“My name is John.” He winked, catching on to the game. “I design cars.”
Clint talked for a while about the car that he designed. I tried to follow along, but he threw in a lot of technical stuff. After a while, I just enjoyed the sound of his voice as it washed over me.
“And now that my car is complete, I’ll have to paint it.” He leaned in toward me. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.” I laughed. “I’m not sure that’s right for a sports car.”
“If you like purple, then the car will be purple.” Clint grinned and took a sip of his wine. “All right, your turn. What kind of nursing do you do?”
I choked on my wine a little bit. Damn. The stupid game that I’d invented was a bad idea. I didn’t want my boss thinking I didn’t like my job. There was only one answer I could give.
“I work in geriatrics.” I squared my shoulders. “I manage a nursing home.”
He nodded and we ate in silence. The game had changed between us. The steak was no longer buttery soft; it turned to ash in my mouth.
“Do you really want to work in a nursing home?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. The word didn’t even sound convincing to my ears.
“Come on, Jo.” He picked at his potato before finally looking up at me. “I played—your turn now. Do you really want to work in geriatrics? If you do, that’s fine, but I don’t think you do.”
He put his knife down and sighed. He was finished. He was going to leave because I had stopped playing our game. The little bit of magic and fun was over. I wanted him to stay. I wanted to talk and feel special for just a little longer. There was only one way to do that. I had to tell him what I really wanted to do with my life, and not treat him like my employer.
“I want to work in surgery. Maybe an emergency room,” I blurted out.
“Emergency, huh?” A smile spread slowly across his lips. “Tell me about it.”
I don’t know how long I talked, but it was a while. I told him about the volunteer work I had done last summer for a heart surgeon and about how I liked the thrill, the rush of adrenaline you got when you worked in the operating room. We finished dinner and cheesecake for dessert.
“Oh.” I looked down at my empty plate. “I talked the whole night.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand. At first I wanted to jerk away from his grasp. His fingers were rough and calloused, but warm and comforting.
“I enjoyed hearing about your dreams.” He gave my fingers a squeeze. “I know this is all temporary, but I hope you feel comfortable talking to me. I want to be your friend.”
“I want to be your friend too.” I surprised myself—I really did want to be his friend. Then I yawned. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just a little late.”
We both laughed and stood up. I was tired. I hardly ever stayed up past ten o’clock, and it was nearly midnight. I didn’t want this night to end. But everything magical ends sometime, so I reached for the dirty dishes.
“Leave it,” Clint said, touching my shoulder. “Let the waitstaff get it. I’d like to take you home.”
“But we are home.” I looked around, confused.
Clint laughed and tucked my hand in his elbow, just like he had done at the beginning of the night. “Let me walk you to your door.”
We walked from the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall. I wanted it to go on forever. Our bodies were close but not touching, and I could feel the strength of his arm as we walked. For the first time ever, I wished the house was a mansion so we could walk together longer. In just moments, we had stopped in front of my bedroom door.
“I had a really good time tonight,” I said, turning to face him. “Thank you for making me feel special.”
“You are special,” he whispered. “No date would be complete without a good-night kiss. What do you say?”
I wanted a good-night kiss more than anything. Then I wanted to feel his arms wrap around me and never let go. He was my employer, though. I couldn’t get fired again and be out in the cold with no money. Live-in jobs were few and far between. I just couldn’t jeopardize my security.
But damn, I really wanted a kiss.
I nodded and offered the side of my face. A kiss on the cheek would be all right. It would have to keep me warm all night as I thought about everything I’d missed.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I nearly cried out in pain. It was the kind of kiss you’d get from your brother—closed lips, devoid of passion. But then he froze. His breath and his mouth were hot against my cheek.
“Jo?” he rasped, as if it hurt him to say my name.
He wasn’t asking a question, he was asking permission. God, I wanted it, and I really wanted it with him.
If I chose to kiss him, I’d be in uncharted waters. Trying to establish a relationship with my boss, whom I already lived with, was so unfamiliar to me. What if I failed? Was an amazing time in bed really worth everything I’d worked for? I could risk having my job fall apart so close to graduation.
My other option was to choose self-preservation. I knew that choice like the back of my hand, and so far it had served me well. I would graduate and become a nurse. But I couldn’t kiss Clint.
Two days ago that choice would have been easy. I always chose my own future and dreams over relationships and love. That was the only way I had survived.
I put my hand on his chest to stop him from kissing me again.
“I had fun tonight.” I looked into his eyes, not sure what to say or how to explain my reasons. “Good night.”
Running his hand through his hair, he shook his head. “Good night, Jo,” he said as he went to his room.
I stood alone in the empty hallway, disappointed. I’d have my nursing certificate and a job. Those were the important things, right? At that moment, I wasn’t sure.
Chapter Ten
Clint
The moment I opened my eyes, I knew I had slept through my damn alarm. The sun was shining in my window—it wasn’t the usual predawn darkness. Shit. This was the first time I had overslept since moving in with Jo and Nana. I would have to see them in the morning.
Seeing Nana was fine, but seeing Jo was going to be hard as hell. Last night, I’d wanted to kiss her...and more, to be fucking honest. When I kissed her cheek, it was like a damn jump start through my entire body. I wanted so much more with her, right then and right there. Fuck. At least she did the sensible thing and told me no. I was ready to pick her up and bring her to my bed like a fucking caveman.
I threw on my clothes and picked up my shoes. It was only seven—maybe they weren’t awake yet. I made my way to the kitchen. I could write Jo her note and get the hell out of the house before Nana and Jo got up.
But as I got closer to the kitchen, I heard voices.
“Didn’t you get your little yellow note today?” Nana was saying, probably to Jo, since she was the only other person in the house.
Her little yellow note? Then it clicked. The note I wrote Jo every morning. I leaned up against the wall that led to the kitchen. Yeah sure, I was eavesdropping, but I wasn’t quite ready to bust in there and see the woman who didn’t want to kiss me last night.
“No.” Jo’s voice was flat and quiet, like she was disappointed. Shit. I guess she looked forward to our notes as much as I did. That was nice at least.
“How was your date, dear?” Nana continued. “Did you have a fun time?”
“I had an amazing time.” Jo’s voice wasn’t as disappointed this time. “We had a lovely dinner and dessert.”
Damn. Now I felt really bad for listening in on the conversation that wasn’t meant for me. That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to make myself known.
“Good morning, ladies,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.
“Oh!” Jo made a startled noise, then dropp
ed a bag of coffee grounds all over the floor.
“Let me help you,” I offered, reaching for the broom.
“No, no, I got it.” She took the broom from my hand and refused to look at me. “Go sit with Nana and I’ll make some breakfast.”
“Well, you’re here late,” Nana observed as I sat at the table. “Shouldn’t you be at work by now?”
“I stayed up last night. I got a new parts catalog for the shop that had a lot of cool gadgets.” I’d flipped through the damn catalog for an hour before going to bed. It’d taken every last shred of control I had not to knock on Jo’s door and kiss her. The way she felt pressed against me had been perfect.
“Did you hear Jo come in from her date?” Nana asked, reaching for her cup of coffee. “She had a lovely time, didn’t you, Jo?”
Thud. Jo muttered a curse from behind the fridge door.
“I’m glad to hear that.” I tried not to laugh out loud. Grabbing my boots, I headed for the door. “I think I’m gonna skip breakfast and head out. I’ll be back home in time for Jo’s class.”
Once out of the house, I broke a grin. At least she had a good time. I had fun playing with her just a little in the kitchen too. After hopping on my bike, I headed toward the garage.
As I pulled into the lot, I noticed all three customer bay doors were open. It was nearly eight and we were already busy. People dropped off their cars in the morning and the prospects were already hard at work on oil changes and basic maintenance. I walked past tools and equipment until I got to the back of the shop, where I housed the Lambo. She was far too pretty to sit out in a parking lot getting pounded with rain.
“Hey, man.” Roach came out of the office as I parked my bike. “The white Chevy needs a new timing chain. They brought her in for an oil change, but it’s been forever. The oil is like paste and the damn timing is just rattling around.”
“Yeah.” I nodded as I looked over the schedule. “That’s what happens when they don’t change their oil for years. Did you call the customer and tell them the issue?”
“I thought I would leave that task to you, boss.” Roach grinned, emphasizing the last word.
I laughed. Right. The hard jobs were all mine, and I loved it.
“Yeah, I got it. Can it just be tightened?” I asked.
Roach and I discussed how to fix the Chevy’s timing problems before I went back to the office. I needed to work up a quote for the customer. This was exactly what I had dreamed my whole life. My own shop.
I spent most of my day working on customer vehicles before I could get to the Lambo. I called in Skeeter, our resident artist and body shop guy.
“I’ve gotta cover up the front end without damaging it,” I explained. “The rounded front fender is one of the hallmarks of the Strosek model. If the cops see it while we’re driving, they’ll know it’s not street legal.”
“Damn, the whole front end needs to be covered?” Skeet asked in his part southern, part European accent. I knew he was Cajun, but it always surprised me. “What about them funny little mirrors?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty weird looking, aren’t they?” I showed him a picture of a couple different model cars. “If we can square off the front fender at least, it can pass for a Gallardo model. I’m guessing most cops don’t know the body models that well. It would be too much of a pain to change out the mirrors.”
“No one knows the body models as well as you.” Skeeter laughed. “I guess we can modify the front with some foam for the drive to the customer’s, but I need to come up with something good to keep it on there. It’s a long damn drive and our usual adhesive won’t cut it.”
“Long drive?” I frowned. Fuck. This must have been what Tate was talking about the other day in Chapel. “Where are we delivering this?”
“Reno, Nevada.” He shook his head. “Right through Silver Souls’ territory, and they ain’t gonna like that.”
I let out a low whistle. Fuck. The Silver Souls were a smaller club, but formidable. They certainly would not like us doing business in Reno. They owned the whole damn city.
“Maybe we should trailer it all the way down there.” I crossed my arms and looked at the gorgeous machine. Gluing foam on it might ruin the finish. “Would take us forever to get through the Silver Souls turf, though.”
“It’s a shit job.” Skeeter shrugged. “Tell me what you wanna do, so I can get started. I’m still working on the paperwork for the registration and all.”
I nodded. This was definitely the hardest job I’d ever done—and I was gonna have to do it right through another MC’s territory.
“I’ll let you know. I gotta talk to Tate first.” Damn, this job was a fuck load more difficult than it should be, but I was up for the challenge.
“See you at Family Night tomorrow?” Skeeter asked, grabbing his backpack full of paint and color samples. “It’s at the clubhouse this time.”
“Naw.” I shrugged. Family Night was when the guys had a party and all the old ladies socialized. “I never go to those things.”
“You got your nana living with you now. She’s family—you should bring her.” Skeeter rolled his eyes. “You ain’t no swinging bachelor anymore, kid. I’ll see you there.”
Chapter Eleven
Jo
Nana was snoring. I smiled to myself from my spot on the couch. General Hospital was playing on the television and she was completely zonked. Dialysis days always wore her out.
After putting away my flashcards, I tiptoed past Nana and headed for my bedroom. I pulled out my secret box from its place under my bed. It held my birth certificate, my social security card, a picture of my sister and me smiling with our parents in happier days, and all of the notes that Clint wrote me.
It was stupid and I kind of hated that I kept them all. Mostly they were notes about his schedule, what time he would be home, if we needed money for grocery shopping. Every once in a while, there would be something personal. My favorite one was:
Jo—thanks for washing my towels—C
Not at all a love note or even vaguely romantic, but it was a note of appreciation and it made me feel special.
I took out today’s note.
Family Night party at the clubhouse. If you ladies want to go, be ready at 5pm—C
It wasn’t a date. I repeated that to myself again. Nana was invited, so it clearly wasn’t a date. But I wished it were. I turned the note over in my fingers. I needed to get over this stupid crush. He and Nana were my employers, and having dinner and kissing him had been a mistake. Obsessing over his notes was a mistake. Going to a party at a motorcycle club was definitely a mistake.
I didn’t want to walk into a room and have to deal with people disliking me based on my skin color. Clint wasn’t that way, but his friends might be a different story. The three guys who helped him move in were all very nice—and white.
Clint had proved to me that he wasn’t a racist asshole, but what about the rest of his club?
Flopping back on my mattress—that he bought for me—I stared at the ceiling. I had practiced turning him down earlier. “No, thanks. I’m going to stay at home tonight.” Over and over again in front of the bathroom mirror.
I just needed to be able to tell him that tonight.
* * *
After helping Nana into her party dress, I curled her hair. She sat on the chair in front of her dressing table while I held the curling iron.
“You’re not going to wear that to the party, are you?” she asked, eyeing my scrubs.
“I’m not going to the party,” I repeated, trying to keep my voice nice and even. We’d been over this twice in the last four hours, but Nana was determined. “I’m going to stay at home and study.”
“I’m home!” Clint’s voice boomed from the front door.
“We’re in my room,” Nana called out before I could say anything.
Clint walked into Nana’s bedroom. He held his dirty boots in one hand, and the smell of motor oil wafted toward us. He had a smudge on his right cheek and I had to resist the urge to wipe it off with my thumb, then maybe run my fingers through his short brown hair.
“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick. Then I’ll be ready to go.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Are you coming with us, Jo?”
“No thanks,” I said, using my rehearsed lines. “I’m going to stay at home tonight and study.”
“You should come with us,” Nana insisted again. “Unless that boy from the other night is taking you out again.”
“Uh, no, I don’t have a date.” I sighed. I looked to Clint, hoping for reinforcements.
“Hey, don’t look at me.” He shrugged. “I want you to come.”
He wanted me to come? I felt my cheeks heat up. Was he just being nice?
“All right, I’ll go.” I couldn’t resist. I wanted to spend any amount of time I could with him. I looked down at my scrubs. “I just need to change.”
After finishing Nana’s hair, I went to my room. Jeans and a top would be just fine for a biker party. I threw on the clothes and then dabbed on a little makeup.
What would the other people be like? A little bit of anxiety worked its way into my brain. Maybe I should stay home. I picked up a tissue to wipe off my lip-gloss.
“Hey,” Clint called from behind my closed door. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
I opened the door. Clint was freshly showered, and unfortunately that gorgeous chest of his was concealed behind a long-sleeved shirt and his leather vest.
I leaned against the doorway. “I want to go, but are you sure your friends will be okay with me?” I asked, looking down at my hands. “I don’t want there to be any trouble because...” Clint frowned, so I gulped. I just needed to say it. “Because of my race. I don’t want to walk into a room of prejudiced assholes.”
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