Rooter (Double H Romance) (10 page)

“Yes.”

“Damn, that’s a long day.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

I shrug. “Got to pay rent somehow.”

Rooter gazes at me for a long time with a serious, thoughtful expression. “You’re very strong, Sophie.”

I laugh, sarcastic. “Yeah, right.”

“You are,” he asserts and lies on his side to face me. “You’ve been through so much. And you were great last night. So calm, collected. Did everything I told you to.”

“I was freaking the fuck out.”

“It didn’t show. You know, that’s one thing I’ve noticed about you. You have a great poker face. You never give anything away.”

“From years of practice.”

Growing up, I was always sad, scared, or angry. Though I refused to pretend to be happy to appease my doped up mother, I also couldn’t let my true feelings show. I feared she’d beat me or lock me in my closet for being ungrateful for the wonderful life she had given me.

Tears well in my eyes and I look away. I hate being emotional. When people are around I despise it even more.

Rooter places his finger underneath my chin and gently turns my face to his. His eyes are sad. Sad for me. And I hate that. I don’t want his pity. “You don’t have to hide from me, Sophie.” His voice is so tender.

I shake my head. “Sometimes, I wish I could hide from myself.”

He pulls me close, kisses the side of my head, and inhales deeply. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

I hug him tighter to me. No one else’s embrace has ever comforted me more or made me feel safer than Rooter’s. I wish I could stay in his arms endlessly.

He pulls away so he can face me, but keeps his arms around me. His eyes exude warmth and sincerity. He leans in slow. Right before his lips touch mine, he stops. “Is this okay?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

When Rooter’s lips meet mine they’re soft and warm like I remembered, only this time, he’s gentle rather than forceful. He gives me a sweet, serene, closed mouth kiss, but it lingers. This simple kiss holds more meaning and power than any passionate kiss I’ve ever shared with anyone else. When he pulls away and looks in my eyes, it seems as though he feels the same.

Chapter 12
Something Sweet, Something Sour

Darren, a member of Double H, shows up at nine thirty to follow me to work. He’s the type of guy who when you see him you cross to the other side of the street; older, perhaps late thirties, with dark hair turning gray around the edges, and he’s huge. Not fat huge. His tattooed skin covers loads of ridiculous muscle. He watches from his motorcycle as I walk to the back door of the restaurant and waves before he leaves.

This morning, Rooter instructed me not to say anything to anyone about last night. He said it’s better it stays between those of us involved. He delivered the same speech to Miranda though with a little more urgency to drive home the point. This kind of story would spread across this town like a flu epidemic if not controlled at the source. Rooter insists the last thing we or his club needs is for the police to come barging through the door.

I make it through the first half of my shift on pure adrenaline alone. By the ninth hour, I sway as I walk and yawn uncontrollably while taking my customer’s orders. Randy comes over to me while I’m loading a tray with drinks at the bar.

“I’ll take this.” He looks at me with concern. “You go lay your head on my desk.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re due for a break anyhow.”

“But we’re busting at the seams.” I point at the crowded dining room.

“That’s why I need you to rest, so you can get back out here and hustle.” He spins me in the direction of the office. “I’ll come get you in thirty minutes.”

The moment my head hits the desk, I’m dead to the world. No sooner than I’m asleep, I’m awoken by a kiss on the cheek.

“Time to wake up sleeping beauty,” Ryan says sweetly and I lift my head. “Wow, you look bad. Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “Bad night.”

“Drinking?”

I shake my head again. “Mike and his bullshit.”

He crosses his arms. “What did he do now?”

“To make a long story short, he fucked up. Bad.” I adjust my ponytail. “Got involved with the wrong people. Miranda kicked him out.”

Ryan throws his hands in the air. “Yes!”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly her choice.”

“You finally stood up to her?”

I shake my head. “I would have this time, but no. Rooter told her he had to go.”

He furrows his brow. “Wait, I thought you weren’t talking to him anymore.”

I grin. “Last night sort of changed that.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” He asks perceptively, with a grin.

“We kissed. Again.” Ryan already knew about my argument with Rooter after he left my house.

“No shit! With your consent this time?”

“Oh, yeah.” I smile, giddy.

“You feeling better?” Randy interrupts us, poking his head around the door.

“I think so.” I lie. I actually feel worse. Napping does that to me.

“Then let’s get to it.” He claps, prompting Ryan and I to follow him.

The rest of the night passes in a haze. By the time my shift comes to an end my feet and back ache, and my eyelids feel like they have weights on them. On our way out of the restaurant, Ryan and I find Rooter straddling his bike. I’ve never seen anything sexier than Rooter on his bike waiting for me. Unable to conceal my happiness to see him, an enormous smile spreads across my face. To my delight, he smiles at me the same way.

“Hi,” I say, breathless as I reach his bike with Ryan at my side.

“Hi.” He dismounts his bike and extends his hand to Ryan. “I’m Rooter.”

I’m relieved he saved me from a possible awkward introduction. What would I have said? Ryan, this is Rooter, my neighbor? My friend? When we each know we’re more than both, even though we haven’t labeled exactly what this is yet.

Ryan accepts his invitation to shake hands. “Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“Same here.” Ryan turns to me. “See you tomorrow night.”

“See ya.”

“What happened to
babe
?” Rooter teases when Ryan walks away.

“Well, I didn’t want you to get worked up again.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Now that I know he’s gay, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” We both laugh. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.” I look at his bike and wonder what it would be like to go for a ride. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.

“Want to ride with me?” He asks, reading my mind.

“What about my car?”

“I’ll bring you to pick it up in the morning.” He grabs his helmet off his handle bars and sits it on my head and fastens it. After getting on the bike, he instructs me to do the same. “Put your arms around me like this.” he guides my hands around his waist. “Hold on tight.”

“Okay.” I’m a bundle of excited nerves.

The bike roars to life. “If you get scared, let me know.”

“I will.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

So many times, I’ve fantasized about what it would be like to ride on the back of Rooter’s motorcycle, never believing it would actually happen. It’s unlike anything I could’ve ever imagined. Although we can’t be going faster than thirty five miles per hour, it gives me an exhilarating rush. My fantasies didn’t do the real deal any justice whatsoever. There’s nothing like this in the entire world. The only thing I like better is the feeling of Rooter’s lips on mine.

We pull into Rooter’s garage, and he kills the engine. I climb off wishing the ride had been a little longer regardless of how tired I am.

“What did you think?” He asks, hopeful.

“It was amazing!” The air in Michigan turns considerably cool during the night, and I’m cold from the ride, but it was totally worth it.

He smiles wide and unstraps the helmet and removes it from my head. “I love riding. I can barely tolerate being in a car anymore.”

“I can see why.” I brush my fingertips across the smooth metal of the gas tank. “Maybe I’ll get one of my own.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he chuckles, “slow down. One step at a time.”

I smirk. “It’s not like I can afford one anyway.”

We walk side by side down the length of this driveway. “How’d you do today?” He asks, all trace of amusement gone.

“I was fine until the halfway point, but I persevered.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. “I’m not surprised.”

“Gotta do what you gotta do.” I shrug.

“One day, life will be easier.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for years.”

“It will, I promise you.”

He takes me by the hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. This is the first time we’ve ever held hands. I wonder if he realizes this.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“No, Sophie, it’s I who should thank you.”

“For what?” I furrow my brow, surprised.

“For giving me a chance when I didn’t deserve one. I’ve been awful to you.”

“What?” I come to a halt. “You’ve done so much for me. I don’t even want to think about where I’d be right now if not for you.”

“I don’t want to think about it either. But I’ve done some pretty nasty things too.”

“You’ve also done some pretty great things. You saved my life.” God, I want him to kiss me so bad I can hardly stand it.

He’s quiet a moment, clearly processing his thoughts. “I thought you were better off without my influence, but now I believe you might actually be better off with me around.”

“I’ve always believed that.”

He scratches his head while rocking back and forth on his toes and heels, nervous and perhaps a little bashful. A total contradiction to his usual intense, confident demeanor.

“I’m done trying to stay away from you, Sophie. When I told those guys you were mine, I meant it.”

My breath catches. I want to be his. I’ve wanted to be his for so long.

His confidence returns and his eyes convey a powerful determination. “I intend to make you mine.”

“I think you’ll find that won’t be very difficult.”

He smiles and leans toward me slowly until our lips meet in another soft, sweet kiss. I pull him closer to deepen the kiss, but he gently resists and pulls away, resting his forehead on mine. I whine in protest.

“I want to do this right,” he breathes. “This will probably sound juvenile, but… will you go on a date with me?”

I smile wide and have to stop myself from jumping up and down. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Rooter.”

His shoulders relax and he breathes what sounds like a sigh of relief. Had he been worried I’d say no?

“When’s your next day off?”

“Wednesday.”

He beams, excited. “Then Wednesday it is.”

“So, how did today go for you?” I ask as we walk, hand in hand, the rest of the way to my door.

“It was fine,” is all he says, but he can tell I want more. “I’ve taken care of everything. Don’t worry.”

Truth be told I’m not worried. I have every confidence in Rooter’s ability to handle the situation and to protect me. “I was just curious.”

“It’s done now.” He kisses the top of my hand. “You rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

When I enter the house, it’s dark and quiet. I turn on the stairway light to go to my room. When I get to the top of the stairs, I hear Miranda crying in her room. I’m exhausted, desperate for sleep, but I can’t ignore my best friend in a time of need.

“Miranda?” I tap on her door.

“Come in,” she croaks.

She’s sitting on her bed, propped up against the headboard. Her face is a red, puffy mess. I don’t dare ask her what’s wrong because I already know.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I lost my brother today. I put him out on the street.”

“You aren’t blaming yourself are you?” I take a seat at the foot of her bed.

“I blame all of us, Sophie.”

“What do you mean
all
of us?”

“Me, you, Rooter, Mike. All of us.”

This is just like her. “That’s bullshit! Mike did this to himself. To us! We could’ve been killed because of him.”

“He has nowhere to go!”

I try my best to stay calm in order to talk sense into her. “I’m sure that isn’t true. He has friends.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, druggie friends.”

“Again, his choice.” I wave my hand at an invisible Mike. “Not ours.”

“Yeah and I made my choice to turn my back on my brother,” she smacks a pillow, knocking it off the bed. “Who knows what will happen to him now.”

“Whatever happens to him will be his own doing, Miranda. Not yours and not mine.”

“He’ll never get the help he needs out there.” She waves toward the window.

I take a deep breath. “It wouldn’t matter whether he’s here or out there. He won’t get the help he needs until he realizes that he needs help.”

“You don’t understand,” she groans and waves me away.

This infuriates me. My mother was a drug addict. No matter how much I begged her, she refused to get help. It was her choice to make. She made it. And as a result, I turned my back on her and left home. She killed herself a little more than a year later. If anyone understands what Miranda is going through, it’s me.

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

She groans. “Can you not make this about you?”

I laugh, sarcastically. “You’re the one making this out to be about me. You’re mad and you blame me for the fact Mike is gone.”

“It’s partially your fault. You broke his heart at the worst possible time in his life, then you let your new psycho boyfriend make me throw him out.”

I rise from the bed and glower at her. “Wait a minute, are you saying I should’ve gone out with Mike out of pity? Or are you actually mad at me for not having those kinds of feelings for him?”

“You should’ve handled it differently.”

I lean into Miranda’s face, pointing my index finger at her causing her to recoil. “I’m not to blame for Mike’s bullshit,” my voice is low and foreboding. “He’s grown. He knows the difference between right and wrong. He’s responsible for his actions. And as for my new
psycho boyfriend
,” I motion toward Rooter’s house, “he’s the only reason you and I are alive right now. He saved us both from your fucked up brother’s stupid ass decisions!”

“Maybe he wouldn’t be making such stupid ass decisions if he had a little more support from the people he loves.”

I back away and throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me for his problems.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t help them.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I clutch the sides of my head. “You know what? I should’ve been the one to go.”

She crosses her arms and juts out her chin. “I think you’re right.”

“Fine. I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’ll be expecting a refund for the rest of the month’s rent.” I stomp out of her room and slam the door behind me.