, especially since she was ironing her clothes at six thirty this morning.”

“Yeah, she manages a restaurant, but we told her to quit. That dick, Landon, was a chef there, so it’s no good now.” Yikes. I’m starting to feel sorry for the poor girl.

“Look, maybe this is none of my business, but you guys are a little rough with her. She’s a grown woman who can likely take care of herself. Maybe you should let her make at least some of her own decisions.”

Tango looks over at me with a cocky grin, “You do want to get with her, you dog.”

I throw my head back against the seat and groan. “Some things don’t change with you, man. I figured with your disappearing act for six years, you would have loosened up a bit but that’s not the case, is it?”

Tango whips us into the job site and throws the gear in park. “Look, man, I have a family to protect. Cali has had too much crap following her around for the past ten years, and I’ve been on the defensive since the day I met her. Sasha being in the picture now adds another layer to this. I know you don’t know much about Cali’s dad, but the guy is a wanted man and there were a lot of people who would do just about anything to find him.”

“Jesus, man. That fucking sucks,” I say.

“Yeah, man, I mean we did have a period of time where things settled down for a bit, but unfortunately, this stuff won’t ever be truly settled in our lives. It just seems like there will always be someone after him and therefore, us, t0o.” Tango pauses and releases a sigh of frustration. “It’s a lot, and we do our best to live a safe life, but anyone who is a part of our lives needs to be protected. I have a daughter now and I’ll do whatever is needed to keep her away from any possible trouble. Sasha was used as bait with Landon, so she’s just another extension of our situation now.”

A lot of this shit has my head spinning. I’m still not sure I’m following Cali’s whole background story but I know they’ve been hiding out for a reason and with the relationship Tango and I have had, we don’t ask unless the information is offered. I’m trying to keep it that way, but there are so many holes in his explanations that I just feel lost. “I hear ya, man.”

“Look, all joking aside. I could use a little help keeping an eye on Sasha. I heard what you were saying to her in the living room earlier and that might be the best possible situation if you could crash on her couch for a while. I know she doesn’t want to bunk with Cali and me anymore and at the end of the day, I can’t stop her from doing much, so whatever you can do to help with this, would mean a lot to me.”

“Have you maybe noticed how stubborn that little Southern belle is?” I ask him. “You think I have any chance of convincing her to do anything she doesn’t want to do?”

“Dude, we all know you can make any chick fall in love with you…get on it.” It’s funny to think Tango has this image of me in his head. Chicks aren’t falling all over me; they never have been. It’s been Tango who had girls tripping to introduce themselves and their tits to him. I’ve just been the beefy wingman…well, with the exception of late night bar escapades where the chicks are all at least half wasted.

“No promises. I gave her the offer so we’ll see what she decides to do,” I tell him.

“Well, I’ll have Cali get on her case about it. My girl is pretty damn convincing when need be.”

“We all know, man. Dude…do y’all have any idea how thin your damn walls are? And do you ever consider what Tyler thinks is going on in your bedroom every night?”

“We have a white noise machine in her room. She doesn’t hear us,” Tango argues.

“And I suppose the rattling of your house is the soothing vibration that keeps her asleep?” I add with laughter.

“Dude, see, you got it! Take note for your future. We’ve got this whole parenting thing down to a science.”

“Tango, man, your daughter told me if I moved her doll while she was sleeping, I’d wake up without an arm in the morning…just putting that out there.”

“No shit?” Tango laughs. “That’s my girl.”

“She’s five. I don’t know, maybe she should be playing with her dolls or some shit…not threatening to tear a limb off a grown man in his sleep.”

“No one is going to mess with my little girl,” Tango argues. “You’ll see…you’ll have a son or daughter someday and you’ll want them to know how to defend themselves.” While this conversation is funny, it’s a little sad too. Tango lives his life in fear. Always has. Probably always will.

We step out of the truck and start walking across the empty lot over to the group of men hovering around a pile of lumber. “I may have a job starting tomorrow, by the way,” I tell Tango. I know he was short staffed here today but I don’t want him depending on me for more time this week.

“No shit? Where at?” he asks, stopping in his step.

“Just an auto body shop downtown. This chick I met runs the place and offered me a job.”