Sweet Fix Page 7

  I shove the door open and glare at him. He’s unshaven, his normally mussed hair is almost flat, with the ends curling a little like he’s been wearing a baseball cap all day, or a winter hat. Dressed in a work coat, he must have just come from the garage.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

  “Hey.” His brow lifts as he surveys the details of the new me, starting with my straight hair and going all the way down to my too-white sneakers.

  “Why look at you!” Mr. Hendrick’s voice booms, startling me. “Don’t you look cute as a button.”

  “Why are you here, Trig?”

  “Jane had to take Thomas somewhere. She asked me to come in her place.”

  Mr. Hendricks looks over the top of his glasses. “Have a seat, Maggie. It doesn’t matter who I talk to, either Jane or Trig. Just need to give you and your sponsor some information.”

  “He’s not my sponsor,” I snap.

  “What’s got into you?” Trig asks.

  “And why don’t you go straight to Hades?”

  “Temper, temper.” Mr. Hendricks shakes his head and sorts through a stack of papers. “Just cool your jets there, Miss Maggs. I got some great news. After calling in a ton of favors here at school and sweet-talking the registrar at Stowe College, I got you a shot at early admission. Starting in January, if you like. How ‘bout that?”

  I sink into the chair. This meeting is about college. In January! I can’t believe the relief. I rub my forehead. I’d already mentally packed my bags a dozen times in the past five minutes. I was completely wrong. Not only was I going to stay with Wes and Jane, but Hendricks is talking about college.

  My thoughts reel. Early admission. A moment ago, I pictured myself registering in yet another high school. I figured I was being uprooted again. And maybe I am being uprooted again, but in the best possible way.

  College. Holy shit.

  Mr. Hendricks shoves the stack of papers into a manila envelope. “Guess you have some homework over the Christmas break. Good thing you didn’t get a job.”

  That remark makes me jerk my head to look at Trig.

  He’s even more scruffy than usual. His jacket is unbuttoned at the top and reveals a red flannel shirt. A pair of worn leather gloves rest on his thigh.

  He’s bemused, his lips tilting into a smile and he mouths, “No Las Vegas for you.”

  The gleam in his eye tells me just how pleased he is and how much he’ll tease me about thwarting my plans to run away. He picks up his gloves and smacks them against his thigh, chuckling softly. Mr. Hendricks is muttering about checking out of school and necessary forms.

  “How am I going to pay for college?” I ask, softly.

  Hendricks waves my concerns off with the wave of a hand. “There’s money out there. We’ll figure it out. Tell ya what. You fill out all those applications and I’ll see what kind of grants and scholarships I can scare up. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I say softly, too stunned to say much else.

  He waves me away. “School’s done in a couple of hours and the kids will be out for Christmas break. I’ll have one of the kids get your books out of your locker. Go home. Enjoy this Maggie. This is a big deal and I’m mighty proud.”

  I’m too stunned to move. Trig nudges my arm. We say good bye to Mr. Hendricks and walk out of school. He holds the door open and I step out into the cool winter air. In a moment, the bell will ring for lunch. At lunch the campus is a madhouse. Everyone throngs to the cafeteria to jockey for position in the lunch line.

  But I won’t be one of them.

  I’m no longer enrolled. I’m free. All I need to do is fill out application that must weigh five pounds and I can start school next month. Real school. I have no idea how I’ll pay for it, but I’ll work something out. I can’t imagine how ecstatic Jane will be about this.

  And Trig’s happy too. With a grin a mile wide, he’s taking credit for my success. Since Wes took my car to get new tires, I get a ride home with him. All the way back to the house, I get to listen to him gloat. I’m so stunned by everything I forget to tell him to eff off.

  But the way he acts like he’s just won the lottery makes my heart warm. I never asked him to be in my corner and I’m not sure how I feel about him obstinately refusing to leave. He wants to take credit for the turn of events and maybe I’ll let him. I always feel him nearby, even when he’s not, so maybe he does have something to do with my success.

  That night I dream of him and it’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever imagined so far. It’s the first day of classes and Trig’s the professor, but I’m the only one in the class. He’s gorgeous, dressed in a suit and tie and sitting at a big desk. I’m in a skirt and blouse.

  He loosens his tie and explains I need to sit on the desk in front of him. First, I need to take off my panties and that if I want to earn extra credit, in his class, I need to come to class every time wearing a skirt but no panties.

  I do as I’m told. He sets me on his desk and I let him coax me back so I’m lying down. He tugs my skirt up around my hips. I’m burning for his touch, trying not to writhe. For a long time, he just looks at me, smiling, letting his gaze wander. It’s the most exquisite torture.

  Finally, he touches me. As he strokes my drenched core, he says the first lesson is called Letting Trig Taste Maggie’s Pussy. I’m shaking I’m so aroused.

  He tells me the second lesson will be How to Suck Trig’s Cock. He’s leaning over me. Looming. A big sexy beast. His eyes dark with lust. Gripping each thigh, he pulls my legs apart, but just as he lowers his head to lick me, I wake up with a start.

  I’m drenched in sweat and stunned by the erotic images turning in my mind. I can’t resist reaching down to touch myself. My pussy is slick with arousal. Swollen. Almost instantly, I come with a blinding orgasm. I lie in bed, struggling to catch my breath. I’m cringing, but I’m furious too. Furious that I woke up before he could teach me my first lesson.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trig

  Jane makes a huge deal out Christmas. You’d think she did all sorts of Christmas things because of the boys and… well, now Maggie too, but she’s always been this way. The front lawn is filled with a Santa’s Workshop scene. The boys made gingerbread houses. Even Maggie made one, but the most surprising thing of all is that she bought presents for the boys.

  Jane’s been going full-steam with cooking, craft projects and Christmas outings, so when she asks me if I’ll keep the boys for an evening between Christmas and New Year’s, I agree. I’ve had them over before, but not since Maggie’s come to live with them. I tell Wes I want Maggie to come over too, to help me with the boys. It’s not that I can’t handle them, but I like the idea of her coming too.

  When she arrives, I can tell she’s not too pleased to be roped into babysitting. She gets out of the van and the boys spill out, all four of them run off to play with the dogs. She stands in the drive way, a wary expression on her face. She hasn’t been here since the day I picked her up on the highway. I can tell she’s reliving the memory.

  It’s cold. She wears the coat I got her and the sight of her makes something inside my chest soften. It seems strange to see her here. With her big, startled eyes she looks younger than her nineteen years.

  Wes worries about her going to college and being around older kids and adults. He and Jane go to support meetings for foster parents and the stories they come back with make me wonder why anyone would ever agree to foster. Especially the older kids.

  Maggie’s an adult now, but they don’t know if she’s experienced trauma. If she goes to college she could be vulnerable to people with bad intentions. When she was in high school, they stayed in contact with teachers. They had a sense of control. Now that she’s done with school, they won’t have that link. She’ll be on her own.

  I walk down my porch steps and close the distance between us.

  “Wes thinks you might turn into a wild child now that you’re a college student.”

  She purses her l
ips and gets about half-way through an eye roll when she stops herself. “I haven’t been admitted yet. I’m still waiting to hear back from the registrar.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get in.”

  “I will, Trig. And I’m not going to turn into some wild-child. You and Wes don’t need to worry.”

  I nod and usher her into the house. I grill some hamburgers and we eat in the kitchen. The boys chatter about their new toys and what we’re going to be doing this evening.

  “Going down to the basement,” I tell them.

  Maggie flinches and she stares at me wide-eyed.

  I keep from smiling back. Barely.

  The boys have been in my basement plenty of times because Wes and me and the boys built a small model railroad for them there. The model occupies a large table in the corner of the basement. Michael was the biggest help on planning and constructing, but I’m sure all four boys think they helped equally.

  They’ve also camped in the basement. I set up tents, made a little fake campfire and served baked beans and hot dogs. Each boy slept in a sleeping bag. We did that a few times so Wes and Jane could have some time to themselves.

  So, when they hear the news that we’re going downstairs, the boys erupt in cheers, talking about what movie we can watch on the big screen and having a fire in the fireplace. They want to do all the things Wes and me did when we were kids growing up here.

  The moment I say a word about going to the basement, all four boys stampede down the wooden stairs, whooping and hollering like the basement is some sort of amusement park. Wes and me used to tell the boys it was a guy’s only place. That Jane wasn’t allowed down there.

  I’m sure Jane was pretty happy to be excluded because she’d pour herself a glass of white wine and sit on the porch. She’d read. Talk on the phone. Pet the dogs. She’d do anything and everything for a few hours, happy to have some quiet time.

  Maggie and I sit at the table. Alone. She keeps her gaze down but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. Downstairs all hell’s breaking loose. If she had worries or misgivings about what I hid down there, my cover’s blown now. The boy’s laughter and shrieks give me away. I’m sure she’s just a few seconds away from some smart-mouthed comment.

  “I’m not sure if I want to go downstairs,” she says softly. “I might end up getting handed off to your contact in Cleveland.”

  This is how it is with Maggie. One moment she’s scowling at me, blaming me for who-knows-what, and the next she’s giving me shit. It should make me mad. Her moods whip-saw from one extreme to the next, but right now, sitting here in my kitchen with Maggie, I feel anything but mad. I want to wrap her up in a big protective wad of bubble wrap to keep her safe from everything dangerous in the world.

  “You’re sassy and a lot of trouble. They’d probably bring you back in less than a minute, Maggie. Dump you the first chance they got.”

  I’m trying to tease her because I love to make her a little mad. Not too mad, of course. Mostly I like to make her laugh.

  She blinks several times and lets out a small huff of air. Her smile fades. It’s like watching a candle flicker and go out. “Maybe.”

  I was just giving her a bad time but she’s taking my comment to heart. I can see the wall going up. Fast.

  “I’m hard to handle. Only a saint like Jane really wants me.” She shrugs a shoulder and for a moment says nothing. Then she lifts her chin and gives me a hard look. “Story of my life. I’m used to it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maggie

  I can’t think of a time where I saw Trig walking around in just jeans and an undershirt. And yet here he is, in a tight muscle shirt, stalking across the basement with all four boys clinging to him like leeches. Apparently, this is a game they play.

  Trig is the giant and they’re soldiers or minions or something. He growls and roars and they growl and roar right back at him. They watch cartoons and play Roaring Giant during the commercial breaks. Once the commercial is over, he peels them off, drops them down to the pallet of blankets, and everyone goes back to watching.

  I can’t take my eyes from him as he plays the part of the giant. His powerful body mesmerizes me. He's settles back to the opposite side of the couch, separated from me by a few pillows, pretending to take in the movie. I study his profile and the way the scar, a jagged, ropey thread, crosses his cheekbone and spans his forehead.

  The first time I was in his house, he threatened me with scary, freaky shit. Now he’s leaning back, hands folded behind his head watching Cartoon Network. I know he’s a bad ass because Wes and Jane have told me how he likes to brawl. He takes zero shit from his employees or customers. Yet here he is with the monkeys and me watching cartoons.

  Turning slowly, he gazes at me and lifts his chin. “What?”

  I’ve been caught looking at him and heat crawls across my skin. “Nothing.”

  “You feel left out?”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. Left out? Of what? “Excuse me?”

  “Left out of the game.”

  “Your growling-giant game?”

  “Yeah.”

  I snort and return my attention to the television.

  “I think you do feel left out. You look sad.”

  Michael glances over his shoulder. “Maybe the big giant needs to get Maggie.”

  I nudge his foot with mine. “Mind your own beeswax.”

  Thomas jumps to his feet and starts growling, taking slow, measured steps towards me. He gnashes his teeth which is actually pretty menacing, given his history of biting. I hold up my hand to stop him, but now Seth and Jimmy have joined in. They’re crawling across the floor, knocking over a bowl of popcorn.

  “Hey, don’t turn on me,” I protest. “Go get the big giant.”

  I smile despite the disconcerting sight in front of me. The monkeys get into character with such happy abandon, it’s hard not to laugh at them.

  Michael watches, an uncertain smile tugging at his lips. This is not how it usually goes. I’m not used to the monkeys banding together to take me on. Wicked delight gleams in their eyes and Michael’s wondering how this is going to go. If he joins forces, I’m in trouble.

  “Stay away from me. Twerps.” I manage to keep a straight face.

  I glance towards Trig. His expression is indifferent. I don’t think I can count on any help from the giant.

  “Let’s get the princess.” Thomas speaks in a zombie voice, monotone and slightly creepy.

  “I think I liked you better when you only had, like three words, Thomas.” I scoot a little closer to Trig.

  The boys stop a few feet away, their arms outstretched, each making animal noises. The hissing and growling only makes Michael’s grin widen. I don’t think I can expect any help from him either.

  I nudge Trig’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. What’s it worth to you?”

  I glance back at the boys. “A lot.”

  He lifts a brow and the next thing I know, I’m swept off the couch and tossed over his shoulder. A panicked shriek dies in my throat as he snarls at the boys.

  “What shall I do with the princess?”

  I pound my hands on his back, but it’s about as effective as hitting a wall of cinderblocks.

  “You are such a-”

  My words are silenced by a sharp swat to my bottom. The boys howl with laughter. My mind spins, thoughts swirl. Trig just smacked me. On my ass. In front of the boys.

  “I want to smack the princess’s butt,” Thomas yells.

  “Me too,” Seth shouts.

  I’ll just bet they do. I spent the first month at the Kendal house being a bitch to them. I regret it now. Everything. A lot of good remorse will do me.

  “Nobody swats the princess but me,” Trig announces.

  Hanging upside down over Trig is surreal. Beyond crazy. Trig doesn’t touch me. Ever. It’s like there’s a fortress around him, or walls around me or something, but the tacit underst
anding is, no touching.

  He falls to a knee and the sudden movement makes me scream and grab his torso. I cling to him, wondering what he’ll do next. Prying me from his back, he lowers me to the pallet of blankets the boys were lying on. Being draped over his shoulder is pretty intense but nothing compared to lying under him while he cages me with his body.

  “What shall I do with the princess?”

  Thomas crouches and gnashes his teeth. “Gobble her up.”

  Jerking away from him I shoot him a dark look. “Don’t let him bite me, Trig. You know he’s just getting over that biting thing.”

  Trig smiles down at me. I can’t tear my eyes from him. He’s got a few day’s scruff on his jaw but I can still see how his dimples pop. Waiting for him to say something, I feel my heart thudding heavily against my ribs. This little scenario is not going to help with the X-rated dreams of Trig that I have every night.

  Shouts and cheers echo against the walls as the boys start a wrestling match. Thomas loses interest in Trig and me and wanders off to join in the fun.

  We’re left alone and the air between us sparks with energy. Tension stretches out and I can’t help the urge to fill the silence. I shouldn’t flirt with him. I shouldn’t. But I can’t resist.

  “Are you…?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Going to gobble me up?”

  He mulls it over before answering. “I don’t know. You’re probably just gristle.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Oh?” His eyes darken. His gaze drifts over my face, lingering on my mouth. “Gobble you up, princess?”

  “I could show you where to start.”

  His eyes widen and I think that I’ve managed to shock him. Well, serves him right. He just smacked me on the ass.

  He presses his lips together and shakes his head. His tone softens. “You tell other men things like that?”

  His muscles tighten and flex, like he’s fighting for control. Is he jealous? My heart thrills at the idea. Trig jealous of another man… Trig wanting me all for himself. Arousal steals through my body. I don’t answer right away just to provoke him a little. “Just you.”