Bad Apple (The Uncertain Saints MC #4) Read online

  My eyes looked around the spread he and his father had, and I found that I quite liked it.

  It was beautiful and peaceful, even if it did smell like a farm.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “At one point, I was so used to living in the desert, the thought of a tiny one-bedroom cracker box in California seemed large. Now this…this is paradise compared to both of the last two living situations I had.”

  I smiled and walked toward a fence where a white donkey with a splash of brown sat, rubbing his head on a fence post.

  “Does he bite?” I looked over at him.

  He shook his head.

  “No,” he denied. “Donkey doesn’t much like people, though. So don’t get too close.”

  “You named your donkey, Donkey?”

  He shrugged.

  “Once you start having the amount of farm animals that we do, names become irrelevant,” he added as he walked up beside me.

  I could feel the heat of him all along my side, and I started to tense in anticipation.

  But he did nothing more, only stood next to me for a couple of long moments.

  “Are you hungry?” He cleared his throat.

  I turned to look at him.

  “What do you have to eat?” I asked. “My answer will depend on that.”

  He snorted and grabbed my hand.

  “What kind of food do you not like?” He asked.

  I pursed my lips.

  “I don’t like smoked ham, bone in catfish, taco meat with tiny pieces of onion in it, burnt toast, or crunchy peanut butter,” I listed.

  “Who does like burnt toast?” He wondered as he led me into the barn.

  I giggled.

  “My brother,” I informed him. “Burnt food has become one of his major food groups.”

  “Why’s that?” He wanted to know as he started up the stairs.

  He held onto my hand, though, making sure I didn’t fall to my death down the steep steps.

  I snickered.

  “I suck at cooking. Literally. I would love to learn how to prepare a proper meal, but I just don’t have the patience for it. I always forget about it, even when I’m standing right there,” I informed him. “Why don’t these stairs have a handrail?”

  “Because it’s something I added after the fact, and I was so impatient to move in that I didn’t wait for it to get finished completely,” he answered. “After I moved in a few years ago, the builders refused to finish it, stating that I’d broken their contract. Hence, I never got the molding or paint up either.”

  I looked around once we’d reached the top of the stairs and immediately understood what he was talking about.

  It was beautiful.

  One wall was made completely of glass that overlooked the back of their property. All you could see now was darkness, but I guessed the view would be absolutely beautiful during the day.

  The entire area was an open loft type area at the top of the stairs.

  Two sliding barn doors were slid all the way open, exposing the apartment to the barn down below.

  One side of the room had a kitchen. There was a wall that came off the kitchen that I guessed housed the bathroom.

  The other side of the house was his bedroom area, with the washer and dryer butted up against the railing that kept you from falling to your death.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Did you have the barn built specifically for this?” I asked him, my eyes taking in the unfinished parts that he’d told me about.

  “Yes and no,” he spoke. “My pop kept all of his equipment outside,” he pointed out the window at an old shack like structure that only had a roof and one side. “He had two tractors stolen and countless saws that he used for work. After the fifth such incident, I decided to build him a barn and a convenient place for the ranch hands to use. Then I decided to use it myself as a more permanent place to stay.”

  “You didn’t like living with your dad?” I teased.

  He looked at me seriously and said, “You don’t like living with your brother.”

  I snorted. “Touché.”

  “My dad’s not that bad. He’s just stubborn and pigheaded, and always thinks he knows better than me. He treats me like I’m still fifteen. Forget to pick up after myself one freakin’ time, and he blows a gasket.” He shook his head. “Forgets that I’m the one who does all the work now, and all he does is live there on the income that I bring in.”

  I blinked, surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

  “Do I sense a sticky subject?” I winced.

  He sighed and walked to the small kitchenette area.

  “It is and it isn’t,” he amended. “A couple of years ago, my father had a stroke, and he became mostly wheelchair bound.”

  “But he can walk,” I guessed.

  Apple nodded, pulling out two bottles of water and walking towards me.

  Once he reached me, he handed the ice cold bottle to me and grabbed me by the hand, guiding me to the couch.

  It was pretty. Not something I would ever expect a man like Apple to have.

  “It’s not my couch,” he answered my unasked question.

  I snorted and turned my mirth filled eyes up to his as he took a seat next to me.

  “What made you think I was wondering that?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  “Is there something wrong with your eye?” He leaned in closer.

  I narrowed them at him.

  “No,” I growled. “What would make you think that?”

  He pressed right above my eye where it was now twitching.

  I looked up at the massive thumb that was pressing the bone right under my eyebrow, then back to him.

  “Your eye’s twitching.”

  I sighed.

  “I like your couch. I was just trying to flirt with you,” I informed him.

  He grinned.

  “I know. I just like giving you shit,” he provoked me.

  I punched him in the belly and he moved out of my reach like a boxer anticipating the move.

  “Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s just nice to tease you. You’re a lot different than your brother.”

  “I sure would hope so,” I muttered, twisting the cap off the bottle. “Although, my brother would be just as happy to hear that as I am.”

  “Y’all don’t get along?” He questioned, leaning back into the cushions of the pretty couch, his eyes on my face.

  I shrugged.

  “We get along okay. I won’t be brokenhearted when he decides to move out,” I informed him.

  “What makes you think he’s going to move out?” He took a sip of his water.

  I sighed.

  “Because the house is mine,” I semi-lied. “And he needs to get a life.”

  He blinked.

  “Why is he there then?”

  I leaned forward.

  “My brother doesn’t understand boundaries,” I began. “He doesn’t get that I don’t need him up my ass all day, every day.”

  “So you move out,” Apple suggested.

  I was shaking my head before he’d even gotten the words past his lips.

  “It’s my house,” I informed him. “It should be my brother that moves.”

  “What makes it yours over his?” He turned his head to study me. “From what I heard, it’s the house he shared with his wife.”

  “Well, we all shared it,” I said. “Besides, my grandfather left it to me, even though we all love that house.”

  “Seems to me that that house means something to him. Maybe it holds the only thing left of his wife?” He guessed. “And maybe he wants to live with you.”

  Damn man logic.

  I groaned.

  “I don’t really want him to move. Unless it’s Sunday, and he decides he wants to stink the kitchen up with chorizo,” I amended. “I just wished he gave me a little bit of privacy.”

  “You can come over h
ere anytime you want. The code to get into the barn is 2-3-3-2,” he said. “That’ll open the doors. And if the top barn doors are closed, all you have to do is push them to the side and close it behind you.”

  I smiled then, a full-out, light-up-your-face, cheek-hurting smile.

  “Thank you,” I told him softly. “My brother can be a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

  He gave me a look that clearly said that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “If you ever get under my brother’s wing of protection,” I promised him. “He’ll move heaven and Earth for you.”

  He looked at me like I’d just second guessed myself, and I suppose I had.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped.

  He snorted and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

  “I can make a frozen pizza or tacos. Which one do you want?” He looked at me.

  I turned on the couch to face him completely. “Is that even a legitimate question?”

  He shrugged.

  “I think my taco meat might have bits of onions in it,” he teased.

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “I want tacos,” I chirped. “I’ll take my chances with the onions.”

  Turns out, his taco meat didn’t have any onions. None at all.

  “This is good!” I told him forty-five minutes later. “You could totally make this for me every day, and I’d never complain.”

  He snorted.

  “What’s your favorite dessert?” He took another bite of his taco.

  “I don’t have one specific favorite,” I informed him. “I have more like ten.”

  His eyes lit with fascination as I told him my favorites and all of the individual qualities that made them great.

  Then I told him about my schooling and my job.

  He returned the favor, telling me about his.

  We sat that way over the kitchen table, telling each other about our likes and dislikes, our wants and desires, for well over two hours.

  It would’ve gone on even longer, but the late hour was starting to show on Apple’s tired shoulders.

  So I made him take me home, even though he clearly let me know that he didn’t want me to go.

  But one thing was for certain.

  Over good food and lots of laughs, I fell deeply in love with Apple Drew.

  I knew as he was walking me back to my house later that night that I’d never, ever, be able to get free of him. Not that I wanted to.

  There was just something about the man that intrigued me.

  The butterflies in my belly started to take flight as he stopped me at the bottom steps of my front porch.

  “Your brother’s looking out the window,” he sighed.

  I turned to see my brother doing just that.

  He waved at me, and I waved back before turning my back on him.

  “My brother’s a shithead. Have I mentioned that?”

  Apple’s face broke out into a smile and he lifted his hand to tuck a stray lock of my hair back behind my ear before resting the palm of his hand on my cheek.

  “I had a good time with you tonight,” he told me softly.

  I leaned forward until my hands were resting on his abs.

  “I had a great time, too,” I informed him. “Thank you.”

  He grinned.

  “I know it wasn’t much. But I get off work at six, so I don’t have as much time to do stuff in the evenings,” he explained.

  He seemed to hesitate before he said what he said next.

  “Do you remember when I said I’d take you to Arizona with me?”

  I nodded, the butterflies in my belly fluttering faster.

  “Do you still want to go?” He asked, sounding almost hopeful.

  I nodded again, this time with a brilliant smile on my face.

  “Yeah, I still want to go,” I promised.

  His eyes lit up as he leaned forward and placed his lips on mine.

  The beating on the window didn’t deter us, either, as our tongues tangled.

  His hands came up to frame my face as he took control of the kiss.

  I moaned into his mouth as his tongue plunged deep, and his hips pushed me into the door at my back.

  My leg came up to hook around his thigh, but he moved his face away from mine before I could get any deeper into the kiss.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  It was then I realized he wasn’t talking to me.

  He was talking to my brother.

  “Seriously?” I asked Ridley, looking over to where he was watching us through the open window.

  Chapter 6

  Adulthood is like looking both ways to cross a street only to get hit by a falling object. Unpredictable and headache inducing.

  -Fact of Life

  Kitt

  My second date, which was to last all weekend, was officially about to start.

  A wave of nausea rolled over me at the idea of being in the same room with Apple again.

  Not because anything was amiss with Apple, but because I’d revealed some pretty personal details about myself on our date three days prior.

  He’d done so as well, and then I hadn’t heard a word from him.

  So yes, I was very, very nervous.

  The loud rumble of pipes had me rushing to find my pants.

  “Ridley!” I yelled. “Will you bring me my pants out of the dryer?”

  I heard my brother’s groan of annoyance, and then the stomping of his feet as he walked away from the kitchen where he’d been eating a snack.

  A few moments later a knock sounded at the door, and I moved the drapes away from my window to see Apple standing a few feet away from the entranceway, his back more toward my window rather than the door.

  I knocked on the glass, a smile breaking out over my face when he turned and smiled at me.

  Then his eyes trailed down my legs, and his smile got wider.

  I rolled my eyes and dropped the drapes just as I heard the sound of my pants hitting my closed bedroom door.

  “Thank you!” I yelled just as I heard him open the front door for Apple.

  Snatching them off the floor, I closed the door behind myself once again and yanked the material up my legs.

  Once up over my hips, I sat down and shoved my feet into my untied shoes, before standing and walking to the bathroom.

  The pants were deliciously warm from the dryer, which was why I didn’t notice that they were too tight until I tried to button them and couldn’t.

  “Shit,” I groaned, looking down at my pants in dismay.

  I looked at my bag where I’d literally packed it all the way full with all the clothes, supplies, and shit I’d thought I would need, and then back down to my pants.

  Coming to a decision, I walked to the bed and flopped down backwards, then commenced trying to button them.

  My fingers ached as I tried to suck in and button them, and I knew after about my tenth attempt that it was likely not going to happen.

  “Ridley!” I yelled. “Come in here and help me button my pants.”

  He was my last hope.

  If he couldn’t get it done, I’d have to unpack some of my jeans, seeing as I’d packed the only ones I was willing to wear in front of Apple.

  I was so engrossed in trying to get them buttoned that I didn’t realize who had just come in my room until I heard the amused chuckle.

  I looked up to find Apple standing in my door, watching me with an entertained look on his face as he watched me struggle.

  “Now, if your brother moved out, who, exactly, would help you button your pants?” He batted his eyelashes, voice laced with laughter.

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “And maybe you need his help tying your shoes, too?” He continued, not realizing the danger zone he was entering.

  “You’re not funny, you know that, right?” I asked him.

  He winked and
walked forward.

  “Your brother’s in the bathroom. He said he’d be another twenty or thirty minutes because something he ate was ‘tearing his stomach up’,” he answered. “And I’m not sure he’s able to help you right now. What do you need?”

  I fell back on the bed in defeat, trying not to think about my brother’s bowels and telling him I told you so. He should’ve never eaten the shrimp leftovers from last night. He knew what it did to him.

  “I need help buttoning my pants.” I pointed to my jeans.

  His eyes fell on my pants, and the expanse of exposed belly I was showing.

  “Is that right?” He stepped back, threw the door closed and locked it before prowling forward.

  I swallowed convulsively as I watched his tight body, encased in faded jeans that hugged his body perfectly and a t-shirt that fit him like a second skin, stalk toward me.

  “I only need help buttoning them,” I informed him, watching him warily.

  “Maybe we should examine the insides before we worry about the outside,” he suggested, taking a hold of my jeans and pulling.

  I held on to the waistband, meaning I came with them as he pulled.

  That didn’t deter him, though.

  All it did was delay him, and not really that badly.

  One second I was holding onto the waistband, and the next I was flipped over onto my belly and looking at the faded blue quilt that covered my bed.

  “Apple,” I gasped in surprise by the sudden movement.

  “Yeah?” He rasped.

  My hands automatically went under my chest to push myself up, and he got the chance he was needing, yanking my pants and panties down to my ankles all in one fell swoop.

  I pulled my knees up under my body and lifted up onto hands and knees in disbelief, looking over my shoulder as I did.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper-shrieked.

  “What I should’ve done three days ago,” he licked his lips. “I can’t have you on the back of my bike for hours without having you again.”

  “My brother…” I hesitated as his mouth descended on my exposed pussy.

  “Is in the bathroom; where he will be for a long time, according to him,” he said. “If not, this is your house, too. He’ll get over it.” He swiped his tongue from my pussy entrance up, his tongue barely grazing my asshole.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.