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“See, I’m not heaving for air,” he says proudly.
God, I don’t need another arrogant man in my life… even if he does work his fingers like a jack hammer.
The truck is parked beyond the hill on the darkest part of the property, and his bike is strapped up in the back. It was thoughtful of him to rent a truck. I’ll give him that.
The problem is, it doesn’t answerwhy? Why was I so important to come after?
My mother told me once,‘When something's going good, you shouldn’t ask questions.’It’s one of the few things I remember her saying to me before she left. I wonder how much of that is true or if what’s happening with Knight is actually good.
Knight sets me on the ground, opens the door, and helps me into the truck. “It’ll be some time before we can stop and change. You might want to strip down and throw that flannel on. It’ll be a wet ride back regardless, but at least you’ll be warm.” He nods toward his shirt hanging over the back seat.
I hold back the millions of dirty jokes that swirl in my head, mostly because his face is doing that grumpy-miserable thing again. The one where I can’t tell if he’s glad he was fingering me a second ago or if he wishes he were at home in his recliner with a beer.Have I said I have terrible taste in men… because I do. I have a terrible, awful, life wrecking taste in men.Actually, it’s worse than that. My taste in men is like the people who go to an ice cream shop, and despite a hundred great flavors, choose pistachio. Pistachio.
“I’ll be back. Don’t go wandering off.” Knight disappears into the darkness, and I do as I’m told and change into the dry flannel he’s left for me. I could be stubborn and ride wherever we’re going sopping wet, but he’s probably right about the cold thing, and I need to think of the baby. What I’m not expecting is the holy scent of goodness that emanates from the fabric. Cedar, balsam, and campfire smoke. The shirt smells likehim.
My clit throbs again and my mind is tugged back to the waterfall where life stopped for a few minutes. Where time stood still, and I lived in the moment. In twenty-five years, I’ve never done it before. I don’t want it to end despite the fact that he’s probably a double scoop of‘fuck your life.’
As I button his shirt in place, a heavy thud weighs in the bed of the truck followed by a soft knock at the back window. I twist back to see my Zilly panting.
What the hell? Maybe she jumped in. Sometimes when I take a horse out for a ride, she’ll tag along. She’s also the only dog to come in with me at night. The other dogs stay put in the shed or find a spot under the porch, but not her. She’s always right beside me.
Knight opens the side door and slides in, starting the truck up before glancing toward me. “The tracker was easy to find.”
“Wait, what? You cut her?”
“It was in her left leg, just under the skin. I could feel it with my hand. I’ll toss it somewhere outside of town.”
“You removed her leg? She must need a vet! She’ll bleed to death! You—”
“No.” His hand rests on my bare thigh. “I only made a small cut and removed the tracker. She’s fine. I tied a towel I had in the truck around her leg, and it’s already stopped bleeding.”
I’m not usually speechless but here I am, struggling for words. He knew what I needed, and he made it happen. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“You said girls aren’t complicated. Feed ‘em, listen, and get ‘em a dog.” He clears his throat. “There’s a granola bar in the glove box. Eat it, then lay on my lap. It’s a long ride back to the mountains.”
That wasn’t the exact translation of what I told him but I’m sure as hell no man has ever been closer.
Chapter Six
Knight
“What are you doing, man?” Chap and Axel stand in the hallway of the lodge. Their arms are crossed, and their expressions let me know how unhappy they are with my choice to bring Oakley here. “We’re not open yet. This is a construction zone.”
The guys are both big brutes in their late forties—typical biker dudes. Tattoos, beards, and cutthroat attitudes… but there’s a fun dichotomy when these two are together as Chap is the voice of reason for the club and Axel is the exact opposite.
“I know,” I close the door to the room I’ve tucked Oakley into and meet the guys further down the hall, “but the rooms are furnished now, and the place is guarded most of the day with guys working. It’s the best spot for her.”
“The rooms are furnished because we all busted ass to get it done while you were out playing hero.” Axel’s tone is biting as he leans against the wall and pulls out his phone. He’s either searching for something or texting. “Is this that pregnant girl you were watching before? What happened?”
“Her father wants the baby. I’ve got to figure a way to get him out of the picture or keep her hidden.”
Chap’s brows narrow. “What do you mean he wants the baby?”
“He’s trading the baby for some land he’s wanted.” Oakley sighs as she steps in behind us. “God that sounds awful out loud. Seriously though, I can take it from here.” Zilly is at her side panting. “The border isn’t far. I can disappear in the mountains somewhere and we’ll be fine.”
“We’re always here to help,” Chap says, stepping forward to scratch Zilly between the ears, “but unless you want your father…” He blows out a breath avoiding the word he wants to use. “Can you just go to the police?”
She glances up toward me. “We can’t go to the police. He has ties everywhere. He’ll come after me and…please!” There’s a pleading in her tone that wasn’t there before.
