AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We argue back and forth for a few more minutes, until finally I get sick of it and tell him I have to get ready for work.
After hanging up, I can’t help but think back to a time when we were kids. Back then, my brother probably did actually care about protecting me and making sure I was safe. But that was a long, long time ago. Sad to say, I can’t trust my brother or his intentions any longer.
Dammit. This conversation with my brother has put me in a terrible mood. And when I’m in a bad mood, I eat. I decide to treat myself to breakfast. It’s not exactly health food, but right now what I need are some pancakes, bacon, and a bottomless pot of coffee. Comfort food will always cure what ails you, at least temporarily. That’s my professional advice, as a nurse.
I take an Uber to the G-Spot, where I left my car after yesterday’s drama. From there I drive to the Old Town Diner, my favorite greasy spoon, and park in the tiny lot behind the restaurant. But as I’m walking around the corner toward the entrance, something catches my eye. I turn to see what looks like Connor idling in a silver pickup truck across the street. He’s not looking at me — in fact, it looks like he’s doing his best to pretend he doesn’t see me.What the hell?
I reverse directions and walk back toward my car, then slip around the corner and wait thirty seconds or so. The crunch of boots on cement warns me of someone approaching, so I step out onto the sidewalk. Connor startles, coming to an abrupt halt.
“Well, this is quite the coincidence,” I snark. “What’s the big idea, Connor? Are you actually spying on me right now?”
“It’s not spying,” he protests.
“Well, then, what is it?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Because it’s pretty obvious you are following me around at this point. I know you don’t expect me to believe you just happened to be in the exact same place as me two days in a row.”
“Uh…” His lips twist into a cocky grin that makes my heart flutter. “No comment?”
I heave a giant sigh, shaking my head. “Dammit, Connor. What is going on?”
He shrugs, and I can tell he’s not going to give me a straight answer. “Let’s just say I had business around here. Since I was in the area, I decided to check in on you and make sure you were safe after yesterday.”
I want to toss back at him that I don’t need his protection. But I can’t quite tell him to leave. Because the fact is, I can’t lie to myself. Part of me is happy to see him. I shouldn’t be, but I am. He just looks so damn good in his low-slung jeans, tight gray T-shirt, and leather cut. The shadow of his beard accentuates his strong jaw. And the grin he’s flashing me right now makes his teal-blue eyes twinkle mischievously. For just a second, he looks so much like the old Connor I used to know that the years fall away and I feel like I’m in high school again.
My chest squeezes. I want to tell him off. Tell him to go away and leave me alone. But I can’t make myself do it.
“Ugh. Well, if you’re going to skulk around like this, you might as well join me for breakfast,” I mutter. “You’re paying, by the way.”
“I’ll take that offer.” His grin gets wider, and he steps up to the door of the diner, pushing it open so that I can go through. I give him an irritated look and go inside.
The Old Town Diner looks and smells exactly the way a greasy spoon should. Worn Naugahyde booths, a long L-shaped counter that runs the length of the narrow space from front to back, and a grill front and center where the cooks fry up onions, hamburgers, and hash browns. The walls are lined floor to ceiling with childish crayon drawings done by the kids of adult patrons. They color pictures while they wait with their parents for orders of greasy comfort food. You can almost see the nostalgia their future selves will feel for the place.
Once we’re seated at our table, the waitress takes our coffee orders and hands us menus. I push mine away because I already know what I want. I ask the waitress for their blueberry pancake special and coffee. Connor studies menu for a moment and then sets it on top of mine. He orders biscuits and gravy with chorizo. It sounds like a heart attack on a plate, but who am I to judge? The waitress moves away and comes back with a carafe of coffee and two mugs.
“I’m impressed by your stealth skills, to be honest,” Connor remarks, glancing toward the window. “Surprised you caught sight of me. But you best believe I’m not gonna let you get the drop on me again.”
“Challenge accepted,” I smirk, taking a sip from my steaming mug. “But there’s not gonna be a next time, because you’re going to stop following me around. Right?”
“Uh, no comment again.”
“Connor, honestly.” I lean back in the booth, exasperated. “What are you even doing? That thing with Hooch was just a one-time deal. I’ll stay away from the G-Spot, and therefore, I won’t run into him again. Problem solved.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t taking no for an answer.” He stares at me long and hard over his coffee mug. “Sounds to me like this is part of a pattern. How do you know he won’t show up at your work, or at your apartment?”
I don’t have an answer for him. Because the fact is, it’s already occurred to me to worry about exactly that. He was pretty mad yesterday. And I’m sure getting kicked in the ‘nads by me and then punched out by a rival biker didn’t help anything.
Luckily, our food comes, and the mood shifts as we tuck into our food. We avoid controversial topics as we eat our breakfast. Mostly, we just catch up with each other’s lives. He asks me more about my job at the hospital, and what I do in my spare time these days. I ask him about his family, particularly his sister Gigi, who I was pretty close to back when Connor and I were dating. Apparently, she is a tattoo artist now. Connor tells me she has her own business. “It’s a mobile tattoo studio that she runs out of a converted Ford C2 Transit bus,” he tells me. “She does events, shows, private tattoo parties, stuff like that.”
“That makes sense. She always did have an artistic streak.” Gigi’s bedroom walls were always covered in sketches and paintings, done in different styles, like she was experimenting to find her own unique voice. Probably most parents would throw a fit over their kid drawing all over the walls like that. But Gigi and Connor’s dad was always too drunk to care.
“Gigi’s still mouthy as ever,” Connor continues as he eats. “She and Mack still get into it whenever they’re in the same room.”
“Oh, Mack!” I cry in surprise, picturing Connor’s best friend. “I haven’t seen him in forever.”
“He’s a Royal Bastard now. We patched in together.”
“I suppose that’s no surprise. Isn’t his dad a Royal Bastard, too?” I ask, remembering the barrel-chested man.
“Yep, Choppa. One of the original members of our chapter, matter of fact.”
