Flawed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #6

by Ames, Jessica

  He shrugs his rucksack from his shoulder, dumping it on the work bench and his eyes narrow on me. “Why do you care? Are you hot on my sister?”

  The adolescent rage is almost adorable, but I don’t say this. No need to give the kid a complex.

  “No, fuck nut. I’m not hot on your sister.” Lie. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not getting shit from your old man.”

  His anger simmers back down and he shifts his shoulders. “Nothin’ going on there. Dad’s stayed away.”

  “Good.” Clearly, our talk worked. Not that there was much talking involved. Most of what I had to say was with my fists.

  “He won’t let it go,” Jesse says suddenly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My dad. He’s an ass, but he’s not going to let this go. He’ll wait, but he’ll find his time to hurt us. He’s good at that kind of thing.”

  My jaw tightens. “He’s not going to touch you or your sister. And if he tries, he’ll have the Club to deal with, yeah?”

  Jesse nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He unzips his rucksack and pulls out a Tupperware box—his lunch. Thinking about it, I rarely saw the kid eat the whole time he was here. From time to time, me and Dean ordered in breakfast or lunch and he’d scoff it down like it was his last meal.

  Maybe it was.

  How blind was I?

  Just another reason to hate his cunt father.

  At least it looks like Chloe is taking care of him now.

  “Jess, I mean it. He’s not going to touch you again.”

  Something in my tone must tell him how serious I am, because this time when he nods, he seems a little more assured. Good. I want him to feel safe.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but Miles steps in through the bay doors, and Jesse shuts down. I hate that he does. It hits me square in the gut. I’m slowly getting him to open up, but it’s not enough.

  Dean shows up around nine a.m. looking tired. Clearly, Danny Lawler has been keeping him and Liv awake.

  “You look like shit, man,” I tell him around a grin as I hand him a fresh cup of coffee. “Is the shine of domestic bliss starting to wear off?”

  He smiles a little, taking the mug. “That’ll never wear off. Danny’s just been fussy the last few nights. He’s not giving us much respite.”

  “Yeah, babies aren’t big on the whole sleeping shit, right?”

  “My son definitely isn’t.” He pauses. “My son.” Dean rolls the word on his tongue, testing it. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

  I don’t think I would either. A kid is such a huge step. I’ve resigned myself to the fact I’ll never have kids of my own, but I’m pretty sure my brothers will have enough to fill the clubhouse anyway.

  Dean and I share a similar history. We both grew up with our fathers in jail—although his was locked up for defending his mother’s memory; mine for taking my mother away from everyone who loved her. Unlike me, though, Dean had family who cared about him. His gran raised him. Christ, the whole Club raised him. He knew love and what it felt like to be cared for.

  I was put into the foster care system and did things I had to in order to survive—things I’m not proud of, things I’ll take to the grave with me. These things stain me still today. I’ll never be more than I am because I’m wading in the filth of my past.

  “What jobs have we got in?” he asks, pulling me back to the present.

  I run through the list and when I’m finished, he glances past me to Jesse, who is buried under the hood of an old Ford. I have to admit, he seems more focused, happier. The change in him is radical.

  “Is he doing okay?”

  “He’s dealing. He seems to be anyway. He’s talking more, engaged… he’s like a different kid.”

  Dean’s mouth pulls into a tight line before he says.

  “I was talking to Logan. Him and Beth put an offer in on a property over the New Year. Their flat will be empty in maybe six to eight weeks’ time—depending how fast the solicitors exchange contracts. Lo said he’ll rent it to her for the same price she’s paying now. We can get Chloe and Jesse moved in at the same time as we help Lo move.”

  I had no idea Lo and Beth were moving, but it’s good news. It settles my nerves knowing they’ll be in a place owned by a brother.

  “Thanks, Dean.” And I really mean that. I hate that shithole they’re both living in. It’s not fit for habitation.

  Dean considers me for a moment. “It’s none of my business, and you can tell me to shove my nose out of it, but is there something going on between you and the sister?”

  “Fuck no.” I hold my hand to my heart and then in my best joking tone add, “I’m not limited to a one-woman relationship. There’s plenty of Weed to go around, D.”

  Even as I say it, I feel the jagged edges of my words cutting me. I would gladly give up everything for a woman like Chloe, if I wasn’t so busy trying to convince myself of all the reasons I shouldn’t.

  I can tell he’s not convinced, but Dean doesn’t push it. I’m glad, because I might just spill my guts and that is the last thing I need to do.

  “Do you want to talk to Chloe about the new place? Or do you want me to do it?”

  The sensible answer would be to hand this over to Dean and let him do it, but an excuse to see her again is something I can’t ignore. I want to see her again, even though I shouldn’t. Getting involved, embroiled in hers and Jesse’s life is a bad idea, but as much as I want to walk away, I know that isn’t going to happen.

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to her.”

  Stupid move, but I can’t take back the words now.

  Dean stares at me again, and I’m sure he’s picking thoughts out of my brain. Then he says, “I’ll get the information for you.”

  “Thanks, brother. I appreciate it.”

  “Once you’ve spoken to Chloe, can you give Lo her details so he can sort out rent payments with her?”

  This makes something flare in me, a need to take care of what is mine—even if she’s not mine. “I’m paying it.”

  I have no idea why I say this. I can afford it, easily, but that’s not the point.

  Fuck me.

  His brow furrows. “But there’s nothing going on there, right?”

  I don’t miss the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

  “Does there have to be something going on? Can I not just be doing something nice?”

  “No.”

  “Hey, I can be nice! I’m the epitome of fucking nice.”

  “You fuck them and leave them. You don’t set up house with them. What’s going on?”

  I place a hand on my chest, just over my heart. “You wound me deep, brother.”

  “Quit fucking about and just tell me the truth.”

  “Nothing is going on between me and Chloe.”

  Only because I won’t allow it. I don’t think Chloe would take much convincing.

  “Good, because I’m not handing this over to you if shit’s going to get messy. Jesse needs a safe home. He doesn’t need to be moving around because you pull funding their rent.”

  “I’m hurt by how low an opinion you have of me. I wouldn’t kick them out. I’m not a twat,” I tell him. “But you don’t have to worry anyway. Me and Chloe… there’s nothing there. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot.”

  Dean grunts. “She clearly knows you well.”

  “Arsehole.”

  Dean considers me for a moment. “It’s not my business what you do, but life’s short, brother. Don’t let something good pass you by.”

  Ash forms in my belly at his words, at the fact he might be right and the fear I have of taking any step. I’m a coward, and this is certainly a kick to the little pride I have.

  “This is getting too fucking chick flick for me,” I mutter, deflecting as usual, rather than dealing with my feelings.

  Dean taps my bicep with his fist. “Quit being a dick and pay attention. If you like her, go for it. She seems like a good girl, altho
ugh what the fuck she sees in you, I don’t know.”

  The joke has me rolling my eyes. “Already the ‘bad dad’ jokes start. You’ve been a parent, what? Two weeks?”

  “If you quit messing around for two seconds you might actually realise what I’m saying is right.”

  I might also realise I need to step up and face a few truths I’m not yet ready to face.

  And that scares me more than anything else could.

  Chapter Ten

  “I can’t accept this.”

  I grind my teeth at her words. It’s the same thing she’s repeated since I told her about Logan’s flat. After Dean brought it up, I spoke to Logan myself. He was fine about putting them in the flat for a cheaper rate. He also reckons the contracts will complete sooner than Dean suggested.

  It settles some of the tension in my chest, knowing Chloe and Jesse will be in Logan’s old place. I’ve been to his flat more times than I can count, so I’m familiar with the layout of it. It is clean, in a decent part of town and it has a lot more space for Chloe and Jesse. It’s a good family home, which is what they need. I hate them being in that poky, tired looking place.

  Chloe isn’t too keen on this idea, however. In fact, she’s being stubborn as hell. She refuses to move on the issue, and I’m getting frustrated by her kicking back.

  “It’s a better place for you and for Jesse,” I reiterate.

  “I can’t afford it, Weed.”

  I glance to the dirty ceiling in her flat. “I already told you—money isn’t an issue. Lo will rent it to you for what you’re paying now.”

  The crack in her temper starts to show for the first time. “I’m not a charity case. I don’t need propping up. I can take care of me and Jesse.”

  “I’m sure you can, but for fuck’s sake, take the help being offered. It’ll make both of your lives better and easier. It’s closer to work for Jesse.”

  “It’s closer for Chlo, too,” Jesse pipes up from the sofa, where he’s sitting, eyes glued to the television.

  “Privacy! Look into the word,” Chloe snips at him, but he waves her off.

  “I can’t really ignore you both. You’re standing two feet from me and talking loud.”

  “Jess,” I warn him, my tone a little sharp. “A bit of respect, yeah?”

  He sighs and turns back to the TV. “Fine.”

  I give my attention back to Chloe. “Babe, it’s a great place and it’s got a ton of space. You and Jess will be better there. I’ll feel better knowing you’re there.”

  Her eyes soften. “You would?”

  “Yeah,” I admit. “I need to know you’re safe. That you’re both safe.”

  I watch her head as it twists slightly to the side. “You don’t give me the impression you care at all about me, so why are you pushing this?”

  Fuck. I scrub a hand over my face. I do care. I care too much, which is the problem.

  “Look, take it or don’t take it. It’s your prerogative, but it’s a fucking bargain and you’d be a stubborn idiot to turn it down.”

  She stares at me a beat, then says, “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. If it means this much to you, fine, we’ll move.”

  Relief floods me. “Thank you.”

  I don’t know what I’m saying thank you for: the fact she relented or the fact she’s going to be safer. All I know is the heavy weight sitting on my chest lifts with her agreement. “And Chloe, for the record, I do care about you.”

  I catch a glimpse of her smile as she lowers her head to stare at her hands. “Have dinner with us.”

  A lump sits in my throat. “What?”

  “Dinner. Eat with us.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “As a thank you. Please.”

  When she asks me in that tone, I can’t deny her. I feel the fight leaving me, the fight that says this is too domestic, too familiar, too normal. That ‘please’ makes me want to fix anything for her and do what she asks.

  “Okay,” I relent, because what other choice is there?

  “Okay?” she repeats.

  “Yeah. I’ll stay and eat.”

  She practically beams, and I vow to make her do this as often as I can. It makes her look so beautiful.

  “I’m making Mexican.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Well, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll make a start.”

  What am I doing? Everything in my head is screaming ‘abort’, but my legs carry me over to the sofa. I sink down next to Jesse. “What are you watching?”

  “Just some action flick. Do you want me to put something else on?”

  “Nah, this is fine.”

  My head is racing as I sit with the kid, watching the movie. And for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to come home to this every night—whether I could deal with coming home to this every night. It feels normal, good, but the fact it feels both those things is unsettling too.

  Dinner is amazing. Chloe’s a good cook, and I can’t remember the last time I had a proper home-cooked meal—besides Christmas Day, and that was only because Piper forced the issue. Most of the time, I grab a microwave meal or takeout. I usually eat on the go, and living in the clubhouse doesn’t really lend to cooking properly, even though there is a fully decked out kitchen. Besides, I wouldn’t anyway. Cooking is not one of my strengths.

  Watching her from my spot on her sofa as she makes her way through her food, I find myself wanting, yearning for this sense of normality. It’s something I’ve never had, not since before my mum was killed anyway.

  It feels strange to engage in a meal where you discuss what you did that day, where you talk about your hopes for the rest of the week, where you just discuss things that matter to you.

  Jesse is chatty, which surprises me. He’s talking a hundred miles per hour and it’s good to see the person he is underneath the hardship he was living in. He’s actually pretty funny and I find myself chuckling along with his stories.

  When we’ve finished eating, I grab her plate and the dishes off the low coffee table. They don’t have a dining table. There’s no space for it, so we ate sitting on the sofa.

  “I can clean up,” she tells me, but I shake my head.

  “You made it. Me and Jess’ll do the dishes.”

  Jesse makes a sound of complaint, but I say, “Come on, kid. Be fair. Your sister cooked us up a feast. The least we can do is clean up after.”

  He pushes up without grumbling this time.

  After we’ve finished the dishes, Jesse heads to his bedroom, while I make my way back to the living area.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” Chloe asks, glancing up at me from the sofa. She’s sitting with her feet tucked under her, looking sexy as fuck. Her red hair is pulled into a messy ponytail and she’s only wearing leggings and a baggy top, but she looks beautiful.

  “More than enough, thanks.”

  She studies me for a moment. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Jesse. Honestly, Weed, I don’t know if we’d be where we are if you hadn’t helped out.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She gets to her feet and I wonder what the fuck she’s going to do as she edges towards me. Then she rolls up onto the balls of her feet and I hold my breath as she brushes a kiss to my cheek. My balls tighten and my cock twitches at the feel of her lips against my skin. The urge to capture her mouth and claim her now is overwhelming. For a moment, I consider being selfish and taking what I want.

  But I can’t.

  When she pulls back, she’s looking up at me with her big, beautiful green eyes. Expectation wars with a coyness I’ve not seen from her before, but I want to see it again. There’s an innocence there that I didn’t expect from my little firecracker, a softness I want to get lost in.

  I step back with monumental effort and the look on her face makes me wish I hadn’t moved. There’s a hint of dismay mixed with her clear embarrassm
ent. Her cheeks burn red and I hate myself for causing it.

  “Chloe—”

  “All right then,” she cuts over me, the dismay in her voice clear. “I think I'm going to head to bed.”

  Fuck.

  “Chloe, I’m—”

  What?

  Sorry?

  I am sorry I hurt her, but kissing her can’t happen.

  She holds up a hand. “Don’t explain. It’s fine. I need to get to bed. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  Fuck me.

  I let her usher me to the front door, my heart racing. This feels like the crossroads we were at just got set on fire.

  I want her. I don’t know why I can’t take that step with her, because I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my entire life. She fits me, but I can’t take that step. I won’t subject her to the Williams’ rage.

  At the door, I hesitate, refusing to step through it until I make her understand my hesitancy.

  “It’s not you.”

  Her eyes roll. “If you give me the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, I might punch you in the nose.”

  “It’s true, though. I’m a fucked-up mess, babe, and as much as I want you—and I really do want you—I’ll never let myself go there.” I give her a soft smile. “The best thing you can do is put any idea about you and me out of your head.”

  I watch her gaze narrow on me. “You are not a fucked-up mess, Weed. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need saving. And even if I did, I don’t deserve it.”

  And with that parting blow, I leave her standing in the doorway of the flat and head towards my bike.

  Chapter Eleven

  The garage is open weekends. Usually me and Dean rotate shifts, but I’ve picked up some extra, so he can be at home. I’d want to spend as much time as possible with my old lady and kid if I was him, and it’s not like I have any other shit to do, so I don’t mind. Plus, keeping my hands busy keeps my mind off a certain redhead I can’t seem to prise free of my thoughts.

  There’s a light workload in today, and since Miles and Jesse don’t work weekends either, I’m here alone. Usually, I like the peace. It enables me to get my head down and get a lot done, although I prefer it when Dean is here. Having a brother around always makes me feel better, less exposed. Plus, Dean is fun to take the piss out of. The guy is so fucking serious.