by Grace, Hazel
“The bill,” Wyatt deadpans, his eyes still locked with mine.
I break the invisible attraction between us by looking away and taking a few more bites of my food. It scares me, he’s someone who is capable of breaking hearts and feelings. His good looks, the charm that emits off him so easily, his sexy smile and the way his eyes laser melt you. I might not be fully ready to date Noah, but I know for a fact I’d never be ready for Wyatt in my lifetime. I cringe outwardly.
“Cold?”
I press my lips together, irritated at myself. “No, I’m good.”
Second guessing is something I’m a master at. I could practically manipulate myself into not wanting something based off bogus facts and scaring the idea right out of my head. Getting too close to someone worries me, not wanting to bring someone into my life to be the target of Jerry’s rage and letting someone take advantage of me. I promised myself I’d be more careful, more guarded. But the way Wyatt is regarding me, my body reacts again with a shiver.
Stop it. Seriously, stop.
Wyatt’s jacket wraps around my shoulders. “Keep it warm for me,” he instructs, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Oh, no. I got it.” I reach for my satchel, but Wyatt’s finger wraps around the belt loop of my jeans and tugs me off the stool toward him.
“I got it,” he retorts softly, inching closer to me.
He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear and brushes his fingers along my cheek. My lungs take a sharp inhale of air while his touch continues to my chin, where he cups his palm around it. Then a familiar smell wafts around us.
“Do I smell turbo blue?” I ask him. Dad used to put the special racing fuel in his Impala. I remember the smell when I was a kid. I’ve never seen Wyatt smile so big, his skin wrinkling around his eyes. Ones that look like they haven’t been used in a while.
Throwing cash on the counter, he brings his arm around my back and escorts me out of the diner. “Where have you been my whole life, Rora?”
I walk Aurora back to her place and it feels normal. Like I’m an ordinary guy walking a beautiful girl home and haven’t a care in the world. I know how false that feeling is, but while I had the moment, I took hold of it, embraced it, and sure as fuck would cherish it. Because I know once I get back to the garage, my shitshow of a life will come crashing down on me, and I haven't had normal in a long time if ever.
She is distinctively one of a kind, and I have no business in hell breaking down her walls, bringing her into my inferno of crazy. I hold back on the urge to touch her cream-colored skin. The way her grayish-blue eyes peered up at me in anticipation that had no right to be directed at me. I’m happy in a way that she’s dating that jack off, Noah, because this is what it was, us just running into each other in this small town. But I feel the lure, my cock reminds me of it every time her cheeks redden, and I want to ruin her in more ways than one.
I’ve had my fair share of pussy since my release out of prison, but nothing has drawn me to a woman like Aurora has. And that rings alarm bells in my head. Probably best that asshole Noah builds her a house to create a family in. But in her gaze, I see a hellcat beckoning for me to release it, and she’d eat Noah alive. He more than likely wouldn't even know what to do.
We stop at the front door of her shitty apartment as I tamper teasing her about my walking her up the stairwell.
And when the fuck have I ever cared about a woman's feelings afterwards?
“Thanks for the midnight snack,” Nova quips, pulling her arms out of my leather jacket. I’m conflicted with telling her to keep it so it gives me a reason to see her again, but why bother dragging out the enviable?
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I ignore it, wanting to stay in this moment for just a dangerous minute longer.
“Thanks for not pulling out a dagger and killing me with it, assassin style,” I quip.
She smiles and hands over my jacket. “Didn’t want to get blood on the leather.”
“Thing has seen worse; grease, oil, radiator fluid. You name it.”
Her eyes light up. “You work on cars?” I nod. “I figured you did.”
“How?”
She reaches for my hand, the simple touch making my dick twitch in response. “The small cuts on the sides of your fingers, my dad used to get them too, with the added dark stains at the tips.” She rubs the top of my fingers, halting my body in place. “He’d come in all dirty after working on his Impala.”
I clench my teeth together to give me something to focus on besides her continuous stroking of my fingers, like it’s nostalgic to see oil-stained hands or something. Problem is that I’m losing this battle of not slamming her into the apartment wall and showing her what my fingers can do to her body.
“Impala, huh?” It’s all I can say. The sensations she’s sending straight to my cock are starting to unravel any rational, smart ideas of getting the fuck out of here, especially when my phone vibrates again in my pocket.
“Yeah, a 1970. Blue with white stripes on the side.” She looks off in the distance, but my eyes stayed glued on her. Each brush of her skin between my fingers counts down the seconds of my composure. My grip on my jacket starts to loosen of their own accord, and I inhale a slow deep breath.
“He used to race all over the Midwest,” she continues. “He had a few buddies that fixed up their cars and would go to the race track with him. I used to go with him because…well, staying at home wasn’t much fun.”
“Your mom around?” I ask, not really giving a shit about the answer. I need to keep the conversation as far away from fingering and blowjobs as possible.
“Yeah, but her and I were never close.” Her focus comes back to me. “It’s complicated.”
“I get complicated,” I chime. She glimpses down at our adjoined hands but doesn’t let go.
Fuck, she needs to let go.
“Do you like it?”
“Like what?” I repeat, staring at her so fixated on our hands. Hands I want fixated on something else right now.
“Working on cars.” She drops my hand suddenly. Maybe it’s a bad memory or something she realizes that she doesn’t want to think about, but her body stiffens.
“Takes my mind off things, so it helps.”
She meets my gaze. “That’s what baking does for me. It’s like an addiction. Without it, I’m sure I’d be a wreck.”
I try to break the tension. I can feel it suffocating her, and it’s making me desolate, watching a light beam dim over a memory. “Too many assassinations, Rora?”
She cracks a grin. “Oh, I wish I had those balls you spoke about earlier.”
“You have them. They just need to drop.” She laughs while the familiar buzzing vibrates along my back. That’s twice in less than five minutes, something is up. “Get some rest,” I tell her, needing to get back to my existence of bullshit.
“You too, thanks again.” I give her a smile and a salute with my finger then start back toward the diner where my car is parked. I reach for my phone, but it already starts to go off again, sending adrenaline through my body. Looking down at my lit-up screen, it’s Beast.
“What’s up, brother?”
“You on your way home?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because someone has been searching for you.”
My jaw tweaks under the streetlights. “Explain.” I pick up my pace to my car, still at Mick’s. “Where’s Levin?”
“Right next to me. I’m going to put you on speaker.” He’s silent for a moment and comes back on the line. “Alright, Lev can hear you.”
“We underestimated this bitch,” Lev growls. “She’s moving her chess piece.”
I break out in a jog. “Need details, Beast.” Even though my boys are armed, I want to be there. My paranoia throws a million scenarios at me.
Are we being watched?
What’s her next plan?
Does she plan on taking Lev and me out?
Beast breaks through
them. "I've hacked into her computer systems, emails, security. I see what she sees, what she writes when her shipments are coming in, everything."
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me this before?” I snap, unlocking my Chevy truck.
“Because I just got into it today, asshole,” Beast defends. “How easy do you think this shit is? The bitch has better security than the fucking President. It’s like breaking into Area 51.”
"I'll be home in ten minutes. Keep the guys around." And with that, I hang up.
___
Beast and Lev are huddled around a computer with three overly large screens. Beast calls it the HQ center, which is located in Lev’s living room of the loft. Walking into the space, beer bottles line up around the sink filled with dishes stacked a mile high. The trash bin is to the brim and car magazines are scattered across his coffee table.
Hiring a maid goes on my list of shit to do.
“Welcome,” Beast greets me, clicking away at his computer mouse.
Lev looks up at me and nods toward the kitchen. “Grab a beer. I bought you some Coors the other day.”
I raise a brow as I stride toward the fridge. “You went grocery shopping?”
"If you call going to the party store grocery shopping, then yeah." Pulling out three bottles, I take a seat in front of the obnoxious computer screens and hand them off, throwing my leg over my other knee and popping open the cap.
"Alright," Beast starts. "I get a notification when certain words are being searched. Like bomb, drugs, shipments, dickheads named Wyatt.” He smirks at his own joke. “Someone searched your name today. What I can see is a history of sites they’ve pulled. I'm guessing it was a PI because the first thing the idiot did was google search you. Of course, all the normal shit came up, the headlines of Andrew and your prison sentence."
“How deep did he go?” I take a large swig, waiting for the worse.
“Not far, but that’s because I blocked his access to public record. I can’t hold it for long though, it’ll look too suspicious.”
Lev sits on the edge of the oak desk. “We need to make it look like you’re still in prison. That way they’ll never see you coming when they come looking for me.”
I furrow my brows. “Come for you?” I glance over at Beast, whose face is solemn. “Did they search him too?”
Beast nods. “Yeah. I can’t hide him, Wy. If they don’t know where he is now, they will soon.”
They say sometimes you keep old habits as a child. I thought that I'd gotten rid of all mine; prison, and Andrew changing me into a stone-cold asshole. But the familiar tension of anxiety starts to rear its ugly head again. The sleepless nights, failing in school, trying to get us fed before Andrew got home so we could hide together in my room. It was back again.
Clenching my hand into a fist, I stretch my muscles, trying to give myself something to do. “Can you get rid of my release date somehow?” I ask Beast.
"I can hack into the judicial system and put that all requests on inmates must be faxed. I'll throw my fax number in there. We'll get the inquiry, and I can fax back a fake."
“What if they call?”
“They won’t release information over the phone without a badge number.”
“Can’t they get one? A fake one?” Lev questions.
"They'll check it to make sure it's legit, plus it'll take too much time to get one. I don't think Queen Bitch will wait that long."
I push myself out of the leather chair and go to open Lev’s door. “Flynn!” A few seconds later, his eyes are at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me. “Get the men in the garage for a club meeting. Call the ones who aren’t here and get their asses here. I want to meet in thirty minutes.”
Flynn nods, leaving immediately.
Closing the door, I turn back to my brother and Beast. "Start making up those prison papers, I don't want my name anywhere else other than there." I point at Lev. "You. I can't be wondering where the fuck you are every five fucking minutes. We communicate with each other always. You know where I am, and I know where you are. No turning off your cell, keep your charger in your car, and if either one of us doesn't hear from the other within twenty minutes from a call or text, Disorderly gets called to take action. Got it?"
Thank fucking God he nods and doesn’t argue.
Beast hands me a piece of paper. "I got some intel on Lydia’s daughter, her name is Victoria. No social media, no yearbook pictures, I’m still searching for a picture.”
A stretch of silence crosses all three of us. If Beast finds her, she's as good as kidnapped and used as bait. How far we’ll go, well, it'll depend when we get to that point.
“What are we going to do with her, Wy?” Lev asks me.
I down half my beer, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “What do you think we should do?”
“Killing her off right away won’t get us anywhere,” he admits. “It’s not like we can get Isla back for a trade. But I’d like her to suffer a little bit.”
I nod. “We can do that.” I narrow my eyes. “But the bitch dies.”
Lev turns to Beast. “Do we know where she lives?”
Beast inhales deeply. “Last thing I can dig up on her is that she lived in New York.”
Lev smirks at me. “Road trip?”
“These were all amazing, Nova,” Meghan compliments me across the small table in the bakery’s dining room. “I love the strawberries and cream and the apple maple glaze was perfect. I think we should go fruit themed.”
I force a grin. “We can do that.”
It’s been over a week since I ran into Wyatt at Mick’s and, like a complete utter moron, I’ve been looking for him. I googled auto shops in town and came up with Pop’s, but his name didn’t appear anywhere on it under reviews. I even take the stairs down to the main floor to see if I can magically run into him again.
“Do you think a banana would be gross?” Meghan asks, tapping her manicured fingers on her chin.
“Not necessarily, if you make it right,” Paige answers next to me. “We can give it a go. What about something tropical? Like a mango or lime?”
Meghan places her small hand on her chest. “I would love that, but Dennis is so plain and boring. Maybe a blueberry or raspberry?”
“Like a coffee cake? Or something more with the frosting like a cream cheese or whipped?”
She squints her nose. “Both, maybe? I just want him to like it.”
“Would you like to taste a blueberry crumb that I made?” I inquire. “See if it’s something you’d be interested in?”
Her olive-skinned face lights up while her skinny frame straightens in her chair. “Oh, that would be lovely, Nova. Thank you.”
I stand from my chair. “I’ll go check and see if we still have it left.” The chiming bells ring, and I swear I’m going to rip them down, until I find Noah in the doorway.
“Hey Nov,” he greets me. My eyes take in his black sunglasses that are hooked on his light blue shirt, cuffed under his elbows and dark jeans. “I brought you a latte from that coffee shop we both like. I know you can make some, but I wanted to do something for you.”
“That was super sweet of you, thank you.” I nod to the back of the kitchen. “I was just about to go look for a blueberry crumb cake. Wanna come?” I quickly introduce him to Meghan, before we both head on back to the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m really sorry for interrupting your meeting. I thought it was for tomorrow,” Noah claims.
I wave a hand in the air and walk toward one of our large refrigerators. “Don’t worry about it. I could’ve told you it was for tomorrow. I’ve been having a hard time keeping my head on straight lately.”
“Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
A breeze of cool air hits my face as I start searching for my crumb cake. “Can we do another night? I just need to make sure I organize everything for Meghan’s wedding or it’ll drive me insane all night.”
“Yeah, sure,” Noah spouts quickly. I hear a slight
flake of defeat in his tone, and I flinch at my own annoying manner. Her wedding is six weeks away, I can spare a night.
Turning on my heel, I face him. “You know what, I need a break. Let’s grab dinner. I’m buying.” I throw the last part out there as a hint; I don’t want it to be a date. I don’t want my feelings recoiled around one night with a ruggedly, beautiful, dodgy man who owes me nothing. I just don’t want any feelings right now. I want to eat, have a nice conversation, and go home to finish binge-watching Blacklist.
Noah lips turn up. “Sure?”
“Positive. Pick me up here at seven? Or do you want me to teach you how to bake?”
Noah reviews the room, the pots hanging from the ceiling, all the spatulas and cake pans on the metal cabinet. “I’m afraid I might burn this place down.”
I chuckle. “I’ll watch you like a hawk.”
He takes a deep breath. “Alright. You got yourself some free labor, woman.”
___
I can’t remember laughing so hard in one night. Noah took me to a late drive-in movie to see Bridesmaids, and I had such a good time. It was spur of the moment, I didn’t think he’d want to see a movie like that, but when I told him I hadn’t seen it, he pulled right in.
Noah already has caught on to my horrific movie-time snack habits by grabbing me a large bucket of popcorn, extra butter of course, Raisinets, and a large cherry Pepsi. Noah snuggled next to me on the bench of his Ford pickup, his arm over my shoulder, and didn’t push any further.
It was perfect.
He was perfect, and I wasn’t good enough to keep him around. Especially when my thoughts would drift over to Wyatt. Noah was everything a girl could hope for, but something was missing, and I was starting to think I was sabotaging myself again.
On the way home, Noah cranked up the band, Staind, using his steering wheel as a drum. The warm summer night lofted through the windows as I closed my eyes and cozied up in my spot. The words to “Right Here Waiting” softly murmured from Noah's lips, making a grin appear on my face. His mellow vibe set me at ease, the most comfortable I've ever been with a guy. Maybe life here was something I’ve been searching for, I just wish it hadn’t taken so long to find.