by Ryan Michele
“Should you be carrying him?” Jagger asked.
Cora rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Slider.”
The words were too filled with affection for Jagger to buy her annoyance. “He’s my brother. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I guess you should,” Cora said, coming around the counter to him. She leaned up onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“What’s that for?” Jagger asked, looking down into her bright green eyes.
“Because you’re good people, Jagger Locke.” It was a nice fucking compliment, even if it slinked around uncomfortably inside his chest. He hadn’t felt like a good person—or even like himself—in way too long. Cora smiled at Andi. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” That wistful look became more pronounced as Elvis disappeared into the back. “I guess it’s kinda silly to get attached to something you’ve known for so little time.”
Jagger nailed her with a stare. Part of him almost wanted to imagine she was talking about him, about them, even though he knew she wasn’t. “Some situations forge a connection fast and deep. There’s no logic to it. Just feeling and truth.”
Her lips parted as that blue-eyed gaze collided with his. “Is that right?”
His gaze skated over the dark pink of her lips and he was suddenly ravenous—for a taste, for a connection, for something to make him feel good again. “I think it is.”
She licked her lips, and it felt like fucking victory when her cheeks went flush because it meant he wasn’t the only one feeling the slow burn kindling between them. He didn’t know what that meant or where it might go—if anywhere—but he liked it. He liked it a fucking lot. “Sometimes the way you say things is almost lyrical. Do you know that? It was true of your writing, too.”
The words brought them back onto safer ground. Books and class, that was what they’d had. That was what they knew of each other. But maybe he wanted more than that. So he pushed, just a little. “So where to next, Miranda? Tell me what you want or need, and I’ll make it happen.”
Staring at her, he let the words hang there for her to do with what she pleased. And he hoped like hell that she might be interested in taking the bait.
3
Heat slinked through Andi’s blood, and she had absolutely no idea what to do with the fact that she was attracted to one of her students.
Former student, her brain helpfully supplied.
True. Former inmate, too. Even though, that wasn’t really fair, was it? Not when he’d been set up to take the fall for something he hadn’t done. And yet, despite that, nothing about him came off as embittered or combative.
“Um, honestly, I…” She shook her head. “I guess. I don’t know, actually.”
Her stomach growled, loudly. Like, embarrassingly loud.
A slow grin grew on Jagger’s face. “I think maybe you do know, woman. What do you want to eat?”
She chuckled and rubbed her head. “I’m too filthy to go anywhere.”
“I can fix that. Wait here.” He disappeared out into the parking lot, and Andi…appreciated watching him walk away. A lot. The man was sexy and fit, muscled without being bulky, and he did all kinds of justice to a pair of jeans.
What in the world had happened to her today? She’d gone out to run some errands and pick up her guitar from being repaired. She’d gotten a later start than she’d intended after receiving a call from one of the social workers at the prison informing her that a former student, a man who’d been paroled about a year ago, had died in a car accident. Learning that Antoine had gotten his life back on track only to lose it in such a senseless way had left her shell shocked and gutted. And then she’d had an accident herself—and had run into another one of her students who seemed intent on…what? Helping her? Yes, for sure. Taking care of her?
Jagger jogged back through the door, his brown hair and Ravens jacket spotted with rain. From underneath the jacket at his waist, he pulled a bundle of clothing, like he’d tucked it there to keep it dry. “I have a shirt and a sweatshirt. They’re clean. Take your pick or wear both if you want.”
Wow. So, clearly, taking care of her was a check, too. “Thank you, Jagger. That’s really sweet of you.” She accepted the worn-soft cotton into her hands.
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
The self-deprecation was sweet, too. “Your secret is safe with me.” Although, Andi suspected she wasn’t the only one who knew he was sweet judging by what Cora had said to him a few minutes before.
As if the thought summoned the woman, Cora returned from the clinical area. “I didn’t know you guys were still here.”
“I was just giving Miranda a clean shirt since Elvis got her all muddy. Can she use the bathroom in the back?” Jagger asked.
“No problem. Through the door and to your right,” Cora said.
Andi gave them a nod and ducked her chin as she scurried out of the room. She closed herself inside the restroom and braced her hands on the sink. What was she doing? Considering adopting a puppy she’d just met? Considering going to lunch with a man she barely knew?
That’s not the only thing you’re thinking about with the man…
She whipped off the dirty T-shirt to find that some light splotchy bruises now marked her sternum and shoulder. They were a little tender to the touch, but not so much that she was concerned. Sighing, she punched her arms through the shirt Jagger had given her. It was way too big, so she knotted it at the waist. The once-black tee was faded to nearly a dark gray and had a washed out outline of an electric guitar with words that read: Fender: An American Original. Established ’46.
“Wait,” she said to herself. Did this shirt mean he might play, too?
Jagger. The man’s nickname or motorcycle name or whatever. It was Jagger. Was there any chance that wasn’t a reference to one of the founders of the Rolling Stones who was still going strong as a musician after five decades? That seemed unlikely.
Andi smoothed her hands over the mess of her hair, then washed them. Then dug to the bottom of her purse for some lip gloss. She halted with the little wand half way to her mouth. Why was she putting on lip gloss? Or worrying about her hair?
Because hot, sweet, smart man?
She avoided meeting her own gaze in the mirror as she smoothed the glossy mauve over her lips. After that, she scooped up her dirty shirt and Jagger’s sweatshirt and went back out.
“I just want you to be happy.” Andi heard Cora say those words just as she’d been about to push through the door. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but she also felt awkward about interrupting their conversation. And she had to admit at least a little that she was curious about how Jagger would answer.
And then he did. “I’m mostly okay. Don’t worry about me. Worry about all those Evans males and this new little one about to pop out any day.”
Cora chuckled, and Andi took the opportunity to return before she overheard anything else that hadn’t been intended for her ears. Like the fact that Jagger maybe wasn’t happy.
I’m mostly okay…
Her gut squeezed over that sentiment, but then he smiled when she walked back into the room. “Hey, thanks again. This works.”
“Have you heard Jagger play yet?” Cora asked.
Andi blinked at the change of topic, and then realized she was talking about his Fender T-shirt. “No, I didn’t know you played.”
“Just for fun.” So, suspicion confirmed then.
Cora rolled her eyes. “He has an entire wall filled with guitars. It could be more than just for fun if he wasn’t, you know, almost single-handedly running the entirety of the Ravens’ business as the speedway.”
Andi’s eyes went wide. She wasn’t sure which part of that to react to first. “Wow, how many guitars do you own?”
“Eleven, a mix of electric and acoustic. A few Gibsons, a few Martins, a couple Fenders.” He shrugged with one big shoulder.
Again, wow. With each new thing she l
earned about him, he became more and more interesting to her. Talk about still waters running deep. You wouldn’t necessarily look at this man and expect lyrical literary analyses of books or a significant passion and talent for playing music, but Jagger Locke was all of that. Her students often had these unexpected sides of themselves, and it was a good lesson in letting go of preconceived ideas and giving people a chance to be their true selves.
And right now, it made Andi want to peel back more layers, to go deeper, and see what else she might learn—and like—about Jagger. “That’s impressive. I bet that’s quite a display.”
“It’s so cool,” Cora said. “You should show her some time.” The phone rang. “Oh, excuse me.”
Jagger tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “Consider that a standing invitation. Ready to go?”
Andi nodded, grateful that he’d given her a graceful way out of answering. She was curious about and interested in his guitar collection. Given Cora’s praise, she’d love to hear him play some time. But following on the heels of her bathroom what-the-hell-am-I-doing semi-freak-out, she couldn’t think about actually going to his house just then.
Waving quietly to Cora, who was still on the phone, they left. Once again, Jagger opened the truck door for Andi. “Thanks.”
He got in and started up the truck. “Where are we headed?”
“There’s a diner-type place downtown. Dutch’s. Do you know it?” she asked.
Jagger chuckled as he backed out. “I know it.”
“What? We don’t have to go there if you don’t like it.”
“I love that place.” He pulled out of the lot.
She stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what his reaction had been about. His face in profile was rugged, handsome in a man’s man kinda way. Freaking hot. “Then what’s funny?”
“It’s one of my favorite places in town. Cora’s best friend, Haven, works there. And since Haven is engaged to the Ravens’ president, you can usually find a few of us there on any given day.”
“Tell me about the Ravens,” Andi said. “A few of you were at the repair shop helping Sam. Cora and her best friend are both engaged to members of the club and Cora obviously holds you in pretty high esteem. Why does it sorta feel like a big family?”
“Because it is,” he said, maneuvering them through town. “I’ve been a part of them since I was seventeen. They gave me a good job, a home, a brotherhood.”
She shifted so that she was angled toward him. “Is it true that the club offers protective services?”
He nodded. “That’s why I love what I do at the speedway. It funds a lot of what we do for people.”
“You mean people don’t have to pay?” Because damn if that wasn’t another interesting layer.
“We occasionally hire out, but when it comes to helping a woman or child out of a bad situation, standing guard so they can’t be intimidated out of testifying in court, or helping them start fresh somewhere, we don’t ask for money to do the right thing. Sometimes people don’t want charity, and they’ll give us what they can, but it’s never expected.” He glanced over at her.
That was…seriously impressive. “Is that a normal kind of thing for a motorcycle club to be into?” She’d lived in the area her whole life, so while she knew of the Raven Riders’ existence, she didn’t know much about them. Really, most of what Andi knew about motorcycle clubs was what she’d seen on television shows, and she had no idea how realistic that was.
“It’s normal for us. And it’s important to all of us, for one personal reason or another.” He eased the truck into a street space about a half block from Dutch’s.
She really wanted to ask him what his personal reason was, but it felt like a line she maybe shouldn’t cross. They hopped out and walked side by side down the street, something that emphasized their height difference. She wasn’t particularly short at 5’6”, but Jagger still had another half foot on her. She peeked up at him, and of course he caught her looking. Heat filtered into her cheeks, and the satisfied expression he wore on that handsome face might’ve been irritating if it also wasn’t so freaking hot.
Damn him.
The rain had stopped, though dark clouds still hung heavy and ominous in the afternoon sky. They crossed the intersection to the corner where Dutch’s sat. It was one of those been-there-forever holes-in-the-wall with a long Formica counter, spinning stools, red-and-white booths, mini-jukeboxes on the walls over each, and a huge dessert case filled with everything sweet you could ever want.
Inside, a pretty woman with long hair in a brown-to-blond ombré stood behind the counter, her smile immediate when she laid eyes on Jagger. “Hey, Jagger. I’m so glad to see you. You just missed Dare. How are you?” Her tone was filled with an affection that spoke of a close friendship.
“I’m good. You know I can’t stay away from your cakes, Haven.” Smiling, he turned to Andi. “This is my friend Miranda.” They exchanged hellos.
“Whoa,” Andi said, glancing between Haven and the dessert case and back again. “Am I understanding right that you baked all of this?”
Haven chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”
“Just wait. You have to save room for dessert,” Jagger said, then he nodded toward the booths. “Matter which one?”
The younger woman shook her head. “Sit anywhere.” Despite it being a little late for lunch, the diner was still pretty busy, so they picked a booth toward the back.
Lunch was a fun—and delicious—affair, wherein their booth turned out to be the busiest corner of the whole joint. Haven came to chat, then a few Ravens came in, saw Jagger, and stopped by to say hi—which happened twice, and then the owner of Dutch’s—Dutch himself—stopped to talk awhile, too.
Andi had a few close friends, but not as many as she’d once had. A lot of her friends from academia had fallen away since she’d stopped pursuing a more traditional academic path and instead had gone into correctional education. She loved having a career devoted to teaching, reading, and writing, but she wasn’t the biggest fan of all the hierarchy that came along with being a professor. And she really didn’t give a rat’s ass if some people thought she’d thrown her “promising career” away. She loved what she did.
So seeing all these people stopping by to talk to Jagger—and seeing how many friends he had and how much everyone liked and respected the man—it really struck her. She didn’t have as much of that in her own life. Andi was happy that he had such a great community around him, especially after everything he’d been through.
Then came dessert time.
“Tell me you saved room,” Jagger said.
She held her stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten all of my fries. Though they were really good fries.”
He arched a brow. “Tell me.”
“We could split something?” His whole expression went skeptical, and it made her laugh. “Come on, those pieces of cake are huge.”
“And your point?”
Andi chuckled. “You should be nice and give me a taste.”
He tilted his head and nailed her with a stare, both humor and heat in those dark eyes. “A taste, huh?”
Her belly went on a loop-the-loop. Flirtatious Jagger was damn sexy. “Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, completely aware that both of them were slinging innuendo. “I want a taste. And you said that you’d make happen whatever I wanted or needed.” Now she arched a brow.
His mouth slid into a slow grin and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah, I did. So, tell me, Miranda, what else do you want or need?”
Maddeningly revealing heat spread over her cheeks, but Haven saved her when she arrived to take their dessert order. “What would you all like?”
Jagger smiled up at her. “The usual. Two forks.”
Haven blinked. She looked at Jagger, then Andi. “You’re sharing your cake?” He nodded, and now Haven was smiling and Andi’s cheeks were getting hotter. “Well, okay then.”
When they were alone, Jagger reache
d across the table and stroked his knuckles along her cheekbone. It was the first time that he’d touched in such a direct, purposeful way, and she felt that soft brush of skin on skin everywhere. At least, she certainly wanted to feel it everywhere. “What’s this for?”
Andi chuffed out a little laugh. She was so busted. Still, she brazened it out. “Nothing.”
Haven settled a plate with a head-sized piece of cake onto their table. That was only a slight exaggeration.
“You couldn’t have eaten all this by yourself anyway,” Andi exclaimed when Haven moved on to the next table.
Jagger’s expression was full of mock outrage, and it had her grinning again. When was the last time she’d had so much fun? “I have a second stomach reserved for Haven’s desserts.”
“Is that so?” Andi sliced into the chocolate cake with her fork.
“Mmhmm.” He watched expectantly as she took a bite, and then the amazingly rich and decadent flavors burst on her tongue.
She moaned. “Omigod,” she said around the bite.
“See what I mean?” He took a forkful for himself.
“This might be better than sex.” She took a second bite and looked across the table at him.
He had the smuggest, sexiest expression she’d ever seen on any man’s face. “This cake—” He pointed at it with his fork. “—is the best I’ve ever had. But I think you’ve been having the wrong kind of sex if you think this is better than that.”
Andi was really freaking glad her mouth was full just then, because the cake was so good that she was tempted to tell him to prove it. Still, she couldn’t stop from grinning like an idiot.
He chuckled, and the deep rumble of it was as appealing as those laugh lines around his eyes. This man was funny and kind and thoughtful and obviously well-liked by a lot of people. Those laugh lines revealed a man who laughed a lot. And yet, I’m mostly okay…
It made her want to keep him laughing. “If you say so.”