by A. Zavarelli
Sparks short-circuited my nervous system as I curled my fist into his shirt, parting my lips and drinking him in. He tasted of sweet mint and smelled of leather and cloves. It was my first real kiss, and I was fucking high. My fingers scraped up into his hair, twisting the locks at the base of his neck as I tried to pull him closer. I was already on my toes, and I wanted to climb him. I wanted his body against every square inch of mine, and the desire was completely foreign to me.
Heat expanded into my belly, melting down between my thighs as my hips rubbed the hard flesh poking against me. I could smell his arousal, wild and masculine. He wanted me. He wanted me so much he swallowed every torturous sound that escaped my lips like he owned them.
And then, abruptly, it was all over.
“Birdie.” He reared back like I’d burned him, peeling my hands away as he tried to catch his breath. I waited for what inevitably came next—his rejection—but he just looked at me and shook his head. “Not here.”
I assumed that meant it was time to go back to his house, but instead, he led me into the fray of the clubhouse, which had grown more congested in the past thirty minutes.
“Let’s grab a drink,” Ace said, his eyes avoiding mine.
He’d just spun my world out of orbit with a kiss that would wreck me for anyone else, and now he wanted to grab a drink? I was still coming back down to earth, trying to make sense of this insanity as he led me up to the bar.
“What do you want?” He turned to me in question, his face devoid of any obvious emotion. Just like that, he’d returned to his unruffled self while I still felt like I was on a roller coaster.
I tried to think of what I’d normally drink when I was out. Even though I wasn’t of age, I had a fake ID, but I never had to use it. Most people assumed by the way I carried myself I was well over twenty-one.
“What kind of red wine do you have?” I asked the woman behind the bar.
Her lips tilted in amusement as she shook her head. “We’ve got liquor, beer, and whiskey, sweetheart.”
My eyes moved over the inventory as a flush crept down my throat. I felt out of my element, and I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me. A familiar flutter of irritation sparked inside me, and I tried my best to tamp it back down. Beside me, Ace seemed aware of my feelings, which surprised me, but not as much as what he did next.
His hand found the base of my neck, fingers lightly grazing the skin there as he leaned closer. His warmth calmed me in a way I didn’t expect. “How about a Disaronno on the rocks?”
I nodded on autopilot, but internally, I was wondering how he knew what I liked. Then the photos came back to mind. Had I ever ordered that in front of Trouble? I couldn’t recall a time that I had. Disaronno was a special occasion for me. Something I usually reserved for the quiet moments when I was alone and in my thoughts.
“Good choice.” The bartender nodded. “An Old-Fashioned for you, Ace?”
He jerked his chin and thanked her, and we took a seat at the bar. Silence bloomed in the space between us, and I wondered what was going through his mind. I didn’t have much time to consider it before another familiar face appeared beside us. I’d seen the guy around here earlier. He was tall, built, and handsome in a rugged way. I guessed that was the point of the whole Beards of War theme. The tattoo on his forearm read Kodiak, and I assumed that was his club moniker.
“Hey, brother,” he greeted Ace with a nod. “Good to see you.”
Ace grunted out a response just as the bartender returned with our drinks and slid them over to us. Kodiak ordered a beer for himself and then stretched his hand across the bar to me.
“I won’t wait for this crotchety fucker to introduce us. I’m Kodiak.”
I offered him a polite smile and a handshake, noting that Ace’s gaze lingered on the connection, his spine rigid. “Birdie.”
“Pretty Birdie.” Kodiak winked at Ace as he squeezed my palm in his. “I like that.”
He held on for a few seconds longer than necessary, and I wondered if he was intentionally taunting Ace or if he was actually flirting with me. When he finally let go, he leaned against the bar and took a sip of his beer, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us.
“What happened to Kylie?” he asked. “I saw she bounced early tonight.”
My fingers grew rigid around the glass in my hand as I waited for Ace to answer. It was a question I had intended to ask myself, and his response could send me plummeting over another emotional cliff I wasn’t prepared for.
“Kylie won’t be coming around here anymore,” Ace replied gruffly.
I wanted more details, but Kodiak shrugged as if to say the cookie typically crumbled that way around here. Ace’s phone rang, and when he fished it from his pocket, Lucian’s name flashed across the display. He excused himself to take the call, and I wondered if Lucian was checking in on me for Gypsy. And then I wondered what Ace would tell them.
Kodiak rapped his knuckles on the bar beside me as he invaded Ace’s seat. He removed a joint from his pocket and lit up, angling it toward me in question as smoke slipped between his lips. “You like the green shit?”
“I’m okay right now,” I answered, silently noting that the only person I ever wanted to share one with was Ace. “But thank you.”
He bobbed his head in time to the music. “Have you tried any of Ace’s strains yet?”
An image of the warehouse on the edge of the property came to mind as I nodded. “I think I’ve tried a couple. They were pretty intense.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Kodiak played a little drum beat with his hands as he spoke. “His shit is pure gold. Which one did you try?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “One made me crash hard, so I’m assuming that’s for sleep.”
“That would be Huckleberry Dream,” Kodiak informed me. “We named that one after him.”
“After who?”
“Ace.” Kodiak snorted. “AKA Huck. Shit, didn’t you know that?”
I didn’t know that, but I latched onto that little tidbit of information as I rolled the name over my tongue.
“Why does everyone call him Ace?” I asked.
“Everyone in the club has a moniker,” Kodiak informed me. “When he joined, he told us to call him Demon. It was the only thing he could think of. After a while, we realized it wasn’t a good connotation. So one day I said to him, you know, I don’t think you look like a demon. In fact, I think you’re pretty fucking Ace. And it just stuck after that.”
I tucked that little tidbit away for later, wondering exactly what that meant. I had so many questions, but I didn’t want to dive too deep with someone I just met. “So Ace creates the strains here?”
“He’s the breeder.” Kodiak nodded. “Got a wicked green thumb. Who would have guessed, right?”
“I certainly wouldn’t have,” I admitted as my eyes moved in the direction of the hall where Ace was still talking. “What’s your favorite of his creations?”
“Oh, that’s hard to choose.” Kodiak stroked his beard. “But I think I’d have to say Mary-Kate’s Last Dance. It isn’t for the faint of heart, but that shit will cure anything that ails you.”
Curiosity got the best of me as I considered the label. “Did you name that one too?”
“No.” He took another sip of his beer, the levity disappearing from his voice. “That was all Ace.”
Before I could ask anything else, Ace returned, his eyes narrowed at Kodiak. He didn’t have to say a word. Kodiak moved out of his seat and drained the rest of his beer. “Right, I guess I have shit to do.”
Ace nodded, and I said goodbye. Sipping the amber liquid in my glass, I savored the sweet amaretto warming my throat all the way down to my belly. I tried not to study Ace too closely, but when I noticed the condensation from his glass dripping down onto his fingers, I thought about tasting him again. The sweet bourbon on his lips invading my mouth and soaking into my brain, warming me all over. I wanted that, and it was becoming a problem.
As if
Ace could sense my thoughts, he stood and cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”
BIRDIE WAS QUIET WHEN WE got back to the house, but I could sense a storm brewing in her blue eyes. I could still smell her, still taste her on my lips, and I was itching for more. I couldn’t even understand how it happened, but when I walked in and saw her crying, the only thing I wanted to do was take the pain away. I’d never kissed a woman before. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing in that department, but as soon as my lips locked onto hers, it didn’t matter. One taste and I was fucking gone. I wanted to fall balls deep into her pussy until my dick gave out. But then I felt depraved for even considering it. Obvious vulnerability aside, she was too young for me, and the last thing she needed was an emotionally crippled robot like me.
Fuck.
I walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water to give my hands something to do. All I really wanted was to get back to my shop and keep myself busy before I did something stupid. Like touch her again. But after the events of the day, it wasn’t likely I’d convince Birdie to spend more time with Trouble anytime soon, and the way Kodiak was making eyes at her earlier ruled him out too.
“What did Lucian want?” Birdie asked from the sofa.
When I glanced at her, she had her feet curled up beneath her, just a glimpse of silky skin peeking out from under her skirt. My eyes traced the line of her thigh all the way to the hem where it disappeared. I needed to do something about the throbbing dick in my jeans, sooner rather than later.
“He was just returning my call,” I told her. “I checked in earlier to see how everything was going with the baby.”
Birdie swallowed and turned away, hiding any emotions that might give away her feelings. In profile, she was still the most enchanting woman I’d ever seen in real life. She came from Gypsy blood, and those exotic qualities were evident in her features. But where her sister had darker traits, Birdie was the opposite. Pure vanilla hair contrasted the honey-kissed glow of her skin, highlighting the glacial blue eyes that were her siren’s song. She was feminine and soft and more than any one man deserved, but Kylie was right about her. Beneath the goddess-like veil, she was broken, and the best thing I could do for her was draw the line now before I hurt her even more.
“How is he?” Birdie asked. When I blinked, she clarified. “The baby?”
“Doing well. Lucian won’t leave his side, I’m told.”
She nodded, expecting as much. “I’d like to see him again soon, but I suppose that’s probably off the table, isn’t it?”
I didn’t like to be the asshole, but there was no point lying to her. “Probably at least for a while. Until you adjust to your circumstances.”
“That’s what Gypsy wants?” she asked.
When I didn’t answer, she took that as affirmation.
“So, what happens now?”
I sat down at the kitchen table, maintaining eye contact but keeping my distance. “Well, we need to establish how this situation is going to work. I can’t have you sitting around here all day.”
“Obviously.” Birdie rolled her eyes. “I never asked to be here in the first place.”
“Gypsy mentioned you were in school, but you haven’t finished.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the sofa. “Well, I can’t now, can I? At least not under my real name.”
She was right about that. There were far worse consequences for Birdie than being imprisoned by me. If that detective from California ever found her, she could be looking at hard time. And I didn’t have any intention of letting that happen, so whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with me.
“What were you studying?” I asked.
She made a flippant gesture with her hands. “I told Gypsy I wanted to go to design school, but I didn’t really. It was just something I came up with to get her off my back.”
“She cares about you,” I told her.
“Yeah, she cares about me so much she heaped me into the too hard pile and made me your problem.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a brat, she wouldn’t have done that.”
Birdie’s hands curled into fists for the second time that day. She was irritable and on the verge of a potential meltdown, and it showed. “Maybe you could just let me go, and then I wouldn’t be anyone’s problem. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
“Hardly,” I snorted.
Her eyes narrowed, and an unsettling calm washed over her face as she studied me. “What about you, Huck? Are you really so perfect? From what I’ve heard, you’ve done time in prison yourself. So who are you to talk?”
The muscles in my back rippled with irritation as I stood, nearly knocking the chair over behind me. Birdie’s eyes widened, and all her bravado disappeared as I shot her a withering glare. “Don’t fucking talk about what you don’t understand.”
She didn’t bother to say anything else before I slammed the front door behind me.
By the time darkness settled in, I’d managed to get some of the regular maintenance done on the Harley. My temper had cooled after Birdie’s comment, but I still wasn’t eager to face her. Standing in the driveway, I had a long smoke while I contemplated all the shit we had to work through. In the end, the only conclusion I could draw was that I still didn’t have any idea how to tackle this clusterfuck.
When I finally walked back into the house, I’d already braced myself for whatever I might find. But what I saw was the last thing I ever imagined. In the kitchen, Birdie frantically waved a smoking pan over the sink while she cursed under her breath. The counters looked like a war zone with unidentified liquid splattered all over and half chopped vegetables lying on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grumbled, trying to hide the amusement in my voice.
She blinked at me, frustration pinching her features. “I don’t know. I was just trying to make something to eat.”
Guilt settled into my gut as I considered her words. She was hungry, and I hadn’t fed her. It was one of those basic human needs I told myself I’d be able to meet, and I hadn’t. I’d failed.
“Have a seat.” I pried the pan from her fingers and nodded toward the kitchen table. “I’ll take care of dinner.”
She hesitated like she was about to argue, but for once, she chose not to. I started cleaning up the mess she made while she watched on. I couldn’t quite figure out what she was trying to cook, and I doubted she knew either.
“Didn’t your sister ever teach you how to cook?” I asked as I set a pot full of water on the stove.
“She didn’t know how to cook either,” Birdie huffed. “Until Lucian taught her.”
A note of sadness in her voice led me to believe that even though she was happy for her sister, she missed the way things were before.
“Come here.” I gestured for her.
“What for?” She cocked her head to the side, revealing her uncertainty.
“We’re making pasta.” I pointed at the box I’d pulled from the cupboard. “You can’t fuck up pasta.”
Birdie joined me in the small space between the stove and the counter, and I didn’t really know what the fuck I was doing. Having her within reach wasn’t doing my self-control any favors. I wanted to taste her lips again. I wanted to grab her by the hips and hoist her up onto the counter and make her forget every awful thing that had ever happened to her as I fucked her the way she should be fucked.
“What do I do?” She looked up at me with those big doll-faced eyes.
“Wait until it boils and then we’ll pour it in.”
With nothing else to do, we stood there and stared at each other. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I wanted to.
“Why did you break up with Kylie?” she asked.
I shifted, leaning up against the counter. This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have, but I knew her curiosity wouldn’t be sated until we did. “It was just time. She deserved more than what I could offer her.”
Birdie swal
lowed, and it drew my attention to the fading bruises around her neck. I wanted her to tell me about them. And then I wanted to kill the motherfucker who thought he could do that to her.
“Do you think it hurt her feelings?” she pressed.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But she always knew it wasn’t going anywhere.”
“What does that mean?” Birdie braced herself against the counter as if she anticipated my answer.
I couldn’t look at her when I said it, so I nodded to the box of pasta, and while she poured it in, I gave her the only explanation I could offer. One that also served as a warning. “I’m not capable of caring about someone that way. The house and the white picket fence? That shit’s not in the cards for me.”
Birdie eyes hardened. “Who is it in the cards for? That fairy tale is a delusion living on borrowed time.”
Coming from her, it didn’t sound right. She was too young to be so jaded. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her otherwise. I didn’t want to think about someone proving her wrong someday because, in my mind, nobody would ever be good enough for her.
“Watch the clock.” I opened the cupboard and retrieved the colander. “We’ll check it at eight minutes.”
The rest of the lesson was uneventfully quiet, and though I wondered what was on Birdie’s mind, I didn’t ask. We ate dinner together in silence, and I sensed her anxiety growing as we wound down for the evening. She still hadn’t spoken about what happened last night. She hadn’t told me what she needed, but I anticipated that tonight would go a lot smoother.
At least, that was my intention.
AS THE EVENING PROGRESSED, I felt myself falling inward, caving into a mixture of old fears and new, along with the odd thought that didn’t really make sense to me. I had a long list of things that needed to be done. For starters, following up on Joe, scouting information, and figuring out how the hell I was going to get that video. But at present, I was trapped with a bear of a man who seemed more complicated by the second, and I wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t the best place for me right now.