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He tipped his head.
“Speaking of students, is Daisy Lange related to Cassie?” Now that she thought about it, they looked a lot alike. Both blonde and outgoing. Cut from the same cloth.
“Her girl. How do you know that hell-on-wheels?”
Chelle grinned at the description of the six-year-old girl. She’d only met Daisy a few times so far but she’d left an impression. “I work at Daisy’s school.”
“As a teacher,” he concluded on his own.
“No, the librarian. I saw Daisy’s father dropping her off the other morning. He wore the same vest as you.”
His mouth became tight. “Noticed my vest?”
“Hard to miss it.”
“Ain’t supposed to wear it at customers’ homes.”
“Well... you did.”
“Wasn’t thinkin’ you’d be outside waitin’.”
“It’s a beautiful day. Figured I’d work outside until you arrived.”
“Makes sense.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tattle,” she kidded him.
His head tilted as he studied her.
The way he looked at her, the questions and comments. The way he spoke. None of it actual flirting. But all of it should disturb her.
It didn’t. It made her curious. The same way he was about her.
Maybe that was just stupid of her. But then again, being near him was making her as irrational as a hormonal teenage girl. And she was far from that.
“Tell me about it,” she urged before she could think better of it. He had the check, she had Pumpkin’s ashes, no reason remained to keep him there.
“About what?”
“The vest.”
He stared at her, his expression cautious. “Shouldn’t have worn it.”
“But you did.”
“Habit.”
“So, now that the cat’s out of the bag—” She grimaced at her choice of idiom. It was bad timing. Not for him but her. “I’m curious. Is it a secret?”
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“A brotherhood.”
“And the vest represents that brotherhood.”
“Yeah. It’s a cut.”
“A cut,” she echoed, finding that a weird name for a leather vest.
“Our club’s colors.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The colors that represent our club. Our patches.”
“The ones on the back.”
He tipped his head.
“Is your club dangerous?”
He stared at her for a few uncomfortable seconds, his face not only blank but his eyes turned hard and distant. His soft answer was anything but warm. “Only to our enemies.”
“You have enemies?”
“Everybody’s got enemies.”
“Not everyone.”
“Chelle, we all got enemies. Some we see, most we don’t.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the familiar use of her first name or what he said that caused the shiver.
But he noticed it and frowned.
She pushed on. “I was told it disbanded a long time ago.”
“Yeah.”
“But now it’s up and running again?”
A small grunt escaped him.
“Why do you call it a brotherhood?”
“Family.”
“Your family is a part of the MC?”
“They’re my family.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable at her line of questioning.
Her check was now crumpled in his hand.
Shit. Had she pushed him too far?
Chapter Four
Shade needed to fucking leave, but he was having a difficult time walking away from Chelle.
She was like a goddamn magnet and he was steel. The pull toward her was weird. He didn’t understand it besides her being a beautiful woman.
He’d seen a lot of pretty or beautiful women in his life, but none had caught his attention as quickly as her.
She was smart, but too curious.
He had no idea why she was digging.
He fucked up by wearing his cut in her driveway. Yeah, it was habit to wear it whenever he was on his sled, but he should’ve known better. And it was true, he hadn’t expected her to be outside waiting.
But then, nothing about this visit was going as expected.
He thought he’d show up, hand over the box and leave. Not be invited inside.
Even though she now knew he belonged to the Fury, she invited him in, anyway. He first took that as a positive, but now... he realized he was fucking wrong.
Her questions were making him tense. Fury business was no one else’s. Not that she asked for anything that wasn’t common knowledge. But he had to make sure she didn’t dig any deeper.
He didn’t share secrets, whether the club’s or his own.
So, yeah, he needed to leave, because every question she asked, he’d answered. It would be better to just part ways before he fucked up again.
Problem was, she wasn’t the only one curious. The pictures of a younger her with her man made him want to ask questions, too.
In truth, the answers wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.
She wasn’t for him.
He wasn’t for her.
They were too damn different.
A fucking school librarian.
Jesus fuck. She’d be horrified if she knew the truth about him.
“Would you like a glass of iced tea?”
What? Why wasn’t she rushing him out the door now that she knew he was a biker?
No, he didn’t need a goddamn glass of iced tea. He needed a bowl of premium Kush and a pint of moonshine to scrub her from his brain. That was what the fuck he needed.
He should’ve let Cassie bring the fucking ashes. Or Easy.
