“No can do, Gramps,” Justin said more casually than he felt. His heart had lodged in his throat on his way to the hospital, and it wasn’t until he’d seen and spoken to Mike that the oppressive clouds of doom had lifted enough for him to breathe properly again. “You gave us quite a scare and we need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I just wanted some ice cream,” Mike grumbled. “If the damn dog hadn’t been in my way, I’d have been fine.”
That was Mike’s story, that he’d tripped over one of Preacher’s dogs. But according to Preacher, the dogs weren’t in the kitchen at the time.
Preacher and Conroy exchanged a worried glance.
“We’ll have ice cream tomorrow night, Grandpa. I promise.” Madigan pushed between Preacher and Justin and said, “Right, Mav? We’ll get him his favorite flavor from the Cape Cone.”
“Absolutely, Mads.” Justin put his arm around her, hugging her against his side. Madigan was seven years younger than Justin. She’d been only four years old when he moved in, and she’d followed him around everywhere. He hadn’t known what to do with an adoring little girl with stars in her eyes. But his basal instincts had kicked in, and even when he was a lost little shit, he’d been protective of Madigan.
“You’ll be fine,” Preacher said. “It’s only one night, Pops.”
“This is the safest place for you, Gramps. You know that,” Baz said.
“You’re a doctor. You could have sewn up my head,” Mike grumbled.
Baz chuckled. “I could also neuter you to get rid of some of that bullheadedness, but I try not to cross the human-canine lines if I can help it.”
“You’re no help,” Mike grumbled. “I just want to sleep in my own bed.” He squinted, eyeing his family members, and then leaned to the side, peering around them. “I thought this was a room full of men. Nobody’s going to break me out of here?” He swatted the air angrily and said, “Y’all are a bunch of pansies.”
“I ain’t no pansy,” Zander said. “But if I were you, I’d stick around, Gramps. There aren’t any hot nurses to take care of you back home.”
Zeke nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Grandpa. Soak up the attention from the pretty ladies while you can. Like Preach said, it’s only one night. You’ll walk out of here good as new tomorrow.”
“One night is a lot when you have as few left as I’ve got,” Mike complained.
Justin’s throat constricted. He’d missed out on knowing this incredible man for the first eleven years of his life. He didn’t want to imagine a world without him in it.
“What are you talking about?” Conroy patted his father’s leg and said, “You’re as strong as a mule and as stubborn as one, too. You’re not going anywhere. We’re going to be stuck with you for the next decade.”
“At least,” Preacher added.
“And we’re thrilled about it,” Ginger said from across the hospital bed, where she stood like a strawberry-blond beacon of light between Tank in his leather vest—arms crossed over his massive chest, dark eyes trained on Mike just as they had been since he’d arrived—and Blaine, a pillar of strength and the calm to everyone’s storm.
Blaine placed his hand over Ginger’s. She touched the side of her head to his shoulder and nudged her tortoiseshell glasses to the bridge of her nose. Ginger was like a second—third—mother to Justin. She helped Conroy run the Salty Hog, and like Reba, she was everything a biker’s wife had to be. She took no guff from anyone, and she treated the Dark Knights and their families as just that—family. But even with her tough resolve, Justin was always aware of the emptiness Ashley had left behind, in the same way his mother had left a gaping abyss in him. Ginger treated Madigan, Marly, and all of the girls who worked for her as if they were her children, or as she would say, Gifts from a world that had stolen her only daughter.
“I’m beginning to think you’ve all lost your minds, leaving me here overnight,” Mike complained. “Old people go into hospitals and they don’t come out.”
Gunner scoffed as he pushed through the crowd and said, “I’m more worried about those poor nurses than I am about you. The blonde just told me that when they were getting you settled in your room, you asked her for a sponge bath.”
Mike snickered. “It was worth a shot. She is a cutie.” He jiggled Justin’s hand and said, “If things don’t work out with that pretty little filly you’ve been chasing, you might think about breaking an arm or something.”
A rumble of chuckles rose around them as Reba breezed into the room and said, “Okay, gentlemen, listen up. Apparently the nurses have had enough eye candy for tonight.” She patted a few of the guys on their shoulders on her way to the foot of the bed. “We’ve used up all our favors, and they’ve given us the boot.”
“That’s probably for the best. Pop needs his rest,” Preacher said.
Mike curled his fingers around Justin’s, holding tight as the visiting Dark Knights bade him good night. Mike grumbled goodbyes and said Get out of here so many times, the last couple of men to leave said, We’re going, we’re going.
Justin could hear Preacher and Conroy in the hallway thanking the guys for coming.
Mike pulled Justin closer and said, “You remember when your father had those kidney stones? He hated the food here. You know they won’t give me any sugar. Sure you don’t want to break me out of here?”
“I’m sure. But I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow morning, and I plan on spending the whole day with you. You’ll get sick of me fast.”
“Thank you, son,” Mike said as Conroy and Preacher came back into the room. He pulled Justin closer again and whispered, “Bring cookies, will ya? Or a chocolate chip muffin. Yeah, a muffin.”
He’d bring Mike whatever he wanted, because the thought of that man lying in a hospital bed tonight slayed him.
When they left the room, Reba wrapped one arm around Justin, the other around Tank. She was only about five three, with shoulder-length mahogany hair, the same shade as Madigan’s, and eyes that saw right through just about everyone. She had a knack for knowing who needed a little extra mothering, and Justin wasn’t ashamed to be one of the ones to receive it tonight.
“He’s okay, sweethearts,” Reba said soothingly. “He’ll be coming home tomorrow.”
Tank grumbled something incoherent.
“Yeah, I know,” Justin said, trying to hide his concern.
“Listen, boys. I know how hard it is to see Grandpa like this, but he’s not nearly done with us. He comes from good stock. Well, strong stock, anyway,” she said as they followed the others out of the hospital. “I’m around tonight if either of you wants to come by and talk.”
Tank pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Thanks, Aunt Reba. I’m cool.” He lumbered off toward his bike.
“I’m good. Thanks, Mom.” Justin hugged her.
She held him for an extra moment and said, “I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too.” It had taken Justin years to say he loved Reba, or anyone else for that matter. She’d been the second person in his life to hear him say those three words. He remembered saying them to his birth mother, but as far as he knew, he’d never once uttered them to his biological father. Calling Reba Mom had come years later. But when he’d finally taken those steps, he’d felt like his whole world had changed for the better once again.
“Hey, Ma,” Blaine said as he joined them. “Take care of Dad? I don’t want to interrupt him and Con.”
“Of course, sweets.” She hugged him and said, “You boys be safe tonight.”
“Always,” they said in unison.
After she walked away, Blaine said, “You coming by my place with the guys?”
“Maybe later. I’ve got something I need to take care of first.”
CHLOE AWOKE TO the ding of a text. She reached for her phone and sat up on the couch. Given how amped up she’d been earlier in the evening, she couldn’t believe she’d dozed off. The lights from the television illuminated her dark living ro
om. She glanced at her phone and saw a message from Justin. Her pulse quickened. She’d been irritated by his abrupt departure, but Gavin had seemed worried. She was in such a hazy state of lust when he’d left that she’d noticed he looked a little something, but she hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to decipher what that something was.
She opened and read his text. Hey, heartbreaker. You awake?
It wasn’t unusual for her to get a late-night text from Justin. They were usually flirty, or in cases when there was bad weather—like when the storm had hit—protective, asking if she was okay and if she needed anything. She thought about their dirty danceathon and how hot and bothered she’d gotten from his touch, and his mouth.
Heat burned through her with the memory.
She curled her legs up on the cushion beside her as she responded. Yes. What happened tonight?
She heard the roar of a motorcycle and flew to her feet. He was here? Her eyes darted to the light hitting her front window as he pulled into her driveway. Shit. She looked down at her silk sleeping shorts and tank top, cursing herself. He probably thought the way she had danced with him had meant she wanted to sleep with him.
Which she did, but that was her little secret. Her Wicked fantasy.
She wasn’t going to actually do it!
Her phone dinged with another text, and she clutched it tighter. What had she done? She had been doing such a good job of keeping her distance, or at least she’d tried to keep a virtual wall between them for all this time, and she’d blown it all with one dance.
It was his fault, unleashing all that raw masculinity on her, like he’d had X-ray vision and had seen her deepest desires. What did she think would happen? That she could put on a show like that for a man like Justin and get away scot-free?
She stood in the middle of her living room clutching her phone, fully aware that there was no place to hide from what she’d done. He knew she was home.
She lifted her phone and read his text. Come out front.
Oh God. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what she had to do. Justin was her friend first, a flirt second. Okay, so he’d started flirting seven seconds after they’d first met, but still. She didn’t want to mess up their friendship, but more than that, she wasn’t going to climb into bed with him just because he knew how to push all her buttons.
She opened her eyes, inhaling deeply, and blew it out slowly, telling herself to just do it already. She typed, I’m not sleeping with you, and sent it to him. Then she stared at her phone, holding her breath as she awaited his reply.
A knock at her door sent the air rushing from her lungs.
Damn it.
Okay, Chloe. Time to face the music.
He knocked again, making her heart race impossibly faster.
She grabbed her cardigan from the back of the couch and put it on as she stalked to the door. Fake it until you make it. She drew her shoulders back, inhaled another calming breath that did nothing to ease her nerves, and pulled the door open. Justin stood in the moonlight wearing the same worn jeans and black T-shirt he’d had on at the bar. His hair had that just-been-fucked look, though she was sure—or hoped—it was from his motorcycle helmet and he wasn’t actually making a booty call after just having made a booty call. She felt a little sick at that thought.
Wait, this was Justin. He wouldn’t do that.
Would he?
He was looking at her funny, and she realized she hadn’t washed off her makeup before sitting down to watch television. She probably had bedhead and racoon eyes. She reached up, absently touching her hair.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the same visceral arrogance or flirty vibe as usual. He sounded a little sad. “We have a dance to finish.”
She stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her, and pulled her sweater tight around her, crossing her arms over her middle. “I’m not having sex with you, Justin. I’m sorry if I led you on at Undercover.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, and he said, “Babe, I’m just here for a dance.”
He did something on his phone and “Heartbeat” by Carrie Underwood began playing. It was her favorite country song. She couldn’t believe her ears.
“Justin…?”
He set his phone on the porch table and said, “You went to see her in concert last fall, and I heard you tell Daphne this was your favorite song.”
His arms circled her waist, and he gazed into her eyes, swaying to the beat. She stood rigid, waiting for him to make his move. But then she realized his hands weren’t roaming and his hips weren’t grinding. His gaze was soft, endearing. They were just slow dancing. It was romantic and sweet, and making her melt inside. She didn’t know what to say, but as her tension eased, she began swaying with him.
“Did I get the song wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she said softly. “I’m just surprised. You really just want to dance?”
“Aw, Chloe. If you need to ask that, you have definitely been going out with the wrong guys.” His hand moved up her back, and he played with the ends of her hair. “A gentleman doesn’t lie. Especially to a woman he adores.”
Adores? Did that word really just come out of Justin’s mouth? Everything he was doing was so different from what she knew of him, she couldn’t help but say, “Does a gentleman trap a woman outside the ladies’ room and make a pass at her?”
“No. Did someone do that?”
She smiled and said, “You did.”
“That wasn’t a pass, sweetheart. If I had made a move on you, you’d know it.” He put his lips beside her ear and said, “That was a reminder.”
He didn’t say anything more, remaining silent long enough for her to realize how much she enjoyed being in his arms and the way their bodies fit together, moving in harmony without the pressure of sex. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply slow danced with a man.
“You like to pretend you don’t feel anything for me,” he said, drawing her from her thoughts. “It’s about time you stopped doing that.”
Maybe it was time, or maybe she was just completely out of sorts, because whenever he was near, he made her feel so many things she never had before. He was dangerous for her heart, wasn’t he? She needed to know more about him, about his life, his world.
“Why did you leave so fast tonight?” she asked.
“I’m sorry about that. My grandfather, Mike, is in the hospital.”
The pain in his voice brought an ache to her chest, and she held him a little tighter. “I’m sorry. Is he okay?”
“Hopefully. They’re keeping him overnight.”
He’d dropped everything to go see his grandfather. Maybe that shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. “Are you close to him?”
“Very. He’s a good man. He’s taught me a lot.”
She realized the song had started over, and she was glad it had. She wasn’t ready to stop dancing with him. They fell into comfortable silence, and she found herself hoping the song would repeat a third time. She wanted to ask Justin more questions, but she sensed that maybe he needed this quiet moment, this closeness, as much as she wanted it. It was a strange thought for her to have about the man who took advantage of every chance he got to flirt with her. He probably did the same thing with a lot of other women. She’d seen women ogling him every time they were out with their friends, and just because she’d never seen him bring a date with him or pick up a woman while they were out didn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Although, now that she was really thinking about it, his eyes were always on her when they were out.
Ugh. She was so conflicted. On the one hand, she saw Justin as an impossible flirt without boundaries. But on the other hand, she knew him to be a good, caring, protective friend, a talented artist, and from what she’d seen and heard, an honest, hard worker. She didn’t know what to make of everything she felt right then. But she knew one thing for sure. Dancing barefoot beneath the stars on that warm summer night with the man she’d
sworn off felt good and right, and it was the most romantic thing a man had ever done for her.
When the song ended and didn’t restart, her heart sank, but neither of them stopped dancing. Justin held her a little tighter, and she gave in to the urge to be closer. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the type of closeness she’d read about in too many romance novels and had never believed could happen in real life.
But it was happening. Justin didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive for this impromptu completion of their dance, which she found incredibly sexy.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d danced to their own silent beat, but when Justin drew back with a soft and compelling gaze, she instantly mourned the loss of their closeness. Those feelings came with a side of confusion, but she didn’t try to figure it all out. However long they’d danced, however confused she might be, she wanted to step back into his arms and experience it all over again.
“Thank you for the dance, Chloe. Sorry I came by so late.”
“Tha…that’s it? That’s really all you wanted?”
“For tonight, yes. A gentleman always finishes what he starts.” He kissed her cheek and said, “But I’m nowhere near done with you, Chloe Mallery.” He pocketed his phone and sauntered over to his bike, where he grabbed his helmet and said, “Sleep well, hot lips. Now, get your sweet little ass inside so I know you’re safe.”
There’s the Justin I know…
She went inside, grinning like a fool. When he started his bike, she peeked out the sidelight window, watching him put on his helmet and back out of the driveway.
Maybe it is time I get to know the rest of you.
Chapter Six
MOST OF CHLOE’S friends talked about how wonderful it was to return to their childhood homes and visit their parents. They raved about those visits sparking memories of family dinners, heartfelt moments, and more importantly, the feeling of safety. For Chloe and Serena, family dinners had never been a thing. It was usually just the two of them, and meals were pasta with butter that they’d made themselves, cold cereal, or something else equally easy and cheap. Heartfelt moments were few and far between, and a feeling of safety was something Chloe had strived to create for Serena but their mother had never worked very hard at creating for them. As Chloe pulled up to their mother’s gray rambler for brunch Sunday morning, the knots in her stomach tightened. Serena’s car was parked in the driveway behind their mother’s ancient beater. Their mother took care of her car about as well as she had of her daughters and everything else in her life.
A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds Page 6
