by A. M. Myers
“See you Saturday,” he promises then turns and walks away without a word.
* * * *
My teeth sink into my lip as I scan the street through the coffee shop window, watching for Lincoln’s Camaro and trying not to hyperventilate. For the past three days, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him or the way he made me feel when he pressed up against me outside my apartment. And if I did find a moment where his charming smile and alluring eyes weren’t at the forefront of my mind, he would text me and bring it all rushing back. His messages were mostly friendly and a little flirty, sending a rush through me each time I heard my phone beep. As much as I’m enjoying it though, I’m so out of my element that it’s not even funny. When I broke up with my high school boyfriend three weeks before graduation, I had just been through the scariest time of my life and I swore off men for a while. Once I felt like I was ready to date again, I just wanted to wait for someone special but it’s hard to meet people when all you do is work.
The deep rumble of an engine draws my gaze back to the window and my lips part as Lincoln pulls into a parking spot on the back of a sexy black chopper. God, he’s lethal. From his ripped up jeans and black boots to his freshly fucked hair that I’m starting to think he just wakes up with, he screams bad boy and it’s definitely doing things for me. He stands, the bike between his thighs and I fidget in my seat, all sorts of fantasies playing out in my mind. What the hell is wrong with me? My mom just died and here I am, imagining straddling his hips and losing myself for a few hours. Swinging his leg over the bike, he pulls off his helmet and runs his fingers through his hair, giving it that sexy messy look and as he glances up, he meets my gaze in the window, flashing me a smile before walking toward the door.
Butterflies zip around in my belly as he opens the door of the coffee shop and directs his gaze toward me as he maneuvers through the tables.
“I got you a coffee,” I say when he reaches me, pointing to the to-go cup sitting in front of the empty chair across from me.
“Thanks.” He sits down and takes a sip before humming in approval. “You remember how I take my coffee?”
“Occupational hazard, I guess.”
Yeah, right.
I’ve never remembered another customer’s coffee order unless they were a regular. It’s just him. He nods, oblivious to my lie, and takes another sip before leaning back in his seat.
“So, do you have the paperwork?”
Nodding my head, I set my cup down and grab my bag off the floor, digging through it for the contract I had Mr. Wiley draw up for me and a pen. I was so focused on him that I almost forgot the reason for our meeting, which is strange since I’m so eager to be done with this apartment. I set the contract and pen on the table before turning them to him.
“I’ve let the landlord know that you’ll be taking over the lease so he’s expecting payment from you from now on. It’s seven fifty a month with an eight hundred dollar deposit. February is already paid for so don’t worry about that. As soon as he gets the deposit from you, he’ll give me mine back.”
He lays his hand on top of mine on the table. “Wait. I’ll pay you for February’s rent, too.”
“It’s not a big deal. I really just want to be done with all this.”
He shakes his head, an adorable scowl knitting his brows. “I insist. It’s your money and I highly doubt you’ve even spent a single night there this month.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say and sigh when I see the stubborn expression on his face. “But okay. You need to sign here, here, and here.”
He takes the pen from me and signs his name in the three places I indicated before spinning the contract back to me. Our fingers brush when he hands me the pen and I suck in a breath, my head spinning from the urge to touch him again as I sign my name three times.
“Congrats. You’ve got an apartment,” I say when I’m done, laying the pen on the table and handing him the keys. He flashes me a smile and I hand him a sticky note. “I’ll get a copy of the contract over to the landlord and that’s his number if you ever need anything. He doesn’t come around much but he’s a good guy.”
He nods. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Well, I guess I better get going,” I murmur, searching for any excuse to stay and somehow wanting to flee at the same time.
“Hold up.”
He reaches out, grabbing my hand, and I suck in a breath as the hair on my arms sticks straight up and warmth pulses over my skin. “Stay and hang out with me?”
“Oh, I…uh, I don’t know about that.”
“Please?” he asks, his smile turning shy and my heart skips a beat. Oh, hell…
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t use that word a lot?”
He laughs. “Because I don’t but I’m saying it now.”
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask and he nods.
“Of course.”
I bite my lip and drop my gaze to the table. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night you came into the diner but this,” I motion between the two of us, “is a really bad idea.”
“Why?”
“So many reasons,” I whisper, a humorless laugh slipping past my lips. Nothing about this is funny.
“What if I just want to be your friend?”
I arch a brow. “Friends?”
He nods.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out on a date but I’m not an idiot, Lincoln. I can see exactly what you want.”
“How long is a while?”
“Eight years.”
He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head like he can’t even comprehend what I just said. “Wow.”
“Yeah, and I get the distinct feeling that you’re a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, which I have no interest in and on top of that, this might be the worst timing ever seeing as my mom just died.”
He nods and I can see the wheels turning in his head. “Look, you’re not wrong about me but that’s not what this is about. I remember how it felt right after my dad died and even with my mom and two sisters, it was still confusing and lonely so I just want to be here for you.”
“As friends?”
He nods. “I know what you’re going through and I also know how to help you when things start get to be too much.”
I chew on my lip, considering his words. “And how would you help me?”
“It helps to stay busy and sometimes, just having someone to sit with you so you don’t have to be alone is everything. I can be that guy for you.”
The thought of having him around to lean on and turn to when the emotions are just too strong to handle is very appealing, especially with Theo back in Charleston.
“Okay, I’d like that.”
He smiles, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing it and leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee.
“I’ve got to ask you a question,” he prompts and I nod. “Has it really been eight years since you went on a date?”
I laugh. “Not exactly but the last time I was in a relationship was eight years ago.”
“Oh, I see. You give me hell for being the love ‘em and leave ‘em type when you’re the exact same way.”
“Uh, no,” I murmur, a blush staining my cheeks. “It’s complicated but I haven’t been with anyone in eight years.”
“You mean… no sex?”
Glancing down at the table, I shake my head. “No.”
“Why?” he whispers, his voice bewildered and I laugh through my embarrassment. Pursing my lips, I pick at my coffee cup.
“I was a bit of a wild child in high school – anything that would make my mother lose her mind, I did it. A few weeks before graduation, I missed my period and my whole world came crashing down on me. I thought my life was over and I regretted all the stupid things I had done during my little rebellion.”
“So you have a kid?” he asks and I shake my head.
“No, thankfully it turned out to be a false alarm but it scared me en
ough that I broke up with my good for nothing boyfriend and became dedicated to getting my life back on track.”
“Okay… but that was eight years ago…”
I hear his unspoken question and nod. “For the first year or so, I made a point to stay single and focus on myself but after that, I promised myself I wouldn’t jump into bed or a relationship with just anyone. He had to be special and I guess no one has ever come along.”
“So you’ve just been living like a nun?”
I laugh, meeting his warm honey eyes. “Essentially.”
“Damn. The more I learn about you, the more interesting you get,” he comments and I meet his gaze, a blush rising to my cheeks as I smile.
“It’s all part of my master plan to trap you with a white picket fence and two point five kids. Now, it’s time to spill some of your emotional baggage,” I joke and he laughs, studying me as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“What do you want to know?”
I glance to the side of our table as a couple brushes by and wait for them to get far enough away before I turn back to him. “Will you tell me what happened to your dad?”
“Shit, you’re going right for the bull’s-eye, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to…” I start, but he holds his hand up to stop me.
“No, it’s okay. And it’s only fair.” His smile falls away and he sets his coffee down in front of him, taking a deep breath. “My parents had this charter plane business up in Alaska, still do actually… anyway, they would take tourists on sightseeing tours and help deliver supplies to some of the smaller villages, stuff like that.”
I nod for him to continue.
“My mom asked me to cover her one day ‘cause my sisters had been throwing up all night long and I was pissed but I went anyway. My dad was just running supplies so it should have been an easy day. Right around the time I expected him back, his voice came over the radio, telling me that the plane had gone done and that he was losing blood fast. I called nine-one-one and talked to him until the radio went silent.”
“Oh my god, Lincoln,” I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes for our shared pain. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shit, babe,” he whispers, his voice full of pain. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Wiping the tears away, I shake my head. “It’s okay. Everything is still so raw for me that I cry at the drop of a hat these days.”
He nods, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. “What happened to your mom?”
“We still don’t know,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “She was involved in a hit and run accident and Detective Rodriguez thinks the driver was drunk but there aren’t any witnesses or anything.”
“Rodriguez?” he asks and I nod.
“Yeah, you know him?”
He releases me and grabs his coffee, taking a sip. “The club works with him from time to time on cases.”
“Oh. What kind?”
Shrugging, he leans forward, propping his arms up on the table. “It changes. Sometimes he helps us and other times, we help him. It’s beneficial to both of us since sometimes, there are things that as a cop, he can’t do and vice versa.”
“Is the club super top secret or can you talk about it?” I ask and he laughs.
“I can talk about it to an extent. Why? What do you want to know?”
“Why do y’all do this? I mean, there are so many things you could do with your time, why go out of your way to help people?”
Nodding, he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “We each have our own reasons for why we do this. Each member has watched the injustice of this world and wished we could have done something to stop it. Now, we do.”
“It’s just so different from what I’ve heard about other clubs,” I say and he nods again.
“It is but they weren’t always like that. Back before I joined, they had their hands elbow deep in all that illegal shit.”
“What changed?”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t here so I only have this information second hand but it seems that Blaze, our president, got shot during a deal and another member, Henn, was set up for selling drugs and went to prison. Blaze said it was like a light bulb went off and he realized he needed to step up and be a better leader, put the club on a better path.”
I lean forward and rest my arms on the table. “And what if the members didn’t agree with the new direction?”
“I think at that point, everyone was getting tired of it all but I’m sure they did have a few members leave.”
“How does the club survive if there’s no more money coming in?”
He laughs. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, just because they don’t run drugs and guns anymore doesn’t mean there’s no money coming in. The motorcycle shop has been running since before Blaze changed things, which is where I work, and afterward, he also started a P.I. business.”
“Huh,” I hum, sitting back in my seat with my mind working in overdrive. I’m fascinated with the idea of his club and the work they do to help people who would otherwise be forgotten.
“Sorry, we were talking about your mom and kind of got off track,” Lincoln says and I glance at him.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. What was it you said about distracting me?”
He grins. “Glad I could help. I’m here for whatever you need.”
I nod. “Thank you. It still doesn’t seem real to me most of the time. My mom was bigger than life, so strong and vibrant that her dying in a car accident just seems impossible.”
“It’s harder when you don’t know what happened.”
“I’ve learned so much about who my mother was since her death but it’s only raised more questions. I’d give anything just to have one more conversation with her.” Tears sting my eyes again and I blow out a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize and anytime you need to rant, give me a call. I understand what you’re going through and I want to be here for you.”
Smiling through my tears, I nod. “Thank you, Lincoln.”
Chapter Seven
Tatum
“Have a nice day,” I chirp, pasting a smile on my face as the grumpy middle-aged man swipes his bag of chips off the counter and grumbles something inaudible. I doubt whatever he said was anywhere near polite, though.
“Yeah, you, too, asshole,” I whisper, rolling my eyes. How hard is it to just say thank you? I don’t even care if you don’t mean it.
“Tate,” my boss, Reed, calls as he steps out of the back office. “Why don’t you go stock shelves and I’ll manage the register?”
Nodding, I step out from behind the counter and sigh as I walk down the center aisle and turn toward the back room. Once there, I grab a pad of paper and pen before starting at the beginning of the first aisle and making my way down its length, writing down the items that need to be restocked before moving to the end cap and the next row. About halfway through the store, I feel someone’s gaze on me and glance up, catching Reed ogling my ass from his perch behind the register.
A low growl slips out of my mouth as I turn back to the shelf and try to ignore his inappropriate behavior. There was a time when I really liked this job – it was fairly easy and I was usually by myself while I worked – but six months ago, my old boss, Otis, retired and handed the reins over to his nephew, Reed. It’s bad enough that Reed is a college dropout who couldn’t stop partying long enough to pass his classes but turns out, he’s also a bit of a perv. His advances have been getting more and more blatant in the past three weeks and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to have a job.
The bell over the door rings and I peek over my shoulder as I write down another product that needs stocked. Lincoln struts into the gas station in all his bad boy, biker glory and my mouth goes
dry as my pen trails off the page. Damn. It’s been two days since he suggested we just be friends and already, I know it’s not going to work. Not when just the sight of him is enough to melt my panties.
“Hey, Darlin,” he says, an easy grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he walks over to me.
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, gazing around the store. “I was in the area and I remembered you saying you worked here.”
“And?” I ask again, arching a brow as I focus on the shelf in front of me. Maybe if I keep my gaze on the bags of chips, I won’t notice how his t-shirt clings to the muscles in his stomach like a second skin or how damn good he smells.
“And I wanted to see you.”
“Tate, this isn’t social hour!” Reed yells from the counter, his face red and I roll my eyes.
“Who’s that?” Lincoln asks.
“A punk ass little bitch who thinks he’s my boss.”
He barks out a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at Reed as he leans against the shelf.
“Tate!” Reed yells again.
“Shut up, Reed!” I yell back before turning my annoyed glance to Lincoln. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
A wicked grin lights up his face and goose bumps race across my skin. “Sounds fun.”
“What do you want? If you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy here.”
He stands up straight, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “What time do you get off?”
A crude joke pops into my head and I bite back a smile as I peek up at the clock. “Ten.”
“Damn,” he mutters. “Well, how about tomorrow? You want to go do something?”
“This sounds an awful lot like you’re asking me out on a date,” I point out, moving on to the next aisle. He shakes his head.
“No, ma’am. Just want to hang out with you… as a friend, of course.”
I nod, flashing him a skeptical look. “Of course.”
“So?” he asks. “You free tomorrow?”
“Nope, sorry. I’ve got to work at the diner.”
As I peek up at him, the sight of him chewing on his bottom lip makes me smile.