by Amelia Shea
While she didn’t know Saint well, there was an air to him. Unrushed, stoic, and completely cool. As if he knew the outcome of every situation. Even last week, when things seemed extremely tense after the town meeting, Saint appeared collected and unfazed by the mounting tension with Kase and Coop. His title as VP had to hold some power, which she assumed meant when Saint spoke, people listened. When Saint gave an order, it was followed. And when he knocks on your door, you answer.
“Shit,” she muttered.
She licked her lips and tapped her foot lightly. The internal struggle was twisting her stomach in knots. She was going over in her head how their interaction played out. He was prepared to sit on his bike all night just so she felt safe? Then, basically, he set up a date for breakfast. Her mind went straight to her default reasoning. Pity.
Everyone felt sorry for the girls with the scars.
He knocked again, replicating his first two attempts. How long would he do this? She glanced at the clock— 7:12am. She moved forward, grasping the knob and unlocking the door. She pulled it open wide. Her gaze set on the ground, hooked onto his beat-up, road dusted boots and blue jeans. They fit snug around his legs, probably because the man had thick, strong, muscular thighs. Her gaze traveled up to his chest. She couldn’t be sure, but she assumed he had an amazing abs. He had his cut on. Her eyes skimmed over his patch—VP—and up his neck. His face was usually clean-shaven. This morning he was sporting a dark, five o’clock shadow. She bit her lip in indecision. She didn’t know which she preferred. Both? Ahhh, his face. Strong, sharp features, cheekbones cut down to his jaw making his face harsh. His dark brows angled up in the center. Naturally she assumed, giving him a sexy sinister arch. The only light on his face were his eyes. Violet.
“Hi.” Her breathy whisper made her face heat up. “I’m sorry, I was, uh…” Freaking out? She jerked her head to hide her blush and quickly scanned the kitchen, trying to conjure up a lie.
“Can I come in?”
She whipped her head and stared up at him. He was standing outside the door. There was nothing soft about Saint, but for some reason, he never frightened her. He was solid, almost sending the vibe that if he was in the room, it would be fine. She smiled. He remained stoic and staring.
“Uh, of course, c’mon in.” She stepped aside and widened the door. Without an ounce of hesitation, Saint walked in. He passed by her, and she glanced up through her lashes and breathed in his scent. Fresh and clean with a hint of pine.
She released her breath and closed the door. She watched as Saint moved to the table, setting down a brown bag. For the next thirty seconds, she watched him amble around her kitchen, grabbing plates after two unsuccessful searches in her cabinets. He grabbed napkins from the counter before taking a seat at the table and reaching in the bag. He seemed very at home in her kitchen. Meanwhile, she stood near the door.
He glanced up with a small smile playing on his lips. “Are ya hungry?”
She cleared her throat but didn’t respond. She slowly walked over to the seat next to him and remained standing. “Do you want anything to drink, coffee, or juice?”
“I’ll take a cup of coffee if ya got extra.”
She nodded and stumbled to the counter. Calm down. “Uh yeah, I got plenty.” With her back facing Saint, she felt a slight relief. At least he wasn’t witnessing her flushed cheeks. She grabbed the cream from the fridge and stopped halfway. He takes milk in his coffee. She turned around, putting it back and grabbing the milk. She poured a little, stirred and gave a splash more before adding two sugars.
She brought it to the table, placing it near his plate, and took her seat. She wiped her hands on her pajama bottoms as if there was something to wipe. There wasn’t, but she wasn’t quite ready to make eye contact.
“Ya know how I take my coffee.”
She jerked her gaze, and his eyes burned into hers. She gulped. Unknowing to him, she’d watched him when he attended the town meetings, particularly when he was at the refreshment table. It was a safe time. He was busy making his coffee, unaware she was checking him out.
She gave an awkward chuckle. “Lucky guess.”
His lips twitched as he continued to stare without saying a word. He must have thought she was weird. Oh God, he thinks I’m some stalker chick.
He raised his cup, taking a sip, his violet eyes glancing over the rim of the mug.
She tore her gaze from him and arranged her plate in front of her seat. The bag was on his left side so she would have to reach over him or just wait for him to offer a bagel. She waited. He placed his mug down.
“What kind do you want?”
“Umm… what do ya have?”
“Sundried tomato, everything, and blueberry.”
She smiled. “Damn, this is gonna be hard then, those are my three favorites.”
He arched a brow. “I know.”
He knows? How does he know?
“Whatever you grab is fine.”
“Which one do you want?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, really, I like them all.”
He stared at her a bit longer and slowly shook his head, his brows coming down hard. “You get a choice, you always get a choice. You don’t take what I give ya, you choose. Ya feel me, sweetheart?”
Oh. My. God. She wasn’t feeling anything at the time, not a friggin’ thing. Hell, she could barely feel her own breath. Sweetheart? Did Saint Monroe seriously just call her ‘sweetheart’? Again. She’d never heard him use nicknames with anyone, always their proper names when he spoke to them. But he just called me ‘sweetheart,’ for the second time.
She stared back, knowing he was waiting on her response on her choice of bagel and if she felt him. She wasn’t even sure what he meant. How was she supposed to answer?
“Uh…yeah, I feel ya.” Her breath hitched, and she gulped. “Sundried tomato.”
His lips twitched slightly, not enough to shake his stoic features, but giving her something she had seen before. She was amusing him. He dug in the bag, grabbing her bagel, and placed it on her plate. Before she could even ask for it, he reached over, grabbing the cream cheese and setting it down near her plate.
The corner of her mouth curled. “How do you know I don’t use butter?” It was a small tease. She always used cream cheese. She could eat the stuff with a spoon.
He rested his elbows on the table. “The same way you know how I take my coffee, I assume.”
She knew because she watched him. Oh wow. She averted her eyes from his penetrating gaze. She focused on her bagel. Her hand shook as she spread the cream cheese. Calm down. If Saint noticed her nervousness, he didn’t mention it.
She bit into her bagel and moaned then clamped her mouth shut and chewed. She wiped her mouth. “This is so good, where’d ya get them?”
“Lawry.”
“The mecca?” She smirked and raised her brows. Compared to Ghosttown, every place was a Mecca. It had become an inside joke because when the girls took the two-hour ride, they came back with a million bags.
“Yeah.” He ate the last bite of his bagel, and she figured he would be leaving soon. For unknown reasons, it bothered her. She licked her lips and took another bite.
“Long drive just for bagels.”
“Picked them up last night on my way home from seeing my girl.”
She smiled, thinking of the little girl in the picture. “Cia?”
He nodded and watched her. There was something in the way he scanned her face, gauging her reaction. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. She took another bite of her bagel and glanced back up to find his eyes on her.
“You like kids?”
She choked a little, completely caught off guard by his question. She swallowed the large chunk, forcing it down her throat. It took a few seconds to answer. She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, I like kids. I have two nieces and a nephew.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’m kinda their favorite aunt.” She snickered. “Probably ’
cause we’re about the same size. I swear, my nephew, who’s six, thinks I’m one of the grandkids, too.”
Saint’s face transformed into a grin, and a low rumbling chuckle sounded from his chest.
“You have a big family?”
Bailey paused then glanced up at the ceiling. “I don’t know if it would be considered big. My mom and dad. I have two older brothers and one younger.”
Saint snorted. “That’s big.”
“Well, how about you?”
“My dad passed ten years ago, and my mom six. I have one brother.”
“Oh wow, Saint, I’m sorry.”
He nodded. She assumed talking about his parents was a subject she should stay away from. She took another bite from her bagel and chewed in silence.
“You close with your family?”
She nodded, finishing the last of her breakfast. “Yeah, I mean, sort of. I’m close with my mom and dad. My older brothers, not so much anymore. They have families now, and uh….” She let her voice trail off not wanting to give any more information. There was a reason she was no longer close with them. Discussing it with Saint was not an option. She sighed. “I’m close to Van, though, he’s the youngest. Twenty-four, we’re kinda like Irish twins.” She smiled. “Most of my childhood memories include him.” She paused. “What about you and your brother, you close?”
He nodded and tightened his lips. “Yeah, we’re close. We’re all we’ve got, which plays a part in our relationship. Don’t necessarily see eye to eye on everything, but for the most part, Roman is a good guy.” He cocked a brow. “When he’s not being an asshole.”
Bailey burst out laughing. She covered her mouth and watched as Saint gave her a full grin. His smile was amazing.
“Saint and Roman, huh?” Her lips twitched, trying her best to hold back her amusement.
Saint settled into his seat and folded his arms. “My mom was a diehard Catholic. Not a fan of the rules and commandments, but she showed up for Sunday mass. I think she figured if she gave her boys good Catholic names, she’d get a pass from the big guy upstairs. My mom was gonna need it.” He chuckled with ease.
She was struck with her own ease. Long gone was the anxious energy from when he first arrived. The butterflies in her stomach were still running rampant. She could deal with it if it meant Saint was in her kitchen sharing his personal life. If he was willing to be open, maybe she could push the envelope. So much was unknown about him. Mainly the question weighing on her mind.
“Can I ask you something?”
His gaze flickered to her. “You can ask me anything.”
Don’t do it. She should have listened to her inner voice, but she had to know. She was aware he didn’t mess with the club girls, but he could very well have someone he didn’t bring around. Someone even Nadia didn’t know about. This was a test. If he had a woman then it was confirmed. He was at her house eating bagels with her out of pity. If he didn’t? Well, then…
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
He didn’t even flinch, not a facial change or a reaction from his body. “Why?”
She shrugged. It was a yes or no question. She wasn’t prepared to answer any herself. She glanced down at the table. “I don’t know, just curious.”
“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” She responded immediately and looked at him. He rested his arms on the table, shifting his body closer to her. “No.”
Her mouth went dry, and she reached for her coffee, spilling a little off the rim. Pull it together. She took a sip and settled back in her seat. “Yeah, I’ve never seen you with anyone.” Oh my God, shut up! What was she doing? Too honest.
“Were ya watching me, Bailey?” His tone was low. His voice sent a shiver through her chest.
“A little bit,” she whispered.
He smiled. Not a corner lifting or a tiny smirk. Saint gave her a heart-stopping, teeth gleaming, pleasured smile. Her face burned, and she tucked her chin into her chest, trying her best to keep her blush from showing. She wished she had moved her hands to her lap. There was a slight shake she couldn’t seem to control.
His hand reached out, weaving his fingers through hers, leaving them palm to palm. I’m holding Saint’s hand. Again, though this time, he initiated it. His thumb rubbed over her finger, and she felt her breath shallow. She peeked up through her lashes to find his gaze locked on her. His eyes darkened slightly, and she shifted in her chair, trying to release the pressure from her throbbing clit. Oh hell, she could never be with Saint. I can barely make it through handholding without passing out.
The corner of his mouth curled. “You okay?”
She nodded. Don’t you dare pass out.
His hand tightened around hers, and he moved closer. Was he going to kiss her? “I have to get going.”
No!
Her body deflated. She sunk into her seat and veered her gaze to the door. He released her hand, and she rested it over her lap. Her body still tingled from their connection.
The chair scraped the floor, and she watched as he got up. It’s over? He was so tall and seemed double in size in her tiny kitchen. He fixed the cuffs of his shirt, and she was struck with a sudden pang of regret. She wished she could have spent more time with him. This was the most they’d ever spoken, and now it was over. He started to the back door and glanced over his shoulder. He was waiting on her.
She got up and rounded the table, stopping a few feet away. She was currently chewing on the inside of her mouth. It was the only distraction she had from making one of the biggest possible blunders in her life. Don’t do it, do not do it.
“Do you wanna come over for dinner?” Oh God, I actually did it. The second she blurted it out, she regretted it. He turned slowly, glancing down at her. Now she put him in an awkward spot where he’d have to come up with some excuse. Leave it to her to take a perfectly great morning breakfast with Saint and ruin it at the very end.
“Ya know what? Um…forget it,” she mumbled and gave a nervous laugh.
His lips parted, and the corners of his mouth jutted up. “You uninviting me now?”
She gasped. Now she was coming off not only flighty but rude. “No, I just…”
“When?”
She hadn’t gotten that far in her thinking. She peeked up through her lashes at the ceiling as if a calendar would suddenly appear.
“Tonight?”
The door flew open and Saint stepped back with her following. He reached his hand behind his back, landing on her hip. It was a protective move. Macy barreled through the door and stopped mid-step, gawking at the scene in front of her.
“Hey, guys.” Macy’s grin and her glancing between them had Bailey shaking her head. Please don’t say anything embarrassing. She was doing a great job by herself. She didn’t need any help from Macy, who had a tendency to blurt things out at the wrong time.
“Hi, Mace.”
Saint remained silent.
She raised her brows. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Bailey cringed at her hurried response. It made her sound guilty.
Macy smirked. “Ya sure?” She glanced at the table and grinned. “You guys are having breakfast, huh?”
Oh hell, Macy, shut up. She needed to change the subject. “Didn’t know you were stopping over.”
Macy giggled. “Obviously.”
Bailey closed her eyes and tried to shut down the heat racing toward her face without luck.
“You free for dinner tonight?”
“Oh…uh…” How was she supposed to answer Macy when she hadn’t even gotten an excuse from Saint yet? She glanced up at him. He reached into his back pocket, retrieving his phone. She watched in silence as he punched the keypad then raised the cell to his ear. Bailey glanced at Macy who was watching her.
“Yeah, I’m out tonight.” He paused. “No.” He shifted his arm to rest on his chest, his hand tucked under his armpit. So damn sexy. “Yeah,” he glanced down at Bailey. “It’s more important.”
Her bottom lip fell open, an
d his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Later.” He clicked the phone, tucking it back into his pocket. “Seven?”
Bailey couldn’t even speak, so she nodded and again his lips twitched. He grabbed the open door, nodded at Macy, and walked through, closing it behind him.
“Holy fuck, do you have a date with Saint tonight?” Macy shouted loud enough for Saint to hear through the door.
Bailey waved her hand and brought her finger to her lips.
“Oh my God, Bails.” Macy rushed over, bouncing on her toes. “This is fucking awesome. So, tonight?”
Bailey nodded in a mind-numbing state. “I think at seven.”
Macy’s mouth dropped wide, and her eyes lit up. “Holy shit, holy fucking shit, Bails.”
Bailey swatted Macy’s arm. The more excited she was getting, the more anxious Bailey had gotten. “Stop or I’m gonna freak out.”
“I think you are freaking out, girl.” She laughed. “On the inside at least. Oh man, I cannot believe what I just witnessed. Chey’s gonna be so jealous. Fucking Saint, as if I didn’t respect the silent bastard already, I may have a bit of hero worship right now.”
Hero worship? Why? Her excitement dwindled.
“Hey…” Bailey snapped. “It’s not so far-fetched he’d want to have dinner with me, I mean, he brought me breakfast.” Bailey pinched her lips and scrunched her nose. Macy was ruining her moment by being too shocked Saint would have dinner with her. “You’re messing with my high here.” She mumbled.
Macy jerked her head and furrowed her brows. “What? No, you don’t get it.” She stepped forward with her eyes lit bright. “Kase called everyone in for the run tonight. Everyone, no fucking exceptions. ‘Your ass ain’t on a bike, you answer to me’ that’s what he told the whole club, nomads, too.”
“But Saint…”
Macy grinned, nodding her head wildly. “Yup, he just told his president, you,” she pointed at Bailey, “were more important.” Macy squealed.
No, there had to be something more to it.
