Page 9

Tank

“ I need your help.”

Savage, Rhodie, Wire and Tav all look up from Mira’s books, where they’ve been studying them.

“Of course brother, need an extra driver at DBT? I’ve got the day off from bunny watch and I’ve already dropped the kids off at school so I’m free until school pickup,” Tav says, moving to stand.

“No, it’s ah, not work related.” I rub the back of my neck. What the fuck was I thinking?

“So, what is it related to?” Savage asks, eyeing me up, Mira’s book still open in his hand.

I lean my head back and blow out a breath, sorting my thoughts. My brothers wait, knowing I like to get my mind in order before saying anything. Apart from when I blurted out that I needed help just now. Mira has me twisted up in knots and not quite myself. Her little problem that is now our problem has us planning and waiting for the right time to move forward. The tech team has been working hard to hack into the funeral home’s security and bank accounts and we’ve planned to send a team in for intel tomorrow. The rest of us are reading through Mira’s back catalogue to find anything that may be of use and I should be helping but instead I’ve been busy fantasizing about the bubbly blonde that brought this all to our door.

“I want to take Mira on a date,” I blurt out. The four assholes in front of me all put down their forgotten books, sitting forward.

“Mira? The writer lady?” Wire asks, brow furrowed. “The one with no inner monologue?”

“Yes, yup, the same one.” I nod and then stand tall, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders so I can take whatever shit they’ll dish out. Instead, I’m met with confusion.

“Why are you asking us?”

“Because you are the only brothers with Ol Ladies. You must know what you’re doing.” They all look at each other before looking back at me.

“OK, let’s help a brother out,” Tav shrugs, clapping his hands. “Do you know where you want to take her?”

“No.”

“What about what you want to do?” Rhodie asks, brow raised.

“Also, no. I haven’t dated since high school and that was just a movie,” Fuck, I’m in deeper than I thought.

“Well, she’s being sent weird shit, but there’s no real threat so you can pretty much go anywhere,” Wire points out.

Four pairs of eyes stare at me as I stare back. She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met before, which means I can’t just take her to a bar and feed her wings and beer. It needs to be better than what I usually do.

“Have you thought that maybe the guys in these books -” Tav waves Mira’s book in the air, “- are what she’s looking for? Maybe do whatever they do.”

“Well, the guy in this book liked to turn his cap backwards and lean over the woman in doorways and shit,” Savage says, looking distastefully at the ripped guy in the cover.

“Yeah, mine seemed to just growl and grunt a lot. And murder a lot of people with his bare hands.”

I let out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not going to do any of those things. Any other bright fucking ideas?”

“What about a meal at the diner? I took Chewy there for our first date and look at us, still going strong.” Rhodie grins wide and looks a little starry eyed at the mention of his Ol Lady.

“Yeah, but you also shut down the bathrooms with unconscious bodies and I think Tank wants to avoid violence when he takes Mira out,” Tav points out.

“Wait, what the hell happened on that date?” Savage asks Rhodie with a confused look.

“It’s a long story, but it all worked out in the end,” Rhodie replies. He spots his Ol Lady walking through the front doors and gives her a grin, then blows her a kiss. This is met with a frown from Chewy who weaves her way toward us.

“What was that for?” she asks Rhodie, dropping a kiss on his lips before taking a seat on his knee.

“I was just telling the guys about our first date and then your beautiful ass walked in and I thought I’d show you my love by blowing a kiss.”

Chewy’s frown deepens, “That makes no sense. You can’t blow a kiss. The act of the kiss itself is for lips to make physical contact. If you blow a kiss at me all you’re really doing is blowing warm air my way.”

Rhodie’s body jiggles Chewy on his lap as he laughs silently. “Yes, you’re right babe, total waste of time. Anyway, we’re trying to help Tank come up with a first date idea.“

She nods once and then turns toward me, her eyes on my shoulder. “Who are you dating?”

“I want to ask Mira out.”

Chewy’s lips tip up so I guess that’s a good sign. “OK. I will be able to help because I like Mira and I’m a girl.” I give her a smile and she leans forward, almost conspiratorially, “She loves books. And picnics. She told me.” She leans back a little, then moves forward again, “OK, she actually told Lovely when Lovely asked if the guys in the books are what she’s looking for in a man. She said no. She said she wants a nice thoughtful man that would take her to bookstores and on picnics and crap.” I nod, this is all good shit. “She also said she would prefer a thick cock to one that’s thin.” She stands and moves to leave while my brothers and I all cough and splutter at that bomb drop.

Chewy walks toward the hall before spinning, “You’re welcome.”

We all watch her go and I’m not sure what to think. I mean, I have a pretty decent cock, definitely got good girth, if I do say so myself, so hopefully it’s satisfactory. But shit, I never thought women thought about cocks like that. What else do they think about?

“Yo, man, you OK?” Savage asks, snapping his fingers in my direction. “I wouldn’t worry about the state of your junk. First you gotta impress her enough to even want to see your junk,” he grins.

“Is that what you did with Nat? Get her interested enough to want to see your junk?” I raise my brow.

“Nope. I didn’t even know his name. We met at his sister’s wedding. It was meant to be one and done in the reception venue bathrooms but once I met his junk I couldn’t get enough of it,” Nat beams, plopping their chubby little girl in her daddy’s lap.

“I still had to work hard to get you to stay around though, babe,” Savage says, staring up at his Ol Lady.

“That you did, baby.” Nat drops a kiss on his lips and sashays off into the kitchen.

Watching first Rhodie and now Savage I decide that’s what I want, and the only way I’m going to get it is if I stop fucking about and start dating.

“OK, I’m going to ask Mira out.”

“Wait, I thought we already knew that?” Tav says, looking around at the others.

“You did. I’ve had a thought and I’m gonna run with it. Thanks brothers,” I hold out my fist and bump knuckles with them all, heading out the door.

“Tank?” Mama Debs calls out. I take a detour to the kitchen, knocking twice on the doorjamb.

“Yeah, Mama?”

“Don’t forget your lunch! I know you and Judge work through your breaks and I need you to stay strong and healthy,”

My lips twitch as I take the two big lunch boxes by their handles, dropping a kiss on Mama Deb’s cheek. “Thanks, Mama.”

I turn and head out the door, but not before Mama Debs calls out “Let me know if you need me to organize a picnic for the lovely Mira and yourself, I’ll get it all sorted.” I give her a grin and a wave and leave out the back door, beelining for my bike.

Securing the lunchboxes in my saddlebags, I throw my leg over my girl and start her, letting her vibrate my nerves away as I pull up my phone and type out a message.

Tank: Hey Mira, it’s Tyson. Would you like to go out with me?

Mira: Yes! I’d love that! When? Today? This evening? Will there be food? Will I need to wear pants?

Her enthusiasm and wild texting has a smile on my face as I shake my head. I thought we would schedule for later this week, but shit, if she’s keen for tonight then so be it.

Tank: Tonight if you’re not too busy? I can pick you up, wear pants, and something warm. There will be food.

Mira: Then I’m in like Flynn! You know where I live! ;)

Smiling to myself I put my phone away, rev my engine and pull out, heading toward the gates. Looks like I’ll be needing Mama Deb’s services sooner rather than later.

Mira

Oh my god oh my god oh my god! Tank, I mean Tyson, asked me out! Me! Weird old Mira. Big, tall, weird old Mira. Big, tall, too loud, weird old - OK, that’s enough freaking out. I have things I need to do. Like finish this one section I’m working on and then very calmly get myself ready for my date. With Tyson!

The squeal and little happy clap jog I do startles Mrs. McKenzie from where she likes to sit her fluffy ginger behind on my desk.

“Oops, sorry Mrs. Mac. It’s just I have a date, old girl. So I need to concentrate on my work and then think about what I’m going to wear.” I stroke her bright ginger fur, running my fingers through the silky strands, and think about running my fingers through Tyson’s chest hair. I’ve seen the dark blonde strands that stick up out of his shirt and I would love to know exactly where all that hair goes. Hopefully, it’s all over his chest and not just in a funny little patch at the top of his throat and then nowhere else, because that would be odd. Note to self: Perhaps write my villain with odd chest hair. I type that note in my list of notes that perpetually sits open in a tab on my laptop and flick back to the scene I’m working on. It’s a classic part of romance, the third act breakup. This one is made slightly trickier by the fact that not only does the heroine have an evil identical twin, but so does the hero. Shaking my head to myself I marvel at some of the weird stuff I come up with. Maybe I should move to the small town romance genre. I’m less likely to be sent body parts by small town romance fans. I think.

I let my mind get into the scene I’m writing and everything flows through my fingers, without me even noticing. That’s the thing about writing. I may be in charge of typing and doing all the admin stuff, but the characters themselves are who dictates the scene. If they want to torture their identical twin for information then so be it.

I type away like this, letting the people from inside my head tell me their stories, and it’s only when my alarm to stretch goes off I notice the time. Holy sands of time, Batman! I have an hour and a half to get ready and it’s not enough time! Jumping up in a panic I startle Mrs. Mac from my desk, her giving me the stink eye as she walks away.

“Argh, sorry! I just need to get ready for a date, Mrs. Mac and I don’t know where to start! Should I wash my hair? I will shave but how far up do I go? To the knee? Or higher? All the way up? HELP ME!” I screech at my cat, who looks at me calmly and slowly blinks before jumping up onto the couch, plopping her fat cat body down and going to sleep.

“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you,” I mumble at her as I speed walk to the bathroom, turning the shower on to heat as I throw my clothes off.

For some god unknown reason Nana has a full-length mirror in her bathroom. It was probably some weird old timey weight loss thing. You’re so disgusted by what you see it spurs you into eating less. Not me though. I just ignore it. Well, usually I do. Today though I stare at myself and try to imagine what Tyson sees. I have good legs, I’ll give myself that. They’re toned and shapely, probably from carrying these gigantic boobs around. They droop, because big boobs always do, but I don’t mind that. I’d look weird as heck if they were up under my chin all the time. Running my hand down my soft belly I grip the little overhang when I get to it. I would prefer a nice toned tummy but alas, I work a sit down job. Although I did see this treadmill thing where I could walk while working. Grabbing my phone from where I left it on the countertop I search up ‘treadmill’ and am inundated with images of treadmills and standing desks. And would you look at that! Amazon has a special on treadmills AND even has a standing desk to go with it. AND the price is phenomenal! I press buy now, work through my details (lets face it, Amazon knows me on a personal level) and hit buy now.

Feeling buoyed by my new purchase I step into the shower tub and get to work lathering everything up. And when I say everything I mean EVERYTHING. I start at the bottom. I have one hairy toe so I defuzz that little guy first. I make my way up my legs, front and backs. I feel like this date calls for that. I have been set up a couple of times and on those dates I only defuzz the front. Don’t want to put too much effort into a dud. Tyson however, he is definitely no dud. Which is why when I get to my knee I decided to go a little higher. So high in fact that I’m now sporting a new hairdo down below as well. Nothing too crazy, just a jaunty little triangle pointing to the main event. You know, just in case. I mean, I haven’t really had anyone enter the Batcave before, but there’s always hope that the right man will venture in there. For a bit of spelunking. I snort to myself because that’s a funny word and keep on with my grooming.

Before long I’m sitting on my bed in a towel staring at my wardrobe wishing I was a normal woman. With a normal wardrobe. The very cool heroine in my book would right now be slipping into some jeans that make her butt look all round and amazing, and she’d own black motorcycle boots and a leather jacket. I on the other hand own a pair of jeans with sunflowers embroidered on the butt, I only own colorful sneakers or colorful heels, and all my coats are embellished with either fur or sequins. Letting out a sigh I pull on my jeans, a red sweater because everyone knows red is romantic, and top it off with my navy blue cape, complete with pompoms. I know I should probably wear sensible shoes, but I’m not going to. It’s a date after all! I go for my bright yellow heels and nod at myself in the mirror. It may not be biker lady chic, but it is Mira chic and I’m good with that. I blow dry and smooth my hair, giving it a little curl so it bounces around my shoulders and I finish off with a quick spritz of hairspray and a slick of red lipstick just as the doorbell rings.

I fling open the door, startling Tyson on the other side. Tyson who looks finger licking good in his dark jeans, forest green button up and his cut. Why this man is still on the market is a mystery to me. Unless he’s hiding psychopathic tendencies. I try to get a good look at him from under my lashes, all covert like.

“Are you OK?” Tyson’s gruff voice asks me, leaving me to believe that I was not pulling off ‘covert spy woman’.

“Oh, peachy,” I grin up at him.

He smiles back at me, a little shy, before his eyes travel down my body and back up again, eating me up with his gaze.

“Mira, shit, you look stunning,” he breathes.

A little shiver works its way through me and the man in front of me looks at me with a mixture of awe and heat. My down belows clench at the heat I see there and I have to remind myself that I, Mira Elizabeth Campbell am a virgin and that means that I cannot, should not mount this man on my front porch. Yet. My traitorous eyes dart toward Tyson’s crotch and I try to use my non-existent xray vision to see what he’s packing. I know that as someone yet to lose her V card, that I should be hoping for something small. Tiny even. But Nana always told me to look for a man with a thick appendage. According to her, “Long and thin goes too far in, they do not please the ladies. But short and thick does the trick and manufactures babies.”

A guffaw has my eyes snapping up, to where Tyson is leaning against the doorjamb. But not in a sexy book boyfriend type of way. No, he’s leaning against the jamb to hold him up because his belly laughter has weakened his knees.

I let out a sigh, not even questioning if I said that out loud, and make my way to Tyson’s bike. He pulls himself together and jogs down the steps behind me, moving to my side, his hand resting on my lower back.

He presses a kiss to my temple. “You, Doll, are a fucking breath of fresh air.” He chuckles one more time, shaking his head and repeating what I said under his breath.

I gaze up at him. It’s so nice to see him this way. From what I’ve seen of Tyson around the clubhouse he seems to be reserved, happy to watch from the background, just quietly going about his business being a good brother, a good worker and a good man. Watching him cut loose a little, especially with me, feels really good. I want to know everything. His thoughts, his ideas, his dreams. I want to read his writing and workshop ideas for my books with him. Most of all, I like making him laugh. I gaze up at him as he gently lowers a shiny motorcycle helmet onto my head, letting him get it placed just so, gently brushing any trapped hair out of my face.

“There,” he murmurs at me. I knock the side a couple of times, reveling in his smile, perfect white teeth on display as he shakes his head at me.

“Your chariot awaits milady,”

He mounts his lovely matt black and chrome steed. Holding his hand out he takes my hand, showing me where I should put my feet, talking me through how to get on. The butterflies build in my tummy and it could be because I’m not the most graceful woman, but it could also be the fact that very soon, my hooha will be pressed up against the back of Tyson, being hit by vibrations from below.

Breathe Mira, you can do this. I repeat over and over in my mind. I repeat it when he starts the bike, I repeat it again when he stands the bike further upright. I repeat it when he wraps those large hands around my denim clad thighs and pulls me tight into him and again when he gently, slowly leads us out of my drive.

“Breathe Mira, you can do this. You’re doing great. Look at you go!” inner Mira says. I give myself a mental pat on the back, smug in the thought that I am a total biker babe.

“I’m going to go a little faster now, OK Doll?” Tyson’s voice washes over me.

“Go as fast as you want dude. I got this,” I tell him, patting his thick slab-like muscles in his abdomen.

He gives me a smirk over his shoulder and opens her up.

Inner Mira starts screaming. We most certainly have not got this! We are not doing great! Do not look at us go, WE’RE GOING TO DIEEEEEE!