BONE by Rocklyn Ryder

Author:Rocklyn Ryder [Ryder, Rocklyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Magpie Press
Published: 2017-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Stryker

"So your mom named you Stryker?"

She's leaning against the counter in front of the coffee maker at the store just like she was a couple days ago, only this morning she's had a shower, a hot breakfast, and a thorough fucking.

This morning, she's also smiling as she interrogates me over her third cup of coffee since we came downstairs and opened up the store.

She's fucking gorgeous.

"Yup, it was Mom's idea," I grin as I answer her.

"Why Stryker?" she keeps up with the 20 questions routine as she joins me behind the counter and starts eyeing the name on the permits hanging back here and investigating all the other junk I have stashed in the nooks and crannies that no one else ever sees.

"I don't know," I tell her as I roll my chair to one side so she can continue her self-guided tour. "She probably got it from some romance novel she read or something, she was always reading that kind of stuff."

"Huh," she grunts softly, like it all makes sense to her now. "That sounds plausible, I don't know where else someone would come up with a name like Stryker."

"You don't like it?" I'm not sure how I feel about that possibility. Mom named me and Mom's gone. The name is one of very few things I have left of her.

Jordan takes her attention off the old snap shots I have printed out and pinned below the counter. She fixes me with those eyes-- this morning they're a deep, olive green-- and tilts her head down with one eyebrow raised. It's the same look I spent a lot of time memorizing that first day I met her and I still haven't figured out what it means, exactly.

"It's a cool name," she finally tells me. "It just sounds made up, you know? Like a stage name for an actor that thinks he's going to be the next Hollywood hunk or something."

I watch her shrug and take a sip of her coffee, which must be getting low or cold since she frowns into the mug she brought down from the kitchen this morning and heads back toward the pot.

"I like it," she says when her mug is full and I can see steam rising from just below the rim again, "I like it better knowing it's your real name and not something you made up to sound cool."

She laughs when I do and I like it. I like that she likes my name, and I like that she's smiling at me this morning.

It feels good having someone to share my meals with and having someone curled up against me on the sofa after dinner, and it sure as hell feels good to have her warm, eager body on mine every night for these last few days.

We've gotten into the routine of beginning every morning with a round of wake up sex and sharing a hot shower before breakfast and then coming down here and opening the store up together.

It feels good

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