I have to work.
Dell is six years older than me, and I mostly hear from him when there’s something to discuss about the house or when he’s inviting me to something at church, because when it comes to everything else, we just don’t really align. We just … see things differently. He’s a successful architect for a homebuilder downtown. He has a steady girlfriend, Mandy, who he’s probably going to marry, even though I don’t thinkhe loves her, and he has no problem living in complete denial about our parents.
I wait for the message about making time for my faith. If I know Dell, he isn’t done trying to convince me. The last thing I want to do is spend time at the church and get side-eyed by everyone there and have advice that I didn’t ask for handed out to me. I already get enough of that surface-level care from him. The reality of it is, he doesn’t reallywantthe truth. Whenever I tried to talk to him about the way our dad treated our mom, he straight up said he didn’t want to know. He actually thought living in an abusive, unhappy marriage was what was best for Mom. For better or worse, he said, and he told me that every marriage has its problems.
Just those words alone told me he’d rather live with them in their lie than face the truth, and I knew then that I was completely and utterly alone.
As if on schedule, my phone buzzes again.
DELL
Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am and I’ll be around on Saturday to cut the lawn.
I respond to his message with a thumbs up but don’t offer him anything else, then I get back to focusing on my healing plan for my new boss.
I spent the first half of class today calculating how much it’s going to help me financially to work for Sean over the next month. The idea of my tuition being covered was almost enough to bring me to tears. I might even have enough to fix my mom’s SUV so I can get it out of the garage again. But I’m going to do this right. Take it seriously and treat him like any other client.
I’ve spent the rest of class coming up with a plan for him and dreading the bus ride home.
But as class ends and I head through the doors into the Georgia sun, it’s apparent Sean is a creature of habit because he’s here waiting to pick me up again. In the very same spot he was yesterday, with a spare helmet hanging from his finger. He looks pissed off and relaxed all at the same time. A force to be reckoned with.
A biker god.
There’s no argument from me today about accepting his ride home. One, because I’d rather not be thrown over his shoulder again. And two, I have a shift at the wellness clinic to get through before I’m finally done for the day—and I’ll admit it, I’m dog fucking tired. Getting a ride home and actually having time to change and eat is an idea that is really working formeright now, and not because he says so.
“So, is this a regular thing now?” I ask, moving toward him, feeling a sense of ease that I still can’t quite understand.
“No arguments today?” he questions, one eyebrow raised. “You ready to admit you like this kind of power between your thighs?” He pats the seat. He’s all big biker dick energy right now as I stop in front of him and look up. He comes even closer and brushes my hair off my shoulder, then puts the helmet on my head and checks that it’s fastened, just like he did yesterday, and I hate that it draws me in. His finger tips up my chin to pull my eyes up to his as he stares down at me, then slowly he slides both his hands down my bare arms, giving them a light squeeze.
I look over at the bike and shrug. “Meh … feels pretty much the same as riding the bus.”
He looks at me with disbelief and amusement in his eyes.
“Nah, I know your secret.” His deep voice mixed with the feel of his calloused fingers lacing through mine makes me break out in goosebumps.
“Which is?” I query.
He leans in and his green eyes turn molten. “You feel free as fuck on my bike, but it’s cute as hell when you lie to yourself.”
“I’m not lying,” I retort with a little more fire, fighting this attraction with everything in me. The hint of a smirk still plays on his lips as he lets go of my hands and climbs onto his bike, then fires it up. The sound vibrates through me but he doesn’t look back. He just uses two fingers in a come-hither motion over his shoulder.
I roll my eyes at the command, but the moment I wrap my arms around his waist and his hands slide over my thighs again, tugging me closer, an easy familiarity I haven’t felt maybe ever before washes over me. I know he’s right.
I smile wide. I do feel free as fuck.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Layla
“You’re gonna need this now.” Sean drops a shiny silver key into my hand as we walk up the path to my back door fifteen minutes later. I look down at it, then back up to his eyes. From this angle with the sun on him, there’s an almost grayish hue to the green.
“For …?”
“Your back door. What you had before wasn’t a lock. This one will actually keep your house secure. That little click-button lock wasn’t keeping anyone out.”
Holy shit.“You changed mylock?”
“Yeah.” Again, the epitome of cool, as if this all just makes sense. “Like I said, you weren’t keeping anyone out with the old one. I’m surprised you haven’t been robbed yet.”
