Page 10 of Defended by Bama (Royal Bastards MC: Mobile, Alabama #1)
Bama
Hearing movement, I bolted upright on the couch with my pistol in hand.
After a squeal, a tiny voice whispered, “It’s Brooklyn. It’s just me.”
Lowering my gun, I reached for the lamp. “Sorry. Not used to guests.”
Brooklyn had on a tank and cotton shorts. Her hair was still pulled back, and with the tiny pajamas, all the marks that fucker left on her were visible. When my eyes stopped roaming her, they travelled up to her gaze that was fixed on me.
She crossed her arms, covering her pert nipples that were peeking through her tank. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m a bit of an early riser.” Her eyes shot away.
Looking down, she probably got a glimpse of my chubby since all I had on was basketball shorts. At least it wasn’t a full hard on. “It’s all good. I don’t sleep in too much myself. Just not used to movement around here.”
Standing up, I adjusted my cock and took the gun to the kitchen. With a kid in the house, I didn’t want to leave my pistol laying around, but I couldn’t tuck it into my shorts.
It was just past six according to the stove. “You drink coffee?” I asked, pulling the container from the cabinet along with the filters.
She rounded the corner, still hugging herself. “Yep. I can do that, if you want.”
After filling the carafe with water and pouring it in, I added the filter and grinds.
“I got it. I’d be doing it if you weren’t here.
Not sure I have much you’d like for breakfast.” I started the coffee, then looked in the fridge.
“Probably enough to fix her some eggs and toast if she eats that. And I got some cereal.”
“She’s not picky. She’ll sleep in a little, though. No point in waking her up.” She rubbed her arms, her eyes looking everywhere but me. “Do you, uh, always sleep with a gun?”
“Yep. But I’ll keep them out of her reach.”
“Marshall had guns. He left his service pistol on the nightstand sometimes.”
“My dad had some growing up and left them laying around. One of the only father-son bondings we had was when he took me to the range. He tried to teach us gun safety, though, and when he thought I was old enough taught me to shoot.”
Brooklyn was holding herself tightly and fidgeting.
“You cold?” I asked. I liked AC and kept it chilly when I slept.
She gave a humorless laugh. “I’m okay. I just…it’s dumb. Never mind. I’m fine,” she said, lowering her arms to her sides.
“What’s dumb?”
She leaned on the edge of the counter, tapping it with her fingers. Flashes of me behind her filled my mind and I shook it off. The woman had been through enough. She didn’t need me having fantasies about her.
“It’s just…I haven’t been around another man in my PJs in a long time. I was gonna sneak in and get a glass of water. I didn’t realize you’d slept on the couch.”
“If it helps, I wasn’t checking you out.” Lies, but again, I needed to set her at ease. “Couldn’t help but look at the bruises. He really worked you over.”
She looked down, almost like she was disappointed. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty gnarly to look at.”
Grabbing some mugs down from the cabinet, I said, “You’re nice to look at, but seeing those marks makes me want to break something.”
Her cheeks pinkened, and she drew imaginary lines on the counter with her fingers. “You don’t have to say that.” She stood back up straight and wrapped her arms over her chest again. “Glenda seems sweet.”
After a brief pause, I nodded. “She is. But what made you bring her up?”
“Is she not your…something?”
Leaning my hip against the counter, I rubbed my chest as I thought of a good way to explain. “We aren’t a thing. But we lean on each other from time to time.”
“Oh.” She relaxed her arms again, putting her hands on the counter. “I thought there was a thing. So, you’re friends?”
“I wouldn’t call us friends.” Sighing, I grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in for her, stepping closer to hand it to her. “I don’t have a woman. She doesn’t have a man. That’s it.”
She took the mug and looked down, then took a sip, wincing almost as badly as when she took a shot of moonshine.
I grabbed the milk from the fridge. “I take my coffee black, but I have this and there’s some sugar in here,” I said as I pulled the bag from the cabinet then grabbed a spoon from the drawer.
“Thanks. I love my coffee, but I usually use flavored creamer.” She prepared her coffee, then brought the mug to her lips. “It’s none of my business about Glenda. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous,” she said before finally drinking.
Pouring myself a cup, I blew across the top before taking a small sip since it was steaming. “There’s no business to be had about Glenda. You can ask me anything you like. I may not always have an answer, but I’ll do my best. But you don’t have to be nervous around me.”
“Is it weird that I believe you?”
I cocked a brow. “That seems like a trick question.”
She cocked her head. “I’m not trying to trick you,” she said, her dimples deepening with her smirk.
I took a bigger sip of coffee, then said, “I hope you don’t think I’m full of shit. I try to be straightforward. I’d imagine being in your shoes would make it hard to trust any man.”
Her eyes turned down. “Maybe. The fucked up part is I think I knew all along he was bad. I just ignored that little voice, even when it was yelling at me. I–nevermind. You don’t want to hear this.”
I walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “I got nothing but time. Well, at least until this afternoon.”
She brought her mug to the table and sat, the shorts riding further up her thighs. The hint of a strap mark peeked around the side of her thigh, way up high. Trying to keep my temper in check, I took a seat across from her and listened to her story.