Out of the Ashes (26 page)

Amy gave me a confused look. “So? We’re talking Bull entering into a relationship here. Wine is needed. I’ll get glasses.” Without another word she disappeared without asking where the kitchen was.

Lucy surprised me by hugging me. Something danced beneath her eyes. “Knew someone like you would catch one of the boy’s eyes,” she said quietly. “But I didn’t guess you would commence in fixing something I always thought would be broken,” she said softly.

I jerked, not really knowing how to answer that, so I instead gestured to the hall leading to the back. “Let’s take this outside.”

So that’s how I ended up replaying the story of Zane and I to Amy, Lucy and Rosie, who interjected routinely with questions and had their mouths agape when I finished the story.

Amy had a small smile on her face when I finished. “This is so fucking awesome!” she declared and I was surprised she didn’t fist pump.

I sipped my second glass of wine. “I don’t know. Isn’t this too fast? Especially in front of Lexie?” I asked uncertainly.

Rosie waved her hand. “No such thing. Your girl’s sixteen. She’s a product of modern society—she ain’t gonna bat one of those pretty little eyelashes, especially when she sees her mom’s happy,” she reassured me.

“Yeah, but this is just so intense, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. He seemed so adamant he couldn’t give me more. Now here we are...more.” I held out my hands.

Rosie gave me a sad smile. There was something behind it I couldn’t place. “Bull’s been through a lot. He probably didn’t think he’d ever have more. Ever want more. Now he does. Probably took him awhile to get right with that. He’s still probably trying to get right with that,” she told me softly.

Something moved in my mind. “What did he go through?” I asked, mindful of my own ordeal locked beneath years of hurt.

Lucy and Rosie exchanged a look. “That’s not for us to tell you. It’s better to come from Bull,” Lucy said slowly.

Rosie pursed her lips like she didn’t agree but nodded.

I groaned. “I’ve only barely got him on full sentences, I don’t know when we’ll make it to his life story,” I complained.

“Man like that, who needs him to talk?” Amy commented.

On that we all laughed and conversation lightened and moved on. I didn’t forget Rosie’s words, or the niggling feeling in the back of my mind that there was a lot to Zane I didn’t know about.

The women left a few hours and a bottle of wine later. Lexie popped in to have a chat and charmed the socks off them all before retreating back to her room to finish her homework. I switched to water after my second glass, not needing to promote day drinking in front of a teenager. Rosie was the designated driver, so she stopped after one glass. But I was happy to have a weight off my chest, even if it meant I still had more unanswered questions when it came to Zane and the Sons of Templar. I had asked the women what exactly went on with the club and they had told me it was like a big family. I knew there was more than that to what seemed like an outlaw motorcycle club, but they didn’t betray too much information. I got that. It was Zane’s place to fill me in. I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to know, but I knew I had to. I had more than one person to think about. And as much as it would pain me to have any kind of distance between not only Zane but the people connected to the club, I would do it for my daughter’s safety. I couldn’t jeopardize it when I’d worked so hard to keep her safe from her own blood.

“Mom?” a small voice asked me, jolting me out of my thoughts. I was doing the most dreaded job in existence, folding laundry, so I was happy for the distraction.

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars right here and now if you agree to fold the washing for the reminder of your time living at home,” I offered.

She scrunched up her nose. “That’s one hundred dollars over three and a half years. That’s like...thirty-eight bucks a year, give or take.” She raised her eyebrow. “That’s slave labor—even Cinderella would have gotten more pocket money than that,” she observed, sitting beside me.

“Cinderella got fancy shoes and a prince for a husband out of the deal,” I reminded her.

She gave me a look. “So in addition to the hundred dollars, you’re going to wave a magic wand to get me horrifically uncomfortable shoes and a prince for a husband?” she asked.

I shook my head, “Of course not, I don’t need a wand to give you horrifically uncomfortable shoes. Just check out my closet. Fashion is pain,” I told her sagely. “And on the prince front, I don’t doubt your ability in snagging one of your own, though you better hurry up. All the good ones are getting snaffled up,” I finished.

There was a pause. I glanced up; Lexie seemed…nervous? Lexie never got nervous. Not with me. My stomach dropped and ran through all the possible bombshells a teenage girl could drop. Should not have done that.

“What’s up, sweetie?” I went for calm, trying not to pounce on her and search for the tattoo she was hiding.

“I was wondering,” she said slowly, fiddling with her hands. She quickly looked up. “Well, I’ve got a date,” she said in a rush.

I sat back in relief. “So no tattoo?” I clarified.

Lexie gaped at me. “Of course not! I’m only sixteen,” she told me.

“Thanks for reminding me. I would have forgotten otherwise,” I told her dryly.

“So, the date,” she probed. “It’s okay with you?”

“Of course it’s not okay with me. I’d rather you became a spinster and lived with me until you were old and wrinkly, but I knew it was a long shot,” I told her. “So I guess it’s okay. As long as you’re home by ten and he doesn’t get frisky,” I said seriously. We’d had the sex talk. Multiple times. Being a product of teenage pregnancy, I really didn’t want my daughter to repeat the cycle. I also didn’t want her hiding things from me. So we had agreed when she was ready, she’d tell me before anything happened. I personally hoped she wouldn’t be “ready” until she was thirty. But I knew that was also a pipe dream.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” I asked. My stomach dropped as soon as the question left my mouth. I had been so wrapped up with possible tattoos or cult joining I hadn’t even caught up with my own mind.

“Killian,” Lexie said, a small grin on her face. She even blushed slightly.

Crap. She liked him. And I knew by the way his intense troublesome eyes followed her that afternoon he listened to her play, he liked her back. And not in a teenage boy way. In a Cade, Brock, and even Zane type of way. It was intense. And dangerous.

I tried to stay calm. “He’s not taking you on a motorcycle, is he?” I asked with slight panic.

Lexie patted my hand. “No, Mom, he knows your rule. He’s got a car.”

I raised my eyebrows. “A car and a motorcycle? How does a teenage kid afford that?” I asked suspiciously.

“He didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re saying,” Lexie snapped defensively.

I held my hands up. “I didn’t say anything of the sort.” I had totally been thinking it though.

“That’s what you were thinking,” my telepathic daughter declared. “He built the car from the ground up with his dad, and Cade gave him the motorcycle to do up when it was a pile of junk,” she continued.

“You know a lot about the kid for someone who hasn’t been on a date,” I half teased.

Lexie furrowed her brows. “Yes, because we talked first. Had actual conversations. Became friends. Isn’t that what you taught me to do?”

Drat. I did teach her that. “Take a chill pill, dude, I was only teasing. Let’s move on to the most important question.”

Lexie eyed me. “What?” she asked with suspicion.

“What are you wearing?”

It was safe to say I wasn’t happy about Lexie’s date. I was far from it. But I couldn’t tell her whom she could and couldn’t date. Well, technically I could since I was her mother, but I knew what doing something like that would do. Not only distance me from her, but possibly rock the peaceful relationship I had with her and turn a good kid into a hellion. I’d seen it happen with girls I’d been to high school with. The stricter the parents, the more they rebelled. The only difference was the parents didn’t know a thing. I didn’t want Lexie to lie to me, so I knew I couldn’t stifle her with rules or else it would bite me in the ass. And she was a good kid. I trusted her. It was the little punk in the leather jacket I didn’t trust. So when he knocked on the door later that night, my stomach was swirling. Lexie came running into the kitchen.

“I’m not ready I’m not ready,” she chanted, hopping on one foot. “Answer the door, Mom. Stall him,” she ordered, racing back into her room.

I was glad for this turn of events. When I opened the door, Killian turned from staring over at Zane’s house to face me. He was clad in jeans, motorcycle boots, a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a leather jacket. It was hot as hell outside. Obviously hot guys and teenagers alike were impervious to frivolous things such as climate.

“Hey Mrs. Spencer,” he greeted respectfully.

“Killian, come in.” I gestured inside. “Lexie’s not ready yet.”

He walked through and followed me to the sofa. His demeanor was casual, relaxed; he didn’t seem like a nervous teenage boy before a date. Then again, he wasn’t dealing with a shotgun-toting father.

“Can I get you anything? Coke?” I offered, trying to swallow the dislike I had for him.

He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks, Mrs. Spencer.”

I moved to sit opposite him. “Call me Mia,” I said.

He nodded but didn’t speak.

I decided to go right in for the kill. “I trust Lexie,” I started evenly. “I know she’s a smart kid. That’s why I’m not going to lecture with rules and curfews. She knows them all, she’ll respect them,” I said, glancing to make sure Lexie hadn’t arrived. “But you hurt her…make no mistake, I’ll kill you. Not in the figurative I’ll shout at you a bit and maybe call your parents type of way, but in a straight up murder type of way. No one will find the body,” I told him seriously.

Of course, I would never murder a teenager. But Lexie didn’t have the gun-toting father, so I had to make up for it somehow.

To my surprise, the bad boy nodded quickly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mia. Lexie’s special. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, just so you know,” he told me sincerely.

And damn it if I didn’t believe him.

His eyes moved from mine as if he had some kind of sixth sense, and he stood. Lexie stood in the doorway looking beautiful. Her hair was plaited into a fishtail and her face was lightly made up with a dusting of pink lip gloss. She had on her lightest pair of skinny jeans and a fitted floral blouse, which had huge bell sleeves and a slightly plunging neckline. She was wearing my wedges and I felt a pang at how grown up she looked.

“Freckles,” Killian muttered, looking her up and down, “You’re beautiful.”

Lexie blushed bright red.

I didn’t blame her. The big, bad, leather-wearing, smoking teenager spoke softly and called her beautiful, in front of her mother no less. I’d be blushing too.

He moved to her and grabbed her hand. His eyes reluctantly moved to me.

“Have her home by ten, Mia,” he promised before directing them out the door. Lexie gave me a little wave and then they were gone. I sank down into my chair and tried not to cry. I picked up the phone.

“Lexie’s just gone on a date,” I greeted as soon as Ava answered. I didn’t give her time to respond. “And I want to hate him. He rides a motorcycle, smokes cigarettes and practically has
Dangerous
tattooed on his forehead. But he’s polite and is clearly obsessed with my daughter,” I groaned into the phone. “I’m torn between wanting to run him over with my car or be happy for them.”