Sunday Morning (Damaged #7.5)

 

 

“Is that your way of asking if anyone’s puked on my porch again?”

 

“Sure,” he whispered as his fingers caressed my blonde hair blowing in the wind.

 

“Well, hell,” the other biker said, standing up, “don’t make the little shit cry.”

 

Kirk’s gaze was locked on mine. He casually looked over my head at his friend and gave him a head gesture. The biker grunted before walking into the club.

 

“Impressive,” I said in a shaky voice.

 

“Why are you scared?”

 

“You’re very tall,” I babbled.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

Kirk smiled, leaving me torn between my competing needs. I wanted so badly to stay here and listen to his voice. I wanted to know who he was and what he was about. But I was also afraid, and my fear told me to walk away. I should have grabbed Kristi and returned to my home. Why shouldn’t I play my life safer and smarter than my mother had?

 

“Is Kristi safe with that guy?” I asked, prying my gaze away from his rugged face to look at where my friend brazenly flirted.

 

“What could happen?”

 

I heard the annoyance in his voice. When I focused my gaze on him, I found a frown where a smirk once rested.

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“You’re in high school.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

Kirk smiled again. “No, I’m not.”

 

“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 fucking 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 asshole, she wouldn’t want to run around on you.”