But like I said, there was a difference between being an asshole and being a dick. I could handle being an asshole. Being a dick to someone who didn’t deserve it was a bit much.
On the way back, Katie wrapped her arm around my elbow. I kept my hands tucked into my jeans and made no acknowledgment of the gesture. Sure, it sent goosebumps up and down my arms. Sure, it felt good. Sure, it made me want to do something else.
But…
This is how it starts.
We got to her car, and Katie stood just inches away from me.
“I had a great time tonight.”
“You did?” I said, somewhat in surprise. “Even after I meandered off like a crazy person halfway through.”
“Yeah, we all have our moments.”
And then she put her hands on my cheeks and leaned forward.
Fuck, was she trying to kiss me? She was trying to kiss me.
This is how it starts.
I gave her my cheek.
No, I wasn’t afraid of a kiss. I wasn’t afraid of intimacy. But I had a healthy respect for the danger of getting too close too soon.
And besides, I was not going to let Katie dictate the terms of our first kiss. If we got that far, I wasn’t going to let her decide how it was going to happen. I was going to take her in my arms, pull her up against my body—or push her against a wall.
These things happened on my terms, not hers.
She looked up at me in confusion, but I pulled back before she could try again.
“See you, Katie.”
She looked disappointed. I felt a little disappointed with myself. I really did consider just pressing her against her car and taking her.
Too many scars. Too much from the past. I need to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself.
I turned around and walked back toward Reapers. I shook my head the whole way down, not particularly caring if Katie saw me curse myself out or not. What was I doing? Was this Connor in his twenties going on a date? Or teenager Connor who had no tattoos, no abs, and more fat than the six people around him combined?
I could sit here and bullshit to myself all day about how it wasn’t worth it. That I was a biker. That I was living a lifestyle that wasn’t conducive to it.
But it had nothing to do with the lifestyle.
And I knew that I could dispel that with the person I was about to see. I opened the doors to the apartment complex, nodded to the front desk lady, and asked to see Cole Carter.
* * *
Cole was waiting for me outside his apartment.
“Don’t want the kid to see someone with so many tattoos?”
“Not at all,” Cole said, shaking my hand and pulling me in for a bro hug. “I wanted to meet you out here in case there was something club-related you wanted to talk about. I gave Lilly the balcony this evening.”
“Ah,” I said, trying to brush it off like I had come here to talk about killing Bandits and Fallen Saints. “Well, you know, I had given some thought about it, but we don’t have to.”
“Well, don’t tell me you came up here just to say hello,” he said with a chuckle. “Come and have a drink. I’ll turn on the TV and we can chill for a bit.”
I nodded and followed Cole inside. I could see Lilly and his son, Roger, out on the porch. Lilly waved to me, and I nodded back to her. If she knew about the Fallen Saints graffiti, she did not look worried in the slightest. She had an easygoing smile, a relaxed demeanor, and a face that suggested she got as much sleep as the mother of an infant could get.
