RIDE (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) (11 page)

My chest grew tight as I watched him leave, struggling not to limp as he leaned on the cane. A painful lump rose in my throat as I tried to decide whether to stop him.

But deep down, I knew it was no use. Even if I could make him stay, he wouldn’t be able to work today. He needed time to work through the painful, raw emotions he had exposed to me just now.

Intuitively, I was sure he hadn’t said anything of his fears to anybody else before this. He was a proud man. That was part of the reason that the prospect of having to accept anything less than a full recovery was so hard for him to do. He could barely bring himself to imagine that a life different from the one he had chosen for himself could have any meaning. It must have taken a lot for him to admit any of this to me, I knew. In a way, I felt honored.

But I also knew he had every reason to expect a full recovery, or at least full enough that he would be able to get back on his bike. I hadn’t been lying about that. I just wished there was some way I could make him believe it.

I was still thinking about Trig as I walked down the block to pick up Zoe later that afternoon. Mrs. Hayes was feeling better, and she greeted me at her door saying that Zoe was playing on the back patio with a neighbor girl. “I’m still not quite one-hundred percent,” she said as she led me into her living room, “so I thought it might be better for Zoe to have Olivia over so she wasn’t bored.”

I peered out the window to see Zoe and her playmate drawing hopscotch boards and stick figures on the ground in sidewalk chalk. The melody of their childish laughter was just audible through the glass.

“You look a bit tired yourself, dear. Would you like to sit down and have a glass of water?” Mrs. Hayes offered.

It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but Zoe looked like she was enjoying herself so much I decided to let her play a little longer. “Yes, thank you, Wanda. I’d like that.”

She went to the kitchen and came back with two glasses, one of which she handed to me. We sat down in two swiveling easy chairs that turned toward the window to watch the girls play.

“How are you feeling, Wanda?” I asked her as I sipped.

“Oh, much better, thank you. I just need to make sure I get enough sleep for the next few days and I’ll be right as rain.” She cast a sideways glance at me. “How are you?”

I sighed. “You’re right, I am a bit tired. There’s just a lot going on right now.” I hesitated. “There’s a patient at work I’m a bit concerned about.”

“A patient,” she repeated.

“Yes. He’s coming back from an injury, and it’s going more slowly than he’d like.” I closed my eyes briefly, remembering his look of pain. “I think he’s lost hope. And he doesn’t seem to believe me when I tell him there’s every chance he’ll make a full recovery.”

“I see.” She frowned. “And, is there any reason for him to believe that you’re lying to him?”

“No!” The word came out louder than I intended. “I mean, no, I’m definitely not lying to him. But for some reason, he doesn’t believe me.”

“Fear.” She nodded. “He’s letting his fear get the better of him. Fear makes people see and hear things that aren’t there.”

Her words hung in the silence that followed. What she said absolutely made sense in Trig’s case. He was afraid of the future, and in a way his fear might end up being a self-fulfilling prophecy unless he learned to conquer it.

But what Mrs. Hayes had said was ringing uncomfortably true for me, as well. Was fear making me see and hear things that weren’t there?

No. No. I knew what I had heard all those years ago. There was no other way to interpret it.

Was there?

“Would you like some more water?” Mrs. Hayes asked, interrupting my thoughts. I looked down to see I had drained my glass.

“No, that’s okay. Thank you, though.” I smiled over at her.

“Of course, dear.” She stared out the window at Zoe and Olivia playing hopscotch. “About your friend,” she began. “Perhaps there’s something you can do to make him trust you.”

“He’s my patient, not my friend,” I clarified.

“Well. From what I gather, patients don’t often make visits to therapists’ homes.”

Startled, I glanced over at her.

“That young man I saw limping away from your house toward his truck last night. That’s who we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“How did you…” I gaped.

She laughed. “Dear, don’t you know the stereotype of the nosy old neighbor lady who spies on everyone through her picture window? It’s absolutely true.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Every senior citizen on this block spends more time than you would believe peering out at the neighbors through their curtains. It’s our version of reality television.”

Wow. Not that I ever did anything all that scandalous on my front lawn, but I was going to have to completely rethink what I wore to go get the mail in the future.

“So, he’s your patient,” she said gently. “But also something else, correct?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Honestly? I don’t know. Zoe met him at the clinic that first day you were sick, and she’s absolutely crazy about him. I made the mistake of inviting him over for dinner, and…” I trailed off. “I think it was a big mistake.”

“Oh, this is the one who gave Zoe the stuffed dragon?” Mrs. Hayes smiled. “Yes, she did spend quite a bit of time talking about him this morning. He sounds like a very nice young man.”

“You did see his tattoos, didn’t you? Since you were spying on me?” It felt good to not be so serious for a moment.

“Oh, Eva. Tattoos mean nothing. My Arthur had two of them. A seagull on one arm, and an anchor on the other. From his time in the Navy.” She winked at me. “On some men, they can be quite attractive.”

Yes, they could indeed
. A flush of heat warmed my core.

“The point being, Eva,” she continued, shaking me from my thoughts. “That young man likes you. And more importantly, he likes Zoe. And you like him.” She pursed her lips. “Whatever is holding you back from one another, life is too short to let your fears get in the way.”

I didn’t say anything, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. In my experience, paying more attention to my fears would have saved me some serious heartache. Fear was nature’s way of protecting us, after all.

But in Trig’s case, she was right. His fears were mostly groundless, as long as he kept working. And I couldn’t bear to have him let them get in the way of his recovery. I had to find a way to break through to him.

I flashed Mrs. Hayes a brief smile. “Thank you, Wanda. For the water, and for the advice.”

She peered at me for a moment. Her brow furrowed. “Of course, dear. Any time.”

T
he next day
, Trig didn’t bother to show up for his therapy session. It was just what I’d been afraid of. More than likely, I knew, he’d decided to abandon his treatment entirely. I’d seen it happen before. And I also knew that unless I did something to change his mind, he would be walking with that cane for the rest of his life.

As I wrapped up my paperwork for the day and prepared to head home, an idea came to me. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had at the moment.

I quickly hopped on the computer and looked up the information I needed, jotting it down on a stickie note that I tucked into my purse.

One phone call to Mrs. Hayes later, and I headed out the door of the clinic and took the elevator down to the parking ramp toward my car.

I hoped I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself.

I
t wasn’t
like I’d left the PT clinic the day before deciding I wasn’t going back. But the next day, I just didn’t have it in me to return.

I like to think I’m tough enough to take whatever life throws at me, but the fucker was lobbing some goddamn grenades lately, and I was sick to hell of it.

After that night on Eva’s couch, feeling her melt into my arms like it had been ten years in coming, some sort of dam broke inside me.

I’d never been in love before — hell, I’d never even liked a woman enough to spend the night with her. But damned if Eva hadn’t somehow managed to crawl inside my heart without even trying.

I wanted her so bad I could taste it, but it was more than that. I wanted to be around her all the damn time. I wanted to smell the lilac scent of the shampoo she used. I wanted to hear her soft laugh and watch her eyes crinkle when she thought something was funny. I wanted to know what she looked like when she slept.

I wanted all of that, and more. But I was never gonna get it.

Going to my next appointment after she’d basically made it clear it was over before it started was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I’d told myself I’d manage to keep my cool, but then the very first goddamn thing I saw was that arrogant prick of a doc making a play for her and not taking no for an answer. I’m more used to solving arguments with my fists than with my words, and I was itching to punch that fucker right in his smug face, but somehow I didn’t.

I knew Eva didn’t want the guy around. It was obvious by the way she looked at him. But I had no idea whether he was an ex-boyfriend, or someone who wanted to be her boyfriend, or what. And the thought that they might have slept together — that he might have seen her naked — almost sent me through the roof.

After that, any possibility that I was gonna keep my calm through the therapy session was pretty much blown to hell.

I just couldn’t be around her like that anymore. I couldn’t have her touching me, now that I knew what her soft skin felt like. I couldn’t listen to her voice telling me to do another set with the Theraband, when I knew how she sounded when I made her moan. And most of all, I couldn’t fucking stand to do all those exercises in front of her every day, when deep down we both knew they probably weren’t going to work.

A man can only take so much.

I didn’t bother calling the clinic to cancel my appointment. They’d figure it out soon enough.

Lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, I cast about in my mind for something to do to occupy myself, until it was finally time to go to bed and dream about Eva like I did every night now.

I thought about stopping over at the clubhouse, but I knew that would just make me feel worse. Levi, Grey, and the other Stone Kings had been giving me shit about making myself so scarce, but I brushed it off. Other than making sure I made it to chapel, I couldn’t stand to be around the brothers most of the time. Every minute I was there just reminded me that I still couldn’t ride. And every time I saw Grey with his old lady Seton, or Levi with Cherish, it just reminded me of Eva. I had never been a man to run away from my troubles, but these days it seemed like there was barely anywhere I could get away from them.

I glanced over at the clock above the table in the dining room: five thirty-two. Good enough. It was happy hour somewhere. And I was gonna get good and drunk.

It was still a little rough swinging myself into a sitting position, but I managed it, and hobbled into the kitchen without the fucking cane. I had just taken down a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass from the cupboard when I heard a knock on the front door. I ignored it and poured myself a shot. Raising the glass, I tossed back the brown liquid, enjoying the familiar burn in the back of my throat.

I grabbed the neck of the bottle and started out to the living room when I heard the knock again.
Goddamn it
. I slammed the bottle and the glass down on the countertop and strode to the door as quickly as I could.

Not bothering to look through the peephole, I swung the door open furiously and prepared to rip whoever was behind it a new asshole. On the other side, Eva jumped.

“Oh!” she cried. “You scared me.” She squinted through the screen door at me.

“Why are
you
here?” I demanded. She was dressed in a simple black tank top and pair of tight jeans that showed off her curves and made it hard for me to take my eyes off her.

My mouth tightened into a grim line, determined to scare her off. “I didn’t think physical therapists made house calls. And anyway, I’m not interested.”

“I’m not here as your therapist,” she protested.

“Oh yeah?” I scoffed. “Then why are you here?”

She tucked her arms in at her sides. “As… a friend, I guess.”

A friend. Right
. I didn’t want Eva as a fucking friend.

“What do you want?” I growled.

“I…” she glanced down. “I was hoping I could come in and talk to you. And…” she said, pointing to a paper bag on the cement next to her. “I brought dinner.”

Shit
. I had been on the verge of telling her to go the hell away. Now what was I supposed to do, knowing she’d gone to the effort of bringing food?

I contemplated just shutting the door in her face anyway, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

“I’m not hungry,” I barked.

“Well, I am. And you will be, too, once you take the first bite,” she smiled. “I promise.”

I shook my head sighed. “Fine. Come on in.”

I pushed the screen door open for her and moved back so she could get through. She picked up the bag and walked in, hesitating only a moment before she spied the kitchen and went toward it.

“I brought ingredients for my specialty dish. I make a cheeseburger you won’t believe.” She immediately began busying herself taking things out of the shopping bag before I could anything to stop her.

When the bag was empty, she glanced around and spied the whiskey on the other counter.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked in a tight voice.

“Just got started.” I reached for the bottle and glass and poured myself another shot. “Not that you’re interrupting, or anything.”

She cast me a nervous look and swallowed. “Were you going to get drunk?”

I snorted. “What the hell else do you think a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass are for?”

“Trig…” she said, biting her lip. “Will you please stop?”

Her voice was so soft that it cut short the crude remark I was about to make.

“I was hoping to talk to you,” she continued. “And I won’t be able to if you’re drunk.”

“What if I don’t want to be talked to?” I said gruffly.

“Please,” she said again.

There was just enough of the breathy whisper she had used with me on the couch the other night to stop me in my tracks and make my stomach twist.

“Okay,” I nodded, shrugging. “But I’m grabbing a beer.”

She flashed me a dazzling smile. “Get me one, too.”

I went to the fridge and popped the tops off a couple of bottles. I handed one to her and clinked mine against it, then took a swig.

“Where’s Zoe tonight?” I asked her. Hell, if I was gonna have to talk to her, I might as well start off with something I didn’t mind talking about.

“She’s with her sitter, Mrs. Hayes. The neighbor lady who normally takes care of her during the day.”

Eva rummaged around to find a sharp knife and a cutting board, and asked me to get out a skillet and a pot for her. I watched as she took out a couple of onions and began to slice them, then some other ingredients and some ground beef. I nursed my beer and didn’t say much.

“Is there someplace to eat outside?” she asked. “It’s such a nice evening.”

“Yeah. There’s a back patio. We can eat out there.”

“Great!” she said brightly. “Here, I’ll set some stuff over here for you to take out.”

For the next half-hour or so, neither of us said much, taking refuge in the practicalities of getting dinner on the table. I couldn’t help but think back to the evening I’d spent at her house with Zoe, and how unexpectedly nice it was to be part of a little domestic scene like that. This was definitely different, though. There was an electrical current of tension in the air, as much as either one of us tried to ignore it.

Eventually, dinner was ready. Eva had made some sort of spicy cheeseburger with chipotle ketchup, and homemade onion rings. We sat out at the small table on my back patio and devoured the food. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I bit into the burger.

“Holy shit, this burger is amazing.” I stared at her. “How the hell did you do that?”

She grinned. “I know. It’s a secret, though. Some things, you have to keep to yourself.”

“It’s like you made a deal with the devil,” I marveled.

“Nothing like that,” she laughed. “Just a technique I learned for cooking the burger. And the spice mix helps, too.”

The food and the beer ended up loosening my tongue in spite of myself, and pretty soon we were conversing more easily. I had to admit, when I wasn’t uncomfortably aware of how fucking sexy she was, or pissed off about my physical therapy, it was really easy to be around Eva. She had a dry sense of humor that made me laugh unexpectedly at little things, and we seemed to just have a similar view of how fucked up and twisted the world could be.

As much as I hated to acknowledge it, having her there to talk to made me feel better.

“Trig,” she said sometime into my third beer and her second. “I want to talk to you about something.”

I groaned. “Here we go. Look, we’re having such a nice time. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

She shook her head. “I promise I won’t dwell on it. But I do want to say something to you. And I want you to promise you’ll listen to me and not argue.”

“No promises, babe.” She reddened slightly at the term, which had just slipped out. “Okay,” I admitted. “I’ll try. But no guarantees.”

“Good.” She turned her chair toward me slightly and looked me directly in the eyes. “I know you’re afraid that the therapy isn’t working, and that you’re not going to recover as well as you want to.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she stopped me. “Nope, remember I said, no interrupting me.”

I scowled but shut my mouth.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I also know you think I’m lying to you to spare your feelings. Don’t deny it — I can see it on your face whenever I tell you you’re going to get better.

“But Trig, I am not the kind of therapist who would give you false hope. Ask any of my past patients. If I tell you you’re going to recover, I believe it.” Her tone grew softer. “And I’m also not the kind of friend who would lie to you.”

She leaned forward in her chair, her tone beseeching. “So please.
Please
have faith in yourself, Trig. And please have faith in me. We can get through this together, if you do. We can get you back on that bike. I know we can.”

She was close enough that all I would have to do was lean toward her, and our lips would be touching. She was close enough that I could hear her breathing speed up slightly.

Which meant I knew she could hear mine, too.

Something subtle but powerful shifted in the air between us as I moved forward in my seat. I reached up to her face and slowly grazed my thumb along her lips. She shivered but didn’t pull away.

In a low voice that was thick with need, I murmured: “Is there a ‘we,’ Eva? Is there really?”

She trembled slightly. Color rose to her cheeks as she answered me in a soft voice.

“I think there might be.”

The kiss started out gentle, or as gentle as I could be, when I wanted her so damn bad I felt like I was going to fucking explode.

I cupped my hand behind her head and tilted it back. Her lips parted naturally, accepting my tongue as I started to devour her mouth. I was instantly hard as a damn rock, and unlike the last time, I wasn’t about to try to hold myself back this time unless she stopped me.

I stood, wrapping my other arm around her waist and pulling her up with me, then leaned her backward against the table. My cock pressed against her through her jeans. Her soft moan and the way she angled her hips to press harder against me told me everything I needed to know.

“I’d pick you up and carry you into my bedroom,” I murmured against her ear, “but if I drop you with this bum leg, I’m afraid I’ll ruin the moment.”

She laughed breathily and pulled back to look at me. Her pupils were enormous, wide and dark with desire.

“Take me there,” she whispered.

“If you’re not ready for this…” I started.

“Shhh…” she stopped me. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

I took her hand and led her through the screen door into the house, and down the short hallway to my bedroom. No more words passed between us. As soon as we crossed the threshold, I pushed her up against the wall next to the doorway.

Locking eyes with her, I pushed her tank top up and watched her lift her arms so I could pull it over her shoulders. She reached up to the clasp on her black lace bra, her hands trembling.

“No,” I murmured. “Let me.”

Talk about being ready for this for a long time. I’d dreamed about removing Eva Van Buren’s bra since high school. My eighteen year-old self did a whoop of excitement in my brain, and I almost laughed. No matter how many women I’d fucked, no matter how many countless times I’d slipped quietly out of the apartment of a chick whose name I had already forgotten, Eva was the only one I had ever dreamed about. It was always her. No matter what I told myself, she was the only one who had ever mattered.

I raised my hand and cupped her chin, watching as she leaned toward my touch, her eyes half-closing. “Eva. Christ. You’re fucking beautiful,” I growled. “I could look at you like this all night.”

A low, throaty laugh bubbled from her. “Does that mean I’m not gonna get lucky?”

“Hardly.”

My hand left her face and I traced a finger softly down her neck to the swell of her breasts. She gasped softly as I lightly caressed the round orbs through the fabric, grazing her already-taut nipple with my thumb.