by KB Winters
“I didn’t run, I left just like I told you I would when I landed on your doorstep. And I’m not asking you to trust me. Either do, or don’t. I don’t give a fuck.” With her arms crossed, she was a beautiful picture of defiance.
“Trust is earned.”
“Or it’s taken by force,” she shouted, standing and damn near stumbling over the billowy skirt that was tangled up in her tiny blue stool. “I’m here Lasso. I don’t want to be but I am so I don’t know what in the hell else you want me to say or do, but I’m here. You won. Get over it or whatever, but I have work to do.”
“No, you don’t.”
I don’t know why in the hell I was being such a dick to her, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Trying to pull the fabric from her hand proved difficult because Rocky was stronger than she looked, and she was pregnant so I didn’t want to risk hurting her. My gaze narrowed at her triumphant grin. “Working is an unnecessary risk right now.”
“And it also happens to be how I make my living, at least until I get settled somewhere, so I’m not stopping.” There was a fear in her eyes, one I’d seen on women and children in the desert. It was wild and ready to pounce at the first sign of danger.
I crossed my arms and leaned on the doorjamb. “Are you okay? Have you gotten any more messages from Genesis?”
“No.”
I believed her, which meant she was in denial. “And why do you think that is, Rocky? Do you think he just gave up?” She opened her mouth and I pushed off the wall and got in her face. “Or maybe he just has other people buying shit for him from you so he can see where you are? Or maybe they keep placing orders so he can make sure you’re still in the same place.”
I saw the moment real fear flashed in her big green eyes. Then resignation. “Shit. I never gave him credit for being that smart.”
“Survival means being smart, Rocky. The prick may not be a genius, but he runs a criminal organization and he’s managed to avoid jail time so he’s no idiot.”
She nodded, but the way she nibbled her plump bottom lip told me she was more afraid than she let on. “He wouldn’t have gone through the trouble. Would he?”
“Is it worth the risk? I can cover you until this blows over and you get back on your feet.” It was an offer I never thought I’d hear myself make to any woman but that was probably because of all the moneygrubbing socialites my mama had thrown at me before I ducked the hell out of Rose Petal.
“No offense Lasso, but I can’t risk all of my baby’s stuff being confiscated because of your dubious earnings.”
I had to laugh before I remembered that Rocky didn’t know about my family; most of the club didn’t even know.
“Dubious? I work in a tattoo shop owned by one of my brothers, in addition to a stake in several dispensaries, whorehouses and the biggest, baddest gun range in Vegas. It’s all legit. Feel better now?”
She shook her head, looking even angrier now than before I tried to soothe her fears. “No. I don’t like this. We’re practically strangers and we don’t trust each other. I won’t take any money from you. Nope. Not happenin’.”
“We won’t be strangers because we’ll be living and sleeping together, which means we’ll grow to trust each other. I’m going to trust that you won’t poison me or run off with my shit.”
“And I’m going to trust that you’re not as bad as the guy I’m running away from?”
I smirked at her smart mouth. Despite her hippy dippy outer shell, Rocky was tough. She was scrappy and that was sexy as hell. “For now, I just need you to trust that I can take care of you and our kid for as long as you need me to, okay?”
I couldn’t believe I had to convince her to let me take care of her. In my experience that was what most women were looking for, at least the ones I knew. The Reckless Bitches wanted to become someone’s old lady, random chicks wanted the bad boy biker persona to make them feel better about the boring accountant they’d left at home, and the rest of them were looking to land a rich husband.
“No! It’s not okay, Lasso. Nothing about this is okay. I can’t be dependent on you…I can’t.” Tears began to pool in her eyes and I got nervous. “Just forget this, okay? I’ll find another way to work.”
“Rocky, no. Here,” I pulled cash from my pocket and peeled off a few bills before handing them to her. “That’s seven fifty, more than enough for you to feel like you’re not dependent on me okay?”
Another rejection was poised on the tip of her tongue. Instead, her gaze took on an inquisitive glint. “Why? Just tell me why this is so fucking important all of a sudden?”
“It’s not all of a sudden, goddammit! You’re not the only one who needed time to think, Rocky. We’re having a fucking baby and that is huge! There’s no way in hell I can let you walk away and not know where you’ll be or how you’re both doing.”
Her pale, freckle-covered shoulders slumped as my words sank in. Then she straightened up and hit me with a sledgehammer. “And if I decide to terminate?”
“What? Are you thinking about that?” I already thought she was firm about keeping it.
She opened her mouth ready to tell me the lie that would get her out of here, paused and then snapped it shut again. “No.”
“I’m not trying to control you, Rocky. I just want to keep you safe from those fuckers.”
She scoffed. “The baby. You want to keep the baby safe.”
I frowned, not understanding the goddamn difference. “Yes, I do, and that means keeping you safe, too. Are you going to fight me on every little thing?”
“What would be the point? You’ll just strongarm me to get your way, anyway.” The stiff set of her shoulders said that was what she absolutely fucking believed, that I would disregard her feelings in favor of my own.
“Good,” I told her, standing tall and flashing my sexiest cowboy smile. “Because I think we should get married.”
Chapter 9
Rocky
Married? He thought we should get married?
I squeezed the trigger over and over, three, four, five, six, seven times until there were no more bullets to fire. With the nine-millimeter clasped between my hands, I did exactly as the biker who’d helped me said. Max was his name.
Aim. Breathe. Fire. Married. I reloaded and squeezed again. Each and every damn time the word popped into my head, hovered on the edge of my mouth, I squeezed that damn trigger. Not that I wanted to hurt Lasso, I didn’t. He was a good guy who I’d put in an impossible situation. Married. Like that would just fix everything. Married. Married.
“It makes sense,” he’d said like it would make me feel better about my wholly emotional and completely irrational feelings of hurt and rejection.
“This way you can take care of all the baby stuff under my insurance.”
Just what every woman wanted to hear. How romantic. Squeeze! Squeeze! Squeeze! “Put me on the birth certificate,” he’d said like that required a fucking priest and government forms.
When the final bullet left the gun, it took the last of my anger right along with it. What was the point in being angry about it now? I was hormonal and would be for the next few months. But married? Like he was the type to stick around forever. Like he wanted a life where he got up in the middle of the night to change diapers or go to little league games or play tea party. Because those were the simple, normal, boring as shit things I wanted for my kid.
“Just think about it,” he’d said. Like I would think about anything else for the next few days just because he told me to. It wasn’t very smart on his part to spring that on me and then send me off to a gun range, but then again, Lasso probably thought I should be jumping for joy at his offer.
I knew he was right about Genesis tracking me down, and I hated that it hadn’t crossed my mind that all the tweens and hipsters and old ladies who bought my stuff could be friends of his. It was a rookie mistake, which was why I agreed to come to the gun range today, though right now I was regretting it.
The more I thou
ght about his offer, the angrier I got. If I ever got married it would be because I found a decent man and fell in love with him. Not because he knocked me up and not because it was a practical decision. I’d already compromised too much.
No more.
After a quick reload, which, by the way, was the best part of shooting, I took a deep, calming breath and aimed the way the gruff Max had instructed. If the time came and I had to shoot for real, I wanted to be the one to survive. Soon the good old pregnancy fatigue set in, and I went through the checklist as fast as I could, eager to get home before I started to nod off.
“Thanks for the lesson, Max.”
“You’re welcome.” His quiet, grey eyes held a wealth of emotions, but he was stoic as ever. “Did you need something else?”
“Yeah, the bill.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted dismissively and that just pissed me right off.
“The bill. Please.”
He didn’t look happy about it, but he punched a button and a receipt spit out, which he thrust at me angrily. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about and that sent my anger right up to pissed the fuck off. I shoved some cash into his hand and glared because seriously, who the fuck did this guy think he was?
“Yeah, well, after your brother tracked me down and forced me to come back here, I’d say that was a matter of opinion, except I never fucking asked for yours. Have a good day.”
I couldn’t get away fast enough. Literally because another man clad in leather and denim was strolling my way.
I sped up.
“Hey, wait up!” There was no way in hell I was waiting for that guy. “Hey, Rocky, right?”
“Nope, you got the wrong girl, buddy.” There was no way I was putting myself in front of another angry biker who thought I was trying to swindle their boy. I hopped in my car and sped away and promised never to come back. I kept my foot on the gas until I turned into Lasso’s driveway and dragged myself up onto the porch and to the bed I now shared with him.
I couldn’t be sure since I was half asleep, but I remember picking up the phone to heavy breathing. Three times.
***
“How long?”
I woke up to Lasso with his big beefy arms folded across his expansive chest, those blue eyes glaring down at me.
“Excuse me?” My brain was still foggy and I blinked to bring his angry face into focus. “How long what, exactly?”
“How long have you been getting these fucking hang-up calls, Rocky? Were you even going to tell me about them?”
“How did you find out?”
“I answered your goddamn phone; how do you think? Waiting on you to talk to me is pointless, isn’t it?” He raked a hand through his hair and dropped down on the bed beside me. “I need you to help me out here, Rocky.”
“There’s nothing to help with. I was half asleep when those calls came in and I didn’t know if I was dreaming or not. And stop answering my phone!”
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
“You want me to trust you and then you do shit that makes it damn hard to do that, so do you want to play this game?” I sat up and pushed my hair out of my face. “And I don’t need your damn friends weighing in on my life. I didn’t ask them or you for help.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Are you done yelling?”
“I’m not yelling. I’m being firm.”
I laughed. “Yet I am not a horse or a dog.” He looked properly chastised, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, fine, but you can’t keep shit like this from me.” He sounded tired and worried, reminding me once again that he was a good man.
“Fine, I won’t. But if you ever wake me up from a nap when it’s not an emergency, I promise this will be the last baby you ever have.” Even though he laughed, I meant it. “I’ve been sleeping like shit lately despite the fact that I feel like all I do is sleep.”
“Fine. I didn’t realize you weren’t sleeping well.”
He really didn’t get it and I couldn’t be upset about that. “There is a human growing inside of me, Lasso. My hormones are fucked up and make me feel like I’m insane, and then suddenly I get so tired I can’t keep my eyes open so, yeah, let me sleep.”
He looked at me for a long time after my outburst was finished and then Lasso burst out laughing. A full-bodied, deep-throated laugh that was so contagious I had to fight the urge to join him.
“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” he said, tugging playfully on my arm. “Let’s go out to dinner.”
I blinked. “Are you fucking bipolar?”
“No, why?”
“Dinner?”
He nodded, his overgrown curls bouncing and making my fingers itch to run through those blond ringlets. “Yes, dinner. A meal people typically eat in the evening sometime after lunch. Let’s go out and feed you properly.”
I was about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but my stomach interrupted the conversation. “Don’t say one damn word and I’ll go freshen up right now.” I pointed my finger in his face and watched his incredible show of willpower as his lips twitched with mirth before he finally gave in.
“That wasn’t a word. Make it snappy and I’ll even let you order my food so you can pick from it too.”
Ugh, when Lasso was full on good ol’ boy charming he was impossible to resist. I could feel my body responding to him and I wished I could control it.
“You really are a good guy, Lasso. Even with the unfortunate nickname. It’s too bad we didn’t meet some other time.” The twist in my gut told me how much I wished that were true. Good guys were a rarity in my life and I knew my future wouldn’t have many as a single mother.
“Does that mean you’re saying no to marrying me? Because I’m kind of hoping you are.”
“Because it was just a token offer?”
“No,” he leaned in, trapping me between his arms and his chest. “Because I’ll enjoy convincing you to say yes.” He pushed back and helped me off the bed in a rare show of tenderness that he ruined by smacking my ass. “If you get ready in under ten, I might not bitch about the amount of vegetables on your plate.”
“Might? I accept that challenge.” With a smile unlike any I’d felt in a long time, I went to freshen up and change.
For a dinner date.
With my one-night stand and future baby daddy.
Chapter 10
Lasso
It turned out that I liked sharing a meal with Rocky, and we were doing it a lot. She was a smartass and funny as hell, but she was smart too. Book and street smart but she didn’t rub it in your face like some women did. She just was.
“I can’t believe you made stir-fry. Who makes stir-fry at home?”
She shrugged, looking adorably rumpled and somehow sexy at the same time in her light green tunic that hid the denim shorts I knew she wore only because I’d caught her bending over earlier. “I like to cook and with the internet you can learn pretty much anything.”
“You’re good at that, taking a bunch of shitty vegetables and turning them into a delicious meal. Is that ginger?”
Her smile lit her up face when she confirmed there was fresh ginger in the dish. “You have a good palate, and I thought all you ate were military packs and steaks.”
I frowned, and she rolled her eyes.
“Because you’re from Texas.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I did my time eating MRE’s. They’re not as bad as you think but they’re also not this damn good.”
I knew if I let her, we’d continue to have these meals and we’d shoot the shit, talking about our likes and dislikes, favorite musicians and movies. Even though we’d gone out a few times, it was like a first date, getting to know each other, but it was still surface bullshit. If we were going to have a kid and if I had a chance of convincing Rocky to marry me, we had to dig deeper. “Who taught you ho
w to cook?”
“The internet,” she said drily, her eyes blank and shoulders stiff. “Dad wasn’t around much so it was up to me to look after myself. After a while bologna sandwiches got old and then I discovered the Food Network. From there the world was my oyster.”
“Shit, I thought my hovering parents were bad.” They were overbearing, and the weight of their expectations could be crushing but we always had the basics. Always.
She moved around the kitchen adding stuff, stirring, tasting while she talked. “Dad wasn’t bad, not really, but he didn’t have a traditional line of work, which meant he didn’t keep a normal schedule. After a job, depending on how it went, he’d have to lay low in whatever city he was in until things cooled down. I was on my own a lot, but I coped.”
Rocky was a survivor. No matter what life threw her way, she found a way to make it work for her. It was an admirable trait, one I hoped she’d pass on to our kid.
“My parents,” I said, trying to snatch a sample out of the pan before she smacked my hand, “were there with a capital T. Rose Petal, Texas was named after my great-great-great grandmother’s English rose skin.”
“Whoa.”
Big green eyes widened, at the grandeur, the ridiculousness or the pretentiousness of all, I didn’t know.
“Right? Anyway, that meant everything was all about appearances. My folks thought they’d dictate my entire life by dangling a sprawling ranch and a big ass trust fund in front of me. They wanted to pick my major in college, the girl I’d marry and what I would do on the ranch until it was time for me to take over, which would have been whenever the hell my daddy felt I was ready.”
I smacked the table, the tension of reliving those times enough to make my anger rise.
“So, you joined the military instead and when you came back ran away from all of their expectations? Cool, how does it feel?”
I expected her to tell me family was important and that I needed to reach out to them. That was what everyone had always said, as if it was so fucking tragic that my perfect parents now only had my younger siblings to weigh down with their old school ideas.