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Be worthy love, and love will come.
—Louisa May Alcott
One
Aspen
Blinking, I sat up as the roar of motorcycles grew louder. The light from the television was all that lit the darkened living room. I reached for my cell phone to check the time. It was after two in the morning. Irish, my older sister, wouldn’t be home from work for another two hours. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the sofa, watchingDawson’s Creek, but since Irish had introduced me to it, I had gotten addicted. Television was something I hadn’t realized was missing from my life.
Stretching, I stood and picked up the remote to turn it off, wondering if Gran had ever watched anything on a screen a day in her life. She had believed it was evil, so probably not. It made me sad to think of all Gran hadn’t experienced in life. Death came for all of us at some point, and I wanted to soak in every adventure I could until that day came. Irish lived her life that way. Although Gran had died thinking Irish was headed straight for hell, I disagreed. I believed Irish was making sure not to waste a moment. God had to respect that.
A knock on the door startled me, and I stared at the door, unsure of what to do. Who would be knocking at this time? Irish hadn’t told me to expect anyone.
Quietly, I walked over to the window beside the door and peeked out. There were two motorcycles in the driveway. A man was on one of the bikes, but the other one sat empty. I shifted the curtain to see if I could get a glimpse of who was at the door. Black leather jacket and light-brown hair, pulled back in a man bun, were all I could see. It was intriguing. VerySons of Anarchy. Another binge-watch Irish had put me on since I’d moved in here with her.
Irish had interesting men in her life. Living vicariously through her stories was what had gotten me through some of my darker times. Being the sickly younger sister had caused me to miss out on a normal high school life. There had been no going off to college and frat parties for me either.
Unable to help my curiosity, I moved to the door and unlocked it, then opened it to face the man on the other side.
With the porch light illuminating his face, I sucked in a breath. Hazel eyes stared at me under thick, dark lashes. He had a short beard, just enough to be sexy, and lips that made me want to stare at them. It was tempting to reach out and touch them.
“You’re definitely not Kitty,” he drawled in a deep voice that made me shiver.
Kitty was my sister’s stage name.
I shook my head as I soaked in the sight of the man in front of me. “She’s at work,” I replied softly.
He raised an arm and leaned on the doorframe as his eyes raked down my body with what I thought was approval. I had very little experience with men, except for the romance novels I read—and I didn’t think those were very accurate. According to Irish, real men were nothing like the ones in books. Although he sure looked like one of the guys in the books I read.
“I’m gonna need a name, darling,” he said as his eyes locked back on mine.
My face felt warm, and I knew I was blushing. Sure, I’d had boys flirt with me before, but they weren’t like this. This was not a boy.
“Aspen,” I told him.
He reached out and took a strand of my hair, twirling it around his finger before letting it fall back to my shoulder. “Please tell me this is natural,” he said huskily.
I swallowed hard. “Uh, my hair?” I asked, confused.
He smirked. “Yes.”
I laughed nervously then. “Since birth.”
“Tell me how a sweet thing like you ended up at Kitty’s.”
“She’s my sister,” I told him.
I left out that Kitty wouldn’t let me live alone any longer. I had tried it after Gran passed away two months ago. When I ended up in the hospital, Irish had moved me into her house.
He leaned closer to me, and I hoped that the funny way my heart was feeling was safe.
“You planning on working at Devil’s? Because if you are, I need your schedule.”
Devil’s Lair was the strip club my sister worked at.
I was probably the color of my auburn hair. My fair skin hid nothing.
