The 'Burg: Hold On Part 40

f.u.c.k.

"Garrett," she prompted testily.

His hand over hers, he jerked open the door.

She pulled her hand away and climbed up.

After he closed the door on her, he drew in a heavy breath, rounded the hood, and angled in beside her, not a big fan of how this date was starting.

He'd clearly done something to p.i.s.s her off. He had no clue what it was, but he reckoned she'd make it up if it didn't exist.

This told him the walls were going back up.

And this didn't make him happy.

More, he couldn't do the work he needed to do to knock them back down in a fancy-a.s.s restaurant where he was gonna blow at least two hundred dollars not enjoying it and not being able to fully enjoy Cher in that f.u.c.king dress.

He started the truck and was just edging it from the curb, about to make the effort to clear the air on a drive that was not long but also wasn't short, in order that he might be able to salvage dinner and definitely be able to salvage the plans he had after dinner with her and her shoes.

She got there before him.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say this straight out, right now, so if you wanna turn around and drop my a.s.s back at my house, you can do that without wastin' too much gas," she decreed into the cab. "It wasn't me who texted you that apology. It was, but I typed it in and didn't send it. Ethan got in my phone, not bein' a little s.h.i.+t, he just does that 'cause he doesn't have his own phone and anyway, I let him do it. He did it this time because he saw a text from his gramma. My guess is, he saw my unsent text to you and he likes you. He thinks you're gonna make me happy. He worries about me bein' alone, especially with him growin' up, so that's gonna happen more, and he wants to look out for me. So he sent that text. He also wrote the one tellin' you to come see me. So there." The last came out on a gush of breath. "There it is. I didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to apologize. My ten-year-old kid had to have the b.a.l.l.s for me."

Garrett concentrated on guiding his truck down her street.

He thinks you're gonna make me happy.

When he didn't reply immediately, she kept babbling.

"I typed it in, but I figure I don't get any points for that. When you came over, I thought I'd f.u.c.ked up and sent it myself. I was gonna say somethin' about that, but then you got p.i.s.sed as s.h.i.+t at Walter Jones and ended that with your hand down my pants. My attention got diverted. But I'm tellin' you now, straight away, so you know."

My attention got diverted.

He stopped at the stop sign at the end of her street, flicking on his blinker.

But even though the way was clear, he didn't turn.

"Garrett?" she called.

My ten-year-old kid had to have the b.a.l.l.s for me.

"Merry," she whispered, the brusque out of her tone. She sounded scared.

At that sound, he shoved the truck in park and was just able to get that done before he burst out laughing.

He turned to her while doing it, hit the b.u.t.ton on her seatbelt, and heard through his laughter her low, surprised cry as it zipped back right before she let out another one when he hauled her a.s.s in his lap.

He managed to fight back the laughter just enough to lay one on her. He made it deep, he made it wet, and because she tasted good and she'd wound her arms tight around his shoulders, pressing her t.i.ts deep, he made it long.

When he finally released her mouth, he moved away only an inch and asked, "Is it too soon for me to put aside money for your kid's college education in order to thank him for helpin' me drag his mother's head outta her a.s.s?"

He watched through the shadows as her face, soft from his kiss, screwed up with irritation.

He liked the soft.

But Cher irritated was cute and he liked that too.

"Yes," she snapped.

"Then I'll just have to give him a handshake and slip him a hundred dollar bill next time I see him."

"He got into trouble for that, Merry. You cannot give him money," she returned.

"Then when he suddenly has the cake to buy a couple new video games, just sayin' now, he didn't get it from me."

"This isn't funny," she retorted. "The ends don't justify his means."

"Cherie, sweetheart, your time was up. I was givin' you a week. It was Wednesday. It was a week. I'm pleased as f.u.c.k you apologized, you meant to send it or you didn't. But it wouldn't matter. You'd be in that f.u.c.king amazing dress in my truck on the way to dinner with me, Ethan sent that text or not."

Her brow furrowed. "You were givin' me a week?"

"You told me, you got somethin' worth fightin' for, you fight for it. You don't sit on your a.s.s and wait for it to come to you."

He actually felt her draw in a huge breath.

But he wasn't done.

"In that circ.u.mstance, I had to sit on my a.s.s and wait for what was worth fightin' for. I had to give her time. I had to make sure she knew I had time to think things through. So I decided on a week. I gave you that week. And here we are."

She said nothing, just stared at him seemingly unaware they were stopped at a stop sign, her round a.s.s in his lap in his truck, her arms holding on tight at his shoulders.

He pulled her closer. "Now, your a.s.s is in my lap and I like that. I like it enough, we're not even a block away from your house and I'm good to go back so we can move forward on what it's doin' to my c.o.c.k. But you look way too f.u.c.kin' good not to show you off. I'm gonna get to what's under that dress later. It'd be a d.a.m.n shame that dress comes off this soon."

He brushed her mouth with his before he finished.

"And I'm hungry."

"I'm hungry too," she said softly.

"Right," he muttered, gave her a squeeze, then slid her off his lap and into her seat. "Buckle up."

He checked the road, hearing her seatbelt catch. It was still clear, so he made his turn. He accelerated, and as he did, it occurred to him Cher had it right.

If they dealt with the s.h.i.+t on the way to the restaurant, they could spend their time at Sw.a.n.k's enjoying it.

So Garrett took her lead.

"Okay, Cher, think you had the right idea puttin' s.h.i.+t out there right away, so I'll give you what I got so we can get it done and then just have you and me at Sw.a.n.k's."

He felt her eyes on him when she asked, "What do you got?"

Honest to G.o.d, he had no idea what her reaction was going to be to what he had to share. What he thought was that this might be a mistake, since it might be better if he could see her face in case she tried to hide any reaction.

Or it might be good that reaction was contained in the cab of his truck where she couldn't try to escape from him.

"Mia wants me back."

He didn't need to see her face.

He felt her reaction.

It was forceful, so he reached out his hand, found hers, and was not surprised when she resisted his hold.

He held tight, dropping their hands to her thigh.

"That's not gonna happen," he said quietly.

She didn't respond, so he quickly glanced her way to see her face was tight, eyes staring fixed out the winds.h.i.+eld.

"That's not gonna happen, Cher," he repeated.

"Right," she mumbled disbelievingly.

"Been f.u.c.kin' her since we got divorced."

Her hand spasmed in his.

"She'd come to me," he went on. "She'd do it not frequent but regular. She says now that was her way of makin' the first move toward reconciliation. How she thought I'd catch that when she came to get a dose of my d.i.c.k and most the time was gone before I woke up, I have no f.u.c.kin' clue. But she came again last Wednesday."

"f.u.c.k me," Cher whispered.

"I turned her away."

Cher said nothing.

"Told her not to come back. She wasn't hip on that, went away, apparently thought on things, came back, and said she's been tryin' to sort our s.h.i.+t for years without doin' f.u.c.k all to sort it. Now she officially wants to give it a go."

Cher remained silent.

"I told her to get home, and when she pushed it, I told her she got anywhere near my condo, I would arrest her for hara.s.sment."

Her hand spasmed again in his.

He knew he had her eyes when she asked, "Say what?"

"You heard me," he answered. "But she's Mia, so she didn't back off. Sent me a picture of us before things went bad, sayin' she's gonna work on gettin' that back." He squeezed her hand. "That's what you gotta know. So I didn't go into this with you and f.u.c.k it up, I had to know I had my head right about her, and she fortunately gave me all I needed to get my head right about her which meant get her out of my head. In the end, wasn't hard since all I could think about was you and how it wasn't my favorite thing, sittin' on my a.s.s, waitin' for you to either apologize or for your time to be up. But there it is."

"All you could think about was me?" She again sounded disbelieving, but it was deeper this time, not harsh, but still, it almost hurt to hear.

He pulled her hand to his thigh before he answered, "Yeah."

Cher didn't say more.

"Okay, baby," he started carefully, "you got that because you need it, for us startin' out and just because you need to know that went down. But also, you need to know that puttin' things into perspective with Mia meant I had to think on history. Bottom line, I f.u.c.ked her over. I damaged what was us in order to end it because I had s.h.i.+t f.u.c.kin' with my head I didn't know how to sort. But I hurt her. Things got more out of hand after that and she partic.i.p.ated in that, but it started with me burnin' her and our marriage. She's bent on attempting reconciliation. I need to make certain she knows that isn't in the cards so she can finally move on. I also need to apologize to her for f.u.c.kin' up what we had that's now lost in a way we can't go back."

"So you need to talk to her," she surmised.

"I need to talk to her," he confirmed.

"Mia and Merry talking," she muttered.

"Please don't go back there," he whispered.

He felt her eyes again on him, but she didn't say anything.

"You're here, and honest to f.u.c.k, it would pain me deeply, Cher, if you didn't think I was where I needed to be with you to ask you to find that dress, put it on, and haul your a.s.s into my truck to take a shot with me. I do not wanna go back to havin' to prove it to you. What I do know with f.u.c.kin' up another relations.h.i.+p is that you gotta lay yourself out from the start. Right now, that's happening with Mia. You cannot hear it from someone else. And honestly?" It was a question, but he didn't wait for her answer. "I want you with me when I do it. Not with me, sittin' across from her. But with me so I can go to you after and lay on you what comes of that so I can let it go."

Again, Cher didn't speak.

He gave her time.

She said nothing.

"Am I back to provin' s.h.i.+t to you?" he pushed.

"No." Her voice was strange in a way he'd never heard from Cher. It was almost timid. "I'm here for you to lay it on me what comes of that, Merry."

Thank f.u.c.k.

That took a lot for her. He knew it.

And he was glad for it.

So as he drove, he lifted her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips, feeling her fingers curl around his almost too tight as he did it.

He dropped their hands back to his thigh, glanced at her, and said, "Thanks, brown eyes."

"Don't mention it," she muttered.

He looked back to the road.

"Am I gonna have to take this b.i.t.c.h down?" she asked.

A Cher and Mia catfight.

Mia didn't stand a chance.

He grinned at the road.