He studied me a moment. “You were sixteen when you left?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you were nine when they sent you off to school?” I nodded again, confused. “And you saw them four times in those seven years?”
“I’d love to say I was exaggerating, but if anything, I’m overestimating the number of times I saw them. My parentsabandoned me. Sure, I had money and food and a roof over my head, but I was told not to come home because international airfare, round trip, wasn’t in the budget. They were already spending a fortune on my education.”
“How’d you get back to the States?”
“I saved most of the money they put in my account each month to buy a ticket. Figured Nashville was about as far from New York as I could get. Maybe not geographically, but socially it’s a world of difference.”
“How old are you, Cora?” He stroked the back of my hand with a thumb, staring at me intently.
“Twenty-two.”
“And you’ve been on your own all this time?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I have no doubt you can, honey. I just don’t like the idea of you being on your own. Are you safe?” The longer we sat here, the more chatty he was getting. It was kind of cute because this guy acted nothing like the hardened biker I’d pegged him for. He was a marshmallow if I ever saw one. ‘Course, men who were true marshmallows were the ones who were super protective of those they let close. “Just don’t like not knowin’ you’re safe at night.”
I smiled, unable to help myself. “You know, Marcus, I think you’re the first person in my life who at least said they gave a damn about me.”
“I do give a damn about you,” he grumbled. “But I also know I’m overbearing sometimes.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “Because you seem pretty quiet to me.”
He stayed silent for a while. I thought I might have pissed him off or insulted him or something, but he never let go of my hand. In fact, he kept up that slow lazy slide of his thumb overthe back of my hand. “Did you graduate high school before you took off?”
I shook my head. “No. Spent three years on the streets before I got my GED. That’s all I needed to get a job. Which I did. And here I am.” I smiled up at him before gesturing to the garden below us. “Never had anything worth protecting like that.”
Again, he said nothing for several moments, processing what I’d shared. My story represented the first personal detail I’d revealed to anyone at the compound other than in vague generalizations. Sure, the women were all super-friendly and sweet, but I didn’t live here. I might not know much about motorcycle clubs in general, or this club in particular, but I knew a tight-knit family when I saw one. Mainly because I’d spent my whole life wanting that very thing.
When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle in a way I hadn’t heard before. “Somebody should have protected you.”
Five simple words, but they cut through years of carefully constructed defenses. I blinked rapidly, fighting the sting behind my eyes. The rain had tapered to a light drizzle, sunlight breaking through in wider shafts now, creating rainbows in the mist above the garden.
“I protected myself,” I said, hearing the stubborn pride in my voice. “Still do.”
Rancor nodded, understanding in his dark eyes. “Doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”
He stood and paced away slightly, resting his shoulder on one of the wooden posts holding up the porch. I was still in his line of sight. The weight of his gaze drew me in, and I found myself moving before I’d made a conscious decision. I stood from my chair and stepped toward him, closing the distance between us.
He remained where he was, looking at me with anexpression I couldn’t fully read. He seemed skeptical, but like he desperately wanted what I dangled in front of him. I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. His skin radiated heat even through the fabric.
“Thank you,” I whispered, “for showing me the garden. For telling me about Sarah.”
His hands came up to rest on my hips, steadying me as I leaned into him, stood on my tiptoes, and pulled him gently to meet my lips with his.
This kiss felt different, almost languid but no less intense. It didn’t take me long to moan when he swept his tongue over the seam of my lips, asking entrance. I tasted rain on his lips, felt the scratch of his beard against my chin. My fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders, drawing myself closer.
When we broke apart, his eyes remained closed for a heartbeat longer, as if savoring the moment. The storm had passed completely now, leaving behind that peculiar clarity that comes after heavy rain.
“I should go,” I said reluctantly. The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but it was best if I put some physical distance between us for a bit. I needed to make sure I thought about this whole situation clearly before I did anything to get myself hurt. Physically or emotionally.
He nodded, looking almost as reluctant as I felt to end the short interlude we’d shared. “I’ll walk you out.”
We moved through his apartment in comfortable silence. At the door, he paused, seeming indecisive. Then his expression relaxed and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Wait here. One minute.”
