“G’nite,” he whispers softly.
Night, night, Lachlan.
Throwing my head back into the cushion of my lounger, I shake in silent laughter—I can’t believe he just said that!
Last night, I fell asleep on Lachlan’s lap. Nothing happened, I swear. It was entirely innocent. This morning, rays of sun had me waking up, tucked away in my bed, with Pirate curled up on the pillow beside me; his wet nose poking my temple.
Using the bar above my bed, I swung my legs off the mattress and rose to a surprise. There, on my nightstand, sat a single daisy in a water glass, my cell phone, and a note scribbled on a sheet of ripped notebook paper.
Bridget’s in bed. I’m at work. Be good. Made ya lunch. It’s in the fridge.
My heart went a little wonky at the sight, but I dismissed that immediately. Sliding into my wheelchair, I snatched up my cell phone and got on with my morning rituals.
About an hour ago, I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business when there was a knock on the sliding glass door. I wheeled myself to it, and peeled back the edge of the curtain. Standing on the welcome mat was a pair of scuffed, black leather boots, and inside those boots was a man. It took me a long moment to register who I was looking at through the frontal view of tight jeans, thick leather belt; further up, a crisp white t-shirt was tucked proudly under a leather vest or cut, as Bridget had previously explained it to me.
A deep, cumbersome laugh had me tipping my head back to meet the man’s eyes. It was Thor, and he was smiling that same megawatt smile; his blond hair now tied back in a low man-bun. A white sack was gripped in his hand. “Ya gonna let me in, beautiful?” He winked flirtatiously through the glass. I went shy immediately, and shrugged my shoulders, nibbling the corner of my lip.
He tried again, more politely this time. “May I please come inside, Magdalene?” His voice was soft and sweet—less playful. I liked it. I liked it a lot.
No one had told me Thor was coming over. But, I guessed it was safe enough to unlock the door and let him in, since he’s part of the same motorcycle club as Lachlan. So I did just that; flipped the latch and he let himself inside.
Wheeling myself backward, I allowed him to pass. “I like your dress. It’s nice,” he complimented before rounding my chair and making himself right at home on the sofa. Tossing the white bag on the coffee table, he then stretched his arms across the back of the couch.
“Pip sleepin’?” he asked, kicking his boot up and resting it on his knee.
Thanks to having spent time with Lachlan, I was a little less uncomfortable with such a larger-than-life biker sitting in the living room, as I sat in my wheelchair, unable to speak. Lachlan with his dark and broody, intense thing is much more intimidating and harder to digest than Thor’s light, carefree attitude. I envy Thor in that way. Just like Bridget, he never seems to stop smiling.
“Smoke’s workin’?” he probed before I was able to answer the first question.
Curling my fingers into my lap, clutching my phone, I nodded tentatively.
“And Pip’s in the bedroom, sleepin’?” he repeated his previous question, his eyes raptly assessing my face.
I contemplated whether or not to be honest, or not reply at all. All the attention he was giving me was making me shy; and, he was giving plenty. His eyes couldn’t stop roaming my body, still dressed in the light blue outfit from yesterday. It matched well with the blue of my eyes. I guess I hadn’t realized how much it did until his own started glittering with mischief like he wanted to see what was under everything. The sordid thought was plainly written across his naughty face as his lip curled suggestively, and his eyes zoned in on my heaving breasts. Shivering under his gaze, my nipples turned into sharp points, poking out of my cotton dress.
Thor languidly licked his lips. “Pip. . .sleepin’?” he drawled in a groan, and reached down to adjust something hard in his pants. My stomach dove to the floor in recollection. I knew what he was touching, and I couldn’t remember the last time a man had to do that in my presence. It was both disconcerting and a little flattering, too; it made me feel like a teenager again. And mostly, I felt desirable—something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
It was that moment in time, when I couldn’t decide if Thor was going to try to throw me down on the couch and ravish me or not, that Bridget chose to make her sleepy appearance, bursting the sweltering bubble Thor had sucked us into. I was beyond grateful for her abrupt entry, and visually sighed with relief, wiping my brow. Clearly, I was getting too swept away in Thor and the indecent looks he was giving. There was no doubt about it; he found me attractive. And I liked that. I liked that a lot. Not because he’s handsome in a surfer-boy, Norse-God kind of way. But because he’d reignited something dormant deep within me. Instead of being self-conscious about my thick curves, they felt womanly and beautiful in his presence.
Listen, I get how crazy that sounds, but that’s how it felt.
Bridget shuffled to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. When she turned around, she screamed, “Oh!” as her hand flew to her chest and her wide eyes flicked back and forth between Thor and me. Stopping, her eyes zeroed in on Thor, who was more engrossed in watching me, paying her no mind.
“Thor, what’re you doing here? Dad hadn’t mentioned you stopping by while he was at work.” There was definitely some tension weaved through her words.
Thor casually leaned his head to the side, smiling at Bridget. “Oh, hey, Pip,” he coolly greeted like he hadn’t noticed she was standing there in the first place. “I figured I’d keep Magdalene company while he worked a shift.”
“Oh, how nice of you.” Sarcasm dripped from her every word. I was getting uncomfortable as I began questioning if maybe I shouldn’t have let Thor inside, and maybe should have asked permission first.
Bridget’s lovely teal eyes frowned at Thor for a fleeting moment before she diverted her gaze to me and smiled genuinely. “Mornin’ Magdalene. Sorry I missed ya yesterday. Whisky’s was slammed with cupcake orders for a wedding this weekend, and the club’s cookout on Sunday. I tried to leave in time to come home and have dinner with you and Dad. But—”
Her words were cut short when Thor interrupted, “You ate alone with Smoke last night?” Swinging his eyes to me, his brow peaked in question.
Unable to communicate with him other than using signals, I did what I’ve been doing since I woke up in the hospital. I nodded, meekly.
Thor’s face blanched before transforming into a scowl. “What’d he make ya?” His snarky change in attitude wasn’t lost on me. Since I’d normally refuse to reply to that, I decided to ignore him and stare at my hands instead, pretending he didn’t exist. Hoping for it.
What did it matter what Lachlan made me? We had an enjoyable evening. One that didn’t include him eyeing my body like a piece of meat. Not that I would have minded. Okay, I would have minded; Lachlan’s eyes affect me differently than Thor’s. Don’t know how or why, but they do.
“Thor?” Bridget’s chastising words cut through the air like a knife.
“Huh?” he grumbled.
I couldn’t bear glancing up, so I picked at my nails as Bridget laid down the law. “You said you’re here to see Magdalene. So why don’t you spend time with her, without making her uncomfortable, like you’re doin’ right now? Let the stuff in your head stop, right here, right now. She doesn’t need to get dragged into somethin’ she has nothing to do with,” she demanded in that sweet, no-nonsense tone.
“All right,” Thor conceded, like a dog who had been scolded and told to go lie down.
And thusly, the rest of my day began. Bridget left us to change out of her pajamas and into a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. Which made me insanely envious, because I’m dying to wear anything other than a dress.
Thor dispersed the giant doughnuts he’d brought us in the white paper bag, and we ate them in the living room before retiring to the patio. Which is where we currently are.
Bridget’s seated next to me on her father’s lounger, and Thor is sitting in a chair that he’s pulled up, closer to me. Not that I need him that close. But it doesn’t bother me much either. My heart hasn’t leapt once. Maybe I’m not experiencing much change after all. It’s kind of relieving, to be honest. I was worried for a while since I’ve been constantly flustered around Lachlan. With Thor, I feel my sense of normal. It’s nice to feel that way. Maybe I’m back to my usual self. Sure, I felt a little excitement when Thor was looking at me like he wanted to eat me for dinner. But, that was my normal excitement; it was the kind I felt with most of the men I dated. Level, disconnected, desired, but my heart wasn’t in it. I prefer to live my life that way. It’s easier, and a lot less painful that way. You don’t understand how wonderful it feels to get that back.
Moments ago, all of us just finished busting a gut about this ridiculous story Thor told us about Lachlan at the gym. Essentially, he’d walked into the women’s locker room on accident, and finally realized where he was after he’d already undressed and was headed to the showers in some boxers. From the way Thor explained it, Lachlan ran out of there, forgetting all of his clothes in the process. Thor had to be the one to retrieve them and deliver them back to Lachlan in the men’s locker room; where he sat in a bathroom stall, waiting for clothes so he could leave. It was pretty funny. Considering the fact that I could never picture big, badass Lachlan running from a women’s locker room like that.
Calming her laughter, Bridget asks, “Did he seriously try to outrun Sniper on the treadmill, too?”
Thor grins slyly, and bobs his head in confirmation. “Oh, yeah, that boy did. He was cussin’ up a storm, callin’ Sniper a bloody cheatin’ arsehole.”
Thor trying to mimic Lachlan’s accent has me silently chuckling to myself. Out of politeness, I cover my mouth with my hand.
Thor continues. “I dunno how he thought he was ever gonna outrun, Sniper. Man’s got legs for miles, and he’s what? A buck fifty soakin’ wet?”
Don’t know what Sniper looks like, but I do know Lachlan has to have at least a good hundred pounds on him. If that is, in fact, what Sniper weighs.
Bridget nudges my arm and slides her phone in front of my face. I stare down at the picture on her screen. “That. . .” she points to a man standing next to her dad in the photo. This man’s taller than Lachlan by maybe two inches. He’s lean with jet-black, military style hair, flawless coppery-brown skin, coal-black eyes, and sharp cheekbones. He’s beautiful, like an authentic Native American. “That’s Sniper,” she finishes.
Just like Thor said, Sniper did have legs for miles.
“Sniper can run ten miles without running outta breath or breakin’ a sweat,” Thor enlightens smugly. “Smoke’s a terrible runner. All that bulk’s gone to his biceps, not his brain. He was like a cow cloppin’ on that treadmill,” he chortles, thinking he’s hilarious.
I don’t find his concealed jab humorous in the least bit.
Not able to hide my annoyance, my lips tip into a frown. Calling Lachlan a cow is outright rude, and demeaning. I think he might have insinuated he’s fat, too. Not that I have anything against cows; they’re beautiful creatures. I drink their milk, and their meat is delicious. But comparing Lachlan to one steams my broccoli, and not in a good way. You’re not supposed to talk about your friends like that.
“Oh, hey.” Thor’s hand shoots out to rub my shoulder. I’m half tempted to shrug it off out of spite. But I don’t. “Hey,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulder tenderly.
Reluctantly, I tilt my head to meet his eyes.
Thor smiles, timidly. “You went icy all of a sudden. You okay?” He seems genuinely concerned.
Indecisively, I lift my shoulders and drop them in a leaded shrug. The phone in my lap vibrates, and I raise it to read the incoming message. It’s Bridget.
Thor calling dad a cow make you mad?
Yes, I reply honestly.
Me, too. Don’t let it get you upset. Thor and Dad have a strained friendship. Remind me to tell you about it later. Kay?
Kay. I click send, nodding at my screen in agreement.
Just as I begin to contemplate how Thor and Lachlan’s friendship could be strained, and why it became that way, Thor disturbs my thoughts.
“Whatcha got there?” He points to my phone, resting his feet on the edge of my lounger.
Since I can’t speak, Bridget graciously explains for me. “Dad was worried about Magdalene being home alone when he was working. He wanted her to feel safe, so he bought it for her,” she states proudly, somehow leveling the playing field once more after Thor’s impolite remarks.
He seems unaffected by her tone when he nods to the phone in my hand. “It’s got daisies on it,” he observes, his nose crinkling in deep thought.
I nod, because he’s right; it does have daisies on it. Pretty obvious. Duh.
“You like daisies?” he tests, like he’s digging to find something, though I’m not sure what.
Even if I didn’t like daisies, I’d tell him I do, just so he’d stop looking at my phone and the case like it has magical powers. It’s just a phone, a nice one.
To put his mind at ease, I deliberately nod my head multiple times, allowing it to sink in.
Daisies have always been my favorite flower; ever since I was a little girl, picking them from my grams’s flower garden. By the time I was a teenager, they’d taken on a life of their own, sprouting up all over my grams’s yard. I suspect she secretly planted them herself just because she knew how much they made me smile. Guess I’ll never know now, will I? But the memory of vases overflowing with daisies will be forever imprinted in my mind.
“You want to put my number in there?” Thor jerks his chin at my cell. He’s testing the waters, obviously. I suppose it can’t hurt to have his number, too. Another brilliant smile explodes from his mouth as he takes my phone and brushes his fingers across the back of my hand before plugging in his number and returning it to me.
“Text me real quick so I have your number, too?” he proposes.
I know what game he’s playing. But he’s a decent guy, so I figure ‘why the heck not’ and shoot him a text —Hi.
Fleetingly, I’m rewarded with another one of those pearly white smiles. “You comin’ to the club grill-out on Sunday?” Thor asks, his eyes casting downward, thumbs tapping his screen.
I’d heard the grill, party-thingy mentioned in passing, but I wasn’t invited so that would be a no. Even if I were, I still wouldn’t attend. Meeting an entire lot of bikers and their families in my condition is not something I want to engage in; especially after only knowing Lachlan and Bridget for such a short time. Let’s not forget the fact that I’m socially inept, and not even remotely a biker. I don’t think I could handle the awkwardness of being on their turf. Is that what they call it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just thinking too much.
Putting my phone to good use, I text my reply to Thor instead of shaking my head.
No, I’m not.
To save face, I’m not going to admit that nobody actually invited me.
Thor replies, How come? I can swing by in my truck and pick ya up before I head. You can be my plus one. And it’ll give ya a chance to see my grandma again. She’s gonna be there, too.
Not to sound rude, because his grandma seems decent and all, but the woman’s kinda scary. I’m not sure I want to have a sit down with her, even if she thinks I saved her life. I don’t believe I did at all. I did what any decent person would do, and tried to protect a little old lady from getting severely injured. It’s commonsense, the way I see it, and I don’t need to be thanked for it, or have it paraded around. I’m just happy knowing that she’s alive and well.
Just as I start typing my reply to Thor, an incoming text pops up and I dismiss it to continue typing his.
Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll stay here. Got a big week, next week.
It is sort of true. Next Thursday, I’m due to have my arm casts removed, and arm braces
will take their place. This’ll allow my wrists mobility and make it possible to start physical therapy the following week. All of those things I’m highly looking forward to. It’ll be one step further to getting out of here, and on with my life. No longer stuck in another one horse town—the very thing I’m trying to escape from.
Fishing through my messages, I check the previous one I had received. It’s from Lachlan. Does is sound ridiculous that I’m a teensy bit giddy knowing he texted me from work? It does, doesn’t it? God, I’m pathetic. And apparently, a mental home-wrecker, too. Well, not exactly. Damn, I don’t know. Ignore my cuckoo thoughts and let’s read this message together, shall we?
Ya up?
Yes, I reply.
Now, why do I feel so guilty texting him?
Ya sleep good?
Awe, now he’s asking how I slept?
Yes.
The guilt’s growing substantially heavier. Should I tell him about Thor? Why do I feel like I should tell him? I should, shouldn’t I? It’s his house.
Lachlan immediately responds. Pip up?
Yes. How are you?
Fine. Just got back from a call.
Oh, gosh, I forgot how dangerous his job can be.
Everyone okay?
Aye. Minor accident. No major injuries. No fire.
I sigh, relieved, as I type then press send. Glad to hear that nobody is hurt.
“You just playin’ with your phone or you talkin’ to somebody?” Thor interjects, tearing me from my Lachlan world of concern.
Boldly, Bridget cuts in, “She’s talkin’ to Dad,” she clips, emphasizing her last word. A certain petite redhead is steaming, her feisty attitude out in full force.
I sideways glance at her; she doesn’t look happy at all. Her eyes are narrow, mouth tight, body tense. Turning my attention to Thor, he doesn’t seem much better. A little less tense, but his face is just about the same.
“Ain’t he supposed to be workin’ and not textin’ you?” Thor reproaches crassly. He’s right; Lachlan’s supposed to be working. However, I’m not his keeper and he’s a grown man who can make his own grown-up decisions.
Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC) Page 10