Sweet Trouble (7 page)

Bailey

In the night I get two more texts requesting confirmation I’m good to go. Sydney’s texted a few times too, telling me she’s leaving at noon and I can ride with her. They’re having trouble finding enough nurses. Area hospitals are filling and they’re having to bed patients down in hallways.

This isn’t as bad as some of the disasters we help out with. The worst was the mine collapse in Virginia. All those family members, wives and kids waiting to hear if their husband or father would make it out alive. So heartbreaking.

In the early morning hours we make love twice more. It feels different. Slow. Tender. Like a sweet good-bye, and when I fall apart in his arms for the final time, I have to keep from clinging to him and crying.

As the sun comes up, he tells me there might be a way to get me back to town.

I shower and dress in jeans and a sweatshirt. When I walk down the hallway, I’m greeted by wonderful smells. Sautéed onions, bacon, coffee.

“I’m making you an omelet,” he says over his shoulder.

My response dies in my throat as I take in the sight of him at the stove. He’s shirtless and his shoulders are broad. No, that’s not quite right. They’re heroic, and I’m not just saying that because the man is cooking. His muscles ripple and flex. I let my gaze wander down to his narrow hips and his pants. They’re leather. Black leather. He’s wearing boots.

When I don’t say anything he glances back. “We’re going on motorbike. You need to wear leathers. My sister has a pair you’re going to put on. I’ll get them back from you when you’re done with your work.”

I have no intelligible response, so I just sit on the barstool and watch him cook. I don’t know the first thing about cooking and it’s surprising to find a guy so comfortable in the kitchen. Everything he’s made has been wonderful. He flips the omelet expertly and slides in onto a plate next to some strawberries.

“This is like a bed and breakfast,” I tease, but he doesn’t smile.

His expression is grim. The intensity that sometimes lights his eyes is back. I look away and suppress a shiver. We eat in silence. After breakfast I put on leather pants and jacket. I’m hoping I look hot in leather but Olivia’s stuff is about two sizes too big. I’m not pulling off the look of sexy biker bitch.

I braid my hair and shove it down the back of the jacket, slip my bag over my shoulder and follow Nick out of the house. A trail leads to a barn and with each step we sink several inches into mud. This should be fun.

Nick unlocks the door and lets the door swing open. What was once a horse barn, from the looks of things, is now a garage for dirt bikes. If the workshop attached to the house wasn’t masculine enough, this is manliness on steroids. It’s not so much a garage as a shrine.

Helmets line a shelf. Framed posters adorn one wall. Bikers racing on dirt tracks or taking impossible jumps. Sunlight streams through the windows and small motes of dust swirl in the silence.

He has four dirt bikes and two motorcycles, one of which looks old. Really old. But I get the impression that if I called it old he’d object. Maybe “vintage” is the right term.

He’s looking over a bike, crouched down by the back tire to study some small detail.

“This is so nice of you,” I say, trying to make a little conversation. “I’ve never ridden on a dirt bike. But I’m a quick learner. I promise to be careful with your baby.”

I laugh a little, because I’m sure he does think his bikes are precious and I’m flattered he would let me take one out, especially in the muddy terrain. He looks up at me but doesn’t say anything. He’s just staring. Sort of mad. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t call his big, rough and tough bike a baby.

My bad.

Slowly he rises to his feet, still staring at me, his jaw clenched. Poor guy’s probably stressing about a woman crashing one of these bad boys.

“I’m sure I’ll do fine, Nick. I mean, how hard can it be?” I reach to the controls and snap a switch back and forth a few times. “It’s just a dirt bike.”

He moves quickly and swats my hand. “Don’t. Touch. My Controls.”

I pull my hand back and glare. This whole morning he’s been stand-offish and irritable. It’s possible that when I’m done in Leandro I’ll have to pack my life up and move on, again, maybe very far from here. If the agency decides to send me some place new I only get a few hours’ notice. This might be the last time I see him and he acts like I’m the biggest pain in the ass. It’s like we’ve gone back to the day we first met. That day I’d been intimidated. Not anymore.

I set my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “How do you expect me to drive it if I’m not allowed to touch the controls?”

For the first time that morning a smile tugs on his lips. I watch as it widens and turns into a grin. “That’s pretty fucking adorable. You thinking you’re going to drive one of my bikes?” He scoffs. “What do you weigh? A hundred and ten? A hundred fifteen?”

I happen to weigh a hundred and twenty, but the arrogant expression on his face makes me too mad to reply.

He walks over to the helmets and scans the collection while still laughing. His amusement doesn’t let up and he’s shaking his head, still grinning as he hands me a helmet. I put it on and he buckles the strap. My irritation fades as it dawns on me, we’re about to go climb on a motorbike and try to make it into town.

“You think we can get out, Nick?”

He winks at me. “Sure hope not.”

“What are we going to do if we can’t get out?”

“Come back home and fuck.”

My breath catches in my throat and with just one word my body is on fire. Hot, blazing need tears through me. I don’t want to go. I want to come back here, but how would that go? We’d have fun for a while and then he’d grow distant. In spite of that dreary idea, I can’t fight the desire he’s ignited with a simple word. My skin heats. I’m sure I’m blushing.

If he notices, he gives no sign. He turns away and slips his own helmet on. After he kicks the stand, he swings his leg over the immense bike, settles on the seat and turns the ignition. The engine roars to life with such ferocity, I jump back in surprise. Shit that thing’s loud. The thrum resonates deep in my body and suddenly I’m not so sure I want to climb on. The noise is deafening. It’s impossible for me to hear a word he’d say, but he doesn’t speak. He just looks back at me and jerks his head, gesturing for me to get on.

Nick

It took a little convincing to get Bailey to hold on tight but that ends up being the only difficult part of the trip off the property. The trails are a sloppy mess and mud flies everywhere but the narrow bridge, the one I built when I designed the course, is passable.

We fly over the river, the water churning below us, a torrent that carries debris from the destruction upstream. Boat hulls, children’s toys and parts of a roof flow past. The storm will mean plenty of business for me. Plenty of folks will need new roofs or repairs. At least I’ll be busy while she’s away.

Not too busy to miss her, of course, but I’ll have time to make a plan. I need to figure out a way to start over with Bailey. To do things normal couples do, like date, hold hands, meet annoying relatives. She’s already met Olivia, but I want her to meet Gran and the rest of the McKinley family. Most of all, I need to tell her that I was in prison and why.

When we make it to the road, I ease the bike onto the highway. The bike isn’t road legal, but the whole county is a disaster zone and there are going to be people on the road in golf carts and dune buggies. The shit doesn’t hit the fan often, here in Fulton, but when it does, plenty of people lose everything.

We drive through town, past a news crew filming a spot with the river raging in the background. The high school is full of cars and Red Cross trucks. The gym has probably been turned into a shelter. Dread settles in my chest. How can I let Bailey head into this sort of catastrophe?

We pull into her drive way. At least it’s not full of stranger’s trucks and bikes. In fact, the house looks eerily quiet. We get down and I turn off the engine.

Bailey is covered head to toe in mud. She pulls off the helmet and smiles. “That was a lot of fun. Scary as shit, but fun.”

Her face is the only clean part of her body. Dark clay is spattered across her jacket and pants. I imagine stripping her down, coaxing her into the shower and washing her down.

“I’m glad you liked it.” I gesture to the house. “Where’s everyone?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with Susanna. I tried to call her but it went straight to voice mail. She might be somewhere that doesn’t have service.”

“Let me walk you in.”

She parts her lips to give me some bullshit but thinks better of it and starts walking up the walkway. A couple of times she has to hike her pants up because they’re miles too big on her.

When she reaches the door, she takes out her keys, but her hand is shaking so I pull off my filthy glove and open the door for her. I stand in the doorway, not wanting to come in with my muddy clothes.

“Why don’t you strip down and give me that stuff so I can take it home and hose it off,” I tell her.

She bites her lip. “I could wash them too. You know. I’ll be back in a few days. I could bring them to you.”

“You got to go to work. Let me have them.”

I tug the zipper down but she grabs my hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you get undressed.” My voice is rough and her eyes widen with surprise.

“Right here?”

“You don’t want to walk through the house. Track mud everywhere.”

“You want me to take my clothes off right here?”

“What’s the big deal? I’ve seen it all before.”

I’m trying to calm her but my words just make her madder.

She pushes my hand away. “Fine, but I’ll do it myself.”

I watch as she zips off the jacket, revealing a lacy bra I hadn’t seen. It’s the color of raspberries and I watch as she steps out of the pants, and, son-of-a-bitch if her panties aren’t the same color. She shoves the muddy pants at me.

“You better give me your number,” I say, tugging my phone from a jacket pocket.

Pursing her lips, she takes the phone from me but doesn’t make any move to punch in the numbers.

“Don’t get mad. I’m just taking this stuff so you don’t need to bother with it.”

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll bet.”

Why the hell she’s mad I don’t know but I don’t give it too much thought because my cock is getting harder by the second. She looks fucking amazing in that matching bra and panties. Both look delicate. The lace of the bra is see-through and from behind the gauzy fabric her nipples tease me. I want to tear the material with my teeth, but I can’t touch her. She’s got some mud on her still, but I’m coated in it from being in front.

“Give me your number, Bailey, and kiss me good-bye.”

She enters the number and hands me the phone, but after she folds her arms across her chest.

I step a little closer. “This isn’t a brush-off so quit pouting and kiss me already.”

Reluctantly, she steps closer, lifts to her toes and kisses me. It’s just a brush of her lips over mine.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” I growl.

She tilts her chin. The air between us sparks with unspoken words. Bailey thinks I’m blowing her off but she’s not saying anything about coming back either. When her work winds up in Leandro she might just go to the next job on the list and for all I know that could be in fucking Detroit. I don’t know anything except she’d better give me a better kiss than that.

But she’s just standing there, glaring at me. She crosses her arms over her chest and wants to give me a look of boredom, like I should leave already.

I drop the soggy leather and it hits the tile with a whack. She yelps and instinctively scrambles away as I close the distance between us. She’s too slow and I reach her in three steps and yank her off her feet. Gripping her in my arms, I press her against the wall, and kiss her. Hard.

She squirms but only makes every part of my body harder. I’m getting her dirty, the wall dirty and even her hair. She tries to wriggle free but that only lasts a few seconds. With a moan, a soft sound of pleasure, she loops her arms around my neck and gives me the kiss I want. Soft. Sweet. Submissive.

This girl is like an addiction. The more I have, the more I want. Lust coils inside me and my mind travels to some scenarios that involve kidnapping one sassy, blonde nurse and holding her for ransom. Only the ransom would be something
she’d
have to pay. The payments would involve a lot of her. Naked. In my bed.

Her kiss is sweet honey and I can’t believe I’m letting her go.

When I break the kiss, I lean my forehead against hers. We’re both panting. Slowly I lower her to her feet.

“You’re really dirty, Bailey.”

“I am now,” she grumbles. “No thanks to you.”

Stepping away, I bend to pick up the leather clothes. “If you’d given me a real kiss I wouldn’t have gotten you so dirty. Next time you’ll know, won’t you?” I go to the door, turn the handle. “You be careful in Leandro.”

She tries her best to look indignant, but it’s hard to pull off considering she’s mostly naked, smeared with mud and her lips are swollen from the savage kiss I just gave her. She looks pretty, so damned pretty that my heart squeezes painfully. But she looks vulnerable too and I want to soothe her, make things better. I’d like to take her back to her bedroom is what I’d really like. Without another word, I walk out, start my bike and turn for home.