Without an answer, I ambled her way, taking in all that made her Avery. Bright green hair and laughing eyes with a turned-up nose that made her cute, but her curves from the graceful arc of her neck to her small waist and heart-shaped ass—her body drove me wild. Unfortunately she’d dressed while I’d been gone.
“Why are you so ripped?”
I stopped mid-stride surprised at her question since she’d never asked about my muscles before. “I love the burn of lifting, it’s addicting to push myself, see how much I can lift, how far I can go.”
“So not to look like this?” She waved at my naked body.
“Nah, that’s just a benefit, at least if I’m reading you right.”
Pink colored her cheeks. “You read me right. Your chest, biceps, hell all of you is so damn sexy. In fact it might, ought to be illegal to be as sexy as you are. A danger to women everywhere.” She rambled, that meant trouble. “So I guess I’ll go. Thanks for the tattoo, it was intense and—”
“You’re staying with me.” I pointed to the barber chair. “Sit while I clean.”
“Clean?”
I frowned over my shoulder at her. “Yeah, we keep everything clean enough to do surgery, so I don’t normally do the nasty here, but you demanded it.”
“How did I demand it?” Her voice squeaked.
“Letting me ink you, laying all naked and vulnerable on my table, just being sexy, beautiful you.” I ticked each of them off on my fingers before I grabbed cleaners in the corner.
“You going to clean in the buff?” She asked, anticipation in her voice.
“Nah, you’d pass out from the show.” I pulled up my boxers and jeans.
She frowned. “Spoil sport.”
I had a thousand questions for her, but I didn’t want to spook her. One topic always engaged her, in fact, she couldn’t stop talking about her shop because she loved it so much. She should be proud, it was a helluva accomplishment for someone her age, or any age.
“Why did you open a biker chick shop?” I’d always wondered about that.
She gave me a confused look. “What?”
“You heard me.” I used the wipes to clean every bit of the leather table.
“I didn’t. I bought clothes I liked, and clothes that I couldn’t find anywhere around here. I wanted the store to be special, unique. It just turns out some of it is a biker chick’s fantasy.”
“You have style. I’m impressed, so young, and already a successful business woman.” I kept working.
“I’m 24, that’s ancient.” She swatted away my compliment.
She sucked at taking compliments. Something that would change. I wanted her to be able to accept how wonderful she was, something that was hard for her.
“Why the Brotherhood?” She changed the subject like she always did when I complimented her.
That was a deep question. I didn’t think she understood—the club was in me—it was the best part of me. But it was one she had to understand since the club was one of her biggest objections to us getting closer.
“No matter what comes, we got each other. Until I joined, I’d never found my place, let alone had someone or a whole group have my back. I know I belong and I can’t put words to how much that means to me.” I thought as I spoke, picking my words with care. “There was never a question for me. My family is shit, here I have brothers like Dare, Zero, hell any of them would risk their life for me as I would for them. Loyalty like that is rare, and once I found it I was never letting it go.”
She frowned and I saw the wheels turning inside her mind. Good, at least I’d made her think. “I’m envious, I think. I’ve never belonged like that.” Her quiet words made my heart bleed. I understood being an outsider all too well. My mother hadn’t wanted me, my old man only wanted me for his drug operation, and my brother, he’d never wanted anything but the worst for me.
“You could belong.” I caressed her cheek.
A dry laugh was her response. “Not to the Brotherhood, I bet women don’t get the same respect.”
That was true in some ways and not in others. Why did she have to hit the one area I couldn’t argue? Especially after Misty.
“I meant with me. Us. Together.” I brought her chin up until our eyes met.
“Maybe,” she hedged, leaving her doubts unspoken.
“You can ask me anything. For you, I’d answer any question.” While true, it scared the shit out of me. I had secrets and scars aplenty, so many of them were likely to scare her away for good instead of bring her closer. But I’d risk it. We needed to find trust, that began with truth.
She pressed her lips to mine in a soft, tentative kiss. I let her explore as she nipped my lips before sliding her sweet tongue into my mouth. Our tongues flicked together and heat built in me. One kiss and I was hers to command. My body thrummed with need, I wanted to take her all over again, but with light, tender kisses she ended it.
Her soft whiskey eyes stared into mine. “I got nothing. No questions.”
My brain was focused on fucking and I had to switch gears to even remember I’d asked her a question.
“Too much Rock and you go mindless,” I teased, needing to lighten the mood.
“Oh yeah, I love it. I’ll gladly trade my brain for your orgasms any day.”
Fuck. That hit me straight in the gut. I cleared my throat. “Get up, let me clean off that chair too.” I winked at her. “Then we’ll ride over to Ardmore for dinner.”
She moved out of my way. “We will?”
“Yes, we will.”
“We’re not together.” She set her chin at that stubborn angle of hers.
I arched my eyebrow. “I’m here. You’re here. Looks like we’re together.”
“You know that isn’t what I meant.” She fisted hands on hips.
“You want me. I want you. Let’s follow that—see where we end up. No definitions. Nothing but you and me.”
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, see where it goes.”
Chapter Five
Avery
I was out of control. I meant with me. He’d busted through every defense with those four words. He’d tapped right into my forever fantasy—a man who belonged to me. One who accepted me, loved me, put me first. And that’s where Rock failed—the Brotherhood would always be first. Maybe. He’d earned a chance to show me what those words meant to him. I hoped I was wrong, and he wanted everything, just like me.
“Let’s go.” He tugged me behind him out the front door to his Harley.
Excitement lit up inside me. I loved riding on the back of his bike. He handed me an extra helmet and I fastened it the way he’d shown me. He chucked my chin. “Hold on tight, almita.”
“How can I resist holding tight to you?” I licked my lips.
“I like that.” He straddled the bike, I threw a leg over after him, and scooted up until I hugged his back, holding tight to his stomach where I could feel each indentation of his washboard abs. The man took his workouts seriously.
He zoomed down Main Street, totally blowing the speed limit. Show off. Wind hit my face and the bike vibrated between my legs. Riding with Rock was freedom. I savored the sun beating down, the buzz of the wind, and the scent of my man as the countryside passed us by.
Our conversation at Marked Man came back to me—how could one exchange highlight everything I loved about our relationship and everything I feared. When he’d talked about the Brotherhood, emotion filled his voice and I’d been jealous of the damn club, which was totally stupid because I couldn’t compete against it. If I tried, I’d lose. Worse, Rock wouldn’t be happy without it, so it came down to two questions—could I find peace with the club and was there a place for me to belong in the Brotherhood? I could love Rock and was close to falling already, but that wasn’t what worried me.
We passed the Ardmore city limits and moved through downtown. Rock turned down a street I didn’t know and parked in front of an old brick building. An open sign hung in the window but no name.
“Where are we?” I unfastened my helmet and handed it to him.
“The best Mexican in Oklahoma.” He grinned at me. “Trust me.”
“Does this place have a name?”
“Most people call it Su Lugar—her place. Mrs. Ramirez runs it, but it’s not really on any directory.”
“How do people know about it?”
“Word of mouth.” He drew my hand in his. “The best Mexican ever, let’s see what she’s serving.”
I followed confused but eager to try something new. Inside three rows of long tables went from end-to-end of the room, like at a church dinner instead of a restaurant. People sat scattered along each table, it was more than half full. We walked up to the front where a small lady with short gray hair stood behind a hot table. Rock greeted her in Spanish and they ended up in a kind of lengthy exchange, but I had no idea what they said.
“Pork chile, enchiladas or chicken mole?” He grinned wide to me. “I’m having the sampler that has all three.”
I grinned up at him. His easy confidence and familiarity meant he ate here often. “Chicken mole, please.”
“Good choice, almita.”
Mrs. Ramerez’s eyebrows shot up. She spoke in rapid Spanish with Rock. I swear his cheeks turned red.
“She wants us to eat in back with her family.” He eyed me as if he thought I’d bolt.
“I’m happy to, but I don’t speak Spanish.” I spoke to Mrs. Ramirez.
“Oh, we speak the English, it’s just nice to have a chance to speak the mother tongue.” She gave me a toothy grin. “Miguel, show your guest to the family table.”
“Yes, señora.” He ducked his head. At the end of the line, two heaping plates of food waited for us. A teenage girl glanced at Rock with adoring eyes, someone had a crush. I swallowed my laugh and lifted my plate. The girl refused to take Rock’s money, but he just stuffed the twenty in the tip jar before he turned down the hall next to the cashier, then we went up a flight of narrow steps to an apartment. He set his plate on the table and motioned for me to set mine next to his.
“You come here often?” I squeezed his hand.
“Yeah, whenever I get the chance. Mrs. Ramirez opened the place when her husband died five years ago. It was rough at first, but now she makes a good living from the restaurant. The woman was meant to feed people, it brings her happiness.”
“So how did you earn favored customer status?”
“I gave her a loan early on when she first started. She’s paid me back, but she refuses to let me pay for food. Tells me she doesn’t charge family.” He shrugged and looked away.
“That’s so sweet.” I kissed his cheek but stepped away when I heard footsteps on the wooden stairs. He was a stand-up man, a good man who had helped this family change their lives for the better. And he was so cute, all embarrassed by the praise the family heaped on him.
He grinned at me. “Nervous?”
“Maybe a little. I wasn’t expecting...this.” I had no way to define this. Mrs. Ramirez sat at the head of the yellow and orange painted table while a man who looked about forty sat at the other end. Rock and I sat as others filled in until every one of the ten seats was full.
“We’re a big tribe, but I’ll introduce you anyway.” She winked at me. “Call me tia, it is what Miguel is supposed to call me.” She held a hand out to the end of the table. “Manuel, named after his father, is my oldest.” She crossed herself as she spoke. “His wife Rosita, then their two children Alejandro and Maria...”
I lost track as she introduced her daughter, their family and her youngest son who couldn’t be nineteen. He watched Rock with definite hero worship. I wondered why, not that Rock wasn’t a man to respect, but I bet there was a story behind his devotion.
“The meal is delicious.” I complimented no one in particular, not sure who the cook was for the dish.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Ramirez said. “So you are the Avery with the shop of beautiful clothing?”
Heat filled my cheeks. I glanced at Rock. “That’s me.” Rock had told them about me. My chest expanded and warm tingles spread through me. We’d been separated longer than we’d been together, yet he’d told them about me. How important was I to him?
“I’ve seen your clothing on the interweb.” Mrs. Ramirez winked at me.
“I shop there,” her daughter chimed in. “I love how sassy the styles are. I hope to get over to see the store soon.”
“Thank you.” The heat intensified in my cheeks. “I hope you do. I have a special back room you have to see to believe.”
Rock laughed and I pinched his leg. “She has wonderful taste. But then she’s with me.”
The whole table laughed and my heated cheeks must have gone Day-Glo pink.
“Tell me how you know Miguel.” I eyed him. I hadn’t known his first name.
“Let me tell this.” The youngest son looked for permission from his mother.
Her eyes twinkled and she nodded.
Rock groaned. “He’ll exaggerate.”
“Will not,” the teen shot back. “My papa was a firefighter and died in the line of duty.” He crossed himself. “It was hard times for us when Mama decided to open a place for others like us to gather, share culture and food—to make community.” He stumbled over community as if he wasn’t sure that was the right word. “No price, people paid what they could, and we were able to keep all of us fed, but no profit. First he saved us from the government.” That word he had no trouble with, but it was said like a curse. “Permits, licenses, all these things we knew nothing about. Rock comes in and two days later, he’d made us legal.” The boy grinned wide. “That was when I was only 13. But now I’m almost 18. Soon I’ll be old enough to be a brother too.”
“You will stay with your family and help them. Go to school, learn a trade.” Rock’s commanding voice brooked no argument.
The teen shot him a heated look. “Well, then two years ago, we were earning good, word spread, people liked our place.” He beamed with pride. “The local gang decided we should pay for protection. They busted up our place when Mama wouldn’t.”
Rock tensed beside me with his jaw tight.
“Rock and his brothers came here. He helped us fix this place and his brothers stayed here a whole month, sending those thugs away bruised every time they tried to come back. The MC gave us protection, but asked nothing in return. So they should at least get me to repay that debt.” The oldest brother looked away. This must be a familiar argument. Now I understood the hero worship better. Rock was a man to respect, but he’d want more for this boy than he’d had.
Mrs. Ramirez cut off her son. “So you see, Miguel is family, if you are with him, you are too.”
“I’m honored. Miguel is a good man. In fact, today he gave me my first tattoo.” I tried the name I hadn’t even known before today. The name felt strange on my tongue. He’d always be Rock to me, I guess.
Mrs. Ramirez frowned. “Marking skin, I’ll never understand that.”
“May we see,” one of the other women asked. “My Manny and I have thought of tattoos at Marked Man to celebrate our 30th anniversary.”
The older man stared at the woman with eyes full of devotion. They’d have been young when they married and it made my heart clench to see such love thirty years later. I’d never seen such devotion between my own parents—more of an exhausting duty than a joy.
I glanced at Rock, not sure if I should. He grinned to me with a nod. “Okay.” I stood and moved down by the couple. I peeled off the gauze and held down my T-shirt.
“Oh.” The woman smiled wide. “It is your shop, what a wonderful thing
to mark. You’re so brave to open a store. I’d be afraid.”
“Rock did the tattoo today so it’s still swollen, but he did beautiful work.” I ignored her praise of my bravery. I was so scared of failing, not as much now as I had been the first two years, but still I worried about every choice I made.
“And fear is no reason not to do something.” Rock’s voice carried loud through the room. “My almita didn’t let fear stand in her way, you can do anything you set your mind to.”
Mrs. Ramirez nodded, smiling. “With our Lord’s help, that is true.”
The couple looked at each other and I know I was missing something.
“We are thinking of expanding to a real restaurant on the strip, but I won’t run it, this is my place. My son and daughter aren’t sure if the risk is right.” She held her hands up as if saying what-do-I-know.
“It’s a hard decision.” I sat down next to Rock. “I’ve lost lots of sleep worrying about Black Label, but I wouldn’t trade the pride, the accomplishment for anything, even more sleep.” I laughed at my own joke. “I went to college in business, if you decide to proceed and need another eye on the plan, please contact—”
“Thank you, Lord,” Mrs. Ramirez said loudly. “Rosita, get the plan and menu.”
Rock beamed at me. I gulped, wondering what I’d gotten into.
One of Rosita’s children cleared the table and the couple moved down next to me. I shot a look that shouted help, but he said nothing.
We spent the next two hours looking over the plans with Manny and Rosita while the others went downstairs to work. “My suggestions are small, this is a good plan.” I put a hand over Manny and Rosita’s clasped ones. “Open less days to begin, Thursday through Sunday, better to create a desire for business than waste food. I’d make the special of the day the same as is being cooked here, it’d be more efficient.”
Both nodded eagerly.
“You have a solid menu that crosses over nicely—uses the same ingredients. I would serve alcohol, but if it overwhelms you at the beginning, you can add it later. But a margarita with that pork chile would be heaven.”
Release Page 5
