He wasn’t about to tell her any of that. Not ever.
And since he wouldn’t and couldn’t tell her, then the quiet conversation was a bad idea. He knew with every inch of his body and being that if he got her alone, he’d look into those eyes, see that smile, hear that voice, and he’d be lost. He’d be helpless – and Silver Bennett was never going to be helpless again.
So honesty was out. Keeping her around long-term was out. Continuing to be a prize asshole was out.
But he could be coldly polite as he called in some favors with other business owners that he knew and found Jolene something better. Right? Not warm, necessarily and definitely not friendly because that could be misunderstood as something more by her, something harassing, or misconstrued by the rest of the guys as interest or flirting, and he didn’t want even a suspicion that he found her the most breath-stealing, stunning woman that walked the planet… but he could be formal and professional. Maybe a bit chilly, but not rude.
Sure. That he could do. That’s what he would do.
So, he had a plan. It wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t permanent – but it was something that he was sure they could both live with for now, and he latched onto it with every ounce of his energy. As soon as he found her a job that paid better, that didn’t involve working with an MC, that didn’t mean daily encounters with a guy who’d seen her naked and then proceeded to treat her like shit, he’d have the job offered to her through a third party. Maybe the person could pretend to be a headhunter kind of thing, poaching her away from the MC to something more prestigious and better for her in the long run.
He’d figure it out… he’d make sure that they both got out whole and sane. He was going to make this right. After all, he’d messed it all up, so it was on him to fix it.
God knows he owed the woman at least that much.
Chapter Nine
Jo smoothed her blouse down, knowing full well that it wasn’t going to help the situation in the slightest. Her wardrobe hadn’t been suddenly magically transformed overnight, after all, despite her fervent wishes for something that wasn’t frumpy and dumpy. Not that she was after something sexy either, despite all the delightfully- and suitably-hot motorcycle men wandering around the bar and garage.
No, what she actually wished for was something sleek and form-fitting, but also severe and tailored. An expensive pantsuit in gunmetal gray and perfectly molded to her curves, for example, or a crisp navy blue Chanel dress from the 50’s, back when the cut was unforgivingly classic.
Basically, Jo wished that she had clothes that she could use as a suit of armor. Something that could protect her from Silver’s taunts, but also make her look intimidating and self-assured in her own right.
And her baggy beige blouse and baggy black dress pants did not do those things, not in the slightest. An argument could quite probably be made that they did the exact opposite, truth be told. She looked like a kid playing dress-up in her Mom’s old clothes – and that didn’t inspire confidence. It didn’t inspire anything.
She bit her plump lower lip, shook her head at her reflection in the minute trailer bathroom (misleading to call it that, as it wasn’t even a room as such). She looked tired and no wonder: despite her tiredness from the strain of the day before, she’d tossed and turned most of the night. Well, her wardrobe was going to let her down, big-time and no damn doubt, but her makeup bag wasn’t. It was time to suit up… at least her face and hair. Her body was a lost cause, so she abandoned all hope.
With grim determination and painstaking focus, she made herself up fully in the mirror, squinting around the stains and scratches and cigarette burns: base and powder, eye liner and eye shadow, lip liner and lipstick, mascara and blush. A spritz of perfume (a free sample of Armani’s ‘Si’ that she’d never have been afford), then she pulled her thick hair out of its loose bun, letting it fall over her shoulders in lustrous waves.
She stared at herself, intensely critical, decided that from the shoulders-up, she was pretty damn acceptable even with the shots of gray at her temples. Nothing to be done about the rest of her, so she sighed a bit, then got her ass in gear.
In the early-morning chill, she hurried out to the car, reminding herself to just go get a pair of gloves after work, already. She was tempted to invest in some clothes too, but she’d resolved to wait until she got her first paycheck… and a few more weeks weren’t going to hurt.
It wasn’t like she had anyone to impress or dress up for.
As Jo sat in the car and waited for the engine to heat up, she thought about that, about her not having anyone to look nice for and sighed as she realized that she was surrounded by some seriously good-looking guys. As biker names and hard faces and deep voices and sexy tattoos had all started to fall into place, she’d found herself idly wondering if MC membership to The Road Devils was offered only to the drop-dead hawt. Because it seemed that even though not every one of them had been her ‘type, every single man who’d sauntered past her the day before had been smoldering and scorching in his own unique way.
She’d finally started to make sense of all the individual guys sometime around lunch the day before, when Jinx had brought her across the parking lot to Satan’s Bar. He’d escorted her like a perfect gentleman, warning her to watch her step and pointing out ice patches, then held the door for her, brought her over to the bar and introduced her to Cole and Rebel.
“These two will take good care of you, honey,” Jinx had told her, his mint-green eyes warm. “Rebel cooks lunch for all of us who work here, if we ask, and Cole keeps us hydrated. You tell ‘em what you want, and they’ll serve it on up double-time.”
“Do I – how much –” Jo had faltered, already knowing that she couldn’t afford to buy lunch every day. “It comes out of my paycheck?”
“Naw, baby,” Cole had said, sucking deeply on a cigarette in flagrant disregard for the ‘no-smoking’ laws of the state. But then again, she was an accountant and not a lawyer, so she’d just blinked up at yet another guy calling her some adorably sweet pet name, uncaring about the fact that most workplaces didn’t tolerate that. “It’s a perk of being here. You enjoy it.” He’d winked at her, his dark eyes dancing under his dark, messy hair. “Let us take care of you, huh?”
Jo had looked at Rebel and Cole standing behind the bar, both staring intently down at her, and she’d given them a tentative smile. “Ummmm. OK?”
“Good girl,” Rebel had purred and she’d smiled for real then. “Now, I can cook most anything. Zoe is vegetarian, so that’s always an option.”
“I’m a hardcore carnivore,” she’d informed him. “The more meat, the better.”
His golden eyes had lit up in teasing. “Is that so? A meat lover? Thick and juicy?”
Jo had paused, the double entendre unmistakeable, and had felt their collective eyes on her face: fresh sage green, sunshine gold, coffee black. Waiting to see what she said or did, to see if she’d blush or shuffle her feet or maybe bolt for the bathroom. She’d dug deep for that sexy, flirty woman that Zeke (no, not Zeke, Silver) had responded to, the woman that she’d once been and lost, and given the three men a wicked grin.
“Thick as my wrist,” she’d drawled, heart thumping as she wondered if she was going too far, “and juicy enough to run off my chin.”
A few seconds of silence. And then –
“Holy Lord,” Jinx had breathed as the other two had laughed long and loud. “Clearly we shouldn’t let the prim little blouse fool us, huh? No way any of us is going to get the better of you, you sassy minx. Honey, you’re gonna be just fine here.”
And… she was off, launched head-first and full-tilt boogie into her new job surroundings. She’d sat at one of the tables at Satan’s and had her delicious lunch, and every delicious man who’d wandered by had been called over by Cole to introduce himself, and every one had stayed and chatted. A few she’d met already at The Garage – the twins D
ux and Drake, Jinx of course – and several others appeared to take a look at the almost-completed tattoo parlor – Arrow and Saint, two of Zoe’s three full-time employees. Wolf made an appearance at one point, introduced her to a man called Ice, a man so aptly named, he’d frozen her blood when she’d looked into his eyes. Eyes that were the same mind-numbing cold that she’d stared into for years, the same emotionless blue that had almost taken her down and drowned her a thousand times over. She wouldn’t forget Ice in a hurry, nor would she rush to talk to him again. He was that kind of dangerous that she’d vowed to leave behind when she left Brian.
So, alright. It wasn’t strictly true that she had nobody to make an effort for. Her world was now teeming with seriously attractive men… but in her life she’d mixed business and pleasure twice, and both times it had been a disaster. No way she was about to do that again now.
Lesson learned. And how..
OK, OK… if she were being strictly and scrupulously correct, she’d mixed them three times. But Silver had been an unwitting mistake, one committed over 500 miles away in another state, under assumed names and false pretenses. Surely, surely he didn’t count?
He doesn’t fucking count.
“But I have myself to look nice for,” she said aloud now, meeting her own made-up eyes in the rearview mirror, wiping a bit of mascara off her lower lid. “Right? Why does it always have to be about making an effort for a goddamn man?”
She pondered that briefly as she drove to the Krispy Kreme for a much-needed caffeine and sugar jolt. No way she’d be able to enter the ring and face Silver for round whatever-it-was-by-then without legal artificial assistance in liquid form, and anyway, if her upcoming day was going to be as shit as the day before had been, then Jo felt like she deserved a bit of sweetness, a bit of sparkle. God knows, the day would lose its shine the second that Silver walked into the room.
With that in mind, she chose a Cake Batter donut, loving its bright yellow frosting and multi-colored confetti sprinkles, her teeth aching from the sugar before she’d even taken a bite. She ate and drank her breakfast in the warm car staring at the mountains in the distance, drawing strength from their solid presence, bracing and grounding herself for the ugliness that was approaching, as sure as the sunrise.
Jo still didn’t know how to handle the whole Zeke/Silver (Zilver?) thing… she didn’t have the first clue how this was all supposed to work, but she did know one thing: she wasn’t quitting. She wasn’t leaving. She also wasn’t going to get fired because the idiotic man wouldn’t help her do her job. Sabotage was a possibility, she’d come to realize, and although as Treasurer he was meant to help her, she couldn’t count on that.
Best to deal with Zoe and Scars directly, she’d decided the night before, and get garage documents from Jinx whenever possible. If she had to deal with Silver, she would, but she’d be as icily professional as possible and send e-mails with requests and follow-up.
As an accountant, she understood the importance of a paper trail. It could save your life; it could send you to jail. It could prove your point; it could demolish an argument.
And in my case, it might save my job if he starts to mess around with it.
So, that was the plan, then. Avoid the jerk whenever possible, kick ass with everything and everyone else, and make sure to document everything to do with him in paper or e-format. Oh, and keep her cool in the face of his slimy, arrogant provocation.
Jo knew perfectly well which of those goals would be the hardest to stick to.
She drove to the parking lot, noted that the construction on Blue Dragon was already going on for the day, and parked close to The Garage. She looked over at Satan’s Bar, saw no movement at all and no surprise. Although it was open 24/7 for the MC members, she doubted that much would be happening at 8 a.m. on a Wednesday. She got out, reached for her backpack on the back seat.
“Morning, Ms. Angeles,” a deep voice voice said behind her and she jumped and spun.
“Argh!” she said, one hand automatically going to her chest like some ditzy female in a mediocre Hollywood drama, then promptly blowing the whole sweet woman thing with her next word. “Godammit.”
“Sorry.” The guy looked both amused and abashed, all tall and broad in the weak winter sun. “I thought you saw me standing here.”
“No.” Her heart rate was slowing a bit and she took him in fully now: yep, yet another hot one, one that she hadn’t met yet. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, square-jawed and classically-handsome, all California lifeguard-esque, he reminded her of Captain America pretty strongly. Her eyes trailed over his clothes, appreciating that the man could wear a pair of jeans like nobody’s business. She took in his jean jacket and cut and – weirdly – a black cowboy hat. The hat should have been at odds with the MC leather and bad-assedness, but somehow this guy was pulling it all off just fine. He looked like he’d been born wearing a cowboy hat, and she didn’t even know what she meant by that. “Ummm. You have the advantage here, sneaking up on me and knowing who I am.”
“I always have the advantage, darlin’.” He grinned, showing impossibly-white teeth and just upping the Captain America vibes. “I’m Cowboy McDermott.”
Jo clocked his Texan drawl, mentally nodded. Yep, it was pretty damn clear that when he was christened with his road name, ‘Cowboy’ would have been one of the first names on the table, along with ‘Texas’ and maybe something like ‘Baywatch’.
“Cowboy,” Jo echoed, accepting his extended hand. “I’m Jolene. Jo.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He actually tipped his hat at her; he actually ‘ma’am’d her. She almost giggled in sheer delight, loving her life. “Can I walk you to your office?”
“Uhhh. Sure. I mean, if you’re going that way anyway.”
“I’m not.” God, look at those eyes in that face. “But I am now, ‘cause I’m walking you to your office.”
She laughed and they started making their way across the parking lot.
“So you don’t work at The Garage?” she asked.
“Nope. I don’t work with any of the club businesses. I have a horse ranch that I own and run and actually, I was wondering if I could invite you for coffee some time.”
“Coffee?” she faltered, hoping hard that this wasn’t any kind of proposition, because she hadn’t yet figured out how to gracefully turn one of those down, should any be offered. “Like – a coffee?”
“Yeah. A coffee. Like a hot beverage imbibed while fully-clothed and sitting in a café with witnesses.”
“Oh… so… an actual coffee.”
“A coffee coffee, I swear. I don’t go for that whole code-speak shit, babe. ‘Netflix-and-chill’ or ‘coffee’ or whatever the hell the modern equivalent of ‘you wanna come up for a nightcap and stay the night?’ is now. If I say coffee, it’s coffee.” He flashed her a heart-stopping grin. “And if it’s sex, I say ‘get naked and jump into my bed, you got three minutes sweetcheeks’.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard as she imagined him growling that, naked except for his hat. “Uh-huh.”
“I find it saves time to be clear,” he said in a conversational tone. “I don’t like muddy communication.”
“So, coffee,” she said firmly as she opened the door to the back of the garage, typed in the code to disarm the alarm. “I like coffee.”
“Good.” He followed her inside, shut the door behind him, took off his hat like a gallant Southern gentleman. Obviously, someone’s mother had raised him right. “‘Cause I would love to pick your brain about how to make some changes at the ranch, see how much budget I have to play with.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him with real interest. “I’ve never worked on a ranch account before, or anything like that. The closest I’ve ever come was a vegetable farm, which might have some similarities I guess, but it’d still be quite the learning curve.”
“Yeah, well, according
to Wolf and Kansas, you’re on a hell of a curve now and you don’t seem all that daunted.”
“Not yet.”
“So settle in here a bit, find your feet. I’m in no rush, Jo, maybe thinking about making changes over the next three years, slow and steady if I do it at all. You want to do some freelance work for me for a bit of extra cash, you let me know. We work on your timeline and if you’re interested.”
“Wow,” she said, a bit touched at the generous offer and belief. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Cowboy.”
“Sure.” He looked around at the silent garage space. “So how you finding it so far?”
“Oh, well, it’s just been one day, you know. But so far, so good.” She took off her hat and unwound her scarf, saw his eyes take in her black hair curling over her shoulders, then move down to the oversized clothing revealed as she unzipped her coat. She straightened her back, determined to stand proud that day, no matter what happened. “I’m maybe meeting Scars and Zoe today, and I’m looking forward to that.”
“Yeah, they’re good people who’ve been through hell lately. Everyone’s happy they’re back.” He sighed a bit, shook his head. “They’ve been missed.”
“I know,” Jo said quietly as they climbed the stairs to the office above the floor garage.
And the thing was, she did know. Even though she hadn’t been around for the explosion and fire, and she didn’t know Zoe, Scars or Keira, Jo found herself hurting for them, just because everyone around her so clearly was. She was still very sketchy on the details about what exactly had happened – most of what she knew she’d picked up the night before from reading all the insurance and police reports – but it was arson. More than that, it was attempted murder… of a baby.
The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2) Page 14