I am still sore from last night, but damn if I don’t want him again. And again. I’ll never look at my desk the same.
I carry a mug of coffee back to bed and sit for a minute before I have to get ready for school and get Owen up.
My phone gets a new text:
Ollie: Hey, Wife. Good morning.
I smile and text him back.
Me: Morning, Husband. Thanks for the coffee.
Ollie: I wish I didn’t have to be on shift today. I didn’t want to leave you.
Me: Me, too. I want you so bad.
Ollie: You get me tonight.
Me: Can’t wait. Love you, have a good day.
Ollie: Love you, too. Have a good day, baby.
I smile, get ready for school, and wake Owen up, making us quick bagel sandwiches to go. It’s going to be a great day.
Owen and I pull up to the apartment after school. I’m in desperate need of a snack, a shower, and a nap before I figure out what we’re scrounging up for dinner when I notice three bikes parked out front. My stomach sinks until I see Grave standing by the front door, his hands in his pockets, dark sunglasses on, watching us, his arms crossed.
Owen freezes. “Is Dad here?”
I shake my head. “Dad can’t come around anymore, buddy. And he’s not affiliated with these guys anymore. These guys are going to make sure of that.”
I hope, I think to myself. Grave said I owed him, and now I wonder if he’s coming to collect.
We get out, and I throw my bag over my shoulder. We walk up, and Grave nods at us.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
He nods to me, and I notice the other bikers that I don’t know. I look at their patches, and their names are Bear andAxel. I nod to them. Relieved to see the pint isn’t with them. I hate that guy.
“Owen, go ahead and get started on your homework. I’ll be up in a minute,” I tell him quietly.
He looks at me reluctantly and heads up the stairs. Ollie’s going to hate that they’re here.
“What’s up?” I ask them as they follow me into the bay.
“Sully been around?” Grave asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Good.” He looks around the shop, then back at me. “We have a proposition.”
I close my eyes. Here it comes. They want me to do something illegal. “What’s that?”
“We need a good mechanic we can trust to work on club vehicles and bikes,” he says.
Relief fills me. “That’s your favor?” I ask, hesitantly. “But I thought your club was a garage.”
He nods. “It was, but we’re not equipped, and we want somebody good.”
“How do you know I’m good?” I ask with a laugh.
