I'm With You (Reapers MC: Shasta Chapter Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

I swore I wouldn’t push myself again. Yet I decide to go on an honest-to-goodness date with a sexy, powerful man who likely had something to do with my father’s death. I’m asking for drama, which is bad enough. But Shane isn’t an easy man to want. He’s pushy and scary. I feel as if he could swallow me up in the same way my funk did in Cleveland.

  I should tell him no, walk away, live an easy life with the people I trust. That’s the smart move.

  But when I’m overwhelmed, I allow the stronger person to make the decisions. It’s why I bowed to Fuse. It’s why Max controls what we eat, and Kelsi chooses the movies we watch, and Hugh picks the games we play. I shut down under pressure. My friends care enough to make sure I don’t get screwed over. I’m not so sure Shane feels any obligation to do the same.

  But he gives me an irresistible smile when I suggest a restaurant in the Railroad that serves barbecued meat.

  “They slow cook the hell out of their pulled pork,” I say while he does that thing with his thumb and my palm. “I’ll pay.”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why do you look stoned?”

  “When you do that, I relax a lot, and I can’t think.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs while slowly letting go of my hand. “That house you live in is tiny. Do you have to share a room with Kelsi?”

  “No. There are three tiny bedrooms. Wait, why are you checking out my house?”

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  “Why?”

  I know the question is stupid as soon as I say it, but I’m not used to anyone paying attention to me. Even in Cleveland, I didn’t gain much interest. I have a quality that makes me forgettable, even when I ought to stick out like a sore thumb.

  “I grew up in a town where my family had power,” he explains. “We lived in a nice house in a nice part of Ellsberg. I’m used to getting what I want.”

  “And you want me?”

  “Is that really such a bad thing?”

  “No, you know?”

  “Sure, but if someone other than us was to look at this situation, would they find something bad about me wanting you?”

  “Do you mean my mom?”

  “No, like a friend who just wanted the best for you.”

  “Well, that friend might wonder if what I want will matter as much as what you want does. I don’t worry about that, of course, you know?”

  Shane studies me while wearing a half-smile. “Men don’t treat you that great, do they?” he asks, and I shrug as if I’ve never considered their behavior. “You should be wary of me, but I’ll prove myself. I’m great under pressure.”

  I immediately get a dumb idea in my head. Shane likes me, and I like him. He claims to be great under pressure while I suck under pressure. What if we’re a good match? I’ve never been in love or seriously dated anyone. Is a good match all people need to make things work? Or is there more to it?

  Romantic love is a mystery to me. My mom loved Fuse. He probably loved her too, but nowhere near as much as he loved his wife, Coterie. Though probably more than he loved his other side pieces, Rebekka and Jeffie. Then there were the two weeks that Kelsi was in love with Utah before she realized he was into guys. For three days, Hugh was in love with a guy he met one weekend at a South Carolina beach with his family. Max’s never even had a boyfriend before, but her mom loved and married four very different men. No one I know well has actually enjoyed a happy, long relationship.

  Meaning, it’s very possible that normal people just meet other normal people, they click, and that’s it. Things aren’t complicated.

  I really prefer simplicity. My friends are like that. They’re not manipulative and never mistreat me. They won’t push me too hard. I like to think I’m the same way with them. The Band and I click.

  And Shane says we click too. I’m not sure that’s true. I’m so overwhelmed by his good looks that I don’t know if I can see anything else. Animal attraction blinds people to flaws. My mother is proof positive of that, and one of my biggest fears is becoming her.

  “I’m not a nice guy,” Shane tells me as we walk out of the Emporium. “But I’m a good man.”

  I want to ask what the difference is, but I keep my mouth shut. “The place is a block over. Wanna walk?”

  Shane clearly doesn’t want to walk anywhere. He glances at his bike parked across the street.

  “I’m afraid to ride on Harleys,” I lie since the truth is sticky and unpleasant. “I fell off one before, you know?”

  Shane doesn’t believe me. I admit my lie wasn’t great. I just don’t want to be seen on his Harley yet. People in Shasta view a woman riding bitch as a big fucking deal. Sweet butts never enjoy that perk.

  Once Kelsi ended up stranded on the road with a flat tire. One of the Skullz stopped to help her. When he realized he couldn’t fix the flat—no replacement—he didn’t give her a ride to her place. He’d fucked her plenty of times, but she wasn’t good enough to ride bitch. He just called someone to pick her up in a car. That’s how the Skullz ran things.

  I don’t know about the Reapers and their rules, but I’m uninterested in climbing on behind Shane. Harleys make me think of shame and rejection. Shane makes me think of sexy possibilities. Why ruin shit by mixing up the two?

  “I want to walk,” I say, holding his gaze and trying to make him do what I want.

  Shane studies me for a really awkward minute. I can’t look away from his face, waiting for him to decide. He clearly prefers to get his way, and I sense giving into me guts him a little.

  “Sure,” he says and reaches out for my hand. “The weather’s nice.”

  Smiling so big that I hurt my tender lips, I can’t believe how amazing it feels to get this powerful man to let me choose.

  THE ROMANTIC

  Ego is a helluva drug. I love the rush of being right or in charge. I want to be the guy in the driver’s seat. The only reason I didn’t grab the president spot was that I spent my entire life following River. He’s one of the few people that I naturally fall in line behind.

  Ramona is still a stranger, but I know I’m far stronger than her in every way. I ought to dominate. It’s who I am and what I do with people. And I really fucking want to do it now when she refuses to ride my bike.

  But then I look in her eyes and see a whole bunch of emotions that don’t make sense to me. She’s an open book, but I skipped a few pages and suddenly don’t know what the hell I’m reading. However, I am fully aware she looks terrified to ride my Harley.

  Though bowing down kills me, I agree to walk to Smells Good BBQ. I don’t get to feel her arms around my waist, but I do enjoy her little hand in my stronger one. Ramona does seem especially fragile as we stop at a crosswalk. Maybe it’s the shorter haircut or how she nearly walks right into traffic. The girl really doesn’t know how to look both ways, which is weird. She seems aware of what’s around her at other times. But once near traffic, her brain seems to flip off. She doesn’t even notice how I tug her to a stop or tighten my grip on her hand. She’s too busy using her free hand to touch her bare neck.

  I take that moment to run my finger along her throat too. She shivers and looks surprised up at me.

  “I like this new look,” I say when she just watches me.

  Her smile is so adorably honest that I nearly pick her up and start making out right here on the street. There’s just something irresistible about how open she gets when she forgets to pretend.

  “I wasn’t that bothered by getting a haircut, you know?”

  Her endearing smile makes me feel like an asshole for not mentioning how her face gives away her every lie. Or how she has that obvious tell. Why don’t her friends warn her about it? Do they not notice? Or did they tell her and she doesn’t hear it when the telltale words come out of her mouth?

  “It should have been your decision, not those fapsocks,” I mutter as we walk across the street. “But I’m glad you realize how sexy you are with any haircut.”

&n
bsp; Ramona just gives up looking where she’s going and stares up at my face. I like how much she likes me, but I’m terrified she’s going to trip and hurt herself. Fortunately, once we arrive at the restaurant, she tears her gaze from my face.

  “Ramona,” a sweaty guy asks from the bar area. “And your biker.”

  “Tye, this is Shane.”

  “The Reapers’ VP,” the guy says and shakes my hand. “Heard you two were hooking up.”

  Ramona looks ready to talk down our relationship, but I squeeze her hand as a distraction. I don’t want her telling anyone anything. Not if the second the words leave her mouth, they’ll spread through Shasta.

  “Also heard about your hair,” Tye says and then reaches over to stir a pot of bubbling sauce. “Looks sexy on you.”

  Shaking my head, I’m ready to tell him to fuck off and stop thinking dirty thoughts about my woman. Before I can, another guy appears from the back. He owns the same face as Tye, but his skin is several shades darker. I soon learn his name is Tyrone. I feel as if they’re sharing an inside joke that I’m too tense to ask about.

  After Ramona acts way too familiar with these guys, I tug her toward a private table.

  “Are you mad?” she asks, studying my face while I look over the one-sheet menu.

  “No.”

  “You seem mad.”

  “I don’t like how friendly they were with you.”

  “It’s the Railroad. Everyone knows me here,” she says, lowering her gaze to focus on my hands. “They might not all like me, but they know me.”

  “Why would anyone not like you?” I demand, angry in a way that I’m unaccustomed to.

  Ramona isn’t going to answer. Her gaze locks on to the napkin holder and doesn’t relent.

  Shelby once claimed that I was the meanest man in the whole damn town. She was exaggerating that day, but I feel like an asshole right now. Ramona ought to razz me for my temper in the same way that Shelby does. Except my sister grew up knowing her dad loves her something crazy. She has a mom that thought she was a genius. Ramona didn’t have either, and she also doesn’t have a little brother willing to smoke a few assholes to avenge her.

  Despite what the self-help books claim, confidence isn’t created from scratch inside a person. People need outside forces to build them up. Praise from family, friends, teachers, etc. If no one thinks you have value, why would you believe otherwise? I don’t know if Ramona’s that low on herself, but she certainly doesn’t own the confidence to stand up to me.

  “I’m protective of people who matter to me,” I say and slide my left arm around the back of her.

  Ramona stops staring at the napkins and lifts her gaze to study my face. “I make men angry. It’s not a big deal, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I murmur and kiss her.

  Knowing she’s sporting a busted lip under her black lipstick, I don’t get as deep of a taste as I’d like. Ramona still smiles as if I’m the yummiest flavor around.

  “I have a temper,” I admit. “I grew up spoiled rotten. I was bigger than a lot of guys and better looking too. My dad is a scary guy around Ellsberg. I never needed to learn how to control my temper.”

  “Not even around your mom?”

  “Well, yeah, I’m real sweet to her.”

  Ramona smiles wider. “I bet she brags about you all the time.”

  “Oh, yeah, my every fart impresses her.”

  Relaxed now, Ramona looks at me in the same way she did that first day before she learned about my status in the Reapers. She owns a forgiving nature. That’s reassuring to know since I’m bound to fuck up a lot.

  THE CHAPTER WHERE BULLYING ISN’T THE RIGHT MOVE

  THE LEGACY

  Shane really does love meat. Once his food arrives, he loses his furrowed brow and stops glaring at every man in the place. I don’t know why he gets so agitated. I bet he doesn’t feel respected in Shasta like he did in Ellsberg. He’s too young and handsome. People think he got his position as a result of nepotism.

  “Is your dad in charge of the Reapers in Ellsberg?”

  Shane’s expression softens when he thinks of his father. “No, he’s an enforcer. He just hits people who need hitting but only on the west side of town. We have too many people in Ellsberg.”

  “Is that why you came here?”

  “I came here because River came here. My sister came because we came.”

  “Why did he come?”

  “River could have gone to Pema, but he dated a chick there and didn’t want to cause drama. Here, he can be himself.”

  “And you go where he goes?”

  “Sure. He’s my best friend. Who else is going to watch his back?”

  I love how relaxed he is when he talks about his favorite people. “What do you miss most about Ellsberg?”

  “My parents.”

  “What do you like best about Shasta?”

  “You.”

  Grinning, I can’t believe how casual Shane is about his feelings. Then again, he’s gorgeous and powerful. He has money too. Why would he play cool when he succeeds effortlessly?

  My phone vibrates on the table, and I catch sight of my mom’s number. Turning the cell upside down, I can’t deal with her right now.

  But she won’t let up. My choice to spend time with Shane is a personal attack on her. I can hear her accusations in my head. I’m all she has left now that Fuse is gone, and she cut off her best friend, Joanna. I should know how she feels since I’ve dealt with depression. Why am I hurting her when she’s always been there for me?

  “What’s wrong?” Shane asks, sliding his arm around my shoulders again.

  I feel that swirling dread building inside me. Closing my eyes, I try to get hold of my emotions. I can ignore my mother’s calls. She won’t show up and make a scene. I can have tonight with Shane. There’s no reason to freak out. I just need to chill. Sliding my music bud in my left ear, I need a little music to settle my nerves. Next to me, Shane looks worried.

  “Hugh and Kelsi won’t be home until late tonight. The house is empty,” I say in a voice that sounds as uneasy as I feel. “I wish we could go somewhere private, where people aren’t watching and gossiping.”

  “Let’s take our food back to your place,” he says, tense now. “Is there someone here that’s fucking with you?”

  Shane levels his gaze on the people around us. I see him eyeballing a few guys first. Then he scowls at one girl who suffers the mistake of making eye contact.

  “It’s my mom,” I say before he makes Emma Joy Sander start bawling. “She’s found out about us, and I know she’ll keep calling all night. I’d feel more comfortable at my place.”

  Shane stands in a quick motion and stalks over to the counter, where he asks for to-go containers. We soon walk outside and back to our vehicles. I put the food inside my car and just leave without thinking about how he might be offended by my lack of words. The Band knows I forget to talk when I’m in a weird mood.

  On my drive home, I remember that Shane is a normal person. He’ll think I’m rude or a drama whore. By the time I park my clunker in the gravel driveway and carry the food to the front door, I’m already tired. Shane’s motorcycle goes silent behind me as Hilly comes barreling out the front door.

  “No,” I tell the dog weakly.

  Hilly goes straight for Shane and sniffs wildly at his shoes. “He doesn’t bite,” I mumble. “He’s harmless.”

  “Does he stay in the house all day?”

  “No, Hugh let him out a little while ago. He texted me.”

  Shane joins me at the doorway while Hilly lifts his leg and pees. “Why do you sound like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you upset about something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I feel like you’re lying.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me. I’m always moody. Kids at school used to call me Mopey Mona.”

  “Tell me who they are, and I’ll call them somethin
g,” he grumbles as if he can threaten everyone who’s ever done me wrong.

  “But they’re not why I was mopey.”

  “Then, who?”

  I walk into my small, yellow kitchen and place the to-go containers on the cheap Formica counter. I run my fingers over the nicked surface and then turn to where Shane stands too close behind me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks again.

  “I have poor coping skills.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means I get upset about something or even over nothing. Then I can’t get myself to feel better.”

  Shane frowns as if I’m an idiot. I can imagine him looking that way at the old Skullz members. I bet they thought he was too young and handsome to fear. But that frown is scary as fuck.

  “If the Band was here, what would they do to help you feel better?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Stop saying that,” he mutters.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you. I have poor coping skills. I don’t know how to feel better. I just have to ride it out.”

  “No,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me to the couch. He sits before tugging me down until I’m straddling his lap.

  “Sex might help,” I mumble, resting my arms on his shoulders.

  “No. I can’t get hard when you look like that.”

  My hand reaches down for his cock, knowing I can get him plenty excited. Men aren't that complicated. Shane seizes my hand and places it on his cheek.

  “Do you like me?” he asks in a hard tone.

  “A lot.”

  His expression softens immediately. “Am I making you feel bad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you really not know, or are you afraid to tell me the truth?”

  Hilly jumps up on the couch and pants at us. Shane refuses to acknowledge the dog. Instead, he waits for my answer.

  “I’ve always been moody. Even when I was a kid, I would start feeling bad and couldn’t stop. It’s not you or life that makes me shitty. It’s me.”

  “You’re not shitty,” he grumbles and exhales deeply. “But I’m sure that’s the depression talking.”