“I can tell you what I want. I want you to come stay with me at my cabin as my woman.”
She sucks in a breath.
“But if you’re not ready for that, you can stay as my friend.”
I should take her to the club headquarters. We’ve got spare rooms, and they’re used often by women who need somewhere to stay. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I want to keep her to myself.
“I can’t give you the same comfort you’re used to, Cassie. My cabin is small. I don’t have a butler or a cleaner or separate bathrooms, but you’re welcome to stay.”
She smiles and squeezes my hand. “It sounds perfect.”
She’s perfect. That’s what I want to tell her. But I don’t want to scare her right now. She needs a sanctuary, and I can be that for her.
There’s plenty of time for her to realize she belongs to me.
8
CASSIE
As I cling to the back of Specs on the motorbike, the anxiety in my stomach slowly slips away.
We had one night making out, and here I am throwing myself at him and asking to stay. But despite the imposition, he’s calm and understanding and sincere.
His words echo around my brain. He wants me to be his woman, but he’s leaving it up to me. I press against him, and his warmth and the whir of the motorbike calms my mind. I don’t know what I want, but right now, in this moment, being on the back of Specs’s bike feels damn good.
We turn off the main road down a gravel road. Thick trees line the narrow path and grow so close together that only narrow shafts of sunlight break through.
The bike slows as we get to the end of the path, and I realize this is Specs’s driveway. We come out into a clearing, and a neat wooden cabin squats in the middle.
The cabin is dwarfed by the giant sycamore trees surrounding it. A wooden porch runs around the outside of the cabin, and a single rocking chair sits next to a small wooden table. Large ceramic pots line the wall, and as we walk up thestairs to the door, I breathe in the scents of sage, rosemary, and lavender.
“It’s an herb garden,” I murmur. “I didn’t know you were into gardening.”
Specs chuckles. “I’m into cooking. And you can’t beat having fresh herbs at your doorstep.”
He unlocks the door and holds it open for me to step inside.
The inside of the cabin smells like baked bread and a mixture of herbs. On the kitchen counter sits a fresh loaf of bread, still in its pan.
“I was baking when I got your call,” Specs says. “It had just come out of the oven, and I didn’t have time to turn it out.”
He moves over to the kitchen and pulls a cooling rack from a cupboard and expertly tips the loaf upside down. It plops onto the rack, and a fresh wave of baked-bread aroma fills the air.
My stomach rumbles at the smell. “I didn’t know you baked.”
Specs chuckles. “I like food. I like to cook and bake and read and tinker with bikes. They’re my hobbies.”
He grins, and it lights up his entire face
“You like scrambled eggs? I’ll make us lunch.” He comes alive in his kitchen and moves with a confidence that’s magnetic, producing a bowl and taking eggs from the pantry.
“Eggs sound good.”
“Make yourself at home.” He waves a whisk in the air to indicate the rest of the cabin.
I turn around, and my breath catches in my throat.
The cabin is open plan with the kitchen joined to the living area. A wood burner sits against one wall, and on the adjacent wall is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Opposite the wood burner is an armchair with a knitted blanket thrown over the arm and a cushion squished into the back of it. It’s obvious this is where Specs sits. Next to the armchair is a small coffee table with acoaster and a book. There’s another armchair on the other side of the table.
