Page 6 of Kandie Shoppe

Those boys may have hit me with their beers, making me fall in a ditch, but it’s Ulysses’ words that cut me deep. He’s always known how to hurt me best. Good thing I learned a long time ago how to get my lick back.

“You mean like your mammy? She still dancing naked in the yard on Friday nights? Maybe you should go on home and check on her.” I make sure to knock his arm as I shove past him.

“Ow,” I cry when his strong fingers clamp around my wrist.

I swing around, ready to tear up the unscarred side of his beautiful face, when I see the flash of pain. Maybe that’s why I do it. Maybe it’s the pain in my body coalescing with the hurt his words cause. I don’t know and I don’t give one damn. Instead of dragging my nails across his face, I clamp onto his thick neck, clasping a clutch of his thick platinum blond hair in my hand, dragging him down to my level. I attack him like I planned, but only with my lips. I cover his mouth with mine, spearing my tongue. He freezes for all of two seconds before his cruel mouth softens. Though I’m the initiator, he soon becomes the commander.

His tongue meets mine. We tangle, we fight, we savor. Goodness, this man can kiss. His lips slant over mine. His tongue is a temptation. Lips making good on every promise they make. He delves into my mouth on a mission to tempt and I’m helpless to resist. I suck on his tongue like I long to do to other parts of his body. How can his words be so hard and his mouth be so soft?

Pain eventually rears its head. How did I end up with my legs wrapped around his lean waist? How did he end up cupping my bottom and holding me against his hard body and pressed against his even harder length?

Pulling back, I look into glacial pools of blue ice.

“What the fuck happened to you, wildcat?” he asks gruffly, his eyes doing a quick inventory of my raggedy state.

“Put me down, U,” I demand, squirming as much as the pain will allow. I don’t like him looking at me too closely. He sees too much as it is. “You haven’t bothered with me since you came back here over a year ago. Don’t start getting curious now.”

Eyes narrowing, he pivots, turning back to his truck, ignoring my silent struggles.

Opening the door, he puts me in the front seat and slams the door closed hard enough to make my already aching head bloom with more pain.

Gaze unwavering, he strides around to the driver’s side, getting in. “Who did this to you?” The question is cold, deadly.

“Let me out.” Gritting, I look at the hard, unmarred side of his face. No one knows how he got the scars on the other side of his face. One looks like a starburst from the left corner of his eye, then a second running diagonally from his temple to just above his lip.

“Kandie Love, you’re under arrest for public intoxication and assaulting an officer.”

I sit up at his words.

“What?” Bristling, I grab the door handle.

“I’ll add escape to it as well if you don’t sit your tail down,” he grounds out with menace.

“Dirty ass cop.” I cross my arms, looking away from him out into the dark of the night.

Stony silence meets my accusation. “You’re abusing your authority,” I accuse, hating that my voice sounds like I’m choking on a sob.

“And you are impeding an investigation. The fuck you kissing me for when you’ve obviously been assaulted?” he seethes. The look he flashes me is so enraged I pull myself tight into the corner.

I can’t hold his stare. I turn to look out the window again. I can’t take the look in his eyes. The street blurs before me as I barely notice the direction he’s taking.

Surprisingly, it’s not the county jail he stops in front of. It’s not the front of any building. It’s the rear of my bakery.

Silent as a wraith, he turns the car off, comes around to my side, snatching the door open and me into his arms bridal fashion. He takes the back two flights of stairs like they are nothing.

“Keys,” he demands, stopping at my door, clearly indicating by his demeanor any hesitation or lip from me will have him taking me back down those stairs and straight to jail.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I hand them to him with steadier than I expect fingers.

Taking them in his firm grasp, he unlocks my door and shoves it open. Pausing for a moment, he seems to take in the layout of my loft, his eyes resting with incredulity on my bed — a dark fantasy dream come true. Kicking the door closed, he takes in the room for all of three seconds before taking me over to the dais my bed sits on and laying me against the pillows. He pulls off my cowgirl boots, sitting them beside the bed.

“I’m dirty.” Muttering, I lurch forward, not wanting to make my bed filthy with all the grime and grass stains from my clothes, knowing it’s already going to be hell trying to get them out of my shorts. My cute little top is beyond help. I’ll make sure to say some words over it before I add it to the trash heap. It didwhat it needed to do, making me look cute tonight at The Shack while I honored Kerania. It deserved better.

“Uh-uh.” Strong hands belying their strength, gently push me back against the stacked pillows running along my huge mandala headboard I found on Esty. “You can barely stand. Tell me you have a first aid kit around here.” Taking a skeptical look at my sparse but comfortable loft, he turns back to me and waits.

Too tired to fight with him, I nod to the back left of the apartment. “In the bathroom, under the cabinet.”

Giving me a quick nod, he heads that way. Watching him leave, I push down the weakness that makes me wonder what he thinks of my place, my bakery, even me. Dang it, I shouldn’t care one bit what Ulysses thinks of me. I’m proud of myself, what I did all on my own. Not that family didn’t want to help, but after losing my whole family, for a long time I had a lot of anger towards everyone. Still, I managed to see my way through to opening this bakery and becoming a business owner. The five-k grand prize for the Shelby-Love county fair bake-off I won was enough for me to open the doors, throw some paint up, and get some of the equipment to start The Kandie Shoppe.

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