He throws the truck into gear, rumbling it into action, and we head back home.
Home. With my neighbor. Who is too old for me, but who might also be the love of my life. If I let him.
CHAPTER 18
JACK
We work as a team. I finish unloading all the groceries, and Jessi puts everything away. She doesn’t know where everything goes and asks constantly if the cupboard she’s opening is the right one, but she’s efficient and finishes the task in a matter of minutes.
All the while, I’m rehashing the levels of stupidity I’m ascending as the day passes. I can’t believe I called my barely legal nineteen-year-old neighbor, who is now living with me, “baby.” I never call anyone that. It just slipped out. But she deserves to be adored, and I can’t help myself.
Still, I’m in deep shit if I don’t get it together. She needs someone who puts her first. Me unable to quit thinking about how her lips would taste isn’t putting her needs first.
I repeat that silently several times as Jessi gathers food, plates, and knives to meal prep. Seriously, in what universe did I ever think I would find myself meal prepping? To be fair, Jessi is the chef, and I’m merely helping. Or hurting. Definitely hurting.
“Jessi, you have to lead the way,” I tell her. “I can make boiled eggs, some rice, and a mean grilled cheese on a good day, but I’m hopeless at anything fancy.”
“Can you chop veggies?” she asks.
“I think I can manage that,” I say confidently, thankful I won’t be completely helpless.
“You’re in charge of chopping veggies, playing music, and pouring drinks,” she says, bouncing around my kitchen with a dish towel flung over one shoulder. She radiates in here and gives this place some warmth.
I grab two beers out of the fridge. I pop the caps off and hold one out toward her.
She cocks a brow at me and smirks. “You’re a bad influence on me.” I immediately retreat. She’s right, what the hell am I doing? She captures my wrist and tugs my arm back toward her. She pauses, biting her lip. She takes the beer with her other hand then releases me slowly, brushing her fingers along my palm and curling them around my fingers before dropping her hand. She has a playful smile on her face, but her voice is breathy as she says, “I was kidding!”
The moment is gone as quickly as it came. She challenges me as she takes her first sip. Her nose scrunches up. “Hmm.” She takes another pull from the bottle, spins around, and continues cooking. I turn on the Bluetooth speaker and play Mumford and Sons. I assume she’ll want me to change it to something like Taylor Swift, but she shocks the hell out of me again when she sings along, swaying as she works around the kitchen.
It takes me all of five minutes to chop the veggies, so I move on to cleaning the dishes as Jessi finishes cooking. She sips her beer slowly. I’m already on number two, but I decide against having a third. I plan to go to the club after this. I need some space to wrap my mind around this cluster fuck.
She peers at me. “What are you thinking about?”
“Oh, nothing. I need to swing by the club after we finish here. I figure I’ll head out while you decorate your room. It’ll give you some time to get settled.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slump. Is she disappointed? “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“No later than nine. I don’t like to stay out late when I need to get up early. I told someone I would help them work on their bike. Teach them a thing or two so they don’t always have to take it to the shop.”
“I was thinking we could watch a movie.” She shrugs. “Maybe another time. That’s really sweet of you.”
“I would love to too, but you still need to get settled, and I need to run some things by the club prez, Mike, before next week. Don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of time to watch movies,” I say, unsure what I think about her wanting to watch a movie with me. Maybe she doesn’t have anything better to do and figures since we’re roommates, it makes sense to do things together.
“Tell me about your club,” she says, bringing me out of my inner dialogue.
“I connected with the MC when I was eighteen. Some of the older members knew my Pops and what a piece of shit he was. I was trying to provide for my younger sister, who was twelve at the time. I was doing some shit I shouldn’t have been involved in and found myself in and out of jail a few times. Then Mike came to me and offered to teach me how to work on bikes and paid me full time. I ended up being pretty damn good at being a mechanic, and I loved it. Now I work at the shop connected to the club.
“At first, Mike had strict rules to stay the hell out of trouble with petty shit. He didn’t want added heat on the club. So I shaped up quick. I didn’t have a great childhood. My sister, Becky, is the only blood relative that I speak to, so I’m very thankful for Mike, for the club. For all of them. We’re like family more than anything these days—chosen family—and I’d do anything for them.”
“I thought motorcycle clubs were trouble,” Jessi says. “All about drugs, guns, and things like that. However, besides you whipping that gun out on Austin like a psycho, you’ve been quite the gentleman, and you help people when you don’t have to or get anything in return.”
“I won’t lie to you. I never said there wasn’t some rough shit that goes down, but I also can only say so much to an outsider.” I tuck a stand of her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t shy away from me. “We try to stay as clean and straight as possible. We help those who need it, not take advantage of them. But we have our faults too.
“Motorcycle clubs have been around forever. Some are just a bunch of people who ride together, and some are outlaws. There are quite a few chapters around here.”
Jessi’s eyebrows lift. “Chapters?”
“Yeah. They’re like offshoots of a main club. Each chapter has its own set of rules and guidelines, but all chapters have the same foundation as their mother club.
