For the Love of an Outlaw

by T. S. Joyce

  “I remember this,” she murmured, the picture of the gym covered in rainbow balloons and colorful lights on the floor and the music up so loud the bass rattled her chest.

  “I watched you the whole night,” Trig continued. “When you looked over at me and started walking across the dance floor, I knew I was gonna have to say no. There was this part of me that wanted you to turn around. Get distracted and dance with someone else. But then there was a bigger part of me that wanted you to ask me, just so I could keep that moment.”

  “Keep it?”

  “Yeah, for a memory.”

  “I asked you, and you told me to go dance with Eddie instead. I was hurt because he’d been spreading rumors about me, then you’d rejected me and pushed me toward someone who hurt me.”

  “I told you to dance with Eddie because I knew he wasn’t there that night. I’d gone to his house and told him if he ruined your night, I’d do a locker room repeat on his face. Plus, it got it out of your head to pay attention to me.”

  “You liked me. I know because you terrorized a boy who was mean to me. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t have cared. You wouldn’t have put in that effort. That boy is probably traumatized because of you.”

  Trigger eased the old Ford onto Main Street, the wheels sliding slightly on the icy surface. “I hope he is. You should know I don’t carry guilt about that kind of stuff. You should see me for what I am. I don’t feel bad for fighting. I don’t have that chip that tells me to look back at fights and regret them. A fight comes, I take care of it, and then I move to the next one.”

  “You’re warning me you are dangerous.”

  “Very.”

  “I saw how many times you’ve been arrested in your paperwork. All the bail money you had to pay Colton back for. You’re an outlaw.”

  Trig shrugged his shoulder. “That word doesn’t bother me. The law works differently for people like me.”

  “People like you?”

  “Men with animals inside of them.”

  She frowned so deep her forehead hurt. “What do you mean?”

  “There is something inside of me that is more instinct than logic. It was like that when I was born, and it’ll be like that until the day I draw my last breath. I’m not like you. I feel less and react more. And when I snap, whoever sets me off needs to stay the fuck out of my way.”

  “Are you telling me I’m in danger?”

  He huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “I couldn’t hurt you if I tried. I don’t hurt women, but especially you. You’re so safe, it’s ridiculous. No one will ever mess with you while you’re around me, or they’ll be swallowing their teeth.”

  More chills blasted up the back of her neck. Part of her was horrified by his admissions, but part of her, in this moment, truly did feel safe. Had she felt that before? Had she ever felt like someone would truly have her back? Even in bars, she never looked to her friends to get her out of a rough situation with a pushy guy. She didn’t look to anyone, because after Dad left, she didn’t trust anyone. Not Colton, not any friends…only herself. But with Trigger? She had this soul-deep feeling that he was telling the truth, and if she needed someone at her back, he would already be there. Quietly watching her and defending her like he’d done in locker rooms and at homecoming dances.

  Trigger was special. He was getting her attention like no man ever had. He was calling to parts of her she hadn’t known existed, and now it felt like he was changing her.

  She should run…right? She had her whole life together, every aspect, and was on a steady incline to a truly successful life, but here was this man telling her exactly how dangerous he could be, guiltlessly, and she was finding herself scooting closer to him.

  Trouble. Trig was trouble. She was a good girl, and he was a bad boy, and what good would it do her to get a crush on a man like that? He had a rap sheet, a wild streak, and he was unapologetic for both.

  His chronic wildness was why he’d been rude. Why he’d ignored her when they were kids. Trig wasn’t selfish by nature. He knew his path, knew himself, knew he was missing that rule-minding chip, and he’d already commented on not being surprised at her success. He’d seen their futures for exactly what they would be, and he’d protected her, once again, in his own way. Protected her from him.

  She could see it all now. If he’d given in and talked to her, she would have gotten addicted to him. Would have fallen in love with him. Where would she be now? In this small town still? A baby on her hip and two more on her ankles, trying to salvage a ranch that was on its last leg and watching Trig struggle under the weight of it. Where would her career be? Her livelihood?

  He’d made sure she had the chance to get the life she wanted.

  Trigger Massey might be a bad boy, but he was a very good man to her.

  Chapter Eight

  Trigger watched her move. He couldn’t help himself. She was poetry as she walked down each aisle with her clumsy, human grace. He noticed everything. The arch of her hand as she reached for an apple. The curve of her lips as she teased him for not eating enough vegetables. The clear, crystal blue in her eyes as time and time again she looked over her shoulder at him. She was magic. Ava had the power to slow time. Every moment dragged onto three, and thank God for small blessings, because this woman would be out of his life in two weeks. And this two weeks would have to last him a lifetime.

  He was pushing the cart, couldn’t help it. He wanted to do little things to make her life easier. He’d done it when they were kids, but she’d just never noticed. Now he thought maybe she did. Now he thought maybe she was paying attention. Now he thought maybe she saw him more clearly.

  “You’re such a quiet man with other people,” Ava murmured as she dropped a bag of spaghetti pasta into the cart. “Not as quiet as when we were kids, but you’re watchful.”

  A private smile curved his lips because, yep, he’d been right. She was paying attention.

  He admitted, “I like it better when you talk.”

  “I talk a lot.”

  “It’s perfect. You talk and take all the attention, and I’ll be your quiet bodyguard.”

  She giggled. “What would I need a bodyguard for? No one messes with me.” She tossed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder. “I’m too tough, and people don’t even try.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally. Probably best because he’d pop their fuckin’ heads from their bodies if they tried.

  He smelled him before he saw him. The scent of fur was as familiar to him as anything. Kurt Engle rounded the corner with an armload of beer and a bag of pork rinds in the other hand. “Holy shit,” he said when he saw Trigger. “Look what the cat dragged in.” His smile got even brighter when his attention landed on Ava, who was checking the nutrition facts on a bag of pretzels.

  Kurt approached her slow. “Hello, New Girl. Ain’t seen you around here before.”

  Ava lifted her attention to the six-foot, black-haired, cat-eyed giant.

  “I’m from here,” she said. “Ava Dorset.” She stuck her hand out for a shake.

  Kurt looked at Trigger like he’d just seen a unicorn, laughed, and then bit the bag of pork rinds to shake her hand. “Whoo!” he said, shaking his hand out. “Firm handshake, New Girl. I bet you’re dangerous with a grip like that.” He gave Trigger a wink, and Trigger straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the cart.

  “She’s got plenty to do with that grip already. Fuck off, Kurt.”

  “Geez, territorial much? Is she yours?”

  Ava was frowning up at Trigger, but she didn’t understand the dynamics here.

  “She’s her own. She’s only here for a visit.”

  “So not yours,” Kurt said with a slight frown.

  Trigger swallowed the growl that clogged his throat. “She’s mine while she’s here.” The scent of fur intensified and, fuck it all, apparently the whole damn clan was here.

  As the three other cougars of the Darby Clan flooded into the aisle, Trigger pulled Ava
behind him and slid a glance to the open end of the aisle to check an escape. The alpha, Chase, was leaned against the end shelf with a dead smile plastered to his face. His right eye was still messed up from when Trigger beat the shit out of him two weeks ago. Shifters healed a little faster than humans, but it looked like Chase had needed surgery if the stitches and bruising were anything to go by.

  “Not lookin’ for trouble,” Trigger grumbled.

  “You never are,” Chase said, pushing off the shelf and meandering closer. “Trigger, Trigger with the heart of gold and that moral compass that just fucks up everyone’s plans. You gotta new girl, Hairpin?” Turning to Ava, he said, “This is a dangerous game. We call that one Hairpin Trigger. That one has a temper.” His nostrils flared as he scented the air, and Trigger new just what he was looking for. Right now, that oversensitive nose of his was telling the alpha that Ava was human. Fragile. Breakable. “May want to rethink your life decisions, Little Lady,” he murmured, lifting a strand of her shoulder-length hair as he passed.

  Ava flinched back and slapped his hand, and Trigger’s reaction was immediate. He grabbed Chase by the back of the neck, and when his clan surged forward, he shoved the alpha into them. “I said I ain’t looking for trouble. Not that I won’t go to fuckin’ war again if you push me, Kitty. Touch her again, and I’ll even up the stitches on the other side.”

  “Okay, okay,” Chase said, hands up in surrender as he looked up at a security camera on the ceiling. Wily old cat always knew where those were. He was real practiced at getting Trigger into trouble.

  “I think you all should walk away,” Ava said with a surprising amount of steel in her voice. She was looking Chase dead in the eye, too, spine straight, chin up, not backing down an inch. Sexy, sexy Ava.

  Trigger couldn’t help the feral smile that stretched his cheeks. “You heard her. We got pretzels to buy, boys.”

  “And also mini bottles of wine because the beer you and Colton drink is gross.”

  Trigger snorted and corrected himself. “And cheap wine for the lady.”

  Ava dismissed them. “You boys have a nice night.”

  And she didn’t give those cougars her back once as they filtered out of the aisle one by one, until only Kurt was left.

  “It was good to see you again, Hairpin,” he said softly.

  “Kurt!” Chase yelled.

  Kurt lowered his head and followed the Darby Clan.

  “Who was that?” Ava asked, turning to face him.

  Trigger waited until the scent of the big cats had faded before he inhaled deeply, gave one last glance to the security camera, and pulled her against his chest. Why he did that, he didn’t have a damn clue. This really was dangerous territory. She was doing something shocking to his bear. She was settling the monster in his middle.

  Slowly, she slid her arms around his waist and held on tight, the bag of pretzels crinkling in her fist.

  It was one of those moments...the ones that changed a man from the bones out. She’d stood tall beside him and glared those cats down, trusted him to keep her safe, and then went soft against him in the next minute. He’d done this alone for so long. He even hid the grit from Colton when he could, but standing here in the middle of a grocery store, his heart pounding against the cheek of a woman he’d thought about all these years, he didn’t really want to do this alone anymore. He wanted purpose, and not just to save the ranch. He wanted someone to push him to be better. He wanted a girl to save the ranch for. And not just any girl. It had always been Ava.

  He dropped his lips to the top of her head and let them linger there as he inhaled her scent. Against her soft tresses, he murmured, “They aren’t men.”

  It was the biggest, scariest admission of his life. Dad had ingrained it in him to hide what he was—always.

  “What are they?” she asked.

  “Animals.”

  “Oh. Who was the nice one?”

  The way she asked the question so quickly, with no reaction to his admission, said she didn’t really understand what he’d told her. Trigger sighed. “That’s Kurt Engle. He used to run with me, and now he runs with Chase and his boys. He was a friend once. Now he’s not.”

  Ava ran her fingers gently up and down his back, her nails making zipping sounds against his jacket. “That’s sad.”

  “What is?”

  “The loss of a friendship.”

  “Nah, that’s life. People come and go. Most of them are only in your life to get you somewhere. And what I mean by that is they are supposed to teach you lessons, and then you grow or learn something hard and you don’t make those mistakes again. And if you’re lucky, you have a handful of people who stick around because they’re supposed to. Those are the ones it’s sad to lose. Kurt was never one of those.”

  “Colton is?”

  Smart, smart girl caught on to what he was saying. “Yeah, like Colton. It didn’t hurt when Kurt flipped sides. If Colton had though, it would be one of those big life lessons.”

  “Like the one I learned when my dad left?”

  “What do you mean?” Trigger asked.

  “If Colton left you, you would turn bitter and cold and you would never let anyone else in.”

  “Yes. That. He’s been in my life too long to let him go easy. Is that what happened to you when your dad left?”

  She nodded, but backed away from talking about old scars. With a bright smile, she said, “You two have a bromance. Which is weird to say because he’s my brother. Do you know he won’t let me in his cabin?”

  Trigger snorted. “That’s nothing personal.”

  “It sure feels personal.”

  God, her nails running up and down his spine were getting him half hard already. Usually he kept everything to himself, but he wanted to reward her for settling him. “He’s got a pet squirrel he named Genie. He calls it his wishing squirrel. She’s a little tyrant who runs his whole damn life, and she doesn’t like new people in her territory.”

  Ava had frozen against him, her fingertips pausing right in the middle of his back. “Colton has a squirrel?”

  “Yep.” His best friend got stranger with age.

  A little old lady puttered by and slapped Trigger on the ass as she pushed her cart past them. He flinched and swallowed a curse, rolled his eyes heavenward, and prayed for patience.

  Ava turned and stared, open mouthed, at Martha Lane, the town eighty-year-old boy-chaser and frequent slapper-of-asses.

  He cleared his throat and released Ava. “On that note, I’m feeling nice and violated and ready to blow this popsicle stand.”

  Ava whispered, “Martha’s still got it.”

  He snorted and watched Martha waggle her thick gray eyebrows as she scooped an entire armload of Fritos into her cart.

  And damn it all, he was trying not to smile to encourage the woman, but Ava let off the cutest peel of giggles he’d ever heard in his life and, yeah, his life was really fuckin’ weird. Between the clan, Colton’s wishing squirrel, and the molestation by a hundred-pound woman with silver bouffant hair who was now licking her lips at him, there wasn’t much normal about his current existence. And thank God, Ava had a good sense of humor about it, because he needed this. He needed to hear her laugh grow and his laugh get bigger in his belly instead of his usual reaction to an almost-fight, which was a Change in the woods and hunting something the damn predator inside of him required. He needed blood either way, fighting or hunting. But right now? Trigger felt fine, other than the sting of Martha’s little handprint on his left butt-cheek.

  “Wine and go,” he murmured.

  “Fine, but I feel left out,” Ava said, giving him this fucking adorable, little wicked look.

  “How so?”

  “You got a spanking, but I didn’t.”

  Most of his body froze. His dick however, did not. It pressed against the front seam of his jeans as he imagined Ava riding his cock and him slapping her soft skin right on her perfect, round left cheek. And the monster in him wanted to m
ark her. Especially if she liked that, which from the way she held his gaze with challenge flashing in her eyes, Ava sure did like it. Fuck, she was perfect.

  “It’s not a good idea to tease a man like me about that stuff, Ava. I’ll have a perfect handprint on your ass before you leave this store if you test me enough.” Hell, he would have her against the shelf of chips if she tested him enough, and damn the camera above them. He’d give them a show, have her screaming his name. Ever since he’d felt how wet she got for him last night, felt inside of her body, he couldn’t stop imagining his dick inside her. Tough Ava. Strong woman who never let anyone get too close. Runner. Beauty. Challenge. He’d never wanted to possess a person as much as Ava. It had always been like that. She didn’t roll over easy. She didn’t give in. She lived her life exactly how she wanted, and she didn’t let anyone stand in the way of what she wanted. This woman didn’t tiptoe through life. She stomped through it and didn’t care about the noise she made.

  Perfect personality to tame a beast like him.

  Trigger shook his head hard. That wasn’t right. That was his animal putting thoughts in his head. Stop it, Bear. He was getting confused. Two weeks, and she needed to go. Two. Weeks. Thirteen more days and then…nothing.

  Ava was frowning up at him like he’d lost his mind. “I’ve got some business up at customer service. Can you grab me one of those four packs of the mini bottles of cheap rosé?”

  “Why don’t I just get you a bottle? It’s cheaper.”

  But she was already marching from the aisle, leaving him good and confused. What the hell had just happened? They were having a good moment, and then bam. She was gone. Martha flicked her tongue out at him and, fuck this, he was going to follow Ava. Just to make sure she was safe. Yep. Just to make sure the cougars didn’t mess with her.

  Because he had big instincts now, ones he hadn’t felt since she’d lived in town. Since he was a teenager. He’d been protective of his motorcycle club, but not like this. There was this unsettled feeling inside of him, and all his senses blared when she left his sight. What if she tripped or whacked an endcap with her hand and cut herself? Or rolled an ankle or got flu germs from the cart or…? Oh, dear God, he was losing his mind.