by DD Prince
I blinked at him.
“We gotta pick up Jojo tomorrow. She’s comin’ here.”
I sipped my Coke, my eyes on him.
“Joelle. My sister,” He clarified, as if I’d asked. I hadn’t.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Who?”
“Bronto, Jesse.”
“Prospects are takin’ care of club stuff. Brady went to take care of my sister.”
“When can I go home?”
He stared at me a beat, assessing me or thinking about his answer. I didn’t know. I heard a phone. My phone. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen. “Your mother again.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Again?”
“She’s called a coupla times. I called Pippa and asked if she’d call her and cover for you.”
“Pip?”
“Yeah. She said she’d call and smooth things out.”
My head was going to implode. “Pippa can’t handle my mother!” I grabbed handfuls of my hair on either side of my head.
Rider frowned.
“Mom’ll chew her up and spit her out. Pippa’s sugar and my mom is gasoline. What on earth was she gonna say?”
He leaned forward. My phone stopped ringing.
“Maybe she said you and your new man went away for a little romantic getaway.” And then he smirked.
“Gimme the phone!”
It started ringing again. I looked over. It was Mom calling again.
“Give it to me, damn it!”
“What’re you gonna say?” he asked, his voice a warning, holding the phone back.
“I’ll think of something. I have to answer that!”
The phone stopped ringing again. Both times it’d only rang twice. That told me she was agitated. She was calling on purpose, not wanting to get my voicemail, but wanting me to see she was calling over and over and over.
I was flexing my fingers while pacing.
“Are there voicemails?” I asked. “I need to check.”
He hit some buttons and put it on hands-free.
“You have… six… new messages. First message:”
“Gimme it,” I ordered, wanting it off speaker.
He shook his head and held his finger up.
Mom’s voice rang through and it sounded chipper. Strangely chipper.
“Jenna? It’s your mother. Call me back as soon as possible, please. Daniel Sotheby was very taken with you this morning. Sounds like you were, too. I’m thinking we should do dinner at the country club next Saturday. Let me know if I can book the two of you in for our table with us. See? I know what I’m doing…”
I rolled my eyes. That was why she sounded chipper. She thought she scored on her matchmaking efforts. She was saccharine sweet and that only happened in situations like that one.
Rider’s face was like stone.
He hit a button.
“Message erased. Next message.”
“Jenna, hey. It’s Dan. Had a great time meeting you this morning. Sorry again for railroading you into it. But naw… not sorry. It was great we finally met. Just wanted to … you know… call and tell you that. What do you think about dinner? Hit me up.”
Rider’s jaw was clenched, and he was staring at my phone with a look that should’ve made the phone burst into flames.
I got a chill and I shivered. Wow. Really?
“You wanna gimme my phone?” I hissed, reaching out.
His burning gaze moved from my phone to me. And he stared, trying to scorch me with his eyes. Next came Pippa’s voice.
“Jen! It’s me. Where are you? Your ten o’clock and your ten thirty are both here. Aaaand you’re not. You didn’t come home last night. Hope you were having fun getting boned by your beautiful biker and aren’t drunk and face down in a ditch missing a shoe again. Haha! Told ya you’d never live that down. Call me. Or get your sexy ass in here. They both say they’ll wait a bit longer.”
Shit. Pippa. Pippa didn’t know everything. I said nothing on Friday, regarding the fact that things had gone bad Thursday night with Rider. I’d been quiet and in a funk and did not want to talk about it. She’d been fully booked that day so for all she knew, Rider and I were dating, having fun, and getting serious. I hadn’t even gone into detail about Dan. I’d just said he was a friend of one of Mom’s colleagues and rolled my eyes when I went for my early lunch.
Rider raised just his left brow at me and pushed the button.
“Message erased. Next message.”
“Gimme that.” I reached for it.
He lifted it and held it out of my reach.
More messages played.
“Jenna?
Mom. Damn.
“I called you last night. Return my call please. Immediately.”
She no longer sounded like she’d been replaced by a Sugary-Happy-Mom-Robot. She sounded like her usual self.
“You have no right to listen to my voicemails, Rider Valentine,” I hissed.
He hit the button.
“Message erased. Next message.”
“Genevieve Maybelle Murdoch.”
Great. Just great.
Rider choked on laughter.
I flopped on my back on the couch, palms over my eyes.
“This is your mother and I left you several messages already. Philippa’s voicemail was laughable. I don’t know what business conference you could possibly jet off to, but my sources tell me you’re off with that biker. Lovely, Genevieve. Whoring around with criminals. Not returning my calls. Really. You either return my call yourself within the next few hours or you’ll be sorry. I think you know that.”
Sources. Her sources? Ugh. Knew it! Always felt like she was spying on me.
I kept my hands over my face. I felt the couch shift as he moved in. His arm went around me, and his hand landed on my hip and he squeezed.
No more noise came out. I heard the noise of him putting the phone down. Thank God we weren’t going to listen to the rest of the messages.
“I was gonna say, you wanna call her, in case she’s worried? But, it doesn’t sound like she’s worried.”
I shook my head. Not looking at him.
“Your mother sounds like a royal bitch, Jenna.”
I nodded, without taking my hands off my eyes.
I heard the sound of his phone dialing out. Ringing. I lifted my fingers and sat up straighter. No. My phone, not his.
Who was he calling?
His hand left my hip and moved to the back of my neck and squeezed. Reassuringly. And then he rubbed my back. Sweetly. A funny sensation prickled thorough me at this affection.
“Mrs. Murdoch? My name’s Rider. I’m with your daughter and Jenna is fine.” His eyes were on his hand as he rubbed my back from the top to the small of it and then his hand went up and down some more.
“No!” I whisper-shouted and tried to take the phone off him. He removed his hand from my back to grab my wrist and held it. I waved my other hand frantically, shaking my head. He ignored my warning.
“Yes, Jenna’s with me. She wanted to call you, and it’s my fault she couldn’t. I apologize if you were concerned.”
I deflated even further. This couldn’t possibly go well. My wrist in his grip went limp. He didn’t let go.
“There’s an issue with my MC that has put Jenna in a bad position. Through no fault of her own. I take responsibility. I took her out of town to keep her safe while the heated situation simmers down… yes, ma’am, motorcycle club…” His fingers released my wrist, but he weaved his fingers with mine and squeezed.
And I couldn’t give head-space to the fact that he was holding my hand, seeming like he was trying to reassure me.
And then as he listened, his eyes moved to mine and were a mixture of warmth and horror. He felt bad for me. He was experiencing an amped-up Karen Murdoch in all her bitchy condescending glory. His face twitched in a ‘What the fuck’ motion and then I saw a swallow move down his throat.
“Well, Mrs. Murdoch, it’s a lit
tle complicated and I’d rather not go into specifics right now, but I wanted to let you know that she’s safe and --- no, I understand. I’d imagine within a few days, but I can’t say for sure. Pippa and Debbie have things in hand with the salon… Well…we’ll have to assess---. Your daughter’s safety is my prior---. Right, well--- we’re a club, not a gang, first of all, and---actually I am gainfully employed.” He looked at me with horror. “Okay then… no, that was my doing, not hers, and I apologize to you for th---. Yeah, I’ll tell her… Right… Right… Okay. Bye.” He put the phone down and took a big breath and gave my hand, still in his, a squeeze.
“She said I should make sure to tell you that you need to call her by this time tomorrow or she’ll have your father set up the listing.”
I let out a huff and closed my eyes tight.
“Babe… sorry to say, but your Mom?”
I looked him in the eye.
“She’s a bit of a cunt,” he said.
I busted up laughing. I laughed so hard that I toppled off the couch onto my ass.
He looked at me like I was crazy.
He leaned over and held his hand out. I took it and he helped me up.
“The bitch who gave birth to me belongs to the same club, so I can relate,” he said.
“Oh, I bet my Mom has your mother beat by a mile. My mother isn’t just a bit of one… She’s of the prehistoric meat-eating C-a-saurus Rex variety. Purebred.”
He snickered. “Dunno which is worse, but eventually you’ll see Shelly in action and you might eat those words.”
“We’ll see.” I said.
“We will,” he chuckled. “She might even motivate you to use the actual word.”
I laughed, but then my laughter died when I realized that the air felt too light around us. I cleared my expression and looked the other way, pulling my hand out of his and tucking both hands between my knees.
“What’s that mean, anyway?” he asked, tucking my hair behind my ear with his fingertips, making me shiver.
“What?” I asked, avoiding eye contact.
“Set up the listing?”
My shoulders slumped. My whole body did, actually. “My salon. It’s in my parents’ name. She’s threatening to sell it out from under me.”
He looked shocked. “Because you took off for a few days?”
I nodded. “They own the building that the shop and my apartment are in as well as the business. It’s supposed to be my thing and we have a five-year plan and we’ve got three years to go before I can buy them out with early access to money my grandmother left me. She’s not supposed to be my boss or anything, but she acts like she is. Like at any point, she can pull the plug. She doesn’t hesitate to remind me of that when I displease her. She likes me on a tight leash.”
“That’s whacked,” he muttered.
I lifted just one shoulder in a shrug.
His phone rang, and he lifted it, looked at me a beat, and then stepped outside with it.
My phone was sitting there on the table while he was gone.
And then it rang with my father’s name on screen.
Yikes. I stared at it and let it go to voicemail.
I stared out the window, lost in thought.
Rider was pacing, on the phone, and I had no idea what it was about, but he was gone ages.
When he was back, he found me staring into the fridge.
“Anything good?”
“Just junk,” I mumbled and shut the fridge door and opened the freezer again. Pizza pops, toaster strudel, frozen pizza, a box of frozen chicken fingers, and a bag of frozen fries. An unidentified red butcher paper package. Old-looking popsicles. Some ice. A half a bottle of Grey Goose.
“There’s steaks in there,” he said, and pulled the red butcher paper wrapped bundle out. “I’ll set the fire up.” He went to another cupboard stocked to the brim with canned goods, pasta, rice. He pulled out a can of peeled miniature potatoes and a can of baked beans.
He unwrapped the frozen steaks and put them in a Ziploc and filled the sink with water and dropped them in there.
I watched for a minute and then I went to the movie cabinet and the ‘girl’ shelf. I pulled out 13 Going on 30. I loved that movie. And I needed a distraction.
But, I was watching him out the window more than I was watching the movie. First, he was making a fire and then he was putting a big grate on top of the fire pot.
When he got back in, he threw a sweatshirt on from the hooks by the door, and then went to the kitchen and was making all sorts of noise in there. I turned the movie up, trying to ignore him.
He was in and out a bunch of times. I tried ignoring the nagging emotions. How it’d feel if we were together and he was mine and making dinner for me. I’m a crap cook, but I’d set the table nice. Light candles. Wear something sexy. Do the dishes after.
It’d be nice to have a cabin getaway like this. Really nice.
Sadness fell over me like an itchy old blanket as I considered the fact that I’d never have that with him. Not for real. As soon as this danger and drama was over, that’d be the end. It was already the end.
We were just stuck together right now because of the circumstances.
I had to stop letting my mind wander to what might be. Because it wouldn’t be.
“Dinner’s ready, babe,” he said, coming in with a plate with two steaming steaks on it. He put them on the long bar. I stared. He went back out and came in again with a frying pan that was also steaming.
I moved over and saw that he’d already set up two places for us. He’d cooked the canned mini potatoes in a way that had them all crispy. The steaks smelled really good. Even the can of baked beans he’d warmed on the stove smelled good. He plated everything and grabbed two beers and sat.
I stared at the plate, my eyes stinging.
I had to push it away.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like medium? I like rare, but I figure you’re a girlie girl, so you probably don’t wanna see much blood, but no way am I ruining that steak by cookin’ it till you’re left with nothin’ but shoe leather.”
I sliced into it and it was done perfectly.
“I like it medium,” I said softly and took a bite. It was good. It had an interesting flavor. And it practically melted in my mouth. I swallowed.
And then I burst into tears.
He dropped his fork.
Fuck. I’m so stupid. Bursting into tears. Ugly-crying. Shit.
“Jenna, baby…”
“Your house was lit on fire while you were sl-eeping.” My breath hitched, and I was full-out sobbing.
He shoved his stool back, making it screech across the floor and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arounds around me.
He held me tight.
Oh my God. The feelings that churned up in me. What could be. What wouldn’t be. I was falling apart.
“You could’ve died,” I sobbed into his chest and put my arms around him. He felt so good. He smelled good. Campfire and meat and Rider. He was so strong, enveloping me in his arms.
God, the feeling right there. Crying in someone’s arms. I’d never had this, not since I was a little girl and scraped my knee trying to ride that first time without my training wheels, Dad lifting me up, comforting me, and then Mom barking at him, warning him not to coddle me.
Rider squeezed. “Just a coupla scratches.”
“Your house burnt down.”
“It’s insured, baby. And it doesn’t matter. No one got badly hurt. It was a flop house.” He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my temple.
“You guys saved Ella from Jay abducting her?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I looked up at him.
“We don’t know 100% but think that was his plan. It was an ambush. He was blackmailing her to try to ambush us, but we think he was gonna abduct her. He had rope and shit in his trunk that he bought on the way to meet her.” His eyes were so gentle.
Eek.
“And your brother’s do
g got h-hurt?” I was blubbering.
“He’s okay. Heard he’s sleepin’ with Ella’s little brother. Dad said the little guy is pulling Chakotay around the place in a wagon. He’s getting spoiled.”
“And… and…”
“Baby… it’s all gonna be okay.” He rocked me slightly back and forth.
“You cooked me food.”
He leaned back without letting go of me and looked down at me like I was crazy.
“You cooked me food and I’ve been a total bitch to you. I told you to fuck off and die and you could’ve died!”
“I’m breathin’.”
“You could’ve! You even talked to my M-mom, so I wouldn’t have to and bought me a day and she was totally a c-word to you.”
A big gorgeous smile spread across his face.
“Not gonna starve ya. Even if you’re being a bitch. And baby, I kinda dig it. Told ya that already. As for your ma? Well, I can relate.”
I buried my face into his throat.
“I don’t cry in front of guys,” I informed him.
“Okay, gorgeous,” he chuckled and squeezed me some more. “You wanna eat? Food’s gonna get cold. I’ll eat it cold if you’d rather just cry it out.”
I pulled myself together, pulling away, because it felt just too good being wrapped up in him like that. “No, you worked hard while I just sat there pouting. It’d be a crime to let it go cold.” I pulled away, sat down, and used the napkin he’d put there and wiped my eyes.
And then, despite the broken breaths I was trying to beat back, I ate every single bite on my plate, partly because it was really delicious, and partly because it meant I didn’t have to look at him with my puffy red eyes.
While I ate my feelings, I was chastising myself for breaking Jenna Murdoch Rule #1 and having cried in front of a guy again.
But, where Michael laughed at me and walked away while there were tears in my eyes, Rider held me and comforted me. And I was having a really hard time processing it. It felt like there was a fist around my throat, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.
He was up from his stool and at the sink before me.
“I’ll wash up. You cooked. It’s only fair,” I said, and he looked at me with surprise.
“That was really good. Thank you. I can’t believe how tender those steaks were after being frozen just hours ago.”