I just wish I could believe that with all my heart, but the fact is, I just don’t. I haven’t known him long enough to know all his secrets and I know nicknames like Hellion aren’t given to guys who always do the right thing.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE knocked on some wood earlier today when I was thinking Mick was all perfect and awesome and totally in love with me. Yeah, right. I am such a fucking idiot sometimes.
It’s eleven o’clock at night and he’s AWOL. He hasn’t returned any of my calls, and a quick trip over to Rebel Wheels reveals that he’s not at work either. Jersey asked for him all night and no amount of reassurances on my part that he’d show up would satisfy him. After he had about two hours’ worth of fits, he finally fell asleep exhausted and in pain. I’m ready to kick some major boyfriend ass.
I tried for hours to keep Teagan out of my mess, but I can’t stand it any longer. I call her number and tap my foot while I wait for her to pick up.
“Yo, ho. What up?”
“Nothing. Do you know where Mick is?”
“Wow, abrupt. Um, no, I don’t know where he is. He’s not with you?”
“No. I expected him all night, but apparently he was too busy.”
“Oh.”
I wait for the rest, but there is no rest.
“Well?” I say, annoyed.
“Well, what?” She’s acting way too innocent.
“You just said ‘Oh’ like there was more to say, but you said nothing after.”
“No, it was just an ‘Oh’. That’s it.”
“Please stop fucking with me Tea. I can’t take it. You know I’m under a lot of stress. Just tell me what’s going on.”
She sighs. “He got called in to work at the club.”
“And you’re just telling me that now?”
“I thought he’d be at your place by now. I didn’t realize it was for all night. Don’t get mad at me.”
“I’m not. I have to go.” I’m about to hang up, but I hear her voice.
“What?”
“I said, don’t go flying off the handle and losing your shit on him, okay? This is all new for him. He needs time.”
“What?” Now I’m pissed. “You think I’m some kind of clingy bitch or something?”
“No, no, not at all. It’s just … Rebel has told me a lot about Mick and his history with DJ Foxx and all that, and I just think that this stuff with you is a bigger commitment than he’s ever made before and he needs to ease into it so it’s not so overwhelming. That’s all. No big deal.”
I can hardly breathe. I inhale and exhale a few times slowly to contain my anger. “DJ Foxx? Do you mean that chick spinning discs at the club?”
“Yes. Mick told you about her, right?”
“Nope.” I want to punch something but the only thing available is air. I swing a few times anyway, but it’s not very satisfying.
“Oh. Well. That sucks that I just said something, then, doesn’t it?”
“Might as well let the cat’s ass out of the bag too while you’re at it.” I sit down on the stairs, waiting for the death blow to my best-ever relationship.
“Listen, it’s no big deal. They just dated for a while and now they’re not.”
“A while? How long is a while?”
“Mmmm. A year maybe?” Her answer is barely a squeak but I hear it loud and clear.
“Gotta go. Talk to you later.” I hang up before she can say anything else. And then I turn my phone off so I can’t talk to anyone for the rest of the night. I hate the world and I really despise Mick right now. All I can see in my head is visions of him and DJ Twatbreath twerking it out on the dance floor. It makes me want to vomit. My heart feels like it’s shattered into a thousand pieces, maybe more.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
I SPEND AN HOUR TRYING to cook up excellent break-up scenes in my mind but nothing is working. Every scenario ends with me having a broken heart and Mick being an ice-cold d-bag. I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to my life as it unfolds behind my back.
It only takes me thirty minutes to get dressed and made up, ready to break some hearts on the dance floor. I hate games. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.
My dad is dead asleep, exhausted from taking care of my mom and Jersey, so I leave a note on the kitchen counter in the house we’re renting and take off. I’m at the club in less than a half hour, walking through the door like I own the place. That’s right, y’all. I got my butt lifters on. Gravity cannot touch my jiggly parts tonight.
The beat is familiar. This DJ Twatmonster or whatever her name is sucks. She just plays the same crap over and over and hopes nobody notices. Well, guess what cooter-breath! I noticed!
I scan the dance floor, the bar, and the empty DJ booth, but I don’t see anyone I recognize. I chew my lip as I consider what my next move should be.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” says a familiar voice.
I turn around and see Mark standing there, the sexy Paco Rabanne magazine model. I can’t help but smile. It’s so nice to see a familiar face when I’m this stressed out. “Hey there, Mark. What’s up?” He and I give each other a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You remembered my name. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Absolutely.” I keep smiling. He’s like a life preserver for me right now.
“Feel like dancing?” he asks.
“Sure. Lead the way.” I allow him to guide me to the floor, and together we find a spot under the flashing lights.
I try to stay interested in what he’s saying about the weather or some stupid shit, but I’m too busy looking around, wondering if coming here was a mistake. Maybe Teagan was wrong. Maybe Mick’s not here. I’m going to feel really stupid if he’s at my house right now waking up my dad. Guilt sneaks in, slithering like snake up my leg. It’s almost made it to my chest, ready to strangle me around my neck when I spot a familiar face.
Grrrr. Asshole alert.
Mick’s in the booth with DJ Fuckface and they’re wrapped around each other way too tightly for my taste. Chest pains. I have seriously bad chest pains.
“Are you okay?” Mark asks, following my gaze up to the booth above us.
“No, not really.” I try to sound bright and in control, but it comes off as slightly insane instead.
“That your boyfriend up there?” he asks.
“Not anymore,” I say, grabbing him by the arms and moving in closer.
Mark takes the hint and smiles. His hands are on my waist when a loud voice comes over the speaker. It’s Mick. I grind my teeth in annoyance.
“Come on, bodies on the dance floor, show us what you got! Touch the ceiling, touch the sky, we’re gonna make you jump tonight!”
Everyone around us starts hopping up and down like a bunch of crack-addicted kangaroos. There’s no way that Mark can hold onto me, and I either have to let the crowd take me with them or risk being battered about the head and shoulders. Boing! Boing! Boing! I jump to keep my skirt from going up without me.
Mick’s voice comes over the loudspeaker again. “And now, let’s do this, swingers! Your partner’s boring! Find another one, on your left! Saaa-wing it!”
The guy to my right suddenly grabs me and swings me around in a big circle. I scream along with about fifty other girls as we’re whirled around the dance floor first by one guy, then another, and then another. I lose Mark in the madness.
I have a brief reprieve while my next partner scrambles kind of off-kilter, trying to grab me, and I use the two seconds of freedom to look up at the DJ booth. Mick is up there staring down at me.
“Asshole!” I scream.
But he can’t hear me. The music is way too loud and the crowd way too rowdy.
I have to get out of here before I kick someone in the junk. I dodge my upcoming dance partner and elbow people out of my way as I struggle to the edge of the dance floor.
Strong arms grab me and I start kicking, until I realize who it is.
“Oh, shit,
Mark! I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he grunts out, setting me down on the ground just off the side of the dance floor. “Just my nuts. Don’t worry about it.” He’s bent over halfway, his hands resting high up on his thighs.
I pat his back, feeling super guilty. He was my rescuer and I nutted him. Damn. Tonight is just not my night. I glance up at the booth and Mick is no longer there. He’s coming.
“Listen, Mark, I have to go. It was nice seeing you again.”
He waves me off without looking up.
I run toward the front door, making it into the warm summer air with a sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body. I’m almost to my father’s car when I hear someone shouting my name.
“Quin! Quinlan! Wait!”
I scramble for my keys. “Fuck you, Mick!” I yell without even looking.
His footsteps slapping on the concrete make me drop my keys on the ground. It’s like one of those horror movies where the girl can’t get the keys in the lock in time and the pressure builds and builds.
“Dammit!” I scream as he pulls up next to me, breathing like he’s just run a mile.
“Where are you going?” he asks, putting his hand on my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” I yell, jerking away.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds clueless, and all that does is make me angrier.
“Nothing! Nothing at all. And now if you don’t mind, I need to go.” I finally get the stupid key in the lock of my father’s ancient Buick, but Mick’s hand on mine stops me from going any further with my escape.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here. Did I do something wrong?”
Tears burn my eyes. I finally look at him, so angry I want to slap him across the face. “Wrong? Only if you consider cheating or lying wrong.”
He holds his hands up and backs away a step. “Whoa, what?”
“You heard me.” My words lack the steel they had earlier. His reaction is not what I was expecting. Denial? Yes. Anger? Yes. But this … this … confused act? No.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” he says. “What did I lie about?”
“You can lie by not saying anything.”
“About …?”
“About your girlfriends. Girls you are with when you’re sleeping with me. I don’t do that whole threesome thing.”
“Threesome thing? Wait … I never asked you or even hinted around about you and me inviting a third party along. What’s up with that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“That girl. DJ whatever. DJ Fluffanutter.”
“DJ Foxx?”
“Yes!” I throw my hands up and let them come down to slap my thighs. “DJ Foxy woman! That girl you dated for like a year!”
He doesn’t answer right away, so I go back to feeling justified.
“We broke up,” he finally says. He’s way calmer than I am.
“When? Just now?” I’m tapping my foot on the ground. I can’t help it. All this nervous energy has to go somewhere, and it’s not going on his dick no matter what he says.
“No, like three weeks ago.”
I pause. “You kissed me before that.”
“Hence the break up.” He has the decency to look embarrassed. “See, I was going to break up with her sooner, but we just kind of kept hanging on for no reason. After you’ve been with someone a while, it gets easier to just stay, you know?”
I shake my head. “No. I do not know.” The truth is I never liked a guy enough to be sad when we broke up. I was always relieved.
“Well, for me, that’s how it was. But then I saw you at the club with Teagan that first time and then I saw you again…” He shrugs.
“What? Am I supposed to believe that you broke up with DJ Snatchypants because you got the hots for me when you first met me? Please.” I roll my eyes. “Ridiculous.”
He moves closer and I back up. My butt runs into the car.
“I didn’t break up with Sheila, which is her real name, just because I saw you. I was already going down that road. But then when you came in and started doing that thing you do, being who you are, I knew I had to be free. Just in case some day I might be able to convince you to go out with me. I didn’t want to be tangled up with her still.”
I’m trying really hard not to be flattered. “And what was that hug I just saw? Up in the booth.” I nod at him. Busted. “Didn’t think I saw that, did ya?”
“Breaking up isn’t easy sometimes. She’s still upset. It was just a hug.”
“Looked pretty hot to me.”
“Not any hotter than your dance with that guy.”
Now it’s my turn to explain. I know this. But I can’t make myself do it. My chin goes up a fraction of an inch.
He puts his hands on my upper arms and moves in closer.
Maybe I’d try to escape his touch if I had any more room to maneuver but the car has me trapped. I’m not that upset about it, though. I like the way he makes me feel. And I cannot deny the honesty I see in his eyes.
“I’m not perfect, not by any means. I drink too much sometimes, I get loud, I start shit, I like to fight every once in a while just for the hell of it … but I like you. I like your family. I mean … I love you guys, you know?”
I swallow the lump that appears suddenly in my throat. “You just said the L-word.”
“Yeah, I kind of did, didn’t I?” His smile could not be more sweet or more charming than it is right now.
“You have really bad taste, you know that?”
“Why would you say that?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow. “You know we’re a bunch of irresponsible assholes who light shit on fire and lick cat turds when no one’s looking, right?”
“Sounds like a house full of hellions.”
I snort. “You got that right.”
“Seems like I could fit right in.”
The ice surrounding my heart is melting fast. “Maybe. If you play your cards right.”
“How about I start by making sweet, sweet love to you in the back seat of that hot Buick of yours?”
I burst out laughing and he joins me a half-second later.
“Is that a no?” he asks.
I’m holding my stomach it hurts so much. I hang onto his arm for support. “Stop. Seriously. It’s killing me.”
He puts his arm around me and pulls me towards the club by his side. “Fine. If you won’t let me make sweet, sweet love to you in the back seat, at least come dance with me.”
“Can I twerk it out on your junk?” I say when I can talk properly again.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Will you foam finger me?”
He smiles. “If that’ll make you happy.”
I swing around and jump up into his arms, straddling his hips. “I accept.”
He pushes his lips into mine and gives me a dizzying kiss as he keeps walking.
I’m happy to stay in this position for another hour, but apparently he has other things on his mind.
“Move in with me,” he says against my mouth.
Right out of the blue. Bam. Lightning hits me dead in the chest.
I freeze as his words sink in and his walk slows to a stop. My legs slide down from his waist slowly and my feet touch the ground.
“What?” My heart is doing gymnastics in my chest. I’m not sure I heard him right. I want to think I did, but it’s just too ridiculous to believe.
“Let’s just do it. Let’s just move in together.” He’s smiling. He sounds really happy and wild and ridiculous. “It would be so much fun.”
I laugh for a second and then stop when I see his expression. “Fun? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Move in with me. I’m going to take Rebel’s old place when he and Teagan move out and you could be there with me. I’ll pay the rent. You can just be there and do your thing.”
It takes a while for the words swimming around in my head to come out. “That’s me and you, li
ke, twenty-four seven, Mick.” My ears are hot, and a ringing, buzzing sound will not go away. I think I’m about to explode.
“Yeah. Twenty-four seven. You and me.” He pulls me to him tighter as he stares down into my eyes.
I feel like crying with happiness, confusion, and fear, all at the same time. No one has ever asked me to move in with them before. I’ve always been the one asking and getting rejected. “I … I … I don’t know what to say.” So many things are rushing through my mind. My parents. Jersey. School. Teagan. Alissa, even. Responsibilities, duties, demands on my time and my life.
“Just say yes.”
His words are so simple, his smile so beautiful. And that face of his. Oh, God…
I give myself a mental shake. Fuck all that other stuff. I adore this guy. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him twenty-four seven, especially when we fit together so well? It’s not like I’m going to disappear off the face of the earth just because I live at a different address.
“Okay, yes. I’ll move in with you.”
He picks me up and spins me around until I’m dizzy. And just like that I fall in love with a Hellion.
EPILOGUE NOTES
Want to know what happens with the lawsuit against Teagan’s evil step-mother? With Jersey and Quin’s mom? With Alissa’s pregnancy? Curious about whether true love waits for Rebel’s brother, Trouble or maybe even Rat? I sure hope so!
Look for resolutions to all of these issues in the remaining novel of the REBEL series. Book 3 TROUBLE will be published December 31, 2013 or sooner. Join my mailing list to get an announcement on the day it goes live!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elle Casey is a prolific, New York Times and USA Today bestselling American author who lives in Southern France with her husband (who sometimes wears a kilt), three kids (who never stop moving), Hercules the wonder poodle (who sleeps next to her side for every word typed), Monie the bouvier (who also never stops moving), and a few other furry creatures (don’t ask). Her favorite things are red wine, pretty much anything with sugar in it, and sexy books. If she has all three around her at the same time, please do not disturb … the writer is busy creating. In her spare time she writes new adult and young adult novels (you can find her Women’s Fiction work under the pen name Kat Lee.) She publishes about one novel per month and has been accused of being a cyborg for her ability to consistently turn out captivating stories with characters that stay in readers’ heads long after the book is closed. She neither confirms nor denies this accusation.