Coal (Regulators MC 3)

“Pixie, not here playing any game.” I study her. “Lock the door.”

“Oh, he gets all large and in charge telling me what to do,” she again says to herself. It makes my dick hard thinking about being in charge of her.

“Pixie, how much did you drink?”

Her eyes grow wide as if she has just realized I’m here. “A lot, which is why I think I’m dreaming.”

She saunters over to me, and I stand up from the couch. Standing in front of me, I look down as she smiles up at me. Her right hand comes up, and she pinches my waist, making my abs flex instinctively.

“Guess I’m not dreaming,” she mutters.

“Pixie,” I say on a laugh. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself to see if you aren’t dreaming, not me.”

She bats her eyelashes at me. “I really wanna kiss you, Trevor.”

I freeze. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. This woman has me unable to think.

She twists her hands in front of her anxiously. “I really wanna have sex with you. You’re all hot and bad boy but soft side all in one. Oh yeah, I wanna rock your world, and I just know you’ll rock mine.”

“Pixie,” I manage to say in a raspy whisper. “You’re drunk. I don’t do blurred lines; you gotta know that.”

She yawns. “I’m too tired to be bed rockin’ tonight, stud muffin.” She pats my chest like I’m being dismissed. “Gotta get my beauty sleep.”

In nothing but a tiny tank top and shorts that show the cup of her ass, she walks away toward her bedroom without looking back.

Thank fuck. I have never wanted someone so badly in my fucking life. My mind spins like a merry-go-round that won’t stop trying to sort out these desires I never had before.

I’m in over my head.

Deep shit.

Pixie and me are in deep shit.

~Paisley~

Too much.

Those two words float through my head over and over again. I’m feeling way too much right now.

Coal slept on my couch last night, but was gone before I ever woke up. Maybe I was dreaming and he didn’t stay. Between my karma being constantly off balance with Coal and being creeped out because I’m being watched, my nerves are overloaded.

Is it Scotty? He’s never behaved this way before. There is no reason for me to think it’s him, but who else would it be since I mostly keep to myself? My days consist of gardening, teaching yoga, working out, and working at the grocery store. I don’t date. I don’t have enemies. I don’t have a dangerous job or lifestyle. Why would anyone want to follow me?

Sure, Scotty has been a little more aggressive and he’s always tried to get me to go out with him, but why follow me around?

Am I crazy?

Honestly, I don’t even know if I am being followed. It’s just this creepy feeling I have.

I need a day at home to try to re-center myself.

Picking up my cell phone without another thought, I call the gym.

Brandy, the receptionist, picks up after the second ring. “Hello, this is Beach Flex Life; how may I help you?”

“Hi, Brandy, this is Paisley. I’m not feeling well today; do you think you can get someone else to cover my yoga class?”

“Sure, Paisley. I’ll get right on that. I hope you feel better.”

“Thank you. I’m going to do a cleanse. I think that will help. Have a good day.”

Hanging up the phone, I gather up what I need to do an aura cleanse.

First, I’m going to start with cleansing the space around me.

I close my windows to seal the room and then grab my white sage stick. Lighting it, I let the sage burn for a few seconds then blow the flame out, letting the smoke billow around me.

The cloud of gray blurs my vision then, in time, it clears much like it will do for my energies. Then I walk around my apartment, letting the smoke fill the rooms so it can dissolve the negative energy.

This is also known as smudging and was a practice the Native Americans used to get rid of negative energies. Many times, as they moved from place to place based on the seasons changing, they would sage their homes. If ever an elder passed on or a war was coming, this was the first step of balance for any of them. The tradition has been passed on for centuries. And I’m a firm believer in the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The practice was good enough for my ancestors, so it’s good enough for me.

By the time I’m done, I feel relaxed and renewed, but in need of a bath.

After taking care of my smudging stick, I head for my bathroom. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I light candles instead, and then draw myself a hot bath laced with sea salt.