by Emma Slate
Colt’s lips came back to capture mine, but gentler, as if he had all the time in the world to seduce me. But I didn’t want slow; I didn’t want a chance to think. I wanted a moment to forget about all my worries and enjoy nothing but my time with him.
I knew I was acting desperate, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t known Colt long at all, but I wanted him anyway. It had been a while since I’d felt my body tighten and release from the pleasure that came from a partner.
Colt made a noise in the back of his throat—I wasn’t sure what it meant exactly, but I didn’t care because he continued to kiss me with blatant intent.
And then I heard the ringing of his phone.
With obvious reluctance, he released me and I slowly slid down until my feet were on the ground. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his cell. “Yeah?” Colt’s hand rested on the curve of my shoulder before pulling me to his side. His fingers dipped down across my shoulder blades, raising goosebumps along my skin.
“Okay,” Colt said. “We’ll be there in about half an hour.” He hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
“Half an hour?” I asked, looking up at him with amusement. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time.”
He let out a low chuckle. “You have about five minutes to get dressed and then we’ve got to get to the clubhouse.”
I didn’t want to go to the clubhouse. I wanted to finish what Colt and I had started in the hallway.
“What’s at the clubhouse?” I asked.
“Your friend.”
I frowned. “Shelly?”
He nodded.
“Why is she there?”
“I had Zip talk to her and tell her you were okay, that you were with us. She seems to think we kidnapped you.”
“What!”
“She showed up at the clubhouse threatening to call the cops if she didn’t get to see you with her own two eyes.” His lips curled in amusement. “Time’s a tickin’, darlin’. Get dressed so you can call off your friend.”
Shelly jumped off the bed in one of the clubhouse bedrooms and immediately came to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder and then another on my chin to turn my face so she could see the scratch on my cheek. And then she saw the cast on my wrist. “Oh my God! What the hell happened to you?”
“Long story,” I evaded. I waved away her hand, hating the fuss she was making.
Colt hovered in the doorway, refusing to leave.
“Can we have a minute? Alone?”
“No,” he said.
“We need a minute.” I paused. “Please?”
Colt’s dark brown eyes surveyed me and then went to Shelly. Finally, he nodded and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Shelly dragged me over to the bed and forced me to sit down.
“Whose room is this?” I asked.
“I dunno. Some guy named Boxer. They took my phone,” Shelly said with a scowl. “I haven’t been able to call Mark. You were supposed to be on your way to Coeur d’Alene. Now you’re wearing a cast, your cheek is scratched, and you’ve taken up with bikers.”
“I haven’t taken up with bikers,” I muttered.
“Liar. I’ve known you since we were kids. I can tell when you’re lying.” She glanced at the door. “Don’t you remember what I said? This is exactly what not to do.”
I kept silent, knowing the last thing I needed was Shelly freaking out on me when she found out I was staying with Colt and that I was close to jumping into his bed.
“Mia? What’s going on?” she asked. “You have to tell me.”
“I don’t want you getting mixed up in all of this.”
“Mixed up in what? Richie’s crap?”
“Yeah, Richie’s crap.”
“I texted the entire staff and we didn’t show up for our shifts. I drove by Dive Bar and it was closed. I start working at a nail salon next week, answering phones and making appointments.”
“Good. That’s good.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I had plans to leave town. I swear I did.” I proceeded to tell her about the motorcycles in my neighborhood and then my middle of the night flight to safety.
“You slept on the steps until they woke you up?” she marveled. “Wow.”
I nodded. “They’ve been really—ah—nice to me.”
She peered at me. “You’re blushing.”
“I don’t blush.”
“Fine, then you’re flushing. You got involved with their president, didn’t you?”
“Define involved.” I shrugged. “I’m staying at his house for the time being.”
“You trust this guy? He’s got a black eye. What kind of trouble did he get into?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said without hesitation. “I trust him.”
Shelly embraced me, hard. “You scared me. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“They’re going to help me get out of town. You don’t have to worry about me, okay?”
“I’ll always worry about you. You have a knack for finding trouble.”
“Trouble finds me,” I corrected.
“Either way, a shit storm is a shit storm.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
I hopped up and went to open the bedroom door and saw Colt leaning against the wall. I knew we hadn’t been talking loud enough for him to eavesdrop.
“You guys good?” Colt asked.
I nodded. I heard Shelly come up behind me and rest a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of her, yeah?”
Colt’s brown eyes darted to mine. “I will.”
Chapter 7
After we saw Shelly to her car, Colt and I headed to his truck. Once we were on the road back to his place, he said, “You’re worried about her.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t be. She quit Dive Bar. She’s staying out of things.”
“How do you know that? Did you actually hear our conversation?”
“Nah. She told Boxer. Or yelled it at him, actually. He relayed it to me.”
I fell silent and stared out the window, thinking about Shelly, wondering when I’d get to see her again. Maybe she and Mark would want to come for a week when I was settled in Coeur d’Alene.
Colt reached over and set his hand on my thigh. His thumb stroked my skin, offering me a small measure of comfort. It wasn’t the gesture of a man who only wanted to screw me. It was the genuine pull of intimacy.
Everything was happening too fast—my emotions felt like they were at the end of a yoyo. One moment, Colt and I were adversaries, glaring at one another. The next we were sharing details of our pasts while he cooked me food. Add in the bouts of lust and my desire to feel his skin against mine, and I was in danger of my heart and body falling for a man my mind wasn’t sure about.
We pulled into the driveway of Colt’s house and a strange sense of relief overwhelmed me. As much as I didn’t want Colt’s home to feel warm and welcoming, it was.
The house signified comfort. Like a strong embrace. Like shelter from a thunderstorm. It was a place you could plant roots and watch them grow.
Colt looked at me, and whatever he saw on my face made him mutter, “Ah, fuck.”
My gaze was solemn and I nodded. “I know.”
There was something between us, something stronger than just physical desire.
He got out of the truck and slammed the door shut before stalking up the porch steps. I followed but at a much slower pace. I found him in the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator. He pulled out a beer and popped it. Tension rolled off him, but for all Colt’s scowling intensity, I wasn’t afraid of him.
“I don’t want this,” he gritted out.
“Me. You don’t want me,” I stated. “Say what you mean.”
“I do want you, Mia, but I don’t want all the bullshit that comes with it.”
“Jesus.”
“I don’t do relationships.”
“I’ve gathered as much.” I raised my eyebrows. “You think I want this? You think I want to ge
t to know you? It will complicate my life and I already have enough complications.”
“This is a mistake.”
“Yeah, I got that memo,” I snapped.
“You should get out of Waco and finish your degree. Marry a nice guy. Have a couple of kids. Buy a minivan. That’s the only way you escape this shit.”
Even though I was angry, his words gave me pause. My hurt and pain went down to a simmer when I realized what Colt was really doing.
He wasn’t protecting himself from getting involved with me. He was protecting me from getting involved with him and his lifestyle. He was trying to let me go before I got trapped.
“What would’ve happened between us this morning?” I asked. “If you hadn’t gotten a phone call, what would have happened?”
“You know what would’ve happened. And it would’ve been a mistake.”
I smiled slowly.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Why are you grinning?”
“Because you’re catching feelings.”
Instead of answering, he tilted his head back and guzzled his beer. I watched his powerful throat move, entranced by it.
When Colt emptied the bottle, he set the glass down. He looked away from me and pressed his hands to the counter to push against it.
“I don’t have to stay here,” I reminded him. “I should stay with someone else. Zip, maybe.”
“Like hell you will,” Colt stated. It took him two strides to reach me. His hands went to my waist and hoisted me up onto the counter. He moved between my legs, invading my space, taking my air, giving me his anger.
Anger because feelings were unnecessary problems.
Anger because we were both in an explosive push and pull of emotion we couldn’t escape.
“You’re trouble,” he said, voice husky. “I knew it the moment I walked into Dive Bar.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” I shot back.
His mouth slanted over mine—forceful, like a tempest unleashed, but I was ready for it, ready for him. My hands were sure as they trailed up his strong chest to wrap around his neck.
My fiery skin grew hotter as Colt continued to kiss me, his tongue seductive and masterful. His hands snaked down from my waist to yank my legs around him so he could press against the crevice of my body. The heat and hardness of him was dizzying.
I pulled my mouth away from his, dragging air into my lungs as fast as I could. Colt’s own labored breathing was harsh in my ears. Placing a hand on the center of his chest, I urged him back. Colt moved, albeit reluctantly.
I looked into his dark brown eyes. “Feel better?”
His tongue snaked out to drag across his lips. “Fuck no.”
“What do you want from me? Because you’re sending a bunch of mixed signals. You say you don’t want me and then you kiss me. So tell me what you really want, Colt.”
“Fuck if I know anymore,” he muttered.
After my strange encounter with Colt in the kitchen, I tried avoiding him. But every time I came out of the guest room, he was suddenly there, in my way, wearing his leather cut.
He looked at me with an indiscernible expression. I couldn’t see what was going on behind his eyes. It was irritating and it kept me even more unbalanced than I already was. My lips were still burning from the feel of his mouth on mine and my body hungered for his.
I was a flat-out mess.
Night was no better. I hardly slept, restless, feeling hot and feverish, flinging off the covers only to shiver in coldness and drag them over me again. I forced myself out of bed early, just after the sun had risen because there was no point in tossing and turning.
I made coffee and took it out onto the back patio to get some air. Colt found me there. He appeared well rested—and sexy.
So. Damn. Sexy.
He was staring down at me, a mug of coffee to his lips. “Sleep well?”
My glare was my answer.
He didn’t smile, but I could see the humor lurking in his eyes. “I gotta run to town. You’re gonna stay here,” he commanded.
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t have much choice in the matter,” Colt drawled.
“You really can’t expect me to sit here all day waiting for you to get home while you go off and get to do whatever you want.”
“I do expect it,” he said mildly.
“Why can’t I come with you?”
“I’m not running errands, Mia.” He sighed. “I want you to stay out of the limelight, okay? I don’t want you in town because I don’t want to give Dev and the Iron Horsemen a chance to see you.”
I wrinkled my nose, hating to admit that he had a valid point. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“You need me here to entertain you?” Colt laughed.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Do whatever you want. Watch TV. Cook. Or bake. Yeah. Why don’t you bake a pie?”
“Bite me.”
“Tempting.” He laughed. “I’m kidding, okay? Joni is off work today so she’s gonna swing by.”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you lead with that? I like her.”
“And she likes you.”
The sound of a motorcycle drew my attention, and I got up off the couch and headed to the living room window to peer out. A guy parked his bike and took off his helmet. He looked young. My age.
“Who’s that?” I demanded as I took in the lanky, brown-haired guy.
“That’s Cheese.”
“Cheese? What kind of name is Cheese?”
“It’s his road name,” Colt explained. “He’s a newly patched brother.”
“And he’s here why?”
“To keep an eye on things.”
My gaze narrowed. “You mean to keep an eye on me.”
“Well, that too.”
“I don’t need a guard dog.”
“I’m thinking trouble could find you in the dark.” He reached into his pocket and tossed me a cell. “Finally got you a phone of your own. I programmed in a few numbers in case you can’t get ahold of me.”
“Why would I want to get ahold of you?”
“I dunno. Maybe you’ll miss me.”
“You wish.”
“Yeah, I do wish.”
“What’s gotten into you?” I demanded.
He stared at me for a long moment. “Nothing.”
Colt was lying, I was sure of it. Only I couldn’t figure out why. We were playing a game. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I wanted to win.
Chapter 8
Thirty minutes after Colt left, I walked out on to the porch and held out the PB&J to Cheese. “Sandwich?”
He looked up from the paper he was reading while sitting out on the screened-in porch. Smiling, he didn’t appear at all perturbed to be my babysitter. “Thanks,” he said, taking the plate from me.
I sat down in the chair next to him. “I didn’t know anyone still read an actual paper.”
He chewed for a moment and then swallowed. “I like it. Makes me feel like I’m still connected to something tangible. That’s weird, right?”
“No. Not at all. So how did you get suckered into watching me?”
“I didn’t get suckered. It was an order, and I’m glad to do it. It’s an honor.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “Why what?”
“Why is it an honor?”
“Because you’re Prez’s woman.”
“I think you’ve been misinformed. Colt and I barely know each other. I’m staying here until Zip can get my truck and I can get out of town.”
“You can’t drive a truck with your wrist the way it is.” He nodded at my arm. “You know that, though.”
“Yeah, I do. About that other thing you said? I’m not Colt’s woman,” I insisted.
He looked at me long and hard. “Prez is not a man who invites women to his home. You could’ve stayed at the clubhouse. Or with Zip.”
“Heard about that
, did you?” I asked in amusement.
What the hell had Colt told his brothers? What was I missing?
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Sure.”
“What made you decide to become a Blue Angel? I mean, what was the appeal?”
He paused for a moment and leaned over to rest his elbow on his thigh. “I didn’t have a lot growing up. Dad has chronic back pain and he’s on disability. He spends it all on booze and pills. Mom does the best she can, but she works at the Winn Dixie—a cashier. There was never enough, but we made do. Shopping at thrift stores, coupons, that sort of stuff.
“Last year, my eleven-year-old brother came home from school with a black eye. He got into a fight because some kid called him trailer trash. We grew up in a trailer, so I know what it’s like to be taunted at school, you know? Kids are mean. They hear their parents say shit. They repeat it even if they don’t know what it means.
“I asked Silas why the fight started. You know what he told me? The kids were making fun of him because his jeans were too short and they could see his socks. He didn’t tell Mom about having outgrown his pants because he knew there wasn’t money to get him new ones. Not at the rate he was growing.” He shook his head. “As a member of the club I can provide for my brother.”
“You could’ve joined a different club,” I said, my heart breaking for the little boy that had been picked on. “Why the Blue Angels?”
“Because of what they do for the community. I knew if I joined the Blue Angels, I wouldn’t be earning a living in a normal way that people understand. Not a respectable nine to five. There are risks that come with being in the club, but what’s life without a little risk? But this is more than that. The reward is more than just financial security. I’ve got a family now, one I wasn’t born into, one that’s been made. And I can take care of Silas.”
I pondered his words. “What about your brother? Are you going to let him grow up in this world?”
“As opposed to…”
I blinked. “A world without bikers?”
“So he can learn what, exactly? Listen, it’s easy to judge what you don’t understand. It’s easy to judge what doesn’t fit into a conventional box. But here’s the thing. Our world isn’t normal. It isn’t widely accepted. And that’s okay. You just have to live your life and follow your gut.”