Madden
This was a terrible idea. One minute my best friend’s little sister is blushing up against her bedroom door, and the next minute we’re dragging her out to a bar on a Friday night. What the hell was I thinking?
Clearly I wasn’t thinking anything at all because now she’s riding shotgun in my SUV. I avert my eyes back to the road, trying to erase the image of her bare legs curled up in the passenger seat from my mind so that I don’t take the wrong exit again.
There’s also the fact that I defiled their family bathroom this evening, beating one out as I pictured Kitty in those fuck-me pyjamas that she was wearing at five o’clock in the afternoon. I risk a quick glance her way as I slow down in front of a red light and she’s attentively twiddling with the raw hem of her denim shorts. I steal a glance at her black cowgirl boots and have to physically restrain myself from taking her back to the ranch right this fucking second.
Besides, this serves me right. I shouldn’t have been goading her the way that I have been, even if I’ve been more than a little infatuated by her since we were kids. I should respect the fact that Kaleb is her brother, not to mention my friend, and I should respect the fact that her loyalty to him is stronger than any interest she has in me.
And yet.
When I pull into the lot in the centre of the town square I lift my foot off the pedal, slowly easing the car into a free space with neurosurgeon-level caution. Slugs are crawling through the mud faster than us. I feel Kitty’s eyes flicker to the side of my skull because this is the first time that she’s ever been inside a vehicle with me and she probably wasn’t expecting me to drive so cautiously. I’m pretty sure that she knows my history so I avoid her eyes as I slowly bring the car into park, an embarrassed warmth spreading up my cheekbones.
My mom was hit by a car when I was younger, and her passing away was something that neither my dad nor I ever got over. Our small family home, a cutesy Phoenix Falls bungalow, was full of her – her pictures, her colour
choices, all of her memories – and my dad never did anything to change that, something that I was both grateful for and resentful about. I was happy that I could still feel her with us, but I was also so unbelievably depressed that she would never physically be coming back. Hence the snap decision to up-sticks when the band got a touring contract.
Hell, I’m the guy who sorted out the tour.
The crux of it is I’m touchy when it comes to driving. And I should text my dad.
I cut off the engine and bring myself back to the here and now, my body vibrating as I take in my present predicament, namely the attitude problem I’ve got curled up on my right, and the older brother who’s seated right behind me.
“You sure you’re good being the DD tonight?” Kaleb asks, unbuckling himself and opening one of the back doors.
Even after years on the road together this guy still hasn’t clicked onto the fact that my obsession with driving isn’t an act of charity. It’s an act of control.
I give him a nod and he cracks me his easygoing cowboy smile. “Lifesaver,” he beams.
Ain’t that the truth. I don’t comment as he dismounts and then starts making his way to the bar ahead of us.
And then it’s just the two of us.
Kitty’s practically twitching beside me, because neither of us knows how to handle this situation. Do I ignore my feelings because of Kaleb’s presence? Act on them until she kicks me out? All I can smell is her sugar- frosting body wash and it’s fogging all of the rationality right out of my brain.
To hell with her brother. Take her home right now and show her what she’s doing to you.
I swallow hard, jaw clenched tight, and I look nervously down at my jeans. There are some situations that even black denim can’t hide. I clench and unclench my fists on the wheel as the weight in my boxers grows harder and thicker.
I should not be left alone with this girl.
I shut off the engine and release my seatbelt, reaching into the back to find what I’m looking for. As soon as I feel the construction hoodie that I keep back there I shove it in her lap and then I haul ass out of the SUV.
She eyes me with cool indifference when I open the passenger door for her.
“You forgot something,” she says and then she slaps the jumper against my chest.
I pull her out of the seat and then lock up the car behind her. “Don’t want you getting cold,” I mutter, pushing the jumper back into her arms. If she thinks that I’m going to let her stroll into a dive bar wearing a tank top that has the phrase “ROUGH RIDER” emblazoned across it in twinkling silver rhinestones, she has another thing coming.
“In eighty degree heat?” she asks.
“It’s not that hot out,” I argue obstinately. A cicada chirps nearby.
“I’m twenty years old, Madden. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
A cold sick feeling trickles down my sternum. This better be her first rodeo. She’s not twenty-one yet and I have every intention of shadowing her like a bodyguard tonight.
“Fine.” I’m practically growling. I chuck the hoodie onto the roof of my car, and then I start dragging her by her wrist through the lot up to the bar.
She slaps at my hand. I grip her tighter.
When we reach the door the bouncer gives Kitty one glance and then turns to me with an offended look on his face. I’ve been here a million times before and in most of those instances I was underage, so I’m hoping that he’ll give me a free pass and no hassle.
“Seriously?” the guy at the door says, stubbing his cigarette against the brickwork. “You tryna get put away or something?”
I simply stand there, giving him enough time to take stock of the fact that I’m two hundred and thirty pounds and itching for a fight. He gives Kitty another once-over and turns to me again.
“Twenty minutes tops,” he says, and then he steps aside, begrudgingly letting us walk through.
“Thanks Dyl,” Kitty calls back to him, sashaying in front of me as soon as we’re inside.
It takes me a moment to process what just happened. Hold on – she’s on first name terms with the bouncer? I spin her around. She bats her lashes.
“You’re on first name terms with the bouncer?” I growl.
I think that I’m going into cardiac arrest. Why the hell has Kitty been frequenting a dive bar with so much regularity that she knows the guy on the door?
When she doesn’t respond I dip my head closer to her so that she can really get a good look at the level of insanity in my eyes. “Care to explain?” From here I can really smell her soap or her perfume or, fuck, maybe it’s just her natural scent, but in contrast to the room that we just walked into
she smells like a freaking cherry bakewell.
She chews on her lip for a few moments, her brow pinched in worry, and then she scrunches up her nose. “No,” she says simply, and then she turns her back to me, ending the conversation.
It’s crowded, rowdy, and smoked up like a sauna in here. The walls are lined with dim crimson string-lights, making it almost impossible to make out who’s who, and the people are packed in elbow to earlobe. I look over the heads of the local clientele and try to scope out which booth the guys will be in. As soon as I catch a glimpse of Kaleb I hook a finger in the waistband of Kitty’s shorts and start hauling her through the throng like a piece of luggage.
“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the cave this morning or something?” Kitty growls, digging her nails into my forearm in an attempt to unleash herself.
Now I’m really hard.
“What is your problem Madden? Seriously, let me go.”
“You really gonna let your brother see you in a top like that?” Yeah, I’m a broken record still twitching about her tank.
“You think my brother is going to read what’s written across my chest?”
Maybe I don’t give a shit about what your brother has to say. Maybe I’m more concerned with every other guy in here and how the second they read what’s written across your tits they’re going to be picturing something that I only want you doing with me.
I change tactics. “Who’re you wearing that for anyway?” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she mutters back.
More than the air I breathe. I have to pierce my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from asking the other question that’s burning a hole in my frontal lobe: is it true.
I’m drawing blood by the time we reach Kaleb.
He’s sat at a booth with two guys that we went to high school with. There’s Tyler, who like me is French decent, and he played guitar with the band until we started touring. Then on the other side there’s Chase, the human embodiment of a golden retriever.
I can see that there are already a couple of bottles half-drained on the top but Kaleb taps his card on the table, implying that he’s about to head up and order a round.
“I got it,” I say, my hand still securing the bounty leashed around my fingers. Kitty tries to jerk her hips away from me but I keep her tightly in place. “Whaddaya want, I’ll pay.”
“Seriously?” Kaleb gives me a grateful grin, then wags his finger between himself and Tyler. “Just the reg, we’re not fussed.”
I jerk my chin at Chase. “You want something?”
I try not to notice the way that his eyes are roaming up and down Kaleb’s sister.
He shakes his head, reluctantly taking his eyes off of Kitty so that he can give me a half-smile. “I’m all set.”
Kaleb slides out of the booth and we work our way up to the counter, Kitty still safely tucked at my side and her brother walking up ahead. I look down at the top of her hair, smoothly centre-parted and luxuriously glossy, and I move my hands so that I’m holding both sides of her hips, moving her in front of me so that I can shield her from the crowd with my arms. She shivers when she feels the press of my fingers against her body, and a wash of protective pride rips through my chest.
When we get to the front I shift so that she’s sandwiched between us. She throws me a nervous look over her shoulder and transmits a thought to me.
It reads: This is going to be impossible.
I nod at her. I know.
Growing up we were never enemies. We were a long string of secret glances and teenage tension whilst Kaleb paraded around between us, totally ignorant to the fire we were kindling. To his face we both acted indifferent, but when we finally tested the waters our little flicker ignited like a bomb.
Thank God tour dragged me away from her otherwise Kaleb would be an uncle by now and Kitty would be a widow.
“Chase is DDing their ride tonight, so it’s only Tyler and I drinkin’,” Kaleb shouts to us, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I glance over my shoulder at Tyler. RIP man. I would rather crawl through broken glass than shotgun with Chase.
I pull a twenty out of my pocket and push it towards him on the counter.
Then I notice a fishbowl of lollipops so I throw one of those down too.
Kaleb quirks his brow. I jerk a thumb at the source of my public hard-on. He laughs. “Cute.” Then pinches Kitty’s chin.
“So I’m not allowed a drink?” she asks, her eyes sparkling up at Kaleb. Forget not being twenty-one, she looks about sixteen.
“You’re underage,” Kaleb says, as hushed as he can manage, although it’s so loud in here that anything beneath a yell is inaudible. “We’re lucky that they let you in here in the first place. If Dyl didn’t know you…”
He trails off, to my absolute fucking dismay. Where the hell was he going with that sentence?
Ignoring the grenade that Kaleb just set off in my brain, Kitty whips around to face me, her expression stubborn. I frown, trying to understand the look that she’s giving me.
Then it clicks.
Does she think that I can overrule Kaleb?
Holy shit, does my opinion hold more weight to her than her brother’s?
Distracted by my realisation I forget to actually respond and apparently tonight Kitty isn’t in a patient mood. With a disgusted huff she pulls away from me, snatching her body out of my grasp and immediately storming back to the booth. I go to chase after her but Kaleb claps a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to the present.
Don’t act like a psycho boyfriend in front of her brother, don’t act like a psycho boyfriend in front of her brother.
“It’s cool,” he says, as if that’ll in any way satiate my need to guard-dog her. “She’ll be fine with the guys.”
I don’t fucking doubt it. I look back in their direction but too many patrons are obscuring my view of the booth. Steam pumping out of my ears I turn back to Kaleb, where he’s finishing up paying for our order. I pick up the lolly and pocket it at the front of my jeans, but as I move to turn around I feel a hand gripping my shoulder.
In a second I’m grinning and chucking my forearm around his shoulders. “What’s good, man?” I ask, giving him a rough scrub before we pull
apart.
Jason Coleson – thirty-something year old tough guy, my former employer, and CEO of Coleson Construction – gives me a lazy grin, stark white against his deep tan, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. I’ve known him forever because he’s Tate’s uncle, the guy who was my best friend at the start of high school. Tate transferred midway through but I still see him whenever we’re nearby.
“Was about to ask you the same thing.” He sweeps his eyes between Kaleb and me, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You kids even old enough to be in here?”
“Are we here on the pensioners’ night again?” I ask. “Shit, I hate it when that happens.”
I grin as he attempts to throw me into a headlock but he gives in after a couple of seconds. I spot his older brother Mitch standing behind him, an impassive expression on his face as he watches our debacle.
“Hey Mr Coleson,” I say, a little more formal this time because – knowing what God-fearing Tate Coleson is capable of – I don’t doubt that his dad could fuck me up.
“Madden,” he says curtly, voice so deep I feel it in my bones. Jesus Christ. Someone give this guy a beer.
“Want a drink?” I offer.
“I’m the DD,” he says, his face unreadable.
Maybe we have a little more in common than I originally thought.
“You back in town for good?” Jace asks, jerking his chin at the barman when he catches him looking our way. He turns to me before the guy reaches us to ask for their order. “Always space for you on the team if you’re looking for a bag.”
I wait for him to order and then I shake my head. “Just passing through for a couple weeks. Staying with Kaleb up at the ranch.”
Jace looks over to Kaleb again, nodding in understanding. “I know the place. I helped Hardy build that cabin,” he adds.
Kaleb, the guy who turned away from manual labour to pursue a career as an adored rock-n-roller, is evidently out of his depth, probably unsure of what to say in fear of getting decked. I can’t blame him. Jace and Mitch don’t exactly radiate sunshine and bunnies. He gives Jace a little nod, tongue-tied for once in his life.
“Well I’m not gonna keep you,” Jace says finally, turning to me again and pulling me in for another rough embrace. “But if you decide life on the
road ain’t all that hot…” He gives me a look, man to man. “You’ve got my number, kid.”
I nod at him, grateful, and I make a note to keep that in mind.
I look over to Mitch who’s just pulled a wad of notes from the pocket of his jeans. He senses my eyes like a jaguar and gives me a can I help you? look.
“Is Tate in town right now?” I ask.
Surprisingly, Mitch seems to lighten up a bit at the mention of his son. He shakes his head as he hands some cash to his brother. “He’s just finishing up one of his comps out of town but he’ll be back next weekend.” Then, even more surprisingly, he moves his gaze to Kaleb and adds, “Think he’s taking his girl up to your ranch soon, actually.”
His girl being River, the bespectacled little tyrant that he’s completely infatuated with, and who also happens to be Kitty’s best friend.
I flash my eyes over to Kaleb. “Kitty’s having River stay over?” I ask.
For some reason Kaleb’s cheeks start flushing red and he mumbles something unintelligible.
Huh?
“River and Tate,” Mitch reiterates, eyes briefly meeting my own. Our knowledge of what Tate is like hums like a secret between us. “He’ll be there if she is,” he finishes.
I give them a parting nod each before leaving them to it. That I definitely do know.
Unfortunately, when we get back to our table and Jace’s calming influence has vaporised completely, all thoughts of not acting like a psycho boyfriend fly out of my head.
There’s been a rearrangement to the seating plan and I don’t like it one bit. Two bulky guys I don’t recognise are now positioned in the back corners of the booth, and Chase has rotated to Kaleb’s former seat.
Which just so happens to be right across from Kitty. Who, I should mention, is now drinking Tyler’s beer.
I turn to gauge Kaleb’s reaction but he’s vanished to the other side of the bar, leaning against one of the other tables and chatting up his on-again-off- again high school sweetheart Chastity.
Fine. I will take on the role of surrogate brother.
Normal Madden on sabbatical, I wait for Kitty to place the bottle on the table and then I hoist her off the seat and begin carting her to the exit.
“What the hell? Madden!”
Mad by name, mad by nature. I zip-lock her against my abs with my forearm, her feet dangling high above the floor, and I use my free hand to shoot a quick text across to Kaleb. Should be something along the lines of, “Sorry man – your sister’s got me all hot and bothered so I won’t be able to tolerate keeping her in this bar for longer than five minutes. Please hitch a ride with Chase and I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
Pocketing the phone I glance down over Kitty’s body. She’s thumping at my hand gripped tightly around her ribcage whilst inspecting the thick tendons in my wrist. My muscles flex on instinct.
“I’ll bite you,” she threatens.
“I thought you were a vegetarian.”
She huffs then mumbles, “I won’t let that stop me.” I bite back a groan. I hope to hell you won’t.
I know that it’s ironic that a girl beholden to work her parents’ ranch is a vegetarian, but I don’t comment. It’s cute that she’s a country girl but I can’t help but feel like she’s stifling herself to satisfy her parents.
Outside I slide my eyes over to “Dyl”, who is watching us with far too much interest. He’s postering up the notice board outside with more flyers for the Barn Bonanza, a local music competition that takes place in July.
Not liking his eyes on us, I hold Kitty a little tighter.
Once we reach the SUV I drop her to the floor and fish out my keys. “Madden, we need to talk.”
I unlock the car whilst simultaneously yanking my hoodie from the roof. I stretch it open over my arms and then hook it over Kitty’s head. She stubbornly retains it around her throat like a neck brace.
“Get in the car.”
“It was just a sip,” she replies, using her moody little sister voice on me.
If I’m being honest, I’d kind of forgotten why I dragged her out of the bar. Now, though, I’m vividly recalling her drinking from Tyler’s bottle, the last thing that had touched her lips.
The thought of what was on that bottle fuels my anger even more. I yank open the car door and motion to the passenger seat.
“Get in,” I say again, stepping a bit too close. She pushes at my chest. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
I fumble with my belt buckle. Is she trying to provoke me?
Trying to keep my composure, I step back, unclench my jaw, and manage to say, “Please.”
“We need to talk about this,” she starts, but my frustration overrides any rational thought, and I shake my head, widening the door.
“At home. Get in.”
She raises an eyebrow but, to my surprise, stops arguing and slides into the seat.
As I start the engine and we drive back to the ranch, I realize with a jolt that I just referred to her place as “home.”
