Happily Ever Alpha: Until Mallory (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4

  The idea of my girl walking herself to the point of exhaustion doesn't sit well. There’s no fuckin’ way that’s going down on my watch. “Not walking to and from the store, babe.”

  Mallory wrinkles her nose and cocks her head to the side. “Why not?”

  “For starters, it’s fuckin’ hot and humid out there. But more than that, I don’t want you walking all over hell's half acre to get food. How about we go to the store together after dinner? Any day you want to go somewhere you can drive me to work and drop me off. I don’t need the truck when I’m there.”

  Her eyes widen as she looks at me like I’ve just said something crazy. “Yes to going to the store after dinner, but I can’t borrow your truck.”

  I set my cutlery down and look across the table at her. “Yes, you can. It’s not a big deal, sweetheart.”

  She bites her lip as she shakes her head. “I’m already imposing. You went from having a normal day to getting stuck with an old neighbor you’d probably forgotten all about who turned into your unwanted roommate within an hour.”

  Fuck every word of that. Pushing back my chair, I stand and walk around the table to her. Crouching down, I stare up at the beautiful girl my heart chose three years ago. I’ve finally got her with me, and there is no way in hell I’m losing her by playing games or letting her think for even one minute that I don’t want her here.

  “You’re over here thinkin’ some shit that just isn’t true, Mallory. Gonna break it down for you because I think it’s the right call but I want you to know going in that I’m not trying to pressure you. You feel me?”

  Her sweet face is full of anxiety as she nods.

  “First, you are never an imposition—couldn’t be even if you tried. Hadn’t forgotten about you, honey. Far fuckin’ from it. Wanted this since the first time I met you. You’re beautiful, sweet as fuck, heart of gold, and smart as a whip. Went to Ruby multiple times to ask for permission to date you. Got shot down each and every time.”

  Mallory’s eyes are saucer-wide. “Holy… wait, what? You went to my grandmother?”

  “Time and time again. You know how she was, though. Her way or the highway.”

  This makes her scowl. “When you first moved into your apartment I thought there was… something there between us. Over time when you didn’t make any move, I figured I was just fanciful. I can’t believe you asked and my grandmother said no.”

  “And yet we still wound up here,” I remind her. “To me, coming across you today is proof that what’s meant to happen will find a way. You feel me, babe?”

  “I guess I can’t cry over spilled milk,” she says with a sigh.

  “We’ve got all the time in the world, honey. Now that you’re here, we can get started.”

  Her cheeks turn a rosy shade as she licks her lips. “Started?”

  I nod decisively. “Yep, starting now. Mallory, will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night after I get home from work?”

  I don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she smiles.

  “Like a date?”

  “Yeah, honey. Our first date.”

  Mallory clears her throat as she tucks her hair back behind her ear.

  “I’ve never been on a date before,” she says softly.

  “Knew that, but fuck me it’s good to hear it,” I admit. “Didn’t answer the question though, sweetheart. You comin’ out with me?”

  She looks at me from beneath her lashes and smiles shyly. “I’d love to.”

  If she weren’t the most innocent person alive, I’d have her in my arms right now. I take a deep breath and force myself not to behave like a fuckin’ caveman.

  “Then it’s settled. Dinner out tomorrow—the first date of many.” Standing, I cup her face and drop a kiss on her forehead before I return to my seat so that we can finish our meal.

  Chapter 6

  Mallory

  I can’t seem to keep the smile off my face. Handing off the last clean pot to John so that he can dry it, I see that he’s still smiling as well. After putting the pot away, he turns to me. “Ready to go to the market?”

  I nod and gesture down to my feet. “Yep, just need to put on my shoes.”

  John chuckles and shakes his head. “Get your purple snow boots so we can go, honey.”

  Wrinkling my nose, I give him a wry look. “They’re not snow boots,” I say before I run into the living room to slip into the boots. Walking back into the kitchen I find John leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

  “Babe, those boots are probably rated for Eskimo use. It’s summer in Tennessee—you’ve gotta be drowning in sweat in those things.”

  Rolling my eyes, I grab my purse from the counter behind the door. “If I was walking out in the sun, maybe. Otherwise, they’re fine. You should try a pair.”

  He’s in the process of opening the door when I say this. Turning, he looks at me with mock horror. “Hell will freeze over before I wear purple boots,” he laughs.

  Ducking under his arm, I step out the door and down the two steps into the driveway. “Not in purple, silly. They make slide-on slippers for men and women. I have a tan pair in the ladies’ style, and they’re the bomb.”

  John wrinkles his forehead as he locks the door and pulls it shut. “I wouldn’t want to chance Cleo thinking I was wearing one of her family members,” he jokes.

  Laughing, I lightly slap his arm with my fingers. “It’s faux fur, silly.”

  When he slings his arm over my shoulders to walk me around his giant red truck, my stomach does somersaults. “Love your laugh, babe. Didn’t get to hear it nearly enough back in Chattanooga.”

  I don’t think I take another breath until he opens the door and helps me up into the seat. After John gets in and starts the truck, I pay attention as he drives us through the neighborhood and onto the main roads. I can already tell I like it here, which is a great thing. While he drives, I think on what he said about not hearing my laugh enough in Chattanooga. It’s true, and it’s probably because I’d been afraid to do or say anything that would make me seem weird. Well, weirder than I already was, anyway.

  I met John when I was twenty years old—by legal definition an adult woman. By my grandmother's classification, however, I’d been a young lady who needed to be strictly guided in case I went off the rails like her son—my father—and his wife had. My parents were straight up whacky. They met at a concert, got married by a celebrity impersonator in Atlantic City, had me, worked a series of odd jobs (most that weren’t strictly legal), were all around flighty, and then they died together in Fort Lauderdale during spring break because my father was dumb enough to drive drunk.

  In my grandmother's eyes, what happened to her son was down to the fact that he’d married a godless woman. I had no recollection of my parents since I’d only been three when they passed, but I wasn’t dumb. My father was as responsible for his lifestyle as my mother was. In an effort to correct what Grandma considered her mistakes, she’d been extra strict with me. To some degree, I understand why she did what she did, but knowing that John asked to date me and she turned him down—repeatedly—makes me sad. He’s what I want and has been since the first time I met him.

  “Deep thoughts, babe?”

  Turning his way I shake my head, not wanting to bring him down. “Just thinking about the day I had. I still can’t believe I rented an apartment in a criminal’s house.”

  John makes a growly noise as he pulls into the parking lot of the supermarket and guides the car into a space. “No idea how happy I am I found you. Thinking of you sleeping there makes me a little sick.”

  As he opens the driver’s door, he turns to me. “You wait for me,” he says. “I want to open your door.”

  I nod and then unbuckle my seatbelt while he hurries around the front of the car. Opening the door, he reaches in and takes my hand to help me down. He keeps our fingers linked as we walk through the parking lot and into the store, only letting go when it’s time to get a car
t.

  “You a cart pusher or do you want me to do it?”

  “You push I load?” I ask.

  He grins as he pulls a cart out and then holds it still while I drop my purse in and hook the safety belt from the seat area through the handle of my purse.

  “Like that you do that,” he says. “Smart. Can’t guess how many purse theft calls we get a year, but it’s a lot. Every little deterrent helps.”

  We talk about crime and then move onto things he thinks I should know about the area as he wheels the cart to the dairy aisle. We make our way through the store slowly, gabbing the entire way. I pick up things for dinner for the five nights after tomorrow’s date night. When we get to the register John insists on emptying the cart. Once the cashier announces what the price is and I start to pull money out of my wallet, he gives me a look.

  “You aren’t paying for our groceries, honey.”

  “But—”

  John shakes his head and hands the clerk his card before he turns back to me. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I let it go because the cashier is busy staring at us like she’s half hoping there’s going to be some drama. Only when we get outside do I circle back around to the subject.

  “Having another mouth to feed is expensive. I don’t want you wasting money on me.”

  John says nothing as he wheels the cart to the truck. Only when we get there and he’s about finished loading bags into the backseat of the extended cab truck does he stop and turn my way.

  “Not lookin’ at you as another mouth to feed, Mallory. Also not thinkin’ that any money spent on you is a waste. This is how I want us to be.”

  When I open my mouth to answer, he holds up a finger and says, “hold up.”

  Shutting the door to the truck, he takes the cart and pushes it to the return before he comes back to me. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he pulls me in close. A million and five butterflies are flapping their wings in my tummy as I look up at him.

  “You really wanna have our first argument about grocery money?” he asks.

  The corner of my lip curls up as I shake my head. “No.”

  He sets his free hand under my chin and tilts my head back so I’m looking into his eyes. “I want to take care of you, honey. I always have. This is a privilege for me—not some burden I don’t want to take on.”

  I can hardly believe any of this is happening. He really, really likes me. “You sure?” I ask.

  He leans in so that his nose is almost touching mine. “I’m more than sure, Mallory. I’m fuckin’ positive.”

  And then, with one tilt of his head, he’s kissing me. I open my mouth a little when his tongue traces across the seam of my lips, then let out a little sound of wonder when his tongue slides against mine. So this is kissing, I think. I always wondered what it would feel like. I’m happy to report that I love it. I meet his tongue tentatively at first but then begin to gain confidence as I learn from what he’s doing. At some point, the hand he had at my waist joins the one he has on my face. The reverent way he holds my face in his hands makes me feel treasured—and very, very warm. For the first time ever I feel like I might be sweating in my boots, and it’s not because it’s hot out. This is one hundred percent down to John Wright kissing me like he was destined for the job. Wanting to be closer, I stand on my tip-toes and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  “No one told me the supermarket was doing live entertainment in the parking lot,” someone laughs.

  John groans as he pulls his mouth from mine. I blink dazedly as he steps back and turns to glare at whoever spoke.

  “Shouldn’t you be home with your wife, Mayson?”

  Turning, I see the man John was talking to in the basement back at Mario’s walking toward us. He nods at me and smiles before he turns his attention back to John.

  “Was home with my wife until she gave me the eyes and begged me to come get her some of those shitty ice cream cookie sandwiches she loves so much. I tried to hold firm but she played dirty, got the kids involved and they all came at me with the boo-boo eyes. Now I’m here.”

  “Ooh,” I laugh, “I know why they wanted them. They’re the best—we just got two boxes of those since they’re on sale.”

  The man winces. “I really don’t know how anyone can like those things. They taste like cardboard.”

  “Says the guy who might as well own stock in the company,” John laughs. Linking his fingers through mine, he gestures to the heavily tattooed man.

  “Mallory, this is Nico Mayson. He’s on the force with me.”

  I nod and smile as I hold my free hand out. “I saw him in the basement earlier,” I say to John. As Nico shakes my hand I say, “Nice to officially meet you. Just so you know, I’m not a criminal.”

  He laughs as he finishes shaking my hand. “Knew that about four seconds after Hercules here breeched the door—when I realized you were going to faint.”

  I groan and duck my head. “So embarrassing,” I mumble.

  “Nah,” he counters. “Embarrassing was the douchebag upstairs who tried to argue his way out of a warrant. Criminals tend to act a certain way. You clearly didn’t fit the mold.”

  Turning his attention to John, he says, “So, grocery shopping. Just want to point out that I called this shit.”

  Looking back to me Nico says, “knew he’d have you moved in fast.”

  I let out a giggle as I lean further into John, who chuckles and shrugs. “Don’t get a big head, Mayson. Statistically you were bound to be right at some point.”

  Nico laughs and gives him the finger. “Nice to meet you, Mallory. Know I’ll be seein’ you around. My wife’s name is Sophie—expect you’ll be meeting her soon. The precinct wives are tight—except for the bitches. Don’t worry—Sophie’ll help you navigate the waters.”

  After saying goodbye to Nico, John helps me up into the truck. It’s getting dark out now, which makes the cab of the truck feel cozy. I shiver when he reaches over with his right hand and sets it down just above my left knee.

  “Best kiss of my life,” he says huskily. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

  Me. Either.

  Chapter 7

  Mallory

  I twist this way and that as I check out my outfit with a critical eye. After going through every single piece of my pathetically small wardrobe, I chose a pale blue sundress that ends just above the knee. The top has simple spaghetti straps and a heart shaped neckline that doesn’t show too much cleavage. I’ve got a little more height than usual thanks to my platform sandals— they’ve got tons of fabulous bling in the form of some crystal gems—which is a bonus. My hair is down and curled softly toward my face, which I think looks nice. I went all out and put on some strawberry-flavored lip balm and some mascara, too. Turning, I look at Cleo who is currently lounging on the bed behind me grooming herself.

  “What do you think, pretty girl? Do I look okay for my first date?”

  She stops licking her paw and looks me over for about two seconds before she meows and returns to what she was doing. I’m going to go ahead and take that meow as a yes, I look okay for my first date.

  In lieu of a female friend to help me out and cheer me on while I got ready, I bounced all my crazy talk off Cleo, who seemed to take it good-naturedly. She sat on the edge of the tub while I bathed and then monitored closely after I got out and started to paint my toenails. She was particularly excited about that, so much so that I ended up painting her front claws the pink glitter color I’ve been using for the last few months. Luckily, it’s non-toxic so it can’t hurt her if she licks her claws.

  After we were finished with nail time, she sat on the bathroom counter while I dried, brushed, and then curled my hair. Since she made it clear that she too needed pampering I ran and grabbed her special brush from the living room and then brushed her until her coat was shiny. Once I moved on to makeup and getting dressed, she got bored and retreated to the bed to watch me while she pampered herself.

  Looking at the watc
h on my wrist, I spring into high gear when I see that John will be home to get me at any moment. Since I the day I met him he has starred in every fantasy I’ve had about dating. That the dream is becoming reality is so sweet I can barely believe it. Grabbing my purse from the bed, I blow Cleo a kiss and then head into the kitchen to wait. Just as I cross the threshold of the room, I hear John’s big truck pulling into the driveway.

  My breath catches when he opens the door and walks in. I realized yesterday that he doesn’t wear his uniform home, so I’m not surprised that he changed at work. What I am surprised by right now are the nice pair of black pants and white button down shirt he’s got on. Have I mentioned lately how insanely hot John Wright is? Because it’s so extreme, it is almost too much for my brain to handle. His face lights up in a smile when he sees me.

  “How fuckin’ lucky am I?” he says in that growly-man voice of his that makes my heart race. My heart pounds faster as he crosses the room to me. “Coming home to find the most beautiful girl in the world waiting for me is even better than I imagined.”

  I know I’m blushing as he pulls me into his arms and covers my lips with his. Every one of the kisses John has given me since the first one last night have gotten impossibly better. For years, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him and the reality is even better than my best fantasy. When he ends the kiss and lifts his head to grin down at me, I’m breathless.

  “Missed you today, honey.”

  I know this because he texted me a bunch. Other than a few church friends who are my grandmother’s age and the staff at the restaurant I worked at, no one has ever texted me before. The back and forth exchange John and I had today was incredible.

  “Missed you, too,” I answer softly.

  “Ready to go on our date?”

  I nod. “More than ready.”

  Unwrapping his arms from around me, he stands straight and then links his right hand with my left before guiding me to the door. Just like the day before, he walks me to the truck and helps me get in before he walks around the hood and gets in himself.