Angela was sitting at the desk in the main office going through some paperwork when her cell phone rang, loud and obnoxious in the dead silence of the funeral home. Sighing, she prayed it wasn't the hospital asking for a pick up. "Angela Ruiz, how can I help you?" she asked flatly.
"Don't sound so excited," Juice's voice came over the other line.
She smiled, relaxing back into the chair. "Sorry, I thought it'd be someone trying to get me to work."
"Nah," he replied on a chuckle. "Just wanted to know if you wanted to get some lunch or somethin'. I'm hungry."
At the mention of food, her stomach gurgled. "Sounds good," she agreed, drawing a skull on the edge of her notepad as they talked. "Where do you want me to meet you?"
"I can pick you up. No big," he replied easily. "I'll be there in fifteen."
Her stomach did a flip flop at the thought of riding with him on his motorcycle. She'd been on her fair share of motorcycle rides and knew the intimacy that riding on the back of one entailed. A thrill went through her at the idea of being wrapped around him, clinging to him as he rode through the streets. "All right. See you then," she replied, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.
As soon as she hung up the phone, she ran up the steps to her apartment, taking them two at a time wondering how the hell she was going to get ready so fast. Thankfully, she'd showered that morning, but she'd just pulled her hair back in a lazy braid instead of taking the time to dry and style it. Taking it out, she grimaced at the crazy waves left behind, but left them that way, deciding she should get dressed before she messed with her hair any more. Kicking off her slacks, she put on her favorite pair of ripped jeans before pulling on a pair of black boots. She took off her fancy blouse, leaving behind the simple black wife beater she was wearing underneath it. The lace of her blue bra peeked out over the neckline and she grimaced, about to change when she heard the motorcycle pull up. "Shit," she muttered to herself. Maybe he won't notice, she thought, raking her hand through her hair once more and tying it in a lose ponytail at the nape of her neck before running down the steps and out the door.
He was leaning against his motorcycle looking all kinds of sexy in his dark jeans, white shirt, and cut. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes so she couldn't tell where he was looking, however the naughty grin on his face gave him away. Oh yeah, he'd noticed. "Hey Angel," he greeted on an up nod.
"Hey you," she replied heading over to him.
"You hungry?" he asked, setting his extra helmet on her head when she was close enough. She smiled when he did up the chin strap for her as if she couldn't do it herself, his calloused fingers lingering on her skin for a minute before he pulled away. "I know a good deli."
Angela nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds perfect."
"Hop on." He swung a leg over his Dyna and patted the seat behind him. "You ever ride before?"
She shrugged a shoulder. "Once or twice."
"Get on then."
She swung a leg over the motorcycle, sliding her arms around his middle as she settled into the seat. She let out a squeak of surprise when he grabbed her wrists and pulled her in closer. "I don't bite," he assured her. "Hard."
She laughed as she gave him a quick squeeze. "I don't mind," she shouted as the motorcycle roared to life.
Juice could feel the vibrations of her laugh against his back and smirked; he liked this girl. As he left the lot of the funeral home, he rode at break neck speed, trying to impress her. She clung to him tightly, her face pressed against his back, thighs pushing up on his own as she slid closer to him. It was a short ride to the small Italian deli, too short in Juice's opinion. He wouldn't mind having Angela pressed up against him like that all day if it was possible.
As they walked into the deli, Angela glanced around at the simple décor. It was a quaint little place with a small mural of the Italian country side and the smell of freshly baked bread hanging in the air. When she'd first moved there, she would've given anything to have a Subway nearby, but as she got used to the quaint little town, she liked the absence of the commercial chains. Plus, she was willing to bet a sandwich from this little deli was going to be a hundred times better than one from Subway.
After ordering, Juice slid into the booth across from her, sitting sideways his back to the wall, feet propped up on the seat in front of him. His long fingers played with the plastic number marker absentmindedly as they waited for their sandwiches. "So...where you from?" he asked, his tone hinting that he knew it was an obnoxious question.
"Really?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. "I'm surprised you haven't done your intelligence officer job and searched my files."
He raised a shoulder indifferently. "Haven't gotten around to it yet."
"Hacker," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him. "Ask me a better question," she demanded, sliding the salt shaker back and forth between her hands.
"This dead people thing...how does a hot girl like you get into it?"
Angela felt her stomach do a little flip. He'd just called her hot. No, it wasn't as nice as him calling her 'beautiful', but she'd take it. "Dead people are easier to deal with than live ones," she answered simply. At his unsatisfied look, she sighed. "I always wanted to be a make-up artist, but it's a hard field to get into. My cousin actually pushed me into the whole undertaking thing. He gave me the pamphlet for this school in Tacoma, told me he thought I'd be good at it. I rolled with it to make him happy, but I never planned on actually going. I applied, got in, but I wasn't going to go. Then the asshole comes in and pretty much forced me to go."
He looked her over, noticing just the slightest hints of make up on her face; a little eyeliner, a spot of lip gloss, nothing too crazy. Not like other make-up artist he'd seen. "But at least you like it."
"Yeah, guess so." She nodded in response. He was right, it could've been worse. She could be doing something she hated. "So how'd you get into this motorcycle club?" she asked, already ready with her own question.
Juice smiled, shrugging a shoulder. "Came over from New York. The Sons needed help with something, I helped them. They liked me, I prospected for a year and then got in," he explained, keeping the details vague on purpose.
"New York, huh?"
"I thought we weren't going into origins," he teased, murmuring a thank you to the waiter as he set their food in front of them. He didn't miss the way the man's eyes had lingered on Angela's chest. A strong protective urge rose up in him, but he beat it back. Angela was not his girl. He had no right to smack the guy for looking.
"We're not, we're not," she said, holding up her hands in defeat. "Gratzie," she told the waiter before he left.
Juice raised an eyebrow. "How many languages do you know?"
"Just two fluently; English and Spanish. I just know that one Italian word," she replied on a smirk, taking a bite of her sandwich. "What about you?"
"Just the one. My Ma never taught me Spanish like all the other PRs in my neighborhood."
"Bet she never called you Juice either."
"Nah, Juan Carlos," he answered, speaking with his mouth full.
"Do I want to know how you got Juice from that?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you really don't."
Angela laughed, wondering what the story was behind it, but not wanting to push. They spent the rest of their lunch asking each other random questions; keeping away from the personal ones. By the time Juice had finished with his sandwich, she'd only gotten through half of hers.
He didn't bother asking her if he could eat the rest. Instead, he just picked up the sandwich and started in on it. "I wasn't done with that," she said, scowling slightly.
"Want it back?" he asked, opening his mouth to show her the chewed up bite. She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head in disgust. He swallowed his mouthful before shrugging and handing her the sandwich back. "Just wanted a taste."
"Go ahead and finish it," she offered, pushing it towards him. "I'm stuffed."
He gave her a big grin as he grabbed the remaining part of her sandwich. "Thank you," he said before taking another bite. "What are your plans for later tonight?"
She ran her finger over the rim of her glass as she shrugged. "Watch a movie, play some video games. Nothing crazy. What are your plans? A wild party with tons of blondes and badass bikers?"
"Not tonight," he said, polishing off the sandwich and licking his fingers. "I'm drivin' to Nevada to...visit some friends."
"That's a long ass drive."
"I got one of my brother's keepin' me company," he answered on a shrug. "Maybe I'll call you up and bug you if he falls asleep."
"You better not," she said, fixing him with a glare. "I like sleeping, thank you very much. If you want to hang out before then, though, I bet I can kick your ass at Mario Kart."
He nodded enthusiastically, his competitive side kicking in. "Oh you're on."
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Juice couldn't help but admire the view of Angela's round ass in her tight jeans as she got down on all fours to plug in her classic Nintendo 64. When she said she had Mario Kart, he'd been expecting her to have downloaded it onto a X-box or something. He hadn't seen a real N64 in years. "How old is that thing anyway?" he teased, nodding towards the obviously well loved game console. He took a seat on the floor, his back against the brown leather couch. "Shouldn't you update to something better?"
She scowled at him as she blew on the game cartridge before pushing it into the slot. "It's a classic," she defended, handing him a green controller while taking the red one for herself. She sat down on the floor next to him. "Plus, you need money to update and blowing a few grand on a new system and games isn't really in my budget."
"Fair enough," he said on a chuckle. He watched as she scrolled through the characters, finally choosing Toad. "Toad. You're choosing Toad. You might as well just give me the win!" he teased as he selected Bowzer.
"Say what you want but lightweight characters are easier to maneuver than the heavyweight ones. Better acceleration too," she said as she worked on selecting a course.
He looked at her with smirk, a little turned on by her nerdy, gamer talk. Not only was she smokin' hot, she knew her way around video games too. "You're a nerd, aren't you? A closet nerd who spends her nights looking up Mario Kart stats. I bet you looked up cheats too, huh?"
She scowled at him, shaking her head. "Cheats are for quitters," she said, selecting one of the easier courses.
"Amen to that," Juice agreed with a nod. Fingers ready as the numbers on the screen counted down.
Juice let her win the first race, just playing lazily and taking time to watch her as she played. Again, his eyes were drawn to her hands, noting the graceful way her fingers slid over the controller's buttons and joystick. More dirty images of her hands all over his body invaded his thoughts making it very hard to focus on the game.
"Stop creepin' and play the game Juice," she said, a small smirk on her lips.
"I'm not," he denied, shaking his head. He sat up a little straighter, doing his best to push his dirty thoughts out of his head. "I'll get you on this one."
She snorted derisively. "Not likely. I'm pickin' Rainbow Road."
"Joke's on you, that's my best level," he said cockily.
"Oh yeah, you like rainbows?" she teased, smiling when he scowled at her innuendo.
"Just shut up and start the race," he replied, fingers ready, eyes glued to the screen.
But she still won. By a lot. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, glancing over to find a wicked smile on her face.
"I thought that was your best level?"
"Are you cheating?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
"No!" she proclaimed, trying to keep the grin off her face. She had learned one small trick on that specific track that saved her a hell of a lot of time, but she wasn't going to admit that to him.
He lunged for her controller. "Did you mess with the controller?" he asked, trying to grab it. His ringed fingers brushed against her stomach as he reached, making her jerk underneath him, a giggle escaping her lips. He grinned sneakily, he'd found a ticklish spot. Moving his fingers against her skin, he enjoyed the sound of her laughter as it filled the room.
"Stop! Stop!" she shouted, writhing around on the floor as he tickled her. His fingers slipped under her shirt for better access. "Juice!" she squealed, trying to get away from him.
Her warm skin felt like heaven against his fingers. It took all of his self-control to back off when all he wanted to do was get her naked, so he could touch more of her. He did stop, though, looming over her, his weight supported on his hands as he looked down at her. Her dark eyes glittered in the lamplight, doing things to his heart he wasn't used to. "You're a cheater," he accused, making no move to back off of her.
She started to sit up, and he backed off just a little. Her face was close enough to his, he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. "Am not," she replied, breathlessly.
His eyes darted to her chest quickly before they settled on her lips. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to kiss her so badly. She looked beautiful with her cheeks all flushed and happy. Her tongue darted out across her lips, and that was the end of his self control. He leaned forward to kiss her, his heart beating fast with excitement, and then his phone went off. "Shit," he breathed, pulling back farther and checking the time on his phone. He was late for his meet up with Tig; he was going to kill him. "Shit, I'm late."
He pushed himself off of her and stood before extending a hand to her up. She took it, a sound of surprise escaping her lips as he pulled her to her feet. Once again, he found himself dangerously close to her. Her lips parted in anticipation, her hand coming to rest over the patches of his cut as she leaned into him. He dipped his head down, ready for the kiss. And then his phone rang again.
"Shit, all right, fine," he muttered to his phone on a frowning. "I got to go but I'll see you when I get back. If you want. I don't know."
"Yeah, definitely," she answered, nodding her head enthusiastically as she walked him to the door that led to the outside instead of the parlor.
He paused there wishing he had some smooth line to say to make her laugh. "Yeah, cool," he blurted out instead.
Smiling, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Have a safe trip, Juice."
Juice scratched at his neck nervously as he backpedaled out the door, his cheek tingling in the spot where she'd kissed him. "Yeah, thanks," he managed to get out as he turned, heading down the steps towards his bike. He turned around to look back at the house, surprised to find Angela leaning against the stair railing, watching him. She waved goodbye to him, a sexy smile on her face that made his heart sputtered. He waved back awkwardly, breaking his eyes away from her to swing his leg over his bike. He revved it loudly, trying to impress her before riding off into the night.
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Juice took his eyes off of the road to look at Tig. The older man had his head tilted against the truck's window, eyes closed, breathing deeply. The asshole had fallen asleep on him. He knew better than to wake him, though. He'd already gotten the man mauled, letting him sleep for another hour wasn't going to kill anyone. Digging through his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and flicked through the address book, stopping on her name and hitting the send button. He didn't expect her to answer. In fact, he figured she'd take one look and reject the call, but he had to try; she'd been on his mind all night. She did answer though, on the last ring.
"I swear I told you not to call me," Angela's voice came over the phone, slow and sleepy.
"You didn't have to pick up," he shot back, smiling to himself when he heard her yawn. "Tig fell asleep. I have like an hour to go. Humor me."
"Should you really be talking on the phone while driving?"
"Better than sleeping and driving."
"Mmm," she hummed tiredly. "Why don't you wake up your friend?"
Juice sighed, wondering how much of the story he should go into. "Do you know what happens when you give a dog crank?"
"Crank as in meth?"
Juice nodded shortly. "Yeah."
"I'm thinkin' it'd go insane. Meth being an upper and all..." she trailed off before yawning again.
"How the hell do you know that?"
Her sleepy laugh did weird things to his heart. He could picture her lying on her side, phone placed lazily between her ear and the pillow, brown hair spilling all over the place. "You gave a dog meth, didn't you?" she asked rather than answer his question.
"Two grams! I thought it'd overdose or somethin'!"
"Goof," she murmured sleepily. "Did you get your ass bit?"
Juice smirked as he looked over at the awkward way Tig was sitting. "I didn't. Tig wasn't so lucky."
"Poor guy."
He chuckled in response, leaning back in his seat, comforted by the warm tone to her voice. "You going to the fundraiser this weekend? We should go together," he suggested, excited at the prospect of exposing her to a club event even if it was just a small one.
"Sounds good to me," she said, a smile evident in her voice. "Skeeter's been excited for some lady's chili all week."
Juice didn't blame the man; Gemma's chili was legendary in Charming. "Gemma's chili is the best."
"Mmm," she muttered sleepily.
He could see the sun just breaking over the horizon and yawned himself. "You see the sunrise?"
"I'm trying not to."
"It's nice. You should get up and take a look, lazy ass."
"No thank you," she said on a sigh. "I'll have you know my bed is the warmest, coziest bed in the whole world."
"I'll have to try it out some time," he replied, smiling when she laughed in response.
"Maybe sometime," she agreed around another yawn.
Juice liked that answer. It was almost a way of saying that she wouldn't mind him at all in her bed. He knew he wouldn't mind being pressed up against her in her bed...on the couch...in the kitchen....wherever. "I'll let you get back to sleep, Angel."
"You're not gonna crash, are you?"
His head was swimming with more than one scenario of him and her together. He was pretty sure he could make it the hour and a half they had left without falling asleep if he kept picturing her in his arms, her body pressed against his. "Nah, I'll be fine. Night baby." Maybe it was his lack of sleep that made the endearment slip out. He certainly would never have said it to her otherwise, but it slipped out too fast for him to take it back.
He expected her to freak out, call him on it. Instead, that sleepy laugh filled his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Her response was whispered in a rough, sexy voice. "Night, goof."