“Tell me!” she pleaded. “Come on, I helped put you to bed. You owe me.”
I looked up at her and cringed. “We talked. We drank. I tried to grab for the bottle. And I might have straddled him.”
She squealed. I curled up in my blankets and tried to die.
“Is that all?” Lizzy poked me through the blanket.
Biting my lip, I threw back the covers. “I might have rubbed,” I admitted. I had definitely rubbed—more like a grind.
“Rubbed? Like with your...?” She gasped. “On his...?”
I groaned and covered my eyes.
“Out with it,” she insisted. “What happened next?” When Lizzy wanted gossip, there was no fighting her. I sat up and faced the horror that was now my life.
“Rejection. Big, fat, rancid rejection.” I sighed and slumped against the pillows. “He could have kissed me, but he just took me home. You know, in a way, I’m glad.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes. “All right, let’s hear this rationale. Why are you glad he rejected you?”
I got out of bed and walked over to my closet. “I’m glad because I got it out of my system and now I can focus on other things.” I grabbed a beige pantsuit with a matching pair of loafers. “I’m going to focus on settling down with someone more my type. I was just looking for a bad boy, and now that he’s rejected me, I can move on.”
“Oh, wait.” Lizzy jumped off the bed. “Before you move on, he left you a note. What does it say?”
She handed me a little folded-up piece of paper. It was a receipt from a convenience store. On the back was a note.
The club is having a family night on Saturday night. Meet me at 7.
There was an address and a sketch of a house. The sketch was amazing, the bushes and windows all perfectly formed. There was no signature.
“Is this a date?” I asked, thrusting the receipt into Lizzy’s hands.
“Yes,” she said, but then her eyebrows knitted together. “He’s just not picking you up.”
“And it’s family night,” I pointed out. “What if Christophe is coming, and he invited me because I’m supposed to be the girlfriend? I’m probably just reading into this too much.”
Lizzy and I stared at each other, confused.
“Well, either way,” she said, laughing, “It’s not big fat rejection. You can’t move on just yet.”
* * *
My shoulders hurt as I lugged my messenger bag down the stairs to my office in the basement. It was past three in the afternoon, and I was still feeling the effects of last night’s vodka.
“Hey, did Darlene’s case go well?” Sheena asked.
I nodded as I stopped in front of her desk. “Yeah. Judge ruled there was not enough evidence to move forward in a civil trial.” I looked around and made sure nobody was around to hear my next comment. “They did it, though. They only promoted the friends of the boss. It was awful.” I sighed—at least it was over. “Do I have any messages?”
Sheena and I went through the three messages that had come in this morning and then reviewed my calendar. It was the usual depositions, client meetings, and one hearing at county court.
“How’s the Devaneaux case going?” she asked. “I told him to stop by last night to work on the case. Unless you two did more than paperwork last night? I wouldn’t tell, you know. He’s pretty hot.”
I took a deep breath. I could do this; I could be professional about Jean Luc. At the office, he was just the Devaneaux case.
“We’re setting up Mr. Devaneux for foster parent status. I need you to set up a meeting with Children’s Administration and then a preliminary home study with just us. I have to take a look at his place before the county does. He’s a bachelor and a biker. Who knows what I might find?”
“Okay.” Sheena wrote a sticky note. “When do you want to do the home visit?”
A preliminary home visit meant I would do a walk-through of the client’s home and make sure they would pass inspection when the county social worker came through. It was standard procedure, I had just never done one before. Most of my clients never needed to talk to a county social worker. I frowned.
I would see Jean Luc in his personal space. I’d see his life. His bedroom, even.
I cleared my throat. “Just set up the usual. So, um, two meetings with Jean Luc. Let’s meet with Children’s Administration and then set up a meeting for the home visit a day or two later.”
The meetings with Children’s Administration would be easy. It was the home visit I was worried about. Just me and Jean Luc at his place. What would I find?
Chapter Fourteen
Miri
It took forever for Saturday to roll around. When it did, I stared at my closet. I still had nothing to wear. Lizzy sat on my bed as I reviewed my clothing selection.
“I think it’s a date,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It’s not a date.” We’d had this conversation fifteen times already. “I’m meeting him there. I bet he’s bringing Christophe and forgot to tell me.”
I scowled at my wardrobe. This wasn’t a date. No matter how much I wanted it to be, I couldn’t get my hopes up. I was just supporting my client at a family-night function. As soon as I got there, I would apologize for my highly unprofessional behavior the other night. This wasn’t a date.
“All right, it’s not a date. But you want to see what it would be like to date him, don’t you?” She got up and started pawing through my closet. “Are you going to take him for a test drive and see if he has enough horsepower?”
“It’s not a date,” I repeated. “I just need to be sure he’d be a good father before I can represent him.”
“Vroom vroom.” Lizzy grinned at me.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I did just want to see what it would be like to be with Jean Luc. He would be so different from Pete, I knew it.
After trying on half my closet, I settled on a pair of jeans, a purple T-shirt, and a black hoodie. Any event with a bunch of bikers had to be casual. Right?
* * *
Clenching my fingers against the wheel, I followed the directions he had written on the slip of paper. I pulled up in front a 1960s rancher. The place was white with red brick and shrubs out front, just like on the receipt. I was a little late—trying on every single pair of pants I owned put me about a half hour behind schedule.
Music was blaring from somewhere in the backyard. Maybe this was a bad idea. He was a biker after all, and maybe it would be dangerous. I imagined all of the awful things that could go wrong. I shivered as I rang the bell. I should not be here.
A young woman with a blonde ponytail answered the door. “Hi!” Immediately, she pulled me into a big hug. “You must be Miriam. I’m Krista. Skeeter was hoping you’d come.”
“Who?” I asked. I looked behind her for Jean Luc, or maybe some sort of illegal activity, but there were just a group of little girls playing in princess dresses in the living room. No bikers in sight. “Do I have the right house?”
“Skeeter. That’s who you’re here to see, right?” She frowned. “Red hair, big beard?”
“Yeah. That’s him.” The conversation with Amy came back to me, and I nodded. “I forgot his nickname. Yes, I’m here to see Skeeter.”
Krista laughed. “It’s his road name.” She grinned. “Come on in. I’ll give you a tour.”
She kept her arm around my shoulders as we walked through the house. “We just moved in a couple of months ago, so it’s sort of a housewarming party,” she explained.
I wanted to find Jean Luc and say hi and then maybe leave. But she was beaming and wanted to show off her new home. It was your typical three-bedroom. Krista had plans to renovate the bathrooms and expand the office. We ended up in the kitchen. In the middle of the room was the most beautiful wo
man I’d ever seen. Tall, with long, perfect black hair, she was filling up some deviled eggs.
“This is Miriam; she’s here to see Skeeter,” Krista said.
“I’m Bettes, Tate’s old lady.” The beauty queen smiled. “We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“You were?” I frowned. Jean Luc must have told them I was coming, so was it a date? Or maybe Christophe was here, and Jean Luc just wanted me around in case Christophe gave away a detail that could somehow help the case?
“It’s not like this is a date,” I joked. “Does every attorney receive this level of enthusiasm?”
My stupid quip fell flat. Krista, who was bright and cheery before, looked somewhat crestfallen. Bettes schooled her face into a serene mask and focused on filling in her deviled eggs. The only sounds were the little girls playing princess in the next room.
“So, um, is he here?” I looked around the kitchen and back to the living room.
“Everyone is out back. I’ll show you.” Krista’s smile was forced this time.
She stopped in front of a sliding glass door. Beyond it was a backyard full of guys in leather, along with a few women. A backboard had been nailed up on the eaves, and a group of kids were playing basketball.
I watched the crowd in the yard. I wouldn’t be surprised to see any of these men in my father’s office needing a criminal defense attorney. They all had tattoos, and more than a few had beards. I knew that they must be okay, because I doubted Jean Luc would invite me somewhere dangerous, but it was still intimidating.
Krista started to open the door, but I stopped her. “Wait. Can I ask you something?” My heart was pounding. Maybe I didn’t belong here. Maybe I should just go. “Why did Jean Luc ask me here? What am I doing?”
“I guarantee you’re not here as his lawyer.” Krista winked. “Christophe isn’t here; it’s just Jean Luc.”
“Oh.” My cheeks felt hot. It must be a date.
“Come on.” She opened the slider. “Skeeter’s this way.”
Everyone stared as I followed Krista across the back patio. There were some women, but by and large it was all men. With so many eyes on me, I quickened my pace. I didn’t want to be the center of attention for any longer than necessary.
Krista stopped in front of Jean Luc, who was standing with a group of guys. He was wearing his regular vest, but with a leather jacket underneath. I wasn’t sure what to say. If Krista was right and this was a date, I didn’t want to blow it.
Before I could say anything, a man with a crew cut grabbed Krista and kissed her. It was a passionate, toe-curling kiss, and soon a few people were shouting ribald comments at the couple.
Jean Luc watched them for a moment and then looked to me. Our eyes met. I wanted him to kiss me like that. I wanted him to bend me backward and kiss me like I belonged to him. My fingers itched to slide up Jean Luc’s neck and bring his lips on mine. The man’s hand slid down to Krista’s butt and gave it a squeeze. I bit my lip. I wanted to feel that way too. I wanted Jean Luc to sweep me into a kiss of possession and passion all wrapped up in one act.
Jean Luc stepped around the other two guys, who were still leering at Krista and her boyfriend’s display. Once he was standing next to me, he leaned closer. I could smell him, that earthy clay and outside smell that he always had. I closed my eyes and inhaled.
He whispered, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”
“I had to come.” I grinned and let myself linger in his closeness for just a second and then stepped back. “I couldn’t let that beautiful invitation go to waste.”
He laughed and touched my elbow. “Let me introduce you.”
We walked around the yard, and he introduced me to all of the leather-clad giants. They were big and tall, but fun. They told jokes; someone told me a funny story. Jean Luc got me a cup of beer from the keg. It was the biker version of a cocktail party.
Halfway through, I noticed that I’d stopped tensing every time someone with tattoos and leather talked to me. These guys may have looked a little rough around the edges, but everyone had been easygoing and intelligent. I realized that not only was I comfortable, but I was having a good time.
Toward the end of the backyard tour, we ran into a silver-haired biker.
Jean Luc touched my elbow and said, “Tate, this is Miriam Englestein.”
“You must be Bettes’s significant other.” I offered to shake hands. “I met her in the kitchen.”
The men nearby all laughed. Tate winked and shook my hand. “Me and Bettes have been married almost ten years. She’s my old lady. You’re Gerry’s girl, right? I didn’t realize you were the one Skeeter invited. You getting his kid back?”
“Yes, Gerald Englestein is my father.” I couldn’t really say anything about the case, not even to Tate. I looked to Jean Luc, hoping he would explain it.
“Gerry referred me to her.” Jean Luc smiled and touched my elbow, turning me so I faced Tate. “She’s helping me with the custody case.”
Tate scrutinized me. Up and down. Not in a sexual way, but simply assessing. He turned to Jean Luc and frowned. “We need to talk later.”
I looked between the two men. I was a source of contention. Interesting.
Tate. I couldn’t remember the last name, but I knew I had seen his name on the retainer paperwork. The club paid a big retainer for national representation, but Tate was listed as a contact. Also, his vest said “president.” Whoever he was, he was pretty high in the club, and my presence made him angry. I stepped back and let them talk. The conversation turned to repairing a vehicle, apparently a business venture of the club. I stood beside Jean Luc, but watched Tate out of the corner of my eye. What did he have against me? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Jean Luc was a client, after all.
A question kept running through my head—why was I here? Was it because Jean Luc wanted his lawyer here? Or was this a date? He hadn’t tried to kiss me or said anything specific, so I still wasn’t sure. I sipped some more of my beer.
As we wandered over to another group, my hoodie felt too warm. While the men talked about cars and repair projects, I pulled the zipper down and tried to figure out some way to discretely fan myself.
“Why am I here?” I blurted out, squeezing Jean Luc’s arm. “Why did you ask me to come?”
Oh no. I’d been so wrapped up in my own head that I’d forgotten we were at a party. Everyone heard my comment. The men all stopped talking and looked at Jean Luc and then down at me. Jean Luc grabbed my elbow and led me away from the crowd.
“You okay?” he asked.
The yard was full of guys all wearing the same vest—friends. Women who all knew each other and laughed and talked. They all shared jokes. Their kids were playing together. It was a family, and I wanted to be part of it, with Jean Luc. Was I here because I was his lawyer? Was I here because he wanted more?
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know.
“Why am I here?” I repeated. I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“I guess I just wanted someone to go with me to family night. But I get it, not your scene. I’ll take you home.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just bill me your hourly rate.”
He took a step to bypass me, and I grabbed his arm. “I don’t want to bill you,” I said. His arm was tense through the leather. “I was just wondering why you wanted me here.”
“It’s stupid.” He looked to the side of the lawn, where the little girls had moved their tea party, and then back to me. “I can’t have Christophe with me, and I didn’t want to be lonely.”
“Right, of course.” I smiled, trying to keep it together. “But I think I’m going to head home.” I wasn’t expecting a declaration of love, but I at least wanted to know if this was a date. I wasn’t expecting him to tell me he simply didn’t want to be lonely. I turned back tow
ard the house.
“Miriam, wait.” We walked together for a few strides before he stopped. “I didn’t mean it like you were my second choice.”
I froze mid stride and looked at him. That cannonball in my stomach just turned into a dagger. Second choice. Those two words kept echoing in my head. He couldn’t have his kid there, so he’d asked me. I’d wanted to see what it would be like with him, and I got my answer. I was second choice.
I took a deep breath, pulled on my best smile, and left.
Chapter Fifteen
Skeeter
I stared into the bonfire at the back of the yard. Rip and Clint were talking about a Jaguar X-J220 that we were getting in soon, but I was thinking about Miri. She left two hours ago. She was polite, but I knew I had fucked up. There had been definite sparks between us earlier in the night, but they were gone as soon as I opened my big fucking mouth. Things had gone from great to shit in about three-point-six seconds.
I’d been a fucking asshole, telling her I only invited her as the runner-up. Yeah, honestly, I’d hoped to spend the evening with my kid. But she wasn’t an afterthought either. I couldn’t tell her that I had been thinking about her constantly and that I wanted to kiss her every time I looked at her. Fuck, maybe I should have said that. It would have been a hell of a lot better than telling her she was second place.
I watched the other couples snuggling in the darkness around the bonfire, and I thought of her. Not Christophe.
“Skeet,” I heard Tate calling from the darkness. “Let’s talk.”
I followed the sound of his voice and found him and Colt under the oak tree.
“You sweet on her?” Tate asked.
“It was nothing.” I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been sweet on a girl since junior fucking high. “I just invited her for fun.”
“Look, we’re all damn glad you’re breaking the endless line of hookers and skanks.” Colt handed me another beer. “But Englestein’s daughter isn’t the way to do it. He’s the club lawyer, and you don’t shit where you eat.”
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