To Have and to Harley

by Regina Cole

“Oh. Right.” She shut the door behind her as he plastered a wide bandage over the cut.

  Silence fell, and she leaned against the counter, just watching him patch himself up. His movements were deft. Practiced. Uneasiness snaked up and down her spine.

  He’d done this before. And more than once.

  What did he do? Really? And if it wasn’t illegal, immoral, or just plain wrong, why wouldn’t he tell her?

  She marshaled her courage.

  “Trey?”

  He glanced up, questioning, the roll of tape in his hands as he worked on mending the rip in his leathers.

  She cleared her throat and forced out the words.

  “What happened to you tonight?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He’d been dreading that question, but he’d known he couldn’t avoid it forever.

  He’d have to choose his words carefully. Bethany couldn’t know the truth, but lying to her was becoming more and more difficult.

  What to say? Possibilities ran through his mind. He smoothed the tape she’d given him over the rip in his leathers that had appeared courtesy of Rat. The dealer had been hiding a knife in his back pocket, and hadn’t minded using it on Trey.

  He’d been paid back handsomely for that little trick.

  Trey had nearly broken his knuckles on the dealer’s face, then Wolf had a turn. By the time they’d extracted as much information as they could out of Rat, four Shadows had gotten a good workout on the bastard.

  He wouldn’t be offering meth to anyone in the next four counties without some serious physical therapy.

  “If we’re in a relationship, you kind of owe me an explanation.”

  And there it was. Trey drew in a deep breath through his nostrils.

  This was what he’d been afraid of. The label carried expectations that he’d known would be nearly impossible for him to live up to.

  “I had a job to do.”

  There. That’d have to do. It wasn’t a lie, but it didn’t carry enough truth that she could be upset about it.

  “What kind of job? Did a bachelor party get out of hand? A drunk mother-son dance that ended in a brawl? Trey, you don’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to stick up for you if you shut me out all the time?”

  His temper rose as he slammed the first aid kit shut.

  “It’s not your job to stick up for me. I know you get off on taking care of everybody around you, but I don’t need that.”

  She drew back as if he’d hit her. “I don’t get off on that. It’s what you do when you care about someone.”

  “Well, I don’t need it.” He shoved the first aid kit back under the sink, his guilt chafing him and making him snappish. “So you take care of you. I’m doing fine.”

  If he hadn’t have looked up right then, he’d probably have gotten away with the way he’d spoken to her. But he caught sight of her face right before she whirled and left the bathroom.

  The naked pain on her face showed him exactly what flavor of bastard he’d been, and damn, was it bitter.

  “Beth…”

  But she was gone, disappeared down the hall like the devil himself had booted her from the room.

  Trey snorted. In a way, it was like he had.

  Moving slowly, he made his way down the back stairs, his body’s little aches reminding him of every move he’d made that night. Of course, they weren’t anything to the way his chest ached in a hollow, throbbing way.

  That had been all his fault.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said to Mrs. Yelverton as he walked into the kitchen. She was there at the refrigerator, pulling some sort of pudding from a lower shelf. “I got tied up in some work.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. Yelverton said, a tired smile on her face. “But Sarah’s a little upset. I think she nerved herself up to do this.”

  As if he didn’t feel like a big enough bastard already. Trey sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I’ll apologize to her.”

  “She and Mark are in the dining room.” Mrs. Yelverton pulled a serving spoon from a large drawer in the corner. “Is Bethany okay?”

  “She’s fine. Had to make a phone call.” He guessed that was as good an excuse as any. Mrs. Yelverton seemed to accept it without complaint.

  The remnants of a large tray of lasagna were in the middle of the table, only a quarter of it missing. Two people sat on the opposite side of the table, the man’s face right beside Sarah’s cheek in a tender position.

  Trey cleared his throat a little.

  “Sarah.”

  The man jumped to his feet. “You must be Trey. I’m Mark, Sarah’s fiancé. Sorry we haven’t met before now… Seems like every time I’m home, we’re busy.”

  Trey shook the other man’s hand. Mark was much shorter and smaller than Trey, but with a tanned, wiry strength that showed he was no pushover.

  Trey approved, especially with the way Mark stuck next to Sarah, his arm slung casually over her shoulders as if to say not to push too hard.

  His sister—if he could think of her that way, which he still wasn’t sure about—was looking away, discomfort written plainly across her features.

  Trey sank down in the chair opposite her.

  “Listen,” he started, leaning toward her with his forearms on the table. “I’m really sorry I was late.”

  Sarah gave him a glance. “It’s not a big deal to me. You should apologize to Mom though. She went through a lot of trouble to cook for us.”

  “I apologized to her, but I know I let you down too. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

  He got the full force of her gaze then, her snapping green eyes reminding him so much of his own. “It was shitty of you not to even text to let us know you were coming. We thought you’d ditched us.”

  “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

  Sarah leaned forward, mimicking his pose. “If I didn’t want to have a good relationship with you, it wouldn’t bother me at all. But this is important, and you need to treat it that way.”

  “You’re completely right.”

  She slammed her hands down on the tabletop. “Stop being so freaking agreeable! Why won’t you get mad back?”

  “Because it’s totally my fault, and I can admit when I’m in the wrong.”

  Her nostrils flared as she stared at him. One heartbeat passed, then two, and then she sank back into her chair as if the wind had completely been sucked from her sails. “Well. I guess if that’s it then.”

  Trey smiled. “You’re a lot like Mrs. Yelverton.”

  Sarah snorted. “Not hardly. She gets along with everyone. I pick fights.”

  “No, you’ve got the same spine. I can see it. The approach is different, but the goal’s the same.”

  Sarah looked a little pleased at that. Mrs. Yelverton chose that moment to walk into the room with the dessert.

  “Here, baby, I made your favorite chocolate éclair pudding for dessert. Trey, get some lasagna. If it’s not warm enough, I can pop it into the microwave for you.”

  As the dessert started being passed around, and Trey helped himself to the now-tepid pasta dish, Bethany slunk into the room.

  Her cheeks were overly pink, as if she’d either been yelling angrily into a pillow or choking back tears.

  He hoped like hell it was the former. He couldn’t take the idea that he might have made her cry.

  “Sarah, I hear you’re in pharmacy school.” Trey grasped for an easy conversational thread to get his mind off his complete fuckup with Beth.

  “Yeah,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she raised a spoonful of her dessert. “Just a few more weeks, and I’ll officially be Dr. Yelverton.”

  Mark smiled beatifically at his fiancée. “She’s amazing. She works so hard at school, and keeps me straight besides.”

 
Sarah smiled over at him, and the love between them was nearly palpable. “You’re not hard to keep straight. You’re pretty well house-trained.”

  They laughed, and Trey chanced a glance at Bethany. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she’d been drawing circles in her tiny portion of pudding.

  Damn it. He’d really screwed up there. And he wasn’t sure how to fix it without risking her finding out everything.

  He did the only thing he could. Pretended the problem wasn’t a problem.

  Later, he and Bethany could have it out. He was in damage-control mode with the Yelvertons at the moment. When there was a debt to be paid, he did what he could to settle it.

  Much as he hated it, fixing things with Bethany had to wait until later.

  If he could fix them at all.

  * * *

  The rest of dinner seemed interminable to Bethany. If she could have run away without both Mama Yelverton and Sarah peppering her with questions, she would have.

  But even her silent presence would cause less consternation than her disappearance, so she stayed through dessert. She stayed through two cups of coffee. She stayed through Sarah opening another bottle of wine and Mama Yelverton suggesting they play a board game. But she finally mustered the courage to fish into her purse for her car keys when the clock showed it was nearing midnight.

  “You’re not leaving, are you, Bethany?”

  Bethany pinned a smile on her face as she answered Mama Yelverton’s question. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow, and I need to be up early.”

  “Oh really? You didn’t tell me that.” Sarah’s cheeks were bright from the wine she’d consumed. “Where?”

  Bethany was keenly aware of Trey’s gaze when she answered. “It’s a software company downtown. They’ve got customer service openings in some of their other branches.”

  Honestly? She’d seen the ad for a group interview but hadn’t intended to go. She’d been looking for something in the area. But with the way things with Trey were going, and with Sarah getting married, she’d begun to think about moving.

  Maybe leaving the area would be better for her in the long run.

  “Wait, other branches? Like, not in Raleigh branches?”

  She stood and shouldered the strap of her purse. “Don’t worry. I probably won’t get it anyway.”

  Trey stood. “It’s getting late. I should probably head out too.”

  The party started breaking up as everyone began saying their goodbyes. Bethany chafed at the delay, but she couldn’t just run out the door without causing questions. So she waited as Mama Yelverton packed up dessert for her to take home, then gave Sarah a hug at the door.

  “I know something’s up,” Sarah whispered, causing Bethany’s lungs to squeeze involuntarily. “I won’t grill you about it, but I’m here if you need me.”

  Bethany just nodded. No way would she burden her best friend with this. Not when Sarah was inundated with graduation, wedding jitters, and the knowledge that a stranger had just unexpectedly joined her family.

  In comparison, Bethany’s problems were nonexistent.

  Fortunately, Mark and Sarah were staying over, so Bethany was able to hurry to her car without her best friend’s too-keen gaze on her. Unfortunately, Trey was hot on her heels.

  “Beth.”

  “I need to get going,” she said, pulling open the driver door. “I do need to get up early tomorrow.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “We’ll have to do it some other time. Maybe when you’re not tied up with ‘business.’”

  He winced. Good. Maybe he knew he’d been a jerk. That didn’t change the fact that she wanted to run.

  If she stayed, he’d just kiss her and make her forget that he’d lied to her. Again.

  “Come home with me.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Okay. Let me come to your apartment.”

  “No,” she said and closed the door on him. She cranked the engine and turned on the headlights.

  His bike glinted, its silvery reflection causing wavy white spots in her vision. Oh wait. No. Those were unshed tears.

  “Damn it.” She rubbed her eyes. This was stupid. She was acting like a pissed-off teenager. The silent treatment wouldn’t solve anything between them. There was only one thing that could.

  She sighed, then rolled down her window. He hadn’t moved from that spot.

  “Come back to my place. But just to talk.”

  He nodded solemnly as she rolled up the window and put her car into Reverse.

  She cursed herself for being an idiot the whole drive back to her apartment.

  What was she thinking? Why was she setting herself up for more disappointment? Sure, it was exciting to be with him, but shouldn’t she be pursuing a relationship with someone safer? Someone more stable, who didn’t have so much mysterious baggage?

  She was a fool, and allowing herself to be drawn in even more by him just made her a bigger one.

  Steeling her resolve, she cut the engine in the parking spot in front of her apartment. Trey’s bike rumbled to a stop beside her.

  She’d stay firm. She’d keep her composure and not allow her body to overrule her mind.

  He needed to give her some answers if she was going to forgive him for the hurtful things he’d said to her.

  Why was it a bad thing to take care of those she cared about? Easy. It wasn’t. He had hurt her feelings intentionally.

  Why?

  She closed the car door behind her and locked it, not looking at him as she climbed the steps to her second-floor apartment.

  It was easy to figure out why. He was pushing her away. Fine. She could understand that. But why was he pulling at the same time? Why had he begged her to come home with him after doing his best to keep her at arm’s length?

  Bethany set her jaw. He called her Strong Girl. Well, it was about time he understood just how right that nickname was.

  Inside her apartment, his presence seemed to invade her very pores. Her body reacted, even though her mind was in complete turmoil.

  “Sit down,” she said, more a demand than an invitation. He didn’t say a word, just sank down on the couch, fingers laced together.

  Nervous energy coursed through her, and she had to move. Pacing in front of the coffee table, questions swirled through her head.

  This had to end. This not knowing who and what he was. And if it didn’t…

  Well, if it didn’t, this relationship wasn’t a relationship at all, and she’d have to walk away from him.

  Her heart gave a squeeze that nearly took her breath away at the thought, and she closed her eyes, standing still.

  One heartbeat. Two. Oxygen came back into her lungs, and she was prepared.

  Whether or not it hurt now, that was better than falling in love with a liar. Which she was perilously close to.

  “Trey,” she said, turning to look at him. She was glad he was sitting down. At least with her standing, she was able to pretend he wasn’t so much bigger and stronger than her. That he wasn’t so physically imposing and incredibly delicious.

  Don’t… Do not think about him that way. This is too important for your libido to get in the way.

  “If you’re not honest with me, then I can’t keep doing this.”

  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His face twitched, his eyebrows narrowing for a moment as if he was having a silent argument with himself. But then his expression blanked, as if he’d made a decision. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Her weight shifted from foot to foot, and she cleared her throat. “Where were you tonight, when you didn’t answer my text?”

  His deep, rough voice was emotionless. Measured. “I was out on Route 17.”

  “What were you doing there?” She had been out there a time or two. There was literally nothin
g out there except a few hog farms and some old run-down houses.

  “Chasing down a criminal.”

  Her head tilted, her ears refusing to process the answer they’d just been given. “What?”

  “I was chasing down a criminal,” he repeated, hands still folded in his lap. His tone was matter-of-fact, easy.

  A criminal… Bethany swallowed hard. Did that mean…

  “What do you mean?”

  Trey leaned forward. “You might want to sit down for this, Strong Girl. There are a few things you need to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “My job has a lot of danger,” he said, looking down at the floor. “I was trying to protect you from that by keeping you out of it.”

  Bethany had sunk down in the chair opposite him, and now she leaned toward him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I put you in the position of telling me.”

  He kept his gaze fixed on the floor as he answered. “No, it’s my fault for not telling you ahead of time that my business would keep me away at odd times. It’s not exactly…standard.”

  Bethany stood and walked over toward the window. Out in the distance, headlights twinkled, spaced far apart in the lateness of the night.

  An undercover cop. No wonder he looked and dressed the way he did. She’d never have expected that of him, but now it seemed so obvious.

  A sudden thought struck her, and she turned. “Is the wedding planner gig part of your cover?”

  He shook his head. “No. That was a story I made up on the spur of the moment. I couldn’t tell Mrs. Yelverton the truth, and she’d just told me she’d basically started a shelter because of me. I wanted her to think I was something wholesome and upright.” His fingers were laced together, knuckles almost white as they rested atop his bouncing knees. He looked at the floor as if he couldn’t believe he was actually saying these things out loud. “If that wedding magazine hadn’t been there, I might have come up with something believable.”

  Bethany sank onto the couch beside him. “No, Mama Yelverton believes it. She was completely overjoyed at the sight of those invitations. Couldn’t stop talking about how artistic her son was.”

  Trey shifted as if uncomfortable with the praise.