I’m not the only one who’s curious, as Saint appears by my elbow, pushing into our conversation as if he’s making a comment about how I’m monopolising her, and the reason he thinks I’m doing it.
Fuck, not this again.But he’d be wrong. I might have had carnal thoughts about her upstairs, but that’s my problem, not hers. She might not have Trip’s issues, but she’s damaged. All caused by the man she should have been able to depend upon to keep her safe and unharmed. Instead, he’s the one who has been hurting her.
Even if she wasn’t already broken, I’d keep my dick in my pants. I’m a fucking biker, not the type of man she deserves, especially when it comes to losing her virginity. She’s the type of girl you woo with flowers and chocolates, and numerous dates before even getting to first base, while my modus operandi is love’em and leave’em. One night’s all I’ve ever given to a woman before, and not even the full eight hours together either. Once I’ve had my fun, though I’m not a man to leave a woman wanting, I prefer to sleep on my own. Keeps things simple. One reason I prefer keeping it to the club and the likes of Star, Trixie, Heaven, and Sweetie. They all know the score.
Nah, Saint doesn’t have to tell me to keep my hands to myself. I’ve more than enough reasons to come to that conclusion. Shame though, our size difference intrigues me and makes me wonder whether such a small thing would be able to take my cock, which is in line with the size of the rest of my body. What would it be like, sinking into her tight, virginal pussy, seeing her come and shatter around me?
So, sue me. There’s no law against having such thoughts, not if I never intend to act on them. I shift in my seat to relieve the half-boner I’ve started sporting, keeping my body turned away from both her and Saint.
“What’s Trip’s problem?” Saint asks.
Bronwyn starts, she looks at me for guidance – fuck, I love that – then after I lift my chin to suggest she should answer, she directs her reply to the VP. “Developmental problems. The specifics are undiagnosed. But I suspect if you want to name it, the closest you could come is autism.” She suddenly gets defensive. “He’s slow, but not stupid. He just needs to be taught things differently. He needs patience and someone who understands.”
“Your mom homeschools him?” That’s what I picked up today.
She hesitates before answering Saint. I notice she’s obviously taken a liking to shandy, as she’s finished the first one and has started on another. While the percentage of alcohol can’t be strong, she’s becoming more relaxed, and as I’d hoped, a little more open.
Finally, she addresses the question. “Mom’s got no patience with him. She hates that he’s not normal. She doesn’t really try with him, but I can’t blame her.”
“Whoa.” Saint reels back. “Poor fuckin’ kid if you’re giving up on him too.”
But maybe he didn’t notice how good she was with the boy, how nothing was rushed, how gentle and understanding she was with him. As Bronwyn’s eyes open wide at his statement, I can’t help but place my hand on her arm in the hope I can reassure her. “Bronwyn loves that boy, Saint. More than anyone else in her family. She brought him here, rather than let their father hurt him.”
Saint takes my rebuke well. After only a moment’s hesitation, he apologises. “I’m sorry, Bronwyn. I didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t thinking. Your family dynamics are fuckin’ with my head. How was it we didn’t even know you had a brother?”
That question, she doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Because Dad’s ashamed of him.” She gives an unladylike snort, probablyfueled by the shandy she’s drinking. “He’s ashamed of me too, but at least I’m not…” She pauses, sneers, and puts the next word in air quotes, “‘Retarded.’” It’s clear she’s speaking for Doc, and not stating something she believes herself.
One of her comments sticks out in my head. “Why the fuck would he be disappointed in you, sweetheart?” The careless endearment has Saint placing his fist over the not-yet-completely healed wound on my thigh, out of her eyesight, of course. I gasp in air, pretend my drink’s gone down the wrong way, and behind her back toss him a glare full of promise.
Bronwyn hasn’t noticed. Instead, she seems lost in that head that she’s currently shaking. “Because I didn’t do well enough in school to become a doctor.”
“But you’re a good nurse.”
She offers a faint smile at my comment. “Custers don’t demean themselves to be nurses,” she says as if she’s quoting her father. “They become eminent doctors.”
Saint snorts so fiercely that beer flies out of his nose. He wipes it on his sleeve while chortling. “Fuck, Bron, I have far more respect for a near-qualified nurse over a struck-off doctor.” He gives her a once-over and then grins. “I doubt you’re ever going to take liberties of the sexual variety with your patients.”
It must be the shandy, as instead of being embarrassed as I’d expected, she sits for a moment with her jaw dropped and her eyes wide open, then she belts out a genuine belly laugh, so deep it gets both Saint and me chuckling. Then she hiccups, and her face turns red as she covers her mouth with her hands.
“I think you’ve had enough shandy,” I tell her with a grin on my face.
She places her empty glass on the bar and shakes her head when Heathen looks her way. As she hiccups again, she looks at me and says, “I think it’s time I went to bed.”
She’s probably right. It’s been one hell of a stressful couple of days for her. She’s probably running on fumes now, but hopefully the alcohol will relax her, and she’ll be able to get some rest.
“You want me to escort you?”
Shaking her head, she replies, “I think I know my way to your room by now.” She turns first to Saint and wishes him goodnight, then offers the same salutation to me. I waggle a couple of fingers toward her as she makes her way across the room, wincing as she knocks into the table. My eyes are on my brothers, but they all stay out of her way.
Once she’s disappeared from sight, I turn to Saint. “Think I’m going to call it a night, Brother. My face is stinging like a bitch, and someone’s playing drums in my head.”
“Surprised you lasted this long.”
Actually, so am I. I bark a dry laugh. “Must be getting used to being knocked around.”
“I wondered whether you were going to pull the ‘I need someone to be on concussion watch’ and spend the night with your nurse.”
Flinching, as my headache is really making itself known now, I stare at him, wondering whether he’s being serious. He puts me out of my misery fast, waving his beer bottle toward me. “Just fuckin’ with you. Your options would be limited with that kid sharing her bed.”
