Lady Luck by Kristen Ashley
“That’s awful,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Walker agreed because it was and knowing Tuku for fourteen years it was worse because he was a man who didn’t deserve that. Not even close.
“So he took you under his wing?”
Walker nodded. “I went up there a lot, any time I could. I did my homework up there because, when he knew I was gonna keep coming, he made me bring it with me. He taught me how to hold a hammer. He taught me how to use a drill. He taught me how to change oil, fix brakes and switch out a clutch. He taught me that any man worth anything works hard and he does it usin’ his hands. He creates shit. He fixes it. Although the folks who could afford his stuff were lawyers, stock brokers, he had no respect for them. That was just his way, his opinion and he taught me a man should form opinions, do it for a reason, stick by them but keep an open mind. He was an artist both in New Zealand and here. That’s how he made his living. He gave me a pen and ink. This,” he lifted his left arm then dropped it back to the bed. “After he died, I had it inked on me. Took what he gave me to a tattoo parlor right after the funeral and got it started.”
Her voice held a tone of light dawning as she whispered, “So he was your Ella.”
Her light dawned clear for her and for Walker because she was right.
“Yeah, he was my Ella.”
“So it was Tuku who brought out my Ty.”
My Ty.
My Ty.
Christ. Fuck.
Christ.
Two words. Just two words. Walker had no clue until that moment that two words could mean so fucking much. He’d never belonged to anyone. He’d never belonged anywhere. Never thought he wanted to.
Until he heard those two words.
He couldn’t keep the thick out of his voice when he confirmed, “Yeah, it was him.”
Her hand slid from his shoulder to curl around his neck when she said gently, “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet him.”
“I’m sorry too. He’d like you.”
She tipped her head to the side. “He would?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know? If he wasn’t social –”
His arm gave her a squeeze and he cut her off, “Because you are who you are, Lex, no bullshit. Tuku was not a fan of bullshit. And he was old as fuck but he was still a man and, the way you look, not a lotta men wouldn’t like that.”
She grinned at him.
Then she asked, “Where’s the pen and ink?”
“In a scroll in a closet in one of the rooms downstairs. Had it framed but when the movers moved me in here, they dropped it, glass shattered, frame cracked. Wanted it reframed but wanted it done right, didn’t get to it before I went down.”
She studied him then suddenly she lifted her torso and moved her legs so she was straddling his lower gut. He felt that gut tighten when she unexpectedly exposed the lush beauty of her body to his eyes and he was concentrating on that so he didn’t resist when she wrapped her fingers around his right wrist and pulled his arm up between them. Then she ran her fingers down the black marks that wound a line up his forearm starting on the inside of his wrist and ending just under the outside of his elbow.
“What does this say?” she whispered.
“Got that inside. Artist in there, tools primitive, work first-rate.”
“Yeah, it’s cool,” she agreed, still whispering, “but what does it say?”
His eyes held hers.
Then he answered, “Vengeance is mine.”
Her fingers convulsed on his wrist but she didn’t move her eyes from him.
Then she dipped her head and he watched as she watched her fingertips trailing back up the marks. Then she bent slightly forward, lifted his arm and pressed his hand flat to her chest. Then her eyes moved back to his as she slowly slid his hand down, between her breasts, down her midriff, down over her stomach and down.
All the while he felt her skin under the path of his hand; he watched her face change, get hungry. She did shit like that all the time. Hot. Fuck, he’d never had so hot. They’d just finished fifteen minutes ago and she wanted it again. She got hungry a lot and, to get what she wanted, she was a wildcat.
He fucking loved that about her too.
When she used her hand to curve his between her legs, he curled his torso up, his left arm sliced tight around her waist and her mouth instantly moved so her lips were on his. Her breathing was already labored.
He took over and slid a finger inside and watched her eyes drift half-closed.
He felt his cock start to get hard.
“What you want, baby?” he murmured against her mouth.
“Can I suck you?” she asked, hot, hungry, wanting it but still hesitant.
Like he’d fucking say no.
He answered by sliding his arm up her back and his finger out, pressing in as it glided over her clit, going for and getting that sexy-as-fuck noise she made at the back of her throat, doing all of this while he laid back down, taking her with him.
Once he was settled, he whispered, “Yeah, mama, you can suck me.”
She smiled then she moved, taking her time, drifting down, using her mouth, her tongue, her teeth, her hands, her hair sliding all over him as she did and by the time she reached his cock it was hard and pulsing.
She licked and played and stroked awhile before she got serious. He let her, her hair all around, he liked it and so did she. Then she took him inside and fuck, he liked that better because she was always eager, hungry, she could take him deep and she could suck hard and she did both really fucking well.
When he was close, he pulled her up, rolled her to her back and gave back as good as he got, taking his time moving down, working her tits until she was squirming and making low noises, tasting her, touching her then he got between her legs and he ate her, hard and hungrier than she did him.
He loved the taste of her pussy, so much, sometimes he could be working or working out and he’d sense her on his tongue.
He loved that too.
He made her come and moved over her, driving deep inside before she was finished, thrusting fast and hard, watching her face settle then he moved a hand in between them and built it again. She lifted her knees high, pressed them tight to his sides, locking his arm between them, her hands moving on him fevered, he took her there again then he let himself go.
He buried himself inside her, gave her enough weight to keep her warm and worked the skin of her neck with his mouth while her hands drifted light on him.
He didn’t talk during sex and didn’t like his pussy to do it either. Lexie talked but infrequently and when she did it meant something. She loved his cock in her mouth and in her cunt and she let him know it. She loved his body. She loved his mouth. She loved his hands. She let him know this too. She liked him giving it to her however he wanted. He’d been creative; she never made a noise of protest, just offered her pussy however he wanted to take it, as often as he wanted it and she got off, did it hard and didn’t mind him knowing she did that either.
He loved that about her too.
He pulled out and moved down, brushing his mouth across her chest, he rolled off.
She rolled the other way and moved to the bathroom to clean up. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling when she did but turned his head to the side to watch her walk back in the room. She tagged her panties from the floor, tugged them on, turned out the light on her side then put a knee to the bed and moved into him. She settled, pressed to his side, cheek to his pec, leg tangling with his. He reached out, turned out his light then down, pulled the covers over them then curled his arm around her and tucked her closer.
“Thanks for dinner,” she murmured against his chest, her arm draped around his gut giving him a light squeeze.
He didn’t answer. He’d buy her an expensive dinner to celebrate her getting a job and he’d buy her an expensive dinner to celebrate the fact that he woke up next to her. In time, she’d come to know that without him saying it and she’d come to know
Instead of speaking, he stared at the ceiling he could see in the moonlight. Wood planks and beams. And he felt the soft bed underneath him, Lexie’s softness at his side. Not cement and industrial paint overhead. Hard, thin mattress under him. Narrow bed that didn’t fit his frame and allowed no room to move. And no chance in hell of pussy tucked to his side, definitely not sweet, classy pussy who dressed nice, laughed often and didn’t give a fuck who saw her run across the forecourt of a garage on high heels and launch herself into his grease-stained arms just because she found herself a part-time job as a receptionist in a fucking salon.
He stared at the ceiling and waited for it.
Then it happened, her weight settled. She’d found sleep.
Then he waited again.
She detached in her sleep and rolled away.
When she did Walker did what he always did. He moved out of bed and across the room to one of three thermostats in the house. He jacked the AC up then turned to move back to the bed but stopped when he saw her purse on the dresser, it was open, the stuff inside spilling out.
Instead of going back to bed, he moved there and tagged the digital camera. He turned it on and moved his thumb over the buttons on the side, the screen displaying the pictures. Three she made their waitress at The Rooster take of them cuddled in one side of a booth. But he stopped on one.
Lexie’s head turned and tipped back, facing him but even in profile you could see her smiling big, her nose pressed to the underside of his jaw, filled champagne glasses on the table in front of them. Her arm was wrapped around his middle, his arm around her shoulders, his head was partially turned to her, dipped down, his eyes were closed and he remembered what he was thinking with his eyes closed. Lexie pressed into his side, feeling her tits, smelling her hair and perfume, knowing she was smiling because she’d just been laughing. He was thinking something whacked, so whacked it was fucking insane.
He was thinking he didn’t mind doing that time because he walked out and found all that.
Standing there, staring at the display, Walker remembered her sitting in the booth after the waitress gave back the camera, head bent, looking at the photos on the display and muttering, “Need another frame. The mantel is looking naked.”
Her muttering had proved him right. She was making him a home, them a home because she’d never had one either, and she intended to keep doing it.
He turned off the camera and set it on the dresser. Then he joined her in bed, curling into her back, his arm going around her pulling her close. He did this every night since he took a shot at trusting her and made them a them. And like every night, in her sleep, she snuggled closer before settling and he knew she wouldn’t detach because every morning since they became them he woke up with his wife tucked right there.
And like every night since they became them, he fell asleep smelling her hair, not a correctional institute filled with men, feeling her body tight against his, not rough covers, the air cool, not hot as fuck and moonlight shining through huge-ass windows not small ones covered by bars.
But that night, he fell asleep thinking it was whacked, fucking insane but it was true.
He didn’t mind doing that time when doing it meant he would walk out to Lexie.
Chapter Eleven
Filled with Brightness
“Babe.”
I looked up at Ty’s call to see he was standing in the opened, wood framed glass door to the front deck, hand still on the handle, a funny look on his face
It was Sunday, a week and a half after I got my job and we’d celebrated and it had been a week and a half where I’d spent a good amount of effort at keeping him distracted from his grand plan o’ vengeance.
And, as far as I knew, I’d been successful.
Mostly, I did this with sex.
But we couldn’t have sex every minute we weren’t working or eating (alas) so I’d had to get creative.
And that creativity was helped by Laurie, who came into the salon to have her hair cut and highlighted. While she was waiting for Dominic to finish with a client, I’d shared with her my deck plant vision but lack of experience seeing as I’d lived in an apartment the entirety of my adult life but had managed to keep a houseplant alive for a few years so I had hope if not knowledge. In return, she’d shared that Betty of Ned and Betty owned the Carnal Hotel and the healthy, abundant flowers outside were her doing. Then she’d phoned Betty while sitting in Dominic’s chair and about seven seconds later Betty had walked through the doors of Carnal Spa to give me a very long but friendly lecture about keeping outdoor plants alive in the Colorado Mountains.
I took notes.
Three pages of them.
Dominic’s “spa”, by the way, was really just a hair stylist that did manis and pedis. But Dominic’s gay partner Daniel was building a couple of rooms at the back where he was hoping to expand into facials and massages.
“If the biker babes in this freaking town do facials and massages,” he’d said. “Color me stunned when I found out the bitches got manis and pedis. Been living amongst them for years, still do not understand them. I get you wanna dip your toe into rough and tumble but attach your ball and chain to it? Uh… no. When your man doesn’t bother to shave or get a haircut, my guess would be you wouldn’t want a French pedicure. But I started that trade and those biker bitches were all over it. There you go. I may be fucked with facials, that might be taking it a shade too far, but you can’t know unless you try.”
By the way, my pay stunk but Dominic was hysterical, the work was entirely stress free, I got paid enough to cover the gas to drive down and then some, it was something to do with my days, it was doing something where I met half the town (the female half) and it came with free manis and pedis and half off Dominic doing your hair. And since he was a master and I liked my manis and pedis, I thought it was awesome.
So, since I had Betty’s tutelage, the minute Ty got home on Saturday afternoon, I pounced.
And I did this by announcing, “Garden center is open on Saturday until eight.”
To this he’d replied distractedly, head bent to his phone, thumb moving over the keypad, texting someone, “Go on, mama, I got somethin’ I need to do.”
Alarm bells sounded since he didn’t share that something he needed to do. It wasn’t like we were attached at the hip but unless he was working out, there weren’t many somethings he had to do that took him away from me and I suspected the something he had to do was vengeance related.
I thought fast then called his name softly.
His head came up and turned to me.
“I’ve been, um… thinking about the, uh… money you owe me,” I started.
That was when I watched his body get tight.
So I quickly went on, “I’ve decided to, uh… donate it to the cause.”
This was a lie, of course, since I was fired up to derail the cause but I thought it was a worthy lie to tell.
I felt guilt when he blinked then his eyes flared then his body turned to me and it started coming to me with intent, the look on his face sweet and hot so I lifted a hand and he stopped.
“Minus deck plants and furniture,” I added. “I like to have coffee in the morning with the view and I’d prefer not to stand at the railing while doing it.”
His reply was all Ty. Instantaneous and generous.
“Get what you want, Lex, before you go I’ll give you the money.”
This was not falling into my plan.
So I scrambled.
“I want you to help me pick the furniture. It’s going to be yours too and you also should have what you want. I donate the leftover if you come with me. Do we have a deal?”
He held my eyes for a long moment while I endeavored to look innocent.
Then he said, “Deal.”
I smiled big at him. He grinned at me. Then his head dropped to his phone and his thumb moved over the keypad. Then he went with me and he didn’t touch his
This was because I went nuts at the garden center which also had kickass patio furniture. Kickass enough that even Ty got into the selection process and it was him who went overboard.
So in the Cruiser on our way home, we had trays and trays of plants, bags of soil, coils of hoses and ten enormous pots, four terracotta (front deck), four turquoise (deck off kitchen as well as top and bottom of the outside steps) and two purplish-gray (our deck off the bedroom) as well as a window box for outside the kitchen window.
We also bought a round, gunmetal table with four wide-seated chairs with turquoise pads and matching umbrella to put on the deck off the kitchen. With this we bought the coolest, most awesome furniture for the front deck, a curvy, rounded, flowing huge loveseat made in weatherproof resin the color of straw with a long swirly footstool that fit into the loveseat making it a big kind of shell-like oval both of which had thick sand-colored pads and big square toss pillows for the back of the loveseat. This was going to sit at one end with two matching curving, high-backed lounges sharing a low, bubble-like, glass topped table that would sit at the other end. For our balcony, we got one large, oval resin lounger that was big enough to fit two even with one of those two being Ty and was really a chair and ottoman shoved together. This had dark gray, thick pads and a matching, oval ceramic-topped table. Making awesome even more awesome, it had a light-gray canvas canopy attached that you could swing up or down depending on the kind of sun or privacy you wanted.