Page 10

Tank

I try to hold in my laughter. This woman is nuts in the very best way. From her hilarious little rhyme about dicks, to her pep talk that has now turned into what sounds like a eulogy, it all has me wanting to get more of her and that doesn’t scare me quite as much as it once would.

“Doll? You can get off now.” I squeeze her denim clad calf in the jeans that made her ass look absolutely phenomenal. Those little sunflowers on the back pocket drawing my eye directly to her curvy heart shaped ass.

“Wait, when did we park up?” She opens her eyes and looks around her.

“We’ve been parked for a couple of minutes. I was waiting for your freakout to subside.”

She makes a cute little huffing noise, “I wouldn’t have freaked out if you weren’t going so fast.” She throws her leg over the bike, and me. Jesus, how flexible is this woman?

Shaking those thoughts out of my head I kick down the kickstand and dismount as well. “Doll, we were going 10 miles the whole way here.”

She gapes at me. “What?! No way, why did it feel like 1000 miles an hour? Aw man, I’m a terrible biker passenger,” she pouts, a little crease appearing between her brows.

I rest my hands on her shoulders, the round bally pom pom things on her coat ticking my palms. “You were a perfect passenger. I’d take you on the back of my bike anytime.” She beams up at me and I feel about 10 fucking feet tall. “Come on, let’s go.”

I take her hand and lead her to the first part of our date. She tugs me to a stop. “Tyson, why are we going to the bookstore?”

“Because this is our first stop. You choose three books, I choose three books and we swap and read each other’s choices.”

Her eyes light up and she jiggles, clapping her hands. “And then we tell the other one all about it? Like a two person book club! Eeeeeee!” She screeches, stomping her yellow heels and taking off into the store. Two seconds later she comes screeching back, “This is the best date EVER!” She grabs my hand and drags me in her wake. “Come on! We have books to buy!”

After an hour and a half we finally have our purchases. Surprisingly, Mira didn’t choose all romance. She chose a thriller, a poetry book and a small town romance, but unlike her writing, this one doesn’t have a murder to solve. I tried to get a selection of genres too. I figured that Mira probably doesn’t want to read a book on motorcycles, so I choose a murder mystery written by one of my favorite authors, a chick lit that seems quite popular and like Mira, a poetry book.

“Up on the counter, Doll. I got this.”

“No way! I’m an empowered, independent woman, I can buy my own books.” She tries to elbow me out of the way. Even though she’s tall and curvy, she’s shit outta luck trying to move my bulk.

Turning, I look at her square on, resting my hands on hers holding her books. “Doll. Mira. I asked you on this date, so this is my treat. Let me do this for you, yeah?”

Her cute yellow shoe taps out a beat on the wooden floor then she rolls her eyes at me. “Fine, caveman. But I get the next bunch!” she crows, relinquishing her book pile.

She hums a happy tune while I deal with the teenager behind the counter, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She’s strong willed, but also doesn’t hold a grudge. I feel like that will come in handy in the future.

“OK, so now we go home and read?” She looks up at me hopefully.

“Not quite, Doll, Come with me.”

The bookstore looks out onto the town square, right where Tav is setting up a cozy little picnic for me and my date.

As soon as Mira sees it she beams up at me, “A picnic!” She grabs my face in her soft palms, squeezing tight, pressing her lush soft lips to my fishy lips. She gives me one last squeeze and then trots as fast as her heels can take her over the grass to where Tav has finished laying out the food.

“There’s tiny quiches, Tyson! Tiny quiches!” She throws her head back and laughs and I watch the pure joy emanating from her. I don’t deserve a creature quite this glorious but fuck if I’m not gonna try to keep her.

Mira

OK, so I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been on many dates. Ever. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m big and loud and that scares men sometimes, but the few dates I have been on have all been terrible. Usually they’re shorter than me and have that little man syndrome thing going on. Which is fine, I don’t mind a short king, but usually those short kings want to talk about themselves and order me the salad. Tank, Tyson, he took me to buy books and arranged a picnic. This is wet dream stuff right here.

I sit myself down and scooch a little to the left, trying to get comfortable. I’m not sure what’s happening in my jeans, but they’re feeling a little odd this evening. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve been on the bike earlier or what, so I wriggle a little more to get comfortable and try to ignore it.

“Holy shit, Prospect did good,” Tyson mumbles under his breath, looking at all the miniature goodies spread out in front of us. He picks up a tiny quiche in his giant paw and nibbles on it delicately, sending me into a fit of giggles.

He frowns good naturedly at me and then continues nibbling his way through his treat.

“This is so much fun. Thank you, Tyson. This has been the best date ever!” I tell him enthusiastically as I decide to dive into the sweet stuff, taking a bite from a fruit kolache.

He smiles gently at me, and if the light wasn’t so dim, or the streetlights were brighter, I’m sure I’d be able to better see the color on his high cheekbones.

“Are you blushing?” I tease him. I try to wriggle a little in my seat, my leg is feeling a bit pins and needle-y. I give it a little shake to get blood flowing through it.

“Maybe a little,” He mutters. “I’ve never been on an actual date. Or organized one. But I did get some advice from my brothers with Ol Ladies.” The corner of his mouth tips up slightly.

I think through his words and my tummy starts flapping wildly like there’s a chicken doing the bird dance in there. This big, gruff, quiet man, my polar opposite, went so far as to ask his brothers for help organizing this date. I lean over to press a kiss to his cheek and, thanks to my leg that has now gone dead, I tip wildly sideways. With a gasp I inhale some pastry from my kolache which sends me into a wild coughing fit. Still listing sideways I throw my hand out to catch myself, unfortunately getting a whole handful of cream pie which slips sideways, sending me crashing flat onto the picnic rug.

There is silence, not even the crickets want to wade into this one, and then there’s a guffaw. Then a choking noise, and wheezing. Gentle hands scoop me up and place me upright, but there are no comforting words as Tyson tries to hold in his laughter. His body is vibrating and his cheeks are puffed out. He looks awful and it shocks a bark of laughter out of me, the kolache pastry I was choking on shooting out of my mouth in his direction. I stare at him in horror and the floodgates burst, Tank leaning forward, gripping his stomach, losing it. I join him in hysterical laughter, the two of us, heads tipped back laughing like mad people in the middle of the town square.

Mrs. Crankshaw, who is one of the grumpier members of the Rose Grove community, stops on the sidewalk and narrows her eyes at us, shaking her head slowly from side to side. I try to contain my laughter, but that all goes to heck in a handbasket when Tyson flips the bird at her back as she shuffles away.

“Tyson!” I screech-laugh, holding my stomach, cream all over my hand and now my cape.

“What? She’s a judgey old cow. She once told Jovie off for laughing too loudly at the Rose Grove Christmas parade.”

“Oh, in that case,” I answer, flipping her off behind her back as well.

Our giggles settle and Tyson looks at me, his eyes still wet from laughter. “Are you alright, Doll?”

“Yeah, my leg went to sleep. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

Tyson stands, brushes himself off and offers me his hand. “Kick off those heels and let’s get some blood flowing back into those long legs of yours, huh?”

I look at my cream covered hand, and then at Tyson’s.

“Hold up. Tav is an over planner.” He mumbles, bending and looking through the picnic basket.

Hopefully, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for anytime soon, because in this position I have an eyeful of his firm butt right in my face. I bet it looks amazing naked. Although from this angle, naked, I’d also be able to see his balls, and as far as I’m concerned testicles aren’t that sexy. Kinda like a lumpy purse. Covered in plucked chicken skin. Now I feel a little grossed out, and that coupled with my sticky hand and my dead leg that is somehow numb and really painful at the same time is making my face collapse. I know it has when Tyson turns around triumphantly, holding a packet of baby wipes only to frown and drop down next to me.

“Mira, are you alright, Doll?”

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking that I can’t feel my leg but at the same time I can feel it really hurts. And that ball sacks are very unappetizing.”

He stares at me for maybe a beat too long before blinking and shaking it off. “OK then. Well, here you go.”

He opens the wipes then tears a few out and hands them to me, patiently waiting for me to clean myself up, then stands, offering me his hand again. I take it and pull myself to standing. Or at least I try, before my right leg gives out from underneath me.

Tyson catches me with a grunt and pulls me to stand, leaning against his front. “Mira, I need you to shake that leg out. Wiggle it around and get it moving. It must have really gone right to sleep, huh?”

I nod and do as he asks, but instead of blood flow lessening the pins and needles, I get a shooting pain, one that takes my breath away. Tears prickle my eyes and I can’t believe I’m going to have to cut this perfect date short because my body is having a body breakdown. This is what happens when you sit down all day and scoff at all those women out walking in the streets in their activewear.

“You good Doll?”

I shake my head, a tear breaking free. “I’m sorry Tyson,” I can feel my lip wobble and I try to act brave. “I think I need to go home.”

“Are you sure? I can take you back to the clubhouse and get Switch to take a look at you?”

I hide my face and shake my head again. Would I like to spend more time with Tyson? Heck yeah! But I want to do it when my leg, and now my crotch, isn’t on fire.

“No, I think maybe I need a hot bath and some pain meds. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s probably from sitting too much or something. I’m so sorry, this has been the most wonderful, fabulous perfect date I’ve ever been on and my stupid fire crotch is ruining it.” I want to stomp my foot in protest but even putting weight on it feels excruciating.

“Wait, what’s wrong with your crotch?” Tyson leans back to look into my face, his large hands wrapped around my biceps,holding me steady, the heat of him warming me.

“Oh, nothing. I think I pulled something.”

He stares at me for a moment, then wraps an arm around me, holding my weight as his other hand fishes his phone out of his pocket. He texts someone and then places his phone back, his free hand coming to wrap about me, rubbing my back gently. I sigh into him, soaking up his steady warmth and the scent I now equate to him and him alone. Leather. Wood. Tyson. We stay like this for a minute or maybe more, just leaning on each other in Rose Grove Square, the sound of people moving around us, but we stand solid. Peaceful. The type of peace my mind never has, and yet Tyson magically quietens everything inside me. Like a man-sized weighted blanket.

“Hey there, daters. I’ve been called to chauffeur you two crazy kids.” Tav’s cheery voice sounds out, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Thanks Brother. Let’s get Mira in the car. I’ll drop her home if you want to pack this up, then I’ll come back for you and my bike.” Tyson says to Tav, who nods and follows his instructions.

I start taking unsteady steps toward the SUV, the pain in my groin getting worse by the second. Tyson takes pity on me and swings me up into his arms, carrying my heft to the car like I weigh nothing. I’m shocked and delighted all in one. He would definitely be able to lift me up and bang me against a wall.

He places me gently in the passenger side, secures my seat belt and then walks around the front of the vehicle, stopping to take something from Tav before joining me.

“Are you sure you don’t want Switch to take a look?” Tyson asks, his gaze imploring.

“No, I just need to go home. Thank you anyway,” I rest my hand on his.

He turns his hand over, and our fingers twine, gently holding on to each other as he navigates the quiet streets until he pulls up to my little cottage, the lights on from when I left.

“Tyson, I had a wonderful time and I’m so sorry I had to cut it short.” I pout a little, letting him know that going home with a crotch on fire, and not in a good way, is the last thing I want.

He smiles gently at me. “Me too, sweetheart. But look at it this way, it just means we’ll have to do this again to finish what we started.” He winks at me and then gets out of the car, tapping a beat on the hood as he makes his way to my side.

Ever the gentleman he opens my car door, gently lifting me out and carrying me up the front steps of my little house, holding me just so as I unlock my door. He waits for me to push the door open then carries me in, depositing me on the couch.

“Do you need anything? Tylenol? A doctor? Anything?” HIs brows furrow and I know leaving me here like this is killing him.

I would love to sit here and argue with him over my health and wellbeing all night, but at this point I need to get rid of him so I get out of these infernal jeans. They didn’t feel that tight when I put them on. Maybe a little riding up in the front and back but nowhere near enough to it feel like it’s cutting off circulation in my legs.

“Tyson, I’ll be fine. You go and do biker man things and I will rest up and hopefully see you soon?”

“That’s a guarantee. I mean, the clubhouse is your office now,” He grins and winks at me, then bends and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest and I’ll see you soon, Doll.”

He takes one last look at me and then heads out, shutting the door gently behind him. I wait until I hear his car door slam, then the SUV starts up, and then the sounds of it driving away, getting fainter and fainter.

“Oh, thank god!” I breathe out, pull myself up to stand, undo my button, yank the zipper down and tear my jeans off, throwing them across the room for good measure.

Looking down at my right leg, the one that is both on fire and numb, I notice it’s a weird mottled color. I let out a squeak and then slowly it dawns on me that my jeans are across the room but my leg is still on fire. What else dawns on me is how gosh darn uncomfortable my underwear is. I decided to wear this fancy, lacy thong that I found in my drawer and haven’t worn in around ten years. Looking down at myself I frown when I catch half of my muff hanging out the side of the tiny front triangle part.

“What the heck?”

Sucking my tummy in for a better look I notice not only is the muff part askew, but also that one side, the left side that arches over my hip is a lot thicker than the other side. Hooking my thumbs into the tiny thong I draw it down my legs, realizing that I put it on wrong. Somehow it got turned around and my legs are sticking through one leg part and the butt string part. The butt string so thin and tight that it cut off my circulation to my right leg. I know this to be true because now that they’re around my ankles I can feel blood rushing back to my groin like a tidal wave.

My date was foiled by my inability to put my underwear on properly. The realization has me collapsing on the couch, naked booty to cushion, a long groan escaping me.

Tyson 0. Thong 1.