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Dodge grabbed the box of fresh donuts sitting on the counter from Coffee and Cream and shoved it at Syn. “Here, take this with you. For them. And you.”
“Hey, those are—” Dutch began to protest.
“You don’t need them,” Dodge cut him off and put his hand over Syn’s sweatshirt at the small of her back, steering her past the garage owner, the office and back outside.
As soon as she took a few steps toward the bus, Syn slammed on the brakes and turned to face him, breaking their connection. “We’ll go park the bus at Walmart.” He shook his head, but she continued, “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but the heaters will have to wait.”
He took a step closer and tipped his face down to meet her upturned one. “Lemme make a call, then we’ll go from there.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “We’re just a band like any other band that’s played in your bar.”
No, they weren’t.
No, she wasn’t.
There was no “just” about her.
“Already explained why.”
“Because you’re interested.”
He now regretted telling her that. He should’ve kept that buried deep where it belonged. “We gonna rehash this out here in the goddamn cold?”
She stared up at him, her gaze unwavering. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” He tugged his beanie lower on his head to keep from reaching out and touching her again. Because, fuck him, he wanted to smooth away the wariness on her face. “Go,” he ordered softly. “Go wait in the bus.”
She continued to stand there, not moving to do what he ordered. He knew exactly why.
I’m just as fuckin’ confused as you, woman. Believe me.
She nodded as if he’d said that out loud. Her response made his heart seize for a second, thinking he might have actually slipped and let that out into the universe.
Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bus.
He blew out a breath and forced his muscles to loosen, then strode a few yards away from the bus to where he knew no one would overhear him. He turned his back to both the skoolie and the shop, found the number he needed, then pushed Send.
Hoping like fuck that everything he was doing for her or even trying to do wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. His dumb ass.
“Yeah,” came the gruff answer on the second ring.
“Got a band here that’s got an old skoolie with no heat. They need a place to plug in ’til after they play at Pete’s tomorrow night.”
The other end of the phone was silent.
“Stella wanted me to hire them. To fill in for a band that cancelled.” That might give his request some weight with the Fury prez.
“Got campgrounds for that, brother,” Trip said.
Not as easy of a solution as it sounded. “They can’t afford a campground.” Among other things.
More silence.
He knew Trip wouldn’t like outsiders staying at the farm. Dodge didn’t blame him but he was hoping for an exception. Even if the prez said no, then at least Dodge gave it a shot.
He’d just need to work harder to find a damn solution.
Even though it wasn’t his problem.
They weren’t his problem.
She wasn’t his problem.
For fuck’s sake.
He kept making her his problem.
“We’ve all been there,” Dodge reminded him, keeping his voice low. “Every single fuckin’ one of us.”
“Right,” Trip murmured. “You know how I feel about outsiders bein’ on the farm.”
“Yeah.”
After a long-assed pause, Trip asked, “Stella meet them?”
“She saw them play.” She never actually stayed long enough last night to meet the band. Usually, the only time she took the time to speak to a band was when she was deciding whether to book them or not.
She had a good ear because apparently her ex had been a musician. Dodge didn’t know a lot about her past, but he did know that much.
“Give me a few. I’ll text you back.”
“Hey,” Dodge called out before the Fury prez hung up.
Trip grunted.
“It might be for tomorrow night, too. Not sure if they’ll hit the road right after they’re done playin’ Friday night or if they’ll head out Saturday mornin’.”
The phone not only went silent this time, but dark. Dodge stared at it for a few seconds then tapped the edge of it against his beanie-covered forehead as he considered what his next move would be to help them if Trip said no.
Their options were getting slimmer with every minute that passed.
He dropped the hand holding his phone and stared at the piece of shit skoolie across the lot.
Why the fuck did he even care enough to help them? Why was he even getting involved in something that had nothing to do with him?
His answer rounded the back of the bus.
Jesus fuck.
He’d never been a slave to pussy.
Not once.
Even worse, he hadn’t even fucked her. If he was smart, he shouldn’t plan on it, either.
