“Accidentally on purpose?”
“Something like that.”
She laughs, the sound like wind chimes. “You’d better report back to me immediately. I want to know everything… what she’s wearing, what she orders. If she smiles when she sees you.”
“I will,” I promise, standing before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, Queenie.”
“That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart. To remind you that you deserve good things, even when you forget. Your life has been full of everyday grind and responsibilities, so maybe it’s time for you now.”
I rest my hand on her shoulder and smile warmly. “I love you, Gran.”
She scrunches up her face at me, swatting my hand away from her shoulder. “Oh, fuck off with that Gran bullshit. It makes me feel old.”
I let out a small laugh and turn for the door. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
“Damon,” she calls out as I reach the door. I turn around and look at her. “I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. For going after what you want. You deserveallthe good things, my boy.” I half smile before she begins turning up the television. “Now go away, you interrupted my cooking show, and this chef is making my lady bits feel young again.”
I jerk my head back, a shudder running down my body. “Jesus, Queenie.”
Her hands come up in a shooing motion as I chuckle to myself and go to walk off, hearing her one last time. “Love you!” she calls out.
“Yeah, yeah, love you, too, you crazy old lady,” I yell back just as Ethel walks past me, smiling as if she’s mentally undressing me. She waves at me, and I hurry my pace out of the village toward my damn bike.
What the fuck is it with these horny older ladies?
But as I leave Sunset Manor, after my chat with Queenie, I feel like I have a purpose thrumming through my veins. Tomorrow morning, I’ll head to The Grind. I’ll make it look natural, casual. And if Marley is there, I’ll take my shot.
Because Queenie is right.
Life is too short to wonder about what-ifs.
And Marley Wren, with her red hair, her broken heart, and her generous spirit, is worth the risk. It’s time for me to stop standing on the sidelines of my own life, pretending I don’t want more. That ends now!
Even if it scares the hell out of me.
Chapter Four
NITRO
I’m sitting in The Grind as if I belong here, which is a fucking lie. My knees are jammed up against the underside of this tiny café table, and I’m pretty sure the barista looked at me as if I were about to rob the place when I walked in ten minutes ago.
Can’t blame her.
I’m a mountain shoved into a space designed for people half my size, wearing a black T-shirt that does nothing to hide the ink crawling up my forearms, and I’m nursing a coffee that tastes like it was strained through fucking dirt.
But none of that matters.
Because somewhere in this city, Marley is walking to work, and if Ghost’s intel is correct, and it always fucking is, she stops here every morning at seven.
I check my phone.Six fifty-eight.
My heart is doing this weird hammering thing in my chest that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager trying to ask Jenny Morrison to prom. Except I’m forty-three years old, Vice President of the Las Vegas Defiance MC, a silent owner of a billion-dollar empire I want nothing to do with, and I am literally stalking a woman I drove in my Uber four days ago.
Jesus Christ, Nitro. What the fuck are you thinking!
I shift in my seat, trying to look casual. The chair groans in protest under my weight. A couple at the table next to me glances over nervously, and I force myself to relax my shoulders and unclench my jaw.
This was supposed to be smooth.
