Sunday Morning (Damaged #7.5)(4)

“Were you a good student back then?”

“Yeah, a real ace.”

“I bet you won every spelling bee and always had an apple for your teacher.”

“It was pretty long ago, but that sounds about right.”

“Is your memory failing?”

“Hearing too,” he said, leaning forward. “You’ll have to speak up.”

I inhaled the scent of his rich cologne. Bad move! Between the scent and his warm breath on my skin, I shivered noticeably. Kirk would have to be blind not to notice. Despite his old age shtick, I knew he caught my reaction.

“Are you a good student?” he asked in a voice betraying his interest in more than my grades.

“I want to be, but I’m not smart enough.”

“Why would you want to be a bookworm?” he asked, stepping back and inhaling sharply.

“I don’t want to end up living in a trailer park for the rest of my life.”

“Big plans, princess?”

Kirk sounded angry about me wanting more. I wasn’t sure how to feel about his irritation.

“I don’t want to live on welfare and charity drives. Are those big plans?”

His expression softened as much as such a rough face could. I studied the creases around his eyes. His tanned skin tempted me to touch it until my fingers refused to listen to reason. They reached up and caressed his stubbled cheek.

Kirk’s dark eyes hypnotized me, and I couldn’t pull away my hand.

“Are you looking for trouble, little girl?” he asked, suddenly stepping out of my reach and sitting in the chair again. “Is that why you and Barbie are here?”

“She wants to make her boyfriend jealous,” I blurted out, feeling dizzy without him close.

“What about you?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Kirk watched me for a minute and then nodded. “Good call.”

Even terrified, I forced my feet to move until I stood where he rocked in the chair.

“What do you do here?” I asked, crossing my arms again.

“None of your business,” he growled.

I smiled at his tone. “Are you the boss?”

Kirk shared my smile, but I noticed he was tense. In fact, he seemed angry with me. I instantly got angry about him being angry.

“Is that what you want?” he asked. “The guy who calls the shots?”

“No. I want whatever you are.”

Kirk lifted an eyebrow at how I challenged him. “What do you think will happen here, Jodi?”

Summoning all of my strength, I held his gaze and said the words, “You’ll worship me.”

Kirk let out a laugh. He didn’t sound angry anymore, but I wasn’t sure if his laughter was meant to mock me.

“I can see that,” he said finally. “If you were a few years older, I might bow down this very f*cking second. But you’re not so I won’t.”

“No, I guess you won’t.”

His dark eyes were so rich like the expensive chocolates I stole from the mall’s candy store. All of the best things were that color, I suspected.

“Not yet anyway,” Kirk said, standing up.

His gaze focused on someone behind me. “Is that a friend of yours?”

I turned to see Kristi’s slap-happy boyfriend nearly running toward the bar. His face was beet red and his hands already in fists. I didn’t know who Carvin planned to hit, but Kristi made a run for it.

Kirk stood on the porch steps, looking amused by the squawking Kristi did as she ran back toward the trailer park. I joined him, wondering if I should follow my friend. Carvin looked at the biker Kristi had been talking to and then he focused his glare on me.

“You’re always talking girls into being sluts,” he accused.

“Fuck off!” I yelled without thinking. “If you weren’t such an *, she wouldn’t want to run around on you.”

Too angry not to hit someone, Carvin made a move for me. Kirk stepped off the porch.

“Son, I’m not in the mood to dig a shallow grave,” he calmly said.

“Then get out of the way. You won’t want that whore anyway. She’s all talk and no action. Won’t put out even if you beg.”

“Then she isn’t much of a whore, is she?” Kirk said, walking slowly toward Carvin. “If I hit you, you’re not walking away easy.”

“You’d be doing the world a favor by killing him,” I said, still pissed about Carvin calling me a whore. “No one would miss his ugly ass.”

Kirk glanced back at me and shook his head at my goading. Even though he didn’t see Carvin rush our direction, Kirk had no trouble landing a punch to the younger man’s jaw. I swore I saw teeth fly out of the *’s mouth.

Dropping on the ground, Carvin screamed in pain. Kirk looked at the other bikers.

“You were flirting with the girl. You finish this.”

“Shallow grave?” the biker asked Kirk.

My hero glanced back at me and considered the question. “No, just make it harder for him to cause trouble.”

The other guys dragged a crying Carvin behind the club while Kirk stepped onto the porch where I waited.

“You’re a troublemaker.”

“He called me a whore.”