Desire: Big Bear Outlaw MC Romance Book 1 (3 page)

“
Hey,
”
I heard someone say over my shoulder. The voice
didn
’
t sound familiar because I had never heard it that quiet
before, but when I turned back I saw Jack
’
s grinning face a
few inches away from mine.

He stood close to me. I heard his heartbeat and saw
it pulsating through his neck. He smelled of sea salt and sweat,
and his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“
Hey,
”
I whispered back. Wanting to remain close to him, I
didn
’
t dare take a step back.

Everyone said hello, and Carter introduced
Delilah.

“
How do you two know each other?
”
Kyle asked. His
voice startled me. I
’
d forgotten that he was here. But he was, and
the way he leaned forward rubbing his knuckles and the disapproving
look in his eye made me uneasy.

“
We have English together,
”
Jack said.
“
But in English, you
seem to be an entirely different kind of girl,
”
he whispered
quietly under his breath.

“
I am,
”
I whispered back. I didn
’
t know why we were
whispering except to keep the conversation private.

“
Oh, I don
’
t know,
”
he said out loud this
time.

“
What did you say?
”
Kyle asked. I hated him for
infringing on our time, breaking the continuity of our moment,
however, insignificant it was.

“
I was just saying that I didn
’
t know the Emma,
here, was the kind of girl who came to parties like this. The girl
I know from English class, wouldn
’
t be caught dead in
a place like this.
”

“
So, she
’
s different?
”
Kyle asked as if I
wasn
’
t there.
“
Different how?
”

Blood ran to my cheeks, and they
got flushed
–
I was glad that it was too dark for anyone to notice,
but I was growing angry.

“
Quiet, reserved. Not someone who would hang out with
bikers,
”
Jack said looking straight at me.

What was this? Were they making fun of me?

“
What are you doing?
”
I asked Jack. He shrugged, tried to
look innocent.
“
Why are you talking about me as if I
’
m not
here?
”

“
I don
’
t know,
”
he said taking a step back.
“
I was just trying to
tell my brother a little more about you.
”

“
Well, don
’
t,
”
I said. My anger was getting the
best of me, but I had to get this out.
“
You
don
’
t know anything about me. And besides, it
’
s very rude to talk
about someone as if they aren
’
t there. You could
at least wait until I leave to talk about me behind my back, like a
normal person.
”

“
Emma, I was just joking,
”
Jack whispered. The smirk that had
made a home on his face disappeared. There was no more attitude
behind those blue eyes, and he looked as if he were
naked.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he added.
“
I
didn
’
t mean anything by it.
”

I believed him, but I
couldn
’
t stay. I was too angry. He had no right to speculate like
that about me and who I was. He probably didn
’
t even know my last
name, who did he think he was talking about me like
that?

“
I
’
m going to go home,
”
I turned to Emma.
“
I got to get
back.
”

“
No, please, Emma, don
’
t
go,
”
Delilah plead.
“
The
party
’
s just getting started.
”

“
Yeah, c
’
mon Emma, I
’
m
sorry,
”
Jack said.

“
Stay, please stay,
”
Carter added.

“
No, it
’
s fine. I just got to go,
”
I said.
Donna
’
s eyes met mine and silently plead for me not to ask her
for a ride home. I knew she wanted to stay, and that was fine by
me.

“
I don
’
t live very far. I
’
ll walk.
It
’
s less than two miles,
”
I said.
“
I
don
’
t need a ride.
”

“
Are you sure?
”
Delilah asked, to be polite. I
nodded and gave her a brief hug.

“
Nice to meet you...Carter.... Kyle. Jack,
I
’
ll see you later,
”
I said and waved
good-bye.

Chapter
3

EMMA

Up until a few days ago, Jack and
I have never spoken to each other. But then we were assigned to be
peer review partners in English. I wrote a story about losing my
mother to cancer. He had liked it and I didn
’
t have the strength
to tell him that it was a lie. My mother didn
’
t die of cancer. She
had just walked out. I argued with myself that I
didn
’
t owe him - a total stranger - an explanation. But the way
he had looked at me, with that sympathy in his eyes and the pain
that I felt him feeling for me, I knew that it was
wrong.

The story that he had written was about a
middle-aged man, a criminal, torn in two directions. On one hand,
he felt loyalty to his friends and family who were part of the same
gang as he was. He was an integral member of the gang, and that
made them more than friends, it made them brothers. On the other
hand, the man felt loyalty toward his girlfriend and their two
children who lived off the money that his criminal behavior brought
in. The man knew that by continuing down this path, he would either
end up in prison for the rest of his life or dead. He faced this
conflict on a daily basis and, at the end, his loyalties to his
brotherhood ended up killing him.

The story was perfect.
Well-written. Succinct. I didn
’
t have any criticism
to offer. All I wanted to know was whether it was about
him.

The only thing the story was
missing was a title. Jack didn
’
t know what to call
it, and I had suggested
“
Two
Roads
”
like Robert Frost
’
s famous
poem.

When I showed him the poem, which
he had never read before, Jack
’
s fingers brushed
against mine. He said he would call his story,
“
Two roads diverged
into the wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that made
all the difference.
”

“
Maybe that
’
s too long,
”
I had said.

“
No, it
’
s perfect,
”
he had insisted.

There was no point in arguing. If he had thought it
was right, then it was. What I had wanted to ask instead, and what
I still wanted to know, was whether the story was about him. Was
this the choice that he had seen himself making in the future?

***

The streets grew darker and darker
as I got further and further away from Hart
’
s Auto Repair. I
passed large office buildings, poorly lit warehouses and boarded up
windows. In this part of town, it was hard to know which buildings
overflowed with people during the day and which stood empty waiting
for their next place in society. About a mile down the road, after
two cars with missing hubcaps slowed down to get a good look at me,
I started to feel as if I had made a mistake. I
shouldn
’
t have stormed off from the party early, my anger had
gotten the best of me. Who knew who was out here? At least, back
there, I had a ride home.

But the same pride that pushed me
out of the party was the same pride that kept me going. I
didn
’
t dare turn back and admit that something out here had made
me afraid. Instead, I just wished that I had packed that can of
pepper spray that I bought on a whim a few days ago.

A low rumbling roar of a
motorcycle broke into my vacillating thoughts about Jack and my
fear of not getting home alive. I didn
’
t turn around, I
kept my eyes forward and hoped that he, whoever he was, would go
away.

“
Emma!
”
I heard a man
’
s voice. I
didn
’
t recognize the voice, and when I turned, I
couldn
’
t make out the face. The man slowed down and took off his
helmet. As soon as he pulled off his helmet, loose strands of black
hair fell on his face, and I recognized him immediately.

“
What do you want, Kyle?
”
I asked.

“
I just wanted to make sure you got home
alright,
”
he shrugged.
“
That
’
s it, I
promise.
”

“
I
’
ll be fine. I don
’
t live far from
here. Another quarter mile or so.
”

“
Still, the neighborhood isn
’
t the best, you
know,
”
he said.

“
I know,
”
I said.
“
I live here, remember?
”

Kyle shook his head. His eyes
looked familiar, they reminded me of Jack, but the way he carried
himself was entirely different. They were both confident
broad-shouldered men, but there was a heaviness to
Kyle
’
demeanor
–
as if he were carrying a heavy burden. He
wasn
’
t that much older, and I wondered what it was that weighed
so heavily on him.

“
Hop on?
”
he asked. I shook my head, no.

“
Fine, suit yourself.
”

He got off his bike, propped up the kickstand, and
started walking with me.

“
What are you doing?
”
I asked.

“
I
’
m gonna walk with you if you don
’
t
mind.
”

“
Why?
”
I asked.

“
Like I said it
’
s not a good
area,
”
he said. I looked at him and that mischievous look on his
face.

“
Nah,
”
I smiled.
“
I think you just
want to see where I live.
”

“
Yeah, you got me,
”
he laughed.

We walked for a bit without saying a word. It felt
oddly comfortable, even though he was a total stranger.

“
You know, you could
’
ve just asked me for
my address,
”
I finally said.

“
Yeah, but you wouldn
’
t have given it to
me,
”
he smiled. I laughed.