All I Want for Halloween Read online

  “I know what I’m doing. Besides, she doesn’t want a relationship, and neither do I. What’s wrong with me enjoying a woman’s company for no other reason than fun?”

  “Not a thing,” Thor said over her spluttered protest. He shot her a look to keep quiet, so she did.

  After Gear left an hour later, she turned to Thor and punched him in the arm.

  “Ow. How is that enlightened behavior? That’s not very positive, Iris.”

  “Shut up. How can you stand by and watch as he ruins his life all over again?”

  Thor shrugged. “It’s his life. And I don’t think he’s ruining anything. Look, the show is over for him. He knows that and still has to come to grips with what that means. Public sentiment is against him. As much as Gear has never cared what people think of him, it can’t be easy to have strangers paint you as the villain all the time. If this woman makes him happy, who is she hurting?”

  “Well, I don’t trust her.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get hurt again.”

  Thor sighed. “And just how will you do that?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Of course you do.” After helping with the dishes, Thor hugged her goodbye.

  Iris took out her favorite set of tarot cards, her own design. She did a reading for her brother, nonplussed at the results. So was he going to be blessed or cursed? Right now, the future didn’t seem so certain. Change featured prominently in his future, something she already knew.

  But one thing was for certain—Iris would move heaven and earth to keep her big brother’s heart safe from being crushed. And heaven help anyone who stood in her way.

  Chapter 5

  Wednesday night, Gear waited for Sadie to arrive, happier than he could say that she’d accepted his invitation. Astounded to find photographers outside his house in West Seattle, he’d arranged instead to meet at his parents’ place in Ballard. He couldn’t believe anyone considered him newsworthy. Even at the height of Madnezz, he’d thought people nuts for constantly commenting on what he wore to work or how long his beard had gotten. Who the hell cared? He created custom bikes for a living.

  After he’d gotten used to the money from each episode, he hadn’t minded the media attention so much. Paid sponsorships for clothing lines and his personal brand on a bike? Nice. Now, the only things he would take away from his time with Madnezz, courtesy of his expensive lawyer, were his paid-for house and his shares in the garage, provided the network settled on their last compromise. The garage, his designs, the clients—they would all belong to the network. And yeah, he was an asshole for signing his rights away and not getting a lawyer to oversee the initial contract. His own fault for listening to Otis that once.

  “Lawyers are scum-sucking sacks, boy. You know what you want. Why pay some rich asshole to tell you what you already know?”

  “Great advice, Dad,” he mumbled. He’d put aside some money for his future, for those rainy days when his finances took a hit.

  It had been raining over his head for some time. He had a feeling he’d need to use up most of his savings to start anew, and that bugged the shit out of him. Why should Sahara and Brian use the foundation he’d laid to get rich while he had to walk away from his brand, his merchandise, hell, his fucking garage?

  He’d miss the mechanics, Smoke most of all. But he’d be damned if he’d beg to stay or try to convince the guys he hadn’t been lying and stealing from the show. If they didn’t know his character after years of working side by side, they never would.

  His mood started to sour, so he forced himself to relax and check the place out, something to occupy his mind until Sadie arrived.

  He’d changed the sheets in the spare room he normally used when he stayed over. Condoms in the drawer, a few lit candles for the mood. His mother was a fanatic about cleanliness, living with Otis. So he understood how she’d gone off the deep end. He had no worries about cleaning up the rest of the house. With Otis and Orchid visiting distant cousins in Spokane for the week, he had the place to himself.

  The place…and Sadie Liberato. Man. Talk about a hot piece of ass. Amused that she’d probably consider that a compliment and not some affront to womanhood, he figured to mention that to her after he got her naked. Because, just…damn. The woman was a work of art.

  Gear didn’t have a type when it came to women. Or maybe he did, because the last few he’d dated, even before Sahara, had wanted a man to take care of them. He’d liked being the big, strong type. Until all the neediness had worn thin. But Sadie didn’t seem to have a needy or meek bone in her body.

  Shit. They’d fucked at a party where anyone could have come upon them. She hadn’t been ashamed, sorry, or weird about it afterward. She guzzled beer, didn’t sugarcoat her opinions, and openly admitted to a fondness for pizza and burgers.

  He was half in love with her already, and that wasn’t counting their intense physical connection. Because, day-um, just thinking about how hard she made him, how powerfully she could kiss, or how hot and tight her pussy had been had him ready to go right now.

  He groaned and tried to relax, wishing he hadn’t worn jeans because he could feel his zipper making an impression on his dick. He’d been in lust countless times in his life. He liked to fuck. But he didn’t turn into walking wood from one encounter with a chick. Because every time he thought about Sadie, he first remembered her dark-green eyes looking mean. Then he recalled her snug fit around him, those long, muscular legs and tight biceps. The woman had tone, and he loved it.

  Swearing under his breath, he tried to ease his jeans from his cock and wondered if he had time to jerk off before she arrived. So at least he’d look like less of a desperate fool with a constant hard-on.

  The doorbell rang.

  He counted to ten, thought about his mother, his father, Thor’s foray into bisexuality. Then he thought about Sahara and Brian going at it in his own damn bed. And he lost his hard-on.

  He answered the door. “Yo.” Real smooth, Gear.

  She frowned at him, and his erection returned full force. He swallowed a groan.

  “I’ve been waiting here for like ten minutes.”

  “Try ten seconds.”

  “Yeah, well, let me in.”

  Charm was not her middle name. And he liked her all the more for it. He stepped back, and she walked past him. He caught a whiff of sugar and cherries.

  “You smell good.”

  “I smell like bear claws, but yeah, I agree. I smell good.” She grinned.

  She’d kept her hair down long, the brown so dark it looked black. She’d worn little to no makeup, and her fresh look only enhanced her blatant sexuality. Sadie Liberato wasn’t pretty, to tell the truth. But she was fascinating, intriguing, and more than attractive. Harsh yet soft, with a full mouth made for kissing. And with any luck, sucking.

  He groaned.

  “You okay?”

  “Dirty thoughts, but they’ll keep.” He took her jacket, a bright-pink outdoors coat. “Pink?”

  He caught her glancing at his crotch and saw her smirk. Not offended by his arousal—good.

  “I like pink. I like brown and green too. And guess what else? I’m hungry. Where’s the food? Or was that just an excuse to bend me over the couch and do me?”

  He choked, not having expected that image to knock him for a loop, but why she should surprise him, he didn’t know. Sadie was unlike most women he’d dated. Blunt and raw, she didn’t seem to play games. Then again, Sahara hadn’t seemed like such a deceitful witch at first either…

  “You okay?” She sighed. “I’m being too me, aren’t I?”

  “Nope. Not yet, anyway.” He smiled and took her by the arm, dragging her to the kitchen.

  “Nice place.”

  He laughed. “That’s kind of you. But it’s not mine. The incense,
altar, and Buddha statues belong to my mother. And you can put all the manly biker art and animal sculptures and paintings on my dad’s shoulders. I’m a simple guy. My parents like clutter. It’s clean, but it’s busy.”

  “Ah, yeah, it is. But it’s charming.” She smiled, and he liked that she meant it.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’ll have water, actually.”

  “No beer?” He took one for himself after filling her glass.

  She swallowed down half, then said, “It was hot in the kitchen today. Heater problem. We’re calling in the furnace guys tomorrow. In the meantime, I got seriously dehydrated.”

  “You okay?” He frowned.

  “Oh yeah. I try to make sure I get eight glasses a day. Otherwise I get burned out faster at the gym.”

  He leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched her. “You work out a lot, huh?”

  “I like it. It keeps me sane.”

  “Keeps you looking amazing too.” He gave her a thorough once-over and smiled.

  “I do have a nice ass.” She turned to show him, no embarrassment whatsoever. “My glutes are like rocks, thanks to a ton of squats.” She turned back around and drained her water. “I like physical activity.” She frowned. “That’s pretty much all I do for fun, I guess. According to Elliot, I need to get a life.”

  “Yeah, I hear that from my brother and sister too. All I do is work. The gym is a close second, I guess.”

  “Sahara a third?”

  “Yep. Or at least she was a third. What can I say? I love what I do. Did.” Hell, there went his good mood.

  “You can vent over dinner. Is that pizza I smell?” She batted her eyelashes at him, and that easily, he laughed.

  “Supreme, minus the onions.” He waggled his brows. “Can’t be kissing you smelling like onions.”

  “Please, no. One thing I’m sensitive to is smells.” She leaned in and sniffed at his collar, and his entire body tightened up. “You smell good.”

  “Yeah?” He cleared his throat, glad she stepped back so he didn’t grab her, showing her he really was the Neanderthal he’d been accused of being. “What do I smell like?”

  “Hmm. Soap, sandalwood, and a hint of lemon.”

  “Not bad. The soap had sandalwood. The lemon is from the lemonade that spilled over the counter earlier.” He grabbed two plates and handed her one. “Pizza from my favorite place. Leo makes a killer pie.”

  “My father would agree. He’s Italian on my grandma’s side, Sicilian on my grandpa’s. Me? I’m a half breed. My mom was a mutt. I think I even have some Scottish somewhere in my family tree.”

  “Don’t look at me being a purebred.” Gear took two slices for himself and motioned for her to join him at the kitchen table. He pushed the bowl of organic fruit aside, then plunked the pizza box in the center of the table and sat. “I’m Irish, German, Russian, Native American, and Romani. Try saying gypsy to my mother and watch her throw a shit fit.”

  “Ah, more PC for you to deal with. How tragic.”

  “You don’t sound sincere. I wonder why.” He wolfed down his piece in seconds, surprised to find himself so hungry when he hadn’t been able to eat all day, thinking about Sadie.

  “Hey, I live unfiltered. Supposedly why I have so many friends.” She didn’t sound upset over her sarcasm, and her smile made everything inside him buzz with excitement. Which was nice but weird. He wanted to have sex with her in the worst way. But liking her this much, it was as if he wanted something more. Which she’d straight up told him she didn’t want. And he certainly didn’t, not after the mess with Sahara still a pain in his ass to deal with. He had to put that behind him and move on.

  Nothing like the present. “I like unfiltered,” he told her. “You’re honest. I haven’t had a lot of that lately.”

  “You picked the wrong friends.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I would, but I’m trying to make a good impression. I don’t get many of those.”

  “Ha.” He grabbed another beer and refilled her water.

  “Thanks.” She sipped and watched him over the brim of her glass. “So what’s the deal? How did you get bamboozled by your best friend?”

  He finished his third slice, pleased to see her enjoying her second. “I’ve always been more into bikes than people. My dad’s an ex-biker.”

  Her eyes widened. “Like from a gang? A Hells Angels type?”

  “Yeah. He was a real thug before he met my mom. Otis and Orchid. The biker and the hippie chick. It’s so weird that they work.” Gear shook his head. “Anyway, my dad got me hooked on bikes and fixing things early on. I love making things work—mechanical things, I mean. I met Brian in elementary school. We weren’t really friends until a few years later, when he started liking bikes, and girls. I never seemed to have a problem getting girls.” Which still surprised him. He’d never had to try all that hard. Then again, look at who he’d attracted.

  “I can see that. You have good bone structure, you’re big, and you’re sexy. Until you talk, that is.”

  “Thanks so much, Sadie.”

  She laughed. “Well, it’s true.”

  “Pot calling kettle, hello.”

  “Hey, I make no bones about being antisocial. I just don’t like people.”

  “Me neither.” He smiled. “Anyway, back to Brian. He was always the more outgoing one. I could get chicks, but he made them want to stick around after fu— Ah, after we’d be together.”

  “You’re not a good lay?”

  “No.” He blushed, feeling stupid. “I’m a great lay, and quit laughing at me.”

  “You are so red right now.”

  “Eat your pizza and shut up.” That she did, her eyes sparkling, eased his worry he’d somehow offend her, the way he always seemed to offend women until they got to know him. “No, I’d fuck their brains out. Then they’d expect me to be as sensitive in real life as I am in the sack. In bed, I know how to please. Out of bed, I don’t have time for games or pretty talk.”

  “Gotcha. I’ve been warned.”

  He glared at her, and she tried to hide a grin. “So Brian and I hung out. The girls stuck around because he’s funny and fun and a bunch of things I’m not. The guys hung around because I talk bikes and parts and know my shit. And Brian would make it even better, organizing parties, setting up sessions where I’d show the guys how to fix stuff. Fast-forward several years. I have my own shop. Brian is a marketing wiz, and we remained friends.

  “Brian convinces me to send in a taped segment of my own Motorcycle Madnezz. Sahara was my makeup and style person, then somehow became my girlfriend.” Gear scratched his head. “Still not sure how that worked out. But I don’t think I was what she really wanted. After a few years, we got engaged.”

  “Did she get you drunk and force the ring on her finger?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “Brian was always talking her up. It was easier to say yes with her and him pressuring me to make a commitment to help ratings, to be honest.” He pushed up his sleeve. “See this arm, the one that supposedly has a tattoo of Sahara?”

  “No tattoo. Not like your other arm.”

  “She lied about me having one, so I had to have it applied before taping if I wore short sleeves. That’s why I wore long sleeves all the time. Everything Sahara did was about the show. I just wanted to make bikes.”

  “Bummer.” Sadie grabbed his beer and took a sip. “Thanks.”

  “Gee, have some.” He snorted. “More pizza?”

  “I’m stuffed. I can’t believe you’re having more.”

  “What? I’m a big guy. I need to eat.”

  “Not complaining. Go for it. Mind if I grab a beer?”

  “Go ahead.” When she sat again, he asked her, “So how is it you’re single? You can say what you want, but a
guy will go along with anything for a hot chick. And as blunt and mouthy as you are, there’s no denying you’re hot.” He paused, knowing this was the time to insert his compliment. “In fact, you’re one hot piece of ass.”

  Sadie gave him a slow smile. “You’re not just saying that?”

  He laughed. “Trust me. I think that, I don’t say it. The one time I did, I got slapped. But I figure you like honesty, so there it is.” She glowed, and he saw a hint of vulnerability he never would have associated with Sadie. His tough chick didn’t seem to realize her value as an attractive woman. “Come on. You have to know you’re sexy.”

  “To you, but then, you’re weird.”

  “Hmm. Starting to see why you don’t have that many dates.”

  “See?” She nodded, still smiling. “I’m confident in who I am and what I want. Women like Sahara have tried and failed to get me to feel bad about myself. I don’t care if my arms make me seem manly, or the fact that I’m fine with a one-night stand somehow classifies me as a slut. I like sex. Problem is, it’s tough to find great sex. But you…” She looked him over. “You rang my bell Saturday night. I’m curious to find out if that was just luck on your part or the fact it had been a while for me.”

  “Yeah, me too. I was wondering the same thing about you.” He confessed, “I’d been on the outs with Sahara for a while. I mean, we argued all the time. But it was like four months ago that we were last together. Guess I should have clued in that not being with her didn’t bother me at all, and her not bugging me for sex was a sign of something not right.” He sighed. “So did I just ruin the mood talking about my ex? Told you I’m not good unless I’m between sheets.”

  “I’d say you were good up against a wall, so you can add that to your repertoire.” She smiled. “I think it’s time we went into your bedroom and found out. You game?”

  * * *

  Sadie liked Gear. A lot. He’d been blunt and real with her, and he seemed to like her being the same. Most guys wanted flattery, doe eyes, to feel like “the Man” with her. Gear just wanted honesty.