She came out of the stall and washed her hands. Michael looked contrite. Good.
“I’m just trying to get some cold, hard cash for that ass.” Michael came toward her and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“S’okay. But that ‘cold, hard cash’ will not be for this ass.” She’d been the one who kept running back to the guy, even after he called her “white trash” to her face; that was about a week after she told him about her father. “How does he look?”
She wasn’t really interested, but she hoped he hadn’t aged well. He did like to party.
“Bloated face. I think he’s losing his hair. I would not hit that.”
“Low blow, ‘cause you’re a man-whore.”
Michael slapped her bottom and pushed her out of his hug and toward the front of the bakery. She turned her head stuck her tongue out at him.
“I’ll have you know I’ve gotten more discriminating with age.”
With Ian’s boyish good looks gone, maybe he wouldn’t threaten her sanity. His whole tortured, misunderstood artist thing didn’t hold any appeal anymore. Especially now that she was with Travis—nothing misunderstood about him. And he was just as focused on her as she was on him. The fact that he didn’t even humor Ginger for longer than a few seconds when she’d groped him proved it.
“Fine. When’s he coming?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I hate you.”
17
Deacon didn’t live in a beat-up trailer near the mouth of hell like Travis expected. He lived in a normal, suburban rambler. He surmised that his mom had left it to him, and Deacon had cleaned it up to sell. But it looked like he was staying around. The fucker had landscaping outside, and it looked like he had recently replaced the roof and siding. The cement driveway was in pristine condition, probably recently poured.
Looked like a family lived here.
Chevy watched from a couple of blocks up and confirmed that Deacon left in his car about fifteen minutes before Travis rolled up. Travis parked about a block away, and was surprised that the gate to the back yard was open and the side door into the kitchen wasn’t locked.
He guessed the sergeant-at-arms of an outlaw MC didn’t worry too much about folks breaking in; they were what everyone was afraid of. His booted steps echoed through the empty house. Deacon hadn’t kept his improvements limited to the outside. He’d done a lot of updating of the interior. Wasn’t a whole lot of furniture and girly shit, but all the appliances were new. He knew Deacon’s mom wouldn’t have done all this work on her pension.
He found nothing in the kitchen and moved on to the living room. Just a television and a big couch that looked like somebody slept on it—or had insomnia on it. No papers or anything that seemed out of place. He moved on to the front entry and found the door to the attached garage locked.
He’d brought a lock-picking kit in anticipation of having to break in through the front door to find something on Deacon. The fact that the door to the garage was locked told him the goodies were in there.
He jimmied open the lock, stepped into the garage, and turned the light on a shitload of meth ingredients. The cold medicine he recognized; he just assumed the other chemicals were meth-related.
The garage had everything the Diablos needed to get up and running, but Travis had a hard time believing they would cook on-site. Not after Deacon had spent a considerable amount of money restoring the house. So, they would move it; it was just a matter of when.
Travis grabbed his phone and took a few photos before a text from Chevy showed up: coming back your way. Travis heard the garage door opening as he exited the same side door he came in through.
When Skyler got to the restaurant in a pink dress and pearls, Ian didn’t stand up to greet her. The server pulled her chair out. He didn’t give a kiss on the cheek like an old friend, but looked at her with a leering appraisal. The whole thing about him not caring about manners had appealed to her in college. She’d always loved a bad boy.
Michael had lied; he was just as handsome as ever. But, to her satisfaction, there were no panty feelings going on. Then again, he hadn’t opened his mouth, and his words had always been the thing that made him attractive.
“You look good,” he said. He expected her to reciprocate, but she knew it would bother him not to hear her say it.
“Think so?”
“We should get business out of the way.” He narrowed his eyes. “Then we can move on to pleasure.”
Skyler barely repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Get in, make the pitch, and get out. That’s all this is.
“My winery is going to be the best in the area. It would behoove you to have us pouring at the Barlow. And having a space there will up the prestige of Blue Sky Cellars. But this—” She motioned to the space between them. “Is just business.”
“Why’s that, Sky? You still want me. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You always did see what you wanted to.” Her smart-looking dress suddenly felt confining and tight. She wished she could close her eyes and be immediately transported back to her trailer. Or to Travis’s bed. It was only an hour or two and she’d be able to get out of here.
“You know what?” Her father had always told her that her mouth would get her in trouble, but she couldn’t care less right now. “You’re sharp and suave. I liked that a classy guy with family money was into me for a while. But the minute I became more than a prop, your ‘perfect girlfriend,’ you couldn’t move on fast enough. I’ve since realized being perfect is highly overrated.”
“You always did have a bad temper, but can you not make a scene?”
She looked around; the other diners them gaped. One lady winked.
“Apparently, not.”
“Hmm.” He looked down at the menu and took a long sip of wine. “Is your father still in prison?”
“As far as I know.” His words didn’t sting like they would have just a few weeks ago. She picked up her menu. “What are you thinking of ordering? The cioppino here is excellent.”
She waited for a wave of shame to cascade over her, but it didn’t happen. He would poke and prod at her insecurities if she let him. As long as she didn’t react, he would leave it alone and they could get through the dinner without coming to blows or throwing drinks.
It amazed her that—as volatile as her connection with Travis was—it never felt bad. Maybe it was because Travis made her feel wanted? She felt essential to him. With Ian, he’d always made her feel like he was doing her a favor by being with her. He’d never needed her, and he looked down on the fact that she’d needed him.
She wasn’t a favor or a chore to Travis. Maybe when she was ten and following him and Isaac around all summer long. But not now. He had sounded like someone had dinged his Harley when she’d told him she had to be at a business dinner.
Ian smiled at her. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re happy, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. You should try being emotionally available sometime. It’s really not so bad.”
He took a long drink and laughed. She laughed along with him.
“He doesn’t suck like me, does he?”
“Nah. He only sucks in a good way.”
Ian looked a little green at that. Delightful.
After they ate dinner and shared an excellent bottle of sauvignon blanc, Ian got down to business.
“What are you going to pour in the tasting room before your first vintage is ready? The building will be complete in a few months.”
“I have some cases of wine I made in Burgundy. I’m working on getting the rest of them here. We’ll also do blind tastings and offer some other varietals from area wineries.”
“So, you’ll run it like a sort of winemaking commune?”
“I figure giving the other wineries some bandwidth will help unruffle the feathers that are sure to get ruffled when you give me the space.”
“I haven’t ag
reed to give you the space.” He hadn’t, but he would. The fact that they’d slipped back into their normal banter probably made him think he had a shot of getting her back.
She was willing to leave that delusion in place if it got her the slot. “Yet.”
After the first blip of pompous dickery, she actually had a pleasant evening with Ian. They recounted stories of the stupid stuff they’d done in college, the idiotic shit their friends were into, and then they went over the roster of weddings and baby showers coming up in the next couple of years. Even years after their break up, their circles overlapped.
Ian paid the check, even though Michael had called with his credit card number and told the restaurant to charge him for whatever they had.
“Still in a macho pissing match with Michael?”
“Nah, but I like to annoy him.”
They stood to leave.
She was fine to drive, but the gravel lot outside the restaurant and heels didn’t mix. When she was walking out of the restaurant, she stumbled a bit, and Ian put his hand on her lower back to steady her. She leaned closer to steady herself, and they were close enough to kiss. Ian closed the distance between them, and kissed her softly, as if he was waiting for her to give him permission to for more.
For just a second, she was tempted to try it out. Being with Ian made sense. She wouldn’t have to deal with people thinking she was going into the family business. But kissing Ian didn’t feel like anything, nothing like she felt with Travis. So, she pulled back and gave Ian a slight shake of her head. Ian must have understood, because his mouth flattened into a dissatisfied line. He kept his hand at her back, but stepped away.
Just her luck, Duster chose that moment to ride past on his bike. He must have been on his way to Ed’s. She’d told a disappointed Travis to have a boys’ night.
The restaurant wasn’t on a wide boulevard, and Duster passed them a few yards away. Duster’s expression didn’t belie any disgust or even surprise. But he saluted her with two fingers before speeding up and almost drowning out Ian’s question.
“The boyfriend?”
“No. The boyfriend’s friend.” A shiver went up Skyler’s spine. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear of what Duster would tell Travis or her sick anticipation of how angry Travis might get if he thought she was out with another man.
“Shit. I guess they’re right about women always dating their fathers.”
Her muscles tensed, and her back molars ground together. “Don’t start.”
Even though Travis was a biker, and got delightfully growly when things didn’t go his way, he wasn’t a violent man. He was always in control of himself. He raised his voice, but never lost his temper. Even that morning, with Deacon, he hadn’t lost it. I have to remember to ask him about that.
“He’s nothing like my father.” At least, she hoped not.
Travis saw Duster walk into Ed’s and search him out with his gaze over the crowd. Duster jerked his chin toward the door; his friend’s face never betrayed a whole lot. He always had a hard look in his eye, and he was always watching and waiting for mayhem to break out.
Travis followed Duster out of the bar and stood next to his friend as the Brit lit up a cigarette and took a long pull.
“Those things will kill you.”
Duster grunted in response.
“What’s up?”
“Saw Skyler leaving the wine bar.”
“And that warranted pulling me away from my beer?”
“She was with some bloke.”
“She had a business meeting.”
“Looked right cozy to me.”
His friend’s words made him feel twitchy, like he needed to punch something. “Bullshit.”
“He kissed her, don’t think it was a friendly peck on the cheek. Had his hand on her back.” Duster inhaled more tobacco. “She looked fit. Ladylike.”
“It was a business meeting.” He repeated, more for himself. His face heated with anger and his fists clenched and unclenched. He wanted to punch Duster almost as much as he wanted to go find Skyler and knock her over the head to drag her back to his cave.
This chest-tightening fear threatened to overpower him. It was insane how Skyler had become something he couldn’t lose in such a short period of time. The thought of her with another man clouded his gaze with blood. The one beer he’d had turned sour in his stomach. She had ruined him; he’d never lost control like this before she’d moved back. He’d never flown into a jealous rage. What the fuck was wrong with him?
There were only two ways this would turn out: a fight with his friend or a hard fuck with his woman.
18
Of course, Travis was leaning on his bike next to her trailer when she pulled up, arms crossed over his chest. Duster must have gone straight to him with what he saw. Sure, she knew what it looked like. But she was committed to Travis. Even more so after the almost-kiss from Ian. Everyone in the club had to know that. Travis had made such a big deal about her becoming his “old lady.”
He wore his cut, and his hair was back in a manbun. Such long hair shouldn’t be as sexy on a man as it was on him. The look on his face was sexy, too.
But it was more than a little bit scary. He must think the worst. Her blood boiled with lust and a touch of irritation. Was he really going to be the kind of lover who didn’t want her to go on a business dinner? That wasn’t okay with her.
She got out of the truck, spoiling for a fight. “I thought I told you I was unavailable tonight?”
“Duster told me how unavailable you were.”
“Did you come here to make sure no one else was touching your property?”
Travis’s mouth curved into a feral smile. Her toes tingled just like he’d kissed her on the mouth. The conflicting emotions warring in her body caused her to shake and sweat. The nights were getting warmer, and there was very little breeze to cool her heated skin. She’d moved toward him, but kept a few feet of distance so she could look him in the eye.
“Why shouldn’t I want to make sure no one else got his hands all over my woman?” He stood up straight and closed the space between them. The darkness obscured his face, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. Hungry, wild, insatiable.
She wanted to stand her ground. She really did. But no one had ever cared about whether she got home okay. No one had ever wanted her all to himself. Just Travis. She couldn’t look like a pushover, though, so she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.
“Because I can take care of myself.”
“Who was the guy?”
“Ian—a college classmate.”
“That all?”
She had a choice. If she answered truthfully and revealed that she and Ian had dated, Travis would get really pissed. Maybe so pissed he wouldn’t stay the night for make-up sex. If she lied, he’d stay for sure. But what about when Ian was around for a legitimate purpose? Travis might catch her in a lie. Her gut told her to risk it and tell him the truth. But her stupid, traitorous pussy won out.
“Yeah. Classmate. Business associate. Duster rode by when Ian was steadying me.” She motioned down to her feet. “I’m not used to wearing these anymore.”
He took a moment to look at her—from the increasingly painful shoes to her carefully brushed and arranged hair. She’d pinned back her bangs and left the rest loose. The effect of the tight dress, the hairdo, and the accessories was all naughty secretary.
His nostrils flared and he adjusted his fly. He approved.
Travis fucking hated that she got all dressed up looking like she walked out of some 1960s office for some other asshole. During the drive over from Ed’s, his temper had cooled. By the time he got to her place, he just wanted to see her, put his hands on her. But the anger came back when she thrust out her chin and crossed her arms in challenge.
Fear that she’d tried to look like that for an ex-boyfriend scraped at him. Someone she could leave him for. Because she would leave him. Even with the art, he was just a mechanic. He
wasn’t good enough for the goddess who stood in front of him. She looked so damned classy. This was who she really was. He’d known it that night in the barn as well as he knew it now.
But he had her right now, and he wasn’t about to let her go in that moment. The dress and the pearls had to go, though.
“Unzip.”
She looked around as if she was afraid someone would see her. But Roy lived off-site. Any migrants she’d hired to pick the grapes wouldn’t be there for months. There was no one on the property except for the two of them.
“You heard me.” He could hear the edge to his voice. If he was a good guy, he’d talk to her softly, soothe her, tell her he trusted her, and carry her into the trailer and make sweet, gentle love to her.
But that’s not what she wanted. It wasn’t what got her so wet and soft under him. He stepped so close he could feel her breath against his throat. It was rapid, and she looked up. She uncrossed her arms and touched his wrists. He shook her grasp and reached around to the back of her dress.
He moved her hair over her shoulder and blew on the tiny little hairs at the back of her neck. She shivered, but otherwise remained still. The moment was ripe and even the birds and small animals went silent.
Nothing but stars and moonlight and them.
They were alone in the universe, and she belonged to him. She might move on to someone who could offer her more, but he’d always have her like this. When she’d married one of Michael’s rich friends, he’d have her like this.
He wanted to see her naked under the moonlight. When he drew down the zipper, he saw gooseflesh rise where the air hit her skin. She felt it, too. He pulled the dress over her shoulders and bared her to the waist except for the pearls and another lacy bit of nothing.
He flicked the pearls, and was about to rip the strand off. They just made him think about how good and pure she was. She quickly reached back for the clasp and unhooked them. He took them from her and pocketed them.
With one hand, he unhooked her bra and pulled it off her arms from the front. Her creamy tits glowed under the full moon and her nipples tightened to titanium in the cool night air. He bent down and blew on them.
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