Jagged (23 page)

He was behind the wheel and we were on our way when I spoke.

“Do you think we should have exposed our hand early like that?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe not. Don’t care. Seein’ that asshole’s face when you said Zander’s name and when I mentioned our attorney was worth whatever play we might have just given up, though.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. I didn’t get the chance to share that.

Ham asked, “You doin’ okay?”

I looked out the windshield and clasped my hands in my lap. “Crazy, funerals suck, but you can’t deny they give closure.”

“True enough, cookie,” he replied.

It was me who reached for his hand this time.

But when I caught it, it was Ham’s fingers that closed around tight.

* * *

“Fuck, Zara. Ride that,” Ham growled.

I was already riding his cock, bent over him, my face close to his, one hand in the bed providing leverage, the nails of my other hand scraping over his chest.

Ham had one hand to my hip, encouraging me with squeezes. The other hand was cupping my face.

When I went faster, he slid his thumb along my lower lip, then pressed into my mouth.

The instant it cleared my teeth I sucked it deep.

“Jesus, baby,” Ham groaned, his hips thrusting up.

Oh yes. I liked this. Now I was
really
riding him.

He slid his thumb out, then back in, and I took it again and again as I took his cock again and again and when I was whimpering against his thumb, he pulled it out and whispered, “Let’s bring my girl home.”

I knew what he meant and I wanted it.

Ham didn’t delay. He slid his thumb out of his mouth, his hand down my chest, between my breasts, over my belly, and in and that thumb I had in my mouth pressed in at my clit and twitched.

I slammed down on him, grinding, my head flying back, and with a breathy cry, I came. Hard. Beautiful. Loving it. Loving Ham.

“Ride me, baby, take me there,” Ham encouraged, his voice thick and jagged and I started up again, faster, harder, driving myself down on him through my orgasm, my fingernails digging deeper into his chest and one scored over his nipple. His hips thrust up, he wrapped his arm around my waist driving me down, and he groaned deep.

I bent closer as he came down and slid my lips from the base of his throat up his neck and along my jaw.

Ham wrapped me in his arms and pressed me closer before he turned his head and said gruffly in my ear, “Now that’s how I like my girl ridin’ me.”

I smiled against his skin, lifted my head up, and looked down at him.

“Though, just sayin’, you want it that other way, I’m always available meat,” he finished.

I felt the laughter bubble up and out before I rested my weight on him and pressed my face in his neck.

He started sliding his hands soothingly along the skin of my back, lifting one hand high, sifting it through my hair and then down over my skin again. I was glad to have this back. I loved this. I missed it. I hadn’t had a ton of lovers and Greg could be affectionate after sex for a while (in the beginning) but then he was done and it was done.

I’d even tested it in the past and Ham could do it for hours. I’d once fallen asleep just like this, my face in his neck, his hands giving me love, because he did it so long, after ages of that and an orgasm, I slid straight to dreamland, feeling his affection as I fell.

“Thanks for doin’ what you could to make a shit day less shitty,” I told his skin and his hands stopped so his arms could wrap around me.

“Take care of my girl,” was all he said.

He certainly did.

“It was cool of you to call Neens. She brought Becca and Mindy, and Arlene heard about it so she came over too and it was…” I paused. “It felt nice, Ham, to remember why life’s worth livin’. Good friends who care. A man who has your back.” I kissed his neck and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, cookie,” he murmured.

I lifted my head and looked down at him. “No more days off though. We need all the money we can get.”

I saw the white flash of his smile through the dark and he asked, “Are you bossin’ the boss?”

“Yes,” I replied immediately.

His hands came to my face and there was firmness, not humor, in his tone when he assured me, “It’s all gonna be good.”

“It’ll be better, I have more tips in my pocket,” I returned.

His hands brought my face closer. “Zara. I swear, it’s all gonna be good.”

I held his eyes in the shadows and said, “Okay, darlin’.”

“Now kiss your man and climb off. I got to see to things then we can get some shut-eye.”

“Okay, baby,” I replied, dipped my head, kissed him open-mouthed, and ended up not climbing off because Ham took over the kiss and rolled me so we ended it with me on my back.

Once he broke it, he dipped his head to touch his lips to my chest and slid out of bed.

I curled up facing the bathroom door counting it out.

We’d had forty-two hours of official togetherness and, notwithstanding outside factors, we were doing a little bit of all right.

Xenia had met Ham. She didn’t come to the bar, too much temptation, but we’d met him on the boardwalk one day and I’d introduced her.

She’d liked him. I could tell because she told me he was hot and that was pretty much all my sister needed to like a guy.

She would have liked him more if she got to know him.

Ham’s shadow entered the room and then he entered the bed and curled me into him.

Once I’d settled in, I told him softly, “Xenia told me she liked you when she met you but if she’d gotten to know you, she would have
really
liked you.”

He lifted a hand to my hair and sifted his fingers through, asking, “You love her?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Then I would have liked her, too.”

I closed my eyes and whispered, “There it is.”

“What?”

“You. Awesome…
er.
”

The last sound either of us made before drifting off to sleep was Ham’s laughter.

I liked that.

So much I wanted it every night for the rest of my life.

Two days later…

“Let me get this straight,” Maybelline, sitting with Wanda at a table in my section at The Dog, started. “Five days ago, you wandered down the hall and gave your boss-slash-roommate a booty call. A booty call that was so hot that he got pissed off and then for some reason,
you
went to apologize to
him
and he yanked you into his bed again. You did the nasty again, freaked, and ran away. The next night he tells you, belatedly, mind, that he came back to town to commit to you. You accepted that and all is hunky-dory for a few hours. You have a scene at The Rooster, of all places, before settling down to sleep with your boss, roommate, hot guy, brand-new but old boyfriend. Then you find out your sister died, and girl, you know I’m sorry about that…”

She waited for my nod, I gave it to her, and she launched back in.

“And you find you got a long-lost nephew so you and your boss, hot guy, new-old boyfriend decide to sue for custody. You throw down with your Dad at a gravesite and now you’re livin’ the dream but with an impending nasty custody battle hangin’ over your head.” She paused before she asked, “Do I have all that right?”

Suffice it to say, I’d just filled them in on all that had gone down with Ham and Dad.

I looked to Wanda. She was smiling down at her drink so I looked back to Maybelle.

“Yes,” I answered.

Her eyes went to the ceiling.

“Okay, just gonna say,” Wanda began and I looked to her to see her looking at Maybelle. “You need to give him a good once-over ’cause it’s clear you’re not seein’ what I’m seein’. If that man right there”—she jerked her head to the bar, in other words, Ham’s way—“told me he came to town ready to commit and then went gung ho with gettin’ my long-lost nephew away from some serious nasties, I’m not sure I would fight him.”

Maybelle pinned Wanda with a stare and declared, “We need to get you a man.”

“No argument here,” Wanda shot back.

Wanda was Maybelle except white, and without the husband and three daughters. Wanda had two
ex-
husbands and a son who was so wild, he did her head in.

She was currently giving her son tough love by grounding his ass every three days, which meant he was out getting in trouble even if grounded so he earned more groundings. Thus this was not working.

She was also looking for husband number three and Wanda pretty much had only two things she was looking for in her new man. One, that he had no problem taking a firm hand with a wayward teenage boy. And two, he just had firm hands that he knew how to use.

On that thought, a piercing whistle filled the air, and all heads, including mine, turned toward the bar and I saw Ham taking his fingers out of his mouth only to crook one at me.

“Seriously, I don’t care if feminists hunt me down and burn me at the stake, that man crooked his finger and me, I’d follow him into a bank and rob it at his side,” Wanda muttered.

I smiled at my boots before I gave them a glance and said, “I’ll be back.”

Then I walked to the bar.

Ham met me there and leaned into his forearms toward me.

God, I loved that.

“Did you just whistle for me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“It was loud,” I noted.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You gotta teach me how to do that,” I told him.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and he murmured, “Easy.”

“Ham, no fair. Whenever you say that, my nipples get hard. I gotta work. I don’t need chafing.”

His gaze shot to my breasts, then to my eyes, and he smiled.

I smiled back before I asked, “You whistled,
mein herr
?”

His smiling lips twitched before he informed me, “I prefer Bruiser.”

“Bruiser Ham drags me into his bed and shows me an alternate universe I want to move to forever.
Mein herr
whistles at me to get my ass to the bar,” I explained, then went on. “So, you whistled?”

“Right, cookie,” he said through his still-present smile. “I’m your man but I’m also your boss and you been standin’ at that table fifteen minutes. Don’t mind that but you got empties on other tables, I get a bonus if I sell a shitload of booze, and the women you’re talkin’ to, one threatened me a few weeks back and is givin’ me looks I don’t much like. The other one is givin’ me looks I don’t much like that say she’s thinkin’ of drugging me, taking off my clothes, and tying me to a bed. She isn’t ugly but she’s not my type and, I think you know, I already got a woman.”

I burst out laughing and found Ham still smiling at me when I was done.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to win Maybelle over. She’s feelin’ we’re goin’ a bit too fast,” I shared.

“She’ll learn otherwise,” Ham replied.

It was firm and I thought that was sweet.

I carried on.

“And Wanda’s overdue for gettin’ her some. Though, we’d just swung around to the topic of findin’ her a man, and if we manage that, you’re off the hook for the drugging and tying to a bed threat.”

“Good news,” he muttered.

“Do you really get a bonus if you sell a shitload of booze?” I asked.

“Last manager was lackadaisical. If the waitresses don’t work the floor, remindin’ them when their drinks are low, they don’t sell a lot of booze. I up the bar’s take, which I’ve done, keep it there six months, which I’m gonna do, they give me a bonus.”

I felt a smile curve my lips, leaned into him, and stated, “We are
so
on that.”

He gave me another smile in return and replied, “Then get that sweet ass on it, cookie. And, just sayin’, the way to do that is not leanin’ into me bein’ all cute so I want you to take a break so I can take you to my office and make you moan. It’s gettin’ on the floor and not yammerin’ with your girls.”

I kind of wanted him to take me to his office and make me moan but I was getting the sense Ham wanted me to sell booze now and make me moan later. Further, talking about it would make me want it more so I ignored that and focused on something else.

“I have to yammer with them. A lot is happening and it’s my sworn duty to the sisterhood, even if I’m workin’,” I shared.

“Well, sell some booze in between,” he shot back.

“That I can do,” I told him.

“So do it,” he returned.

I moved back, gave him a salute, and turned away. I lifted a one-minute finger to Maybelle and Wanda to share with them I’d be back and I got my sweet ass on selling booze.

My section included the left side of the bar, which included the recessed area that held the pool tables, the pool paraphernalia on the walls, and a few high tables and stools scattered around for people to rest their drinks and their asses during the taxing activity of playing pool.

I’d swung around to the dimly lit back corner when I stopped dead.

My mother, looking uncomfortable and even panicked, sat alone at the farthest table, her modestly expensive but classic handbag on the table in front of her, her hands resting on it like she was terrified someone was going to snatch it away.

My first thought was to hightail my ass back to the bar and ask Ham to make this go away.

My second thought was that would make me a sissy, and if Ham knew my mother was there, there was a possibility he’d blow his stack. I tried to tell myself I felt nothing for my mother, but even so, I didn’t think she could handle Ham blowing his stack. She could barely handle putting one foot in front of the other, so scared she’d do it wrong, Dad would lay into her.

So I kept my eyes on hers and she kept hers on mine as I walked to her table, taking her in.

She, too, was blonde but her blonde was lighter than Dad’s and mine.

Xenia got her hair.

She was also petite and had blue eyes.

Xenia got those, too.

In fact, if Xenia had had another twenty years or so, I figured she’d look a lot like Mom.

I made it to her table and asked, “Get you a drink?”

“Zara—” she started, but I pinned her to the stool with my eyes and she abruptly stopped.