“But—”
“No buts. It’s on me, and I’ll be more careful.” He smiled as he let his arms drop to his sides. “Now, I could really use some tacos. Please tell me you know the best taco place in all of Texas.”
None of the men in her father’s club would hurt her, or any woman, for that matter.
They’d die before hurting her.
She’d remind herself of that a hundred times a day if she needed to because she refused to let herself be afraid of her family. A cold knot in her gut whispered it might be a long time before she stopped jumping at shadows, but she was stubborn enough to deny it for now.
Beth forced a smile as she nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Tacos she could handle, and it would give her something to focus on besides the shitty state of her life.
Thirty minutes later, Saint dragged the small, round table from the corner of the room to between the beds, where they loaded it down with enough Tex-Mex to feed the entire MC.
He looked slightly ridiculous sitting at the small table, like a kid trying to eat at their doll’s table. His cramped legs didn’t seem to bother him. He rubbed his hands together as he studied the food with a gleeful smile before grabbing a few items.
“Dig in,” he said, before chomping half a taco in one bite. His eyes rolled upward as he groaned. “Damn, woman, you know good food.”
He took another bite. This time, the sauce lingered on his lips, but not for long. He swiped it away with a quick lick she couldn’t help but stare at.
Note to self, Saint likes to eat. And you can stop staring at his mouth anytime now.
Now that some of the utter shock of the day was settling from sharp and jarring to a dull disbelief, she was able to really look at him, and,God, was there a lot of him to look at. He was big, muscular, and one of the hottest men she’d ever seen.
Most of what she remembered of him from when she’d spent her younger years around the club was a surly, volatile guy in his twenties who drove Thunder and Makenna crazy for a few years while finding himself and his place in life.
She could relate.
Back then, he’d been tall and gangly, all elbows and attitude that had fascinated her. Now, he’d filled out into this rock-solid, powerful man full of tattoos and capability. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about his demeanor gave off the impression that he could handle anything that came his way with ease. There was a quiet confidence about him that she admired. Saint wouldn’t be the loud, center-of-attention guy at a party, but he’d be the one to call when shit hit the fan.
That realization gave her a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a long time and hadn’t even realized was missing until tonight.
Not missing. Stolen. Jason stole it piece by piece while you watched.
Like the frog slowly boiling in the pot, her life had reached the point of unbearable, and she only recognized it now that this man had helped her escape.
Seriously, when had Saint developed all those muscles?Riding behind him, with her arms around his waist on the way to the motel, had been eye-opening and distracting in ways she didn’t have the bandwidth to think about.
Not that she was in any position to do something about it, but two solid days of clinging to him on the back of a bike would be its own brand of torture. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t in the headspace to think about anything more than appreciating his good looks. Her dad would flip his shit if he knew she wasattracted to one of his MC guys. From the moment her hormones started surging, he’d drilled into her brain how she was not to so much as look at the men in his club.
“You gonna stare at me all night, or you gonna eat something?”
Her face burned as she jumped.
Busted.
She grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be a rolled taco smothered in cheese, sour cream, and guac.Yum.“Yes, of course.”
What the hell is wrong with you? Caught lost in thought twice in less than an hour.
She needed to get her head in the game.
“Okay, because if I’m so hot it’s too distracting, I can put a pillowcase over my head or some shit.” He winked before taking a long sip from his super-sized soda, large enough to induce diabetes.
“Funny,” she said, even as the butterflies in her stomach agreed with his description of himself. “You seem to think very highly of yourself. Sounds to me like you might need a bigger helmet.”
“I do have a big… head,” he said with another wink.
That had her sputtering out an unladylike half snort, half laugh. She did not remember Saint being open and funny, but the fact that he could make her laugh despite all that had happened today felt incredible.
