“You need some help?” I asked the old guy. He was up on a stepladder now, knees shaking.
“No, I’ve got this, son. Don’t you worry.” Sure enough, he made his way to the top of his ladder, holding onto the edge of the highest shelf. This guy was gonna have a heart attack if he wasn’t careful.
The preppy guys stood directly in line behind me. “She wanted me,” guy one said.
“No, you idiot. She blew you off. I told you all blondes were bitches,” the other guy said.
“It’s what I like. Can’t help myself. Plus, her rack was fucking fantastic. Did you see that pink tank she had on? Damn.” He whistled. “Nipples for days.”
I shifted my weight back and forth between my feet. Sweat pooled along my neck the closer they got. Still, I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to start anything. The old Niyol would have been all up in their faces, telling them to back off. But new leaves had to be turned.
“We don’t have all day,” one of them called out.
I pulled my phone out of my jeans’ pocket to check the time. It’d taken the guy five minutes to get my pack down. There’s no telling how long it’d take him to ring me up.
After what felt like forever, the old man climbed off his ladder and made his way to the register. “That’ll be nine forty-nine, young man,” he said.
I handed him the ten.
The idiots laughed under their breath, only for one to say, “Can you hurry the fuck up?”
My body went rigid, blood boiling hotter as one of them practically dry humped my back.
“Step. The hell. Back,” I growled.
One of them snorted out, “Pussy.”
Rage flashed red behind my eyes when I closed them. I tried to breathe—in through the nose, out through the mouth. But the louder they got, the more the temperature inside of me heated.
In the end, I managed to keep myself in check, head down as I moved to the door. I tucked my smokes into the front pocket of my t-shirt, just as one of them whispered under their breath, “Go on now, cry to Mama.”
I flattened my hands on the door and squeezed my eyes shut. “Screw it.”
I spun around. Two steps forward and I was chest-to-chest with the Polo-wearing fucker.
“You got something you wanna say, then say it to my face.” Not giving him a chance to speak, I punched him in the jaw. His body flew back and knocked a display shelf to the floor.
Racks of Hostess shit flooded the tile, but I didn’t care. I was driven by the fight, hate at the wheel. His frat boy buddy came up behind me, wrapping a forearm around my neck. The struggle was nothing as I shoved my foot back against his dick. He groaned, falling to his knees.
Blood trickled down the corner of the Polo’s mouth when he stood back up. He faced me, eyes on fire. “You hit me.”
“And I’ll do it again.” I squeezed my hand into a ball, my knuckles barely sore.
The store door flew open then, capturing my attention. A shadow stood there, eyes wide, a hand on her mouth. Summer.
“Niyol? Are you okay?” She raced over, and my eyes widened when I got a better look at what she had on. Tight pink tank, spaghetti straps, and no bra. She hadn’t been dressed in that before.
Jesus fuck. Those pricks had been talking about her.
Distraction short-lived, Polo guy came at my side, slugging me square in the kidneys.
I doubled over as Summer screamed, “Stop it!”
When I managed to stand, I froze at the sight of her jumping onto Polo’s back, her arms in a headlock around his neck, legs locked around his gut.
“Holy shit.” I blinked, watching as she scratched his temples and forehead, then nearly laughed my guts out when he started screaming like a little girl.
A double click drew my attention back to the old guy behind the counter. “Ah, hell.” On the guy’s shoulder sat a shotgun, one with the barrel pointed at me.
Instinct pulled my hands into the air. “It’s all good, man,” I said. “We were just leaving.”
Slowly, I took another step back, wrenching Summer off the guy along the way. She squeaked, but landed on her feet in front of me, my arm wrapped around her waist. Her chest heaved as she took in air, and her body shook with unchecked rage.
“Get outta here. I don’t want to use this on ya. I know those boys are to blame.”
Nodding at the old man, I reached for Summer’s hand, pulling her through the front door. A cop rounded the corner of a building a few seconds later, lights flashing. The two of us took off across the street, feet slapping against the brick sidewalk. We hopped into her Rover just as he parked in front of the convenience store.
“What… was that?” Summer started the engine, but waited a second to leave, panting as she glared at me from her seat. She tapped the gas once the cop was inside the store, pulling back out onto the road.
High on adrenaline, I couldn’t help but grin as I leaned back against the headrest. Man, it felt good to use my hands again.
“Seriously. What was that? You’re not in prison anymore, Niyol. You can’t just start random fights with random groups of men!” she yelled.
I pulled my smokes out and started packing them on my palm. “Those guys were idiots. Called me a dumbass.”
“Well, they called me a bitch in the café when I wouldn’t give them my number, but was that a reason to start a fight? No. Absolutely not. They were words, Niyol. That’s it.”
I tugged a cigarette from the box and placed it between my lips, swallowing hard at her admission. I should’ve done far more to the guys for saying what they did to her.
“Didn’t see you walking away,” I pointed out.
She huffed, foot growing heavier against the accelerator as we hopped back on the interstate. “I was saving you.”
“Whoa, there. You didn’t save me from nothing. I had it handled.” I lit my smoke and rolled down the window.
She laughed, the sound so evil I glanced at her to see if she’d sprouted horns. “There is no way you are smoking in here.” She grabbed the cigarette from my mouth and tossed it out her window.
“Hey. Those were expensive.”
“I don’t care if that was the last cigarette on earth or if you had to pay a million dollars to get it. You will not. Be smoking. In my car. Ever.”
“Man, you take all my fun stuff away. Won’t let me fight. Won’t let me smoke…”
“Look at it this way.” She lifted her chin, all high and mighty like. “Not fighting means no concussions or worse. And not smoking means no cancer.”
“You’re a regular little Superwoman, huh?” My smile grew wider.
Her cheeks grew pink, rage likely the cause. I could tell she was the type to not lose control very often. “No. Just a woman who likes to stay positive.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye before refocusing on the road. “But I’m not opposed to that pet name if you feel the need to call me something other than Summer.”
“Nah.” I shook my head and kicked my feet out onto the dash. “Princess fits.”
“By whose standards?” she scoffed.
“Mine.” I shut my eyes, tired now that my adrenaline was crashing.
I needed to feign sleep. End the conversation. This woman was fire, ready for anything to burn in her wake, and nothing like I figured she would be. Arguing with her was just as dangerous to me as looking at her was.
Things grew quiet after that, other than the sound of the Rover’s engine. For the first time since we’d left, I finally felt myself relax a little.
Until she started in again.
Jesus. She really did like to talk.
“Tell me something about yourself. To make this work, I think we need to get to know each other. Be friends, or at least cordial.”
Funny, seeing as how Emily had said the same thing.
“I mean, Em adores you, so you must have some good qualities underneath all that black you wear.”
Ignoring her comments about my clothes, I hit her where it counted. �
��We’re not gonna be friends, Princess. No point. You’re my chauffeur, that’s it.” When she didn’t speak, I reopened my eyes and caught sight of her white-knuckling the wheel.
Shit. There I was, being a dick again.
“Just enlighten me, would you please?”
I sighed, and grabbed another smoke out, threading it through my fingers. “You don’t wanna be friends with me. I’m not a nice guy.”
“I’d like to be the judge of that one, if you don’t mind.” Her voice grew softer, an odd soothing melody to my racing, fucked-up heart.
“I already know you,” I said. “And I’m betting you know me, too. So, let’s cut the polite bull.”
She was the goody-two-shoes who likely got everything she wanted in life. Perfect grades in high school and college, daughter of two perfect parents, raised right and rich and girly. I could already tell she was a poster child by the looks of her clothes and car. What else did I need to know?
“You don’t know me,” she whispered, looking away, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
There were a lot of things I wanted to say just then. I can’t know you. I can’t start liking you. I can’t let anything hold me back from getting out of Illinois. But I didn’t. Instead, I thumped that idiot away in my mind, and let the old Niyol “Hawk” Lattimore lead the way.
“Maybe there’s a reason people like you and I shouldn’t know each other. Ever think of it like that?” I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat.
This woman… every goody-two-shoes, sweet, innocent inch of her, did not want to know who I was. And it was my job to make sure she felt the same way.
Four
Summer
By the time we arrived at my grandparents’ house, I was nearly dead on my feet. I didn’t bother to wake Niyol before leaving my Rover, but I did leave it running, with the AC on low. The air was stifling, and heat lightning popped in the distance proving so. Out here on the sparseness of my grandparents’ farm, away from the city, it was beyond uncomfortable for nine at night in mid-July. The last thing I wanted was for him to sweat to death if he really did decide to sleep in there. He may have been a bit of a jerk, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be the bigger person.
I walked toward the front door of the old white farmhouse, excitement brewing deep in my belly. The welcoming sight of Grams and Grandpa’s two-story home was everything I remembered. Knowing they were waiting for me was like a warm blanket ready for me to crawl under.
“Hello?” I called out as I opened the front door, struggling to keep myself balanced as the weight of my suitcase nearly toppled me over. I might have overpacked, but a girl never knew when she’d need heels or boots, shirts or shorts, especially on a cross-country road trip.
“Summer!” My grandfather, who could have very well been Santa Claus’ clone, came barreling through the kitchen to greet me with a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He pulled back and held me at arm’s length by my shoulders.
My mother’s father was the most charming man I knew. And even though I’d never known his daughter, my mother, I felt as though he and Grams were everything that my mom might have been.
“I’ve missed you guys so much.” I squeezed him again, just as tightly as I could.
“We’ve missed you, too.” The scent of chocolate cake hit my nose as we walked toward the kitchen. Like it had a mind of its own, my stomach growled, proof I hadn’t eaten all day.
“Hungry?” Grandpa smiled, eyes zeroed in on my belly.
“Starved.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “Where’s Grams?”
“Backyard. That crazy cat of hers is being a pest. Killed a nest of baby rabbits this morning. About broke her heart.” He shook his head as he motioned me toward the table. “I’ll get you something. Have a seat.”
I plopped my bag onto the floor next to the wall and sank into a chair. The old wood squeaked beneath me, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sound. God, it was good to be there.
My gaze traveled the length of the room, over the yellow walls and sunflower border, only to land on the picture I’d painted for them when I was ten. It hung on the fridge, a magnet farm of animals keeping it in place. I smiled. This place hadn’t changed at all. Same furniture. Same set-up. Same hominess I’d never tire of.
During the summers, up until my senior year of high school, when Dad worked, took my brothers camping, or drove them to their football, baseball, hockey, or soccer camps in between, I preferred staying with my grandparents for a few weeks. This was my mother’s house growing up, so it always made me feel like I was at one with her, as strange as it sounded. I knew her only from pictures and stories told, but one look into my eyes and she’d supposedly been in love with me. Until she died, three hours after I was born, from a pulmonary embolism.
I hadn’t been there in two years. Mainly because I’d been so over-the-top in love with…
No. I’d promised myself to stop with the Landon regrets. Bigger and better—that was the direction I intended to take now.
The porch light flickered off, and the back door swung open seconds after. I shot a glance toward the frazzled-looking woman with gray hair down to her elbows, my eyes welling with tears at the sight. My grams. Dressed in a flowing green skirt and gauzy white top, she looked just as gorgeous as ever, even at sixty-six.
“Oh, my sweet heavens,” she cried, eyes meeting mine.
“Hi, Grams.” I smiled and prepared to stand.
“Don’t get up. You look exhausted.” She took the final steps to get to me and regardless of what she said, I pushed out of my chair to meet her in a hug that rivaled the ferocity of my grandfather’s.
“My goodness, you are so beautiful, just like your mother.” She rocked us side to side. I caught my grandfather’s smile from over her shoulder, followed by his wink, then quickly wiped an escaping tear before Grams could see. “Sit. Let’s feed you. It’s obvious you don’t eat.”
“I eat plenty, Grams. Promise.”
She scoffed and waved her hand at me. “You’re too skinny.”
Grandpa placed a plate on the table. I sat down in front of it, smiling, watching as they positioned their chairs across from me. I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and into a side braid instead, trying my best to ignore the ginormous elephant in the room.
They knew I was coming. I’d called them last week when this whole road trip thing had transpired, asking if I could swing by and stay for a night’s visit. I never bothered to explain where I was going, who I was with, or why I was doing it in the first place. Heck, Dad barely knew the details himself, thinking I was going away with Emily—not her ex-fugitive of a stepbrother. No doubt if he had known the truth, there would have been some major drama. Still, I was twenty-four, rented my own loft, and had a decent-paying job. I loved my father, but he didn’t need to know all my secrets.
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I see you still know my favorites.” I picked up a fork, moaning as my taste buds nearly exploded in satisfaction.
“I’d never forget.” Grams set her chin onto her palm and an elbow on the table.
“So. Who’s the gentleman?” Three bites in, and the question I’d been dreading was dropped by none other than my grandpa.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and grinned with innocence. “What gentleman?”
Grandpa folded his arms over his chest. “The one sleepin’ in the front seat of your vehicle, that’s who. Scary-lookin’ fella who is not Landon.”
I choked, coughing. Bits of food spilled from my mouth as I reached for a glass of water.
Grams laughed, standing to pat me on the back. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough who the fella is. Leave the girl alone, honey.”
My face grew hot. Yet I wasn’t sure if it was because of my choking or my grandfather’s abruptness. Out of the two of them, he had always been the quiet one. Maybe his age had made him more vocal.
After clearing my plate, I leaned back and folded my arms over my stomach. “That was d
elicious. I've missed your cooking.” I smiled at Grams, hoping they’d moved on to other topics.
“Spill it, Summer Marie.”
“Paul,” Grams scolded. “I said let her be.”
I squirmed under the full force of my grandfather’s gaze before looking to Grams. “It’s fine. Landon and I…” I looked to my plate, inhaling through my nose, exhaling through my mouth. “We broke up.”
“Oh, good. I never did like that boy.” Grams spoke up first.
My eyes popped wide at her confession. “You didn’t like Landon?”
Grandpa spoke next. “Neither of us did. He wasn’t good enough for you.”
I blinked, taken aback by their confession. They’d never given me any indication before.
“Why didn’t you tell me? We were two months from getting married.”
“Because, honey. You seemed to love him.” Grams shrugged. “And all we wanted was to see you happy.”
I nodded slowly, trying to piece things together. The two of them hadn’t been overly excited about him and I getting engaged, I remembered that much. But I’d figured it was because they thought we were too young to get married. But now, to know that they’d never liked him? Well, it eased something in my chest, like a loosening bolt.
“So, spill about the gentleman in your car,” Grams said, a sly grin on her face.
Nervous for some reason, I licked my lips, glancing between them before I answered. “He’s just my friend’s stepbrother. I’m driving him to California.” I shrugged. “A summer vacation kind of thing.”
“Are you dating him now?” Grams leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
“Oh, no, no, no.” God, no. “He’s just an acquaintance.” If that.
“Are you going to bring him inside, so we can meet?” She lifted her brows.
“Yes.” Carefully, I looked up to regard my grandpa.
His eyes were narrowed like mine, except he was glancing through the kitchen entryway toward the front door.
“It’s getting late. I suggest we get the intros out of the way while we’re still awake.”
Her Wild Ride: An addictive, steamy biker MC romance suspense novel Page 3