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“What’s his story?” Kaleb asks, perhaps trying to dig a little deeper.
“I ran a background check, and all that came up were the exact things he oddly came right out with in his cover letter, and anything else, I frankly don’t care,” Jackson admits and waves his hands again, defeatedly. “The only way we were going to get any help around this godforsaken town was if someone applied that didn’t already live in it.”
“And you’re not worried you’ll open up one morning and find the place cleaned out?” Kaleb calmly challenges, and Jackson stands to meet his height.
“Kaleb, I know this place means a lot to you, but we started with a goddamn empty barrel, and this is what I was able to scrape up off the bottom. It’s been six months, and I’m fucking wrecked. I don’t have much longer before this place goes belly up. With me in the office, we’ve had to cut back on services, and you know what that means.” He levels Kaleb with a formidable glare that speaks a hard truth. “Look,” he tries again, face softening. “I don’t want to lose this place or Pop’s memory any more than you do. That’s why I’ve stuck it out this long, but I don’t have child care, Marcie is picking up extra shifts at the diner, and I’m about to break,” he concludes his case to a silent Kaleb who simply nods at the floor.
“Alright…” he finally breathes out, relenting. “You’re right.” He looks up and makes eye contact as the baby starts fussing in my arms, looking across the room, searching out his daddy. I cross the space and hand him back just in time for a new presence in the form of a rugged, biker-looking man to take up the doorway. The guy seriously looks like he could run with Kaleb if he were a few years younger.
“Hey, I’m looking for Jackson,” his voice grumbles by way of greeting.
Jackson peeks over the top of his son’s head. “That’s me. Are you Weston Bradford?”
“I am,” he nods and walks on in as one of the other mechanics appears, looking all macho and hardcore, save for the bottle he’s carrying in one hand and the goofy face he’s giving the baby with the other.
“Let’s go, buddy,” he coos at the little guy, and it’s almost laughably in contrast to his appearance. “Time for your next lesson in motorcycle transmissions,” he informs him in a gentle voice as he takes him from Jackson and replaces his pacifier with the bottle which he happily accepts.
Kaleb gives an endearing smile at the sight before announcing our leave. “Alright, I guess we’re going to leave you to it,” he pushes off the desk and comes over to escort me out of the office. We don’t make it all the way to the truck however before we’re stopped by Jackson calling out to him.
“Kaleb!” He jogs over and stops just feet away, resting his hands on his hips. “There’s one more thing I forgot to tell you that I think you should know.”
20
KALEB
The look on Jackson’s face is twisting my insides and making my heart beat overtime.
“What is it?” I impatiently prod, as he sucks in a breath.
“Your old man called up here a couple of days ago,” he reveals, making me feel a wave of shock and anger flash over me.
“You’re shitting me,” I bark out as I slam my truck door and march forward a few paces, and Jax regretfully shakes his head. “What the fuck did he want?”
“Well, first he asked for Pops…”
“Tell me you didn’t tell him,” I practically demand, desperation ratcheting up my breathing rate.
“Of course not,” he assures me with a hand up. “I told him Pops was up in Indy buying some parts.”
“Thank fuck,” I let out on a heavy breath, but my blood is still pumping furiously through my veins at the knowledge the bastard even called. I’d led myself into a false sense of security, hoping he was either in jail or dead. Ignorance truly is bliss.
“And then he asked how business was going,” Jackson adds cynically.
“Fucking – A.” I grab at the back of my neck and squeeze, trying to slow my breathing. In my peripheral I can see Luna watching me, and I let my gaze lock with hers like I’m taking just a tiny dose of sanity from the exchange. Her eyes speak the message of concern, but also reassurance that I’ve got this… and if I don’t, she’ll jump in front of me and fight my demons for me. I tilt my chin in her direction, letting her know I’m good before looking back to Jax. “Please tell me you told him to fuck off.”
“Those exact words, actually,” he guffaws, running a hand through his hair. “I told him he has no business asking questions like that, and that I didn’t have time to answer them even if he did. And then, yeah, I said fuck off. I hung up and blocked the number, not that that will do any good. I’m sure the guy just buys burner phones with God knows what money he’s able to scrounge.”
I take as steady a breath I can manage and blow it out before telling him, “Thank you.”
He nods in response before backing up a few feet and turning to retreat back into the shop while I find a crumpled oil can on the ground and send it sailing into the grassy embankment that edges the lot off the toe of my boot. Then, cursing under my breath, I wrench open my truck door and haul myself into the cab while Luna does the same, not saying a word.
In the few minutes it takes to get home, I grip the wheel as if it’s the lifeline, keeping from flying off the proverbial handle while Luna rides next to me, her body slightly turned towards me, but her eyes on the road ahead of us. A thought breaks through my mental storm clouds that I’m thankful for her particular brand of silent support.
When we get in the house, I make strides straight back to the bedroom. Gripping the bill of my hat, I yank if off and toss it towards the chair in the corner before reaching behind me and grabbing a fistful of my shirt and pulling it off.
As I start undoing the fly of my pants, I feel Luna before I see her, and allow her soft, warm hands to glide around the sides of my waist until they come close to meeting against the front of my torso. As I push my jeans down my hips, the faint tickle of her lashes and her sweet breath along the skin of my back make my dick spring to life in my boxer briefs.
“Have you seen the shorts I was wearing earlier, babe?” I ask, looking around as I step out of the jeans.
