Rogue's Passion

by Laurie London

“Does it run?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but it needs some body work.” He finished up Caitlyn’s hair, then told her it was time for homework.

  A shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to see James standing in the doorway, filling up the space.

  “I’ll do it,” he said in a low, two-pack-a-day voice. “Gettin’ ready to work on the McMillan car now. Can do the Charger at the same time.”

  Her gaze bounced between the two of them. Rand was scowling at James.

  “Um, how much do you want for it and how much to fix it?” she asked.

  “Nothing to fix it,” James said. “The least I can do.” He held up his bandaged arm. He’d cut himself in the shop earlier when she was out taking a look around. As she applied a bandage, she’d secretly done a little healing. She told him he needed to go to the emergency room and get stitched up, but he’d refused, saying he hated quacks.

  “What’d Manny give you for your Honda?” Rand asked. She told him. “Keep five hundred bucks, give me the rest, and the car is yours.”

  “Deal.” She was thrilled. She’d secretly wanted to own a muscle car for as long as she could remember.

  She yawned at the memory of all she’d done in the past few weeks—new jobs tended to be exhausting anyway—but she still couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

  Just as she flipped her pillow to the cool side and curled up again, a key sounded in the lock and the door snicked open. Conry’s tail thumped on the floor.

  Asher?

  Her chest tightened and her heart slammed against her ribs.

  She listened, hardly daring to breathe, as he slipped off his boots and tiptoed past the foot of the bed to the bathroom, then she heard the shower running.

  Rand had told her Asher would probably be gone for several months, so why was he back so soon? Had there been a meeting, or was it just an excuse for him to get away? She had no claims on him, but the thought of him with another woman turned her stomach.

  A few minutes later, the mattress dipped as he climbed into bed. She pretended to be asleep. He smelled not like his body wash, which she’d been expecting, but of the herbal oil that she’d left in the soap dish. Sliding in behind her, he molded his body to hers. His arm came to cup her breast, but not in a sexual way. More like it was a natural place for his hand to rest. He let out a long, slow exhale as if he’d been holding his breath.

  “I’m sorry I left without a goodbye,” he whispered into her hair. “But I’m glad you’re still here.” And just like that, he fell asleep.

  Although Rand and the guys had been great, she’d felt a strange emptiness in Asher’s absence. It was as if a piece of her was missing or slightly out of sync. She felt much better now.

  The next morning, she woke tangled in the sheets and blissfully rejuvenated. Yawning, she stretched and reached over to Asher’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there. She sat up and looked around. She hadn’t dreamed he’d come back, had she?

  Trying not to be too disappointed, she got up and took a quick shower. She dug through a few of the boxes from her apartment and grabbed a pair of black slacks, a black tank, low kitten heels and a pale blue cardigan.

  Conry had climbed onto the bed and was now curled up where she’d been sleeping.

  “Have I stolen your place, buddy?” she said, laying the clothes out on a nearby chair and sitting next to him. His tail thumped on the bed and he rolled over for her to scratch his belly. “I’ll be gone soon, so you’ll have it back. I promise.” He licked her hand. “You are so sweet.”

  The fact that Conry was still here made her think she had imagined Asher’s return. If so, wouldn’t the dog be with him now? She and Asher hadn’t had sex last night, so maybe it was just a dream.

  After getting dressed, she put on a little mascara, towel-dried her naturally wavy hair, and pulled it into a low side-ponytail. She left the room, taking care not to catch her thin heels in the open mesh of the stairs. Conry was right behind her. A couple of mechanics on the far side of the garage were already working and waved to her when they saw her, but for the most part, the place was still empty.

  Entering the office, she unlocked the outer door and went to start the coffee. One of the guys must’ve eaten breakfast in here because the place smelled of bacon and toast. Conry sniffed around, probably looking for a stray piece of bacon, then curled up next to the desk. Whoever had been here must’ve made the coffee, too. The pot was still dripping, so it hadn’t been brewing for long. Hopefully, it was the kind of coffeemaker that would let you remove the carafe before it was done. She was in desperate need of some caffeine and didn’t want to wait.

  She grabbed a mug from one of the pegs on the wall and happened to check inside. Thank goodness she had, because it was dusty. She grabbed another one. Same thing. That’s when she noticed all the mugs had something to do with motorcycles. Funny she hadn’t noticed it before. Born to Ride. I Do My Own Stunts. Keep The Rubber Side Down. Harley-Davidson. SAMCRO. Sturgis 2013. She grabbed a pink one with the Reckless logo, and only when she started to pour coffee into it did she notice it said Ole Lady on the other side.

  A clatter of pots and pans came from the door leading to the small kitchenette adjacent to the coffee station. She peeked in and almost dropped her cup.

  There was Asher, leaning against the counter, reading what appeared to be a cookbook.

  Holy crap. I must’ve died and this is heaven.

  His dark hair was tousled as if he’d just run his fingers through it. His jeans hung low, accentuating his narrow hips, and a chain looped into his pocket. With a furrowed brow, he mouthed the words as he read the instructions. If anyone could look dangerously sexy while reading a book, Asher could.

  So she hadn’t been dreaming last night after all. He had come back. How was it possible that she hadn’t heard him get up this morning? She must’ve been more tired than she thought. And what happened to the morning lovemaking he’d seemed to be so fond of before? Surely she would’ve woken up for that, she thought with a smile, her inner muscles tightening.

  She must’ve made a sound, because he lifted his head with a jolt. His dark gaze bore into her, a symphony of emotions playing across his face and shooting straight to her heart.

  “Hi,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry. “You’re…you’re here. I heard someone and wondered—”

  “What are you doing?” he snapped. A shadow passed behind his eyes, like a bruise she hadn’t seen earlier.

  She took a step backward, surprised at his harsh tone. “You seem to have forgotten. I…uh…am working here now, remember?”

  “I know that.” He slammed the cookbook shut and abruptly turned away.

  She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out he didn’t want her here.

  Gripping her coffee mug, she walked slowly back to Mel’s desk, glad that she wasn’t able to see Asher from where she sat. Was he upset she was still holed up in his rooms and hadn’t yet moved out? That she was taking over his man-space? It would explain why he hadn’t reached for her last night or this morning.

  She unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the little notebook where Mel kept all the passwords. The best thing to do was get to work to take her mind off what had just happened, then start sleeping out in the RV till she found a place of her own. At least she had a car.

  She had just signed into the Reckless email account when she heard a rustle behind her and Conry’s tail thumping on the floor. Something slid toward her on the desk. It was a plate with three misshapen pancakes, two pieces of overcooked bacon, and a rubbery-looking fried egg.

  “I made breakfast,” Asher said gruffly.

  She frowned, unable to process what was going on. The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet. She thought he was mad at her. “But I…”

  “If you’re not hungry, that’s fine.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “It’s probably terrible,” he said, staring at the second plat
e he was holding as if it was poisonous. “I’ve never made pancakes before.”

  Warmth blossomed inside, spreading to her fingers and toes. This big, somewhat awkward, yet incredibly sexy man had cooked breakfast…for her. He’d done something he’d never done before…for her.

  He reached to remove her plate, but she shoved his hand away. “They look perfect. It all does. And it just so happens that I’m starving.” She blinked back a tear and grabbed the fork. She’d never had a man cook for her. She’d done plenty of domestic things for various boyfriends, but the favor had never been returned.

  She cut into the pancakes, swirled them into the syrup and melted butter, and took a bite.

  Asher watched, a worried look on his face. “Is…is it edible?”

  “If a five-star chef had made me breakfast, it could not look any more perfect or taste any better than this. It’s delicious.” His shoulders slumped in relief and she laughed. “You act like you thought it might kill me.”

  He twisted a paper towel in his hand. It must be the napkin he was going to give her but had forgotten. She grabbed a tissue from a box next to the computer and wiped a drop of syrup from her chin. She’d never seen him so unsure of himself. What had happened to him while he was away?

  “It’s just that…I wasn’t sure I followed the directions right.”

  “A little flour, baking soda, eggs, and milk?”

  He kept twisting that paper towel and refused to look at her. Something else was going on. She thought about his shock when he noticed her watching him. Like he was pissed off she’d found him in the kitchen. Reading a cookbook, mouthing the words.

  And then something occurred to her. Did she dare mention it?

  “Ash?”

  He looked up. The bruising behind his eyes was gone, replaced by a childlike innocence she’d never seen before.

  She said a quick prayer that she was doing the right thing. “Can you…read?”

  For an instant, he looked like an abused puppy about to get kicked, but then it disappeared. He dropped his gaze and a muscle in his jaw flexed as he tried to decide how to answer. When he spoke, she could barely hear him. “I can. A little. But sometimes the letters get turned around and I’m not sure what it says.”

  Was Ash…dyslexic? Her best friend in school had been, so Olivia knew what some of the signs were. “Do letters seem to move around on the page when you try to read?”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “Do you have trouble adding up money, or mix up your lefts and your rights?”

  He still wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah, but not always. Usually when I’m in a hurry or stressed out.”

  She exhaled slowly. That would explain why he couldn’t spell out his name for the investigators at the scene of the explosion. If any situation was high stress, that one had been.

  Without warning, he tossed his plate onto her desk and stormed to the other side of the room. Dust motes floated in the air around him as he stared into the back parking lot. She was losing him. He was closing himself off to her when she desperately wanted in. One wrong word from her and he’d be out the door again.

  “Ash,” she said softly. “I think you might be dyslexic.”

  “Is that another name for stupid?”

  Her heart tore from her chest. “No, you’re definitely not stupid.”

  “Then what does it mean?” He turned to face her, his cheeks flushed, his eyes as dark as ebony and glistening with emotion. “I can’t think with my head, Liv.” He held a finger to his temple like a gun. “Everything becomes a jumbled mess in here. I’m only good at stuff I do with my hands. Fighting and building engines. That’s it.”

  She came around the desk and approached him, taking care not to step on Conry’s tail. Ash tried to step away, but she grabbed his hands and jerked him toward her. Then she kissed his palms. “It just means you’re better with images and actions than you are with words and numbers. That’s it. Everyone learns and processes information differently. It definitely does not mean you’re stupid.” She remembered some of the challenges Helena had faced in school. The bullies. The name-calling. The snickers she got when she had to go to the learning center. Olivia gripped his hands tighter. Had Ash gone through something similar when he was growing up?

  “If I ever hear anyone calling you stupid or even hinting that you’re anything less than amazing, they’ll be sorry. And that goes for you too,” she said, giving another little squeeze to emphasize her point. “And I’m not kidding, either.”

  It looked as though he were trying not to smile, and the tension in his shoulders disappeared.

  She told him about her friend, who was now a successful interior designer with her own business. But when Helena was younger, she struggled with some of the same issues. Olivia told him how she’d punched a kid on the playground for calling her friend a retard. “I got sent to the principal’s office for that one, but he never did it again.”

  Without warning, Ash pulled her close, slamming her against his chest. His mouth crashed down against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs. His lips were everywhere, kissing her neck, her cheeks, the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear.

  “How do you do this to me, Olivia? You’ve worked your way past all my defenses—defenses that I thought were iron strong. You’ve bared my soul and taken over my heart. How can you possibly think you know me better than I know myself?”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you,” she said, the confession flying from her mouth.

  A little sound came from his throat. Gripping her tighter, he held on as though he thought she might slip through his hands.

  “What do you mean think I know?” She pulled away slightly. “You’re wrong if you don’t see yourself as I do, it’s as simple as that. You’re a passionate, fierce man who fights for what’s right, no matter the personal cost or consequence. You’re a champion of those without a voice.” He tried to protest, but she shut him down with a finger to his lips. “What goes on in a man’s head does not define his character, Ash. It’s your actions that make you who you are. Someone can think all they want about doing this or that, but until they do something—take action—their intentions mean nothing.” She poked his chest, right over his heart. Maybe a little too hard, because he winced. “It’s what’s in here that counts. I could give a rat’s ass if a p looks like a d to you. And anyone with half a brain would agree with me.”

  “Olivia,” he rasped, as though he’d completely lost his voice. Dark passion flared in his eyes, making the tiny thong she wore suddenly wet. He hadn’t said he felt the same way she did, but then words weren’t his strong point—actions were. And that was all she needed for now. His gaze dropped to her mouth and his full lips parted. He was going to kiss the hell out of her and she was going to let him. She’d never had office sex before, but there was a first time for everything.

  “Agree with what?” a deep voice said from behind.

  She froze. They turned around to see Rand and one of the mechanics standing in the open doorway. Somehow neither of them had noticed that the noise from the garage had gotten louder.

  Asher gave her a kiss that was entirely too quick, then let her go. “Olivia thinks she knows everything.”

  “Thinks?” She sauntered back to her desk. “I know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next few weeks flew by quickly. Olivia organized the opening weekend festivities at Reckless Motocross Park, and Asher went to Cascadia again. Not only did he need to appear before the taghta magistrates at Red Mountain, but he wanted to make sure his trail had gone cold for the Fixer. Then, when he least expected it, Asher and his team would track him down and kill him.

  Since he didn’t want to be gone any longer than absolutely necessary, he came back through the portal as soon as the ceremony was over. He missed Olivia more than he thought possible, so having portal sickness was a small price to pay.

  For hours, he lay on the cold stone floor of the antechamber, s
tomach churning, head throbbing. He vomited a few times. The next Iron Guild warrior to come through and see that would not be happy, but there was nothing he could do about it. Somehow, he made it back to Reckless, stopping the bike a few times along the way to be sick. Conry was excited to see him, turning around in circles as if he were a puppy. Olivia took one look at him and marched him straight to bed. When she laid her hands on him, healing energy swept through him and he fell asleep.

  He awoke the next morning to see Olivia standing over him, a tray of food in her hands.

  “Feeling better?” she asked, setting it down beside him on the bed.

  He sat up on one elbow and did an inventory. Stomach ache gone. Headache gone. Muscle aches gone. “You…can heal iron sickness?”

  She shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “I feel great.” He grabbed a banana off the tray, peeled it, and stuffed it in his mouth. By all accounts, he should be as sick as Rickert had been in the hunting cabin. No one crossed back through the portal as soon as he had, because when you did, that was what happened. “And I’m starving.”

  “Good thing I brought food then.” She brushed the hair out of his eyes. “So what plans do you have today?”

  He yawned. “Nothing. I wasn’t expecting to feel well enough to do anything for the next few days.”

  “Good. Because it’s Saturday, I don’t have to work, and my mom invited us to dinner tonight.”

  * * *

  The driver’s window on the Charger was stuck in the open position, sucking out any warm air inside. They hadn’t realized it wasn’t working until Olivia lowered it to adjust her mirror and it wouldn’t roll all the way back up. Asher was irritated with himself that he hadn’t thought to check it.

  James had done a great job with the car in the body shop, and it was now sporting a new coat of metallic purple paint. Not a stock color by any stretch of the imagination, but Olivia said it was her favorite color, so that was good enough for Asher. Everything under the hood ran great, but damn it, he’d forgotten to check some of the little things.