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ONE
LAURA
The bathtub had rust in it.
For some reason that tiny detail kept running through my mind as Callie continued to talk about the location, the spacious living room, and the lack of mold. Apparently, these apartments off Main Street were highly sought after, and the fact that we had snagged an appointment to see one was a miracle. I decoded the words and realized what she was really saying:
Her husband, who happened to run a motorcycle club, had called in a favor.
It was why I had agreed to see the apartment, and why I was currently keeping my mouth shut about the rust. Callie was my best friend, and ever since I had randomly decided to pack up my life and follow her to Rose Ridge, she had done nothing but help me. She let me live with her for two weeks when I arrived, and then her husband gave me the chance to live in his old apartment for free. It was a good deal, an amazing and perfect deal considering the apartment was brand new and had all top-of-the-line appliances.
Not a single stain, ring, or particle of rust to be found.
The only downside was the space would eventually be shared with the only person on this planet that got under my skin.
Killian Quinn.
The Wolf.
“I feel like I’ve been talking your ear off, Laur. What do you think of the place?” Callie turned, near the front door, to inspect my reaction. Her long dark hair was tied half up into an edgy updo, with wisps framing her face. Her arms were covered in a long-sleeve shirt, and she was wearing jeans, now that the weather had turned a bit colder. Something had changed in her since she arrived back home. Her shell had cracked, and her confidence had found a way back. She stood taller, her smile was wider, and her eyes seemed brighter.
I loved it for her.
I smiled while trailing a nail along the cracked Formica countertop. “I like it.”
Not enough to want to live here, not when I had all the luxuries the club apartment provided. I knew I couldn’t stay there forever, and I knew eventually Killian would actually step foot inside, and when he did, we’d probably kill each other.
Callie’s countenance fell. “You don’t though, I can tell you don’t.”
“Callie, it’s great. I just don’t know that I can afford it yet. It’s sort of expensive, and just being real, the club apartment is much nicer.”
Heaving a sigh, my best friend tucked her arms over her chest. “But you seem so miserable living there. I hate that and, deep down, I’m worried you’ll move back to DC.”
My heart squeezed tight at the apprehension in her voice. Callie and I had met in DC nearly four years ago, and when her father passed three months ago, and she had to come down here to sort out his funeral and will, it led to a whole shitstorm. Ultimately, she ended up back with her ex, and I was happy for her, but this tiny town was never on my radar, or in my plans. Still…
“I chose to move here, Callie. I want to live next to you. You’re about to pop out a baby in nine months, who do you think is going to be that kid’s aunt?” I pointed at myself because Callie had no siblings.
“Yes, I’m sure my kid is going to love their Aunt Laura and Uncle Killian trying to murder one another every five seconds.” She rolled her eyes.
I winced, while lowering my gaze. Sometimes I forgot that Killian was like a brother to her; they’d grown up together in the club and her father had taken the idiot man child under his wing.
“We would never do that around the peanut. We can be civil when we need to be.” I stood tall, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
The thing was, Killian had sent me some mixed messages from the moment we met three months ago. Occasionally, it didn’t seem like he hated me, but any time I softened toward him, he’d only prove that he was testing me for weakness. Still, I was mature enough to keep my mouth shut around Callie’s kid. I already did that plenty around her husband. He didn’t appreciate me shit-talking his best friend, and I understood it. This whole motorcycle club lifestyle bred loyalty and brotherhood, and they’d all known each other for a lifetime. I was new to this, and I had to be cautious with how I spoke.
Callie watched me with a worried expression when suddenly there was a horrible screeching sound coming from upstairs.
At the same time, our eyes flew up to the ceiling. There were two people loudly arguing. Their footsteps creaked and echoed overhead, and the walls were so thin, we could make out every word.
After we realized the couple was fighting over bills, and forgetting the goddamn beer again, our eyes slowly slid back down and collided.
With a burst of laughter, Callie shook her head. “You can’t live here.”
I snorted with her, grabbing my purse.
“Abso—fucking—lutley not. I’d end up strangling them both by week’s end.”
“Your temper, Laur. You need yoga or something.” Callie exited, then let me pass before shutting the door. The super had left us to look at it alone, seeing as he was a friend of the Stone Riders motorcycle club, and didn’t want to disrespect Callie by being in the same space as her without her husband being present. Something to that effect; the rules of being in the club were confusing.
