“Right.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets. “Is Dylan here?”
I jerked my head in the direction of the restaurant. “He’s putting our name on the list. Might be a bit of a wait.”
“Ah okay.”
We stood there in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at each other. When Dylan popped his head out the door a minute later, it was a relief.
“Hey, they can seat us at the counter now if you want.”
Thank God.
But all I said was, “Sure,” as I started toward the door.
“Nuh uh.” The old man shook his head. “Can’t do the counter. I need a back corner table or we gotta eat somewhere else.”
I exchanged a wide-eyed what the hell look with Dylan before he nodded slowly. “Right. I’ll go see about that.”
Dyl disappeared back into the restaurant while I resumed holding up the post out front. I shot the old man a look out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t say anything. No excuse or apology or anything. Like it was totally normal to demand a specific table or none at all.
After another awkward minute, Dylan came out and stood next to us. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
Right.
Dylan’s gaze bounced between us for a second before he spoke, “So, uh, Dad, how’s the place you’re staying at?”
The old man grunted. “It’s a glorified dump. But hey, it’s better than prison, right?”
Dylan nodded, his head down like something on his boot was fascinating.
“How’d you get here?” I asked just to break the awkward silence.
The old man held his cell phone up like it was a prize. “Uber. Can you fucking believe it? My attorney hooked me up with a phone and took me through all these—what’d he call them? Ads? You can push a couple of buttons and someone will come to your house and pick you up. Crazy. We didn’t have anything like that twenty-five years ago.”
I bit back the snarky reply about cabs being around for forever that burned on my tongue. I was here for Dylan. I had to remind myself. He was the only reason I was here. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the old man bugged me. At the first parole hearing, he’d seemed so broken and remorseful. And now… I don’t know. Something about him just rubbed me wrong. Honestly, I didn’t want anything to do with the guy. The only reason I was still standing here was my brother.
This whole charade was a betrayal to Aunt Wendy. I tried not to think about her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye when I saw her next. This was all just so fucked up.
Of course, the troublemaker in me couldn’t leave well enough alone.
“I thought we were meeting you to figure out work. How do you have a phone already?”
“My folks left me some money. It’s tied up in a bunch of red tape, but that’s what lawyers are for, right?” He laughed heartily like he’d told a joke or something.
Or that we had experience with lawyers.
“Right.” I reached up to rub at the back of my neck in the same movement I’d watched him do and froze. Fuck. I dropped my hand and twisted my head to pop my neck instead. Damn, this was weird. I’d never been so cognizant of every move I made. Everything felt wrong. Like I was in someone else’s skin. I just wanted this to be over already. I’d gladly take a mountain of Austin’s shit at work than…whatever this was.
“So uh, what kind of job are you looking for?” Dylan apparently didn’t feel the same as he tried to move the conversation along.
“Whatever place will hire me. I was a mechanic before the bitc—er, before I went inside. And I kept up with it while I was serving my sentence. The Department of Corrections has lots of programs to benefit and enrich the inmates. I was impressed when I heard you guys had started your own shop.” He tried for a caring note in his voice, but I saw right through the bastard.
“Austin did that.” I snapped. “He worked nights and weekends while we were all still in school. He built the shop up from nothing and has made a fucking empire all on his own.” I was vibrating with nerves, repressed anger, I didn’t know what. But I’d about had it with this asshole.
The old man’s lips curved with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s not exactly true.”
“What?” I barked. Was he seriously going to take a bow for everything Austin had done?
“He had his brothers, didn’t he? I doubt his shop would’ve gone this far without the three of you backing him up.”
Some of my ire drained away. I jerked my chin in acknowledgement of his point.
But I still didn’t like him.
“Burns, party of three? Burns?” A pretty redhead poked her head outside, looking at the crowd of people waiting. “Burns.”
Thank fuck. I pushed away from the post with a grunt and headed for the door. At this point, I didn’t really care if the guys behind me followed. I just wanted some greasy bacon and runny eggs.
The next awkward moment came when we reached the table. It was the only booth at the back of the restaurant, just like the old man had demanded. But when I moved to sit on the far side bench, the old man gestured for me to slide in so he could sit beside me. Rolling my eyes, I complied. At this point, I didn’t know what would be worse—sitting next to him or having to stare at his face if I sat across from him.
The way my skin burned when he sat next to me made me think I’d chosen wrong.
The redhead hostess dropped our menus and mumbled something about a waitress before she disappeared.
Dylan must’ve felt just as twitchy as me because despite our having the menu memorized months ago, he picked a menu up and hid behind it. I didn’t even bother. I knew what I wanted. Instead, I pulled out my phone and spun it on the table.
“What’s good here?” The old man asked as he leaned back against the booth. The leather creaked under his weight despite his slight frame. The guy looked small but he gestured and acted like he was much bigger.
“I like the biscuit sandwich, wet,” I replied referring to the artery clogging bacon, onion, cheddar, biscuit sandwich topped with two runny eggs then smothered in gravy. “Dylan usually gets the kitchen sink, and Austin and Nathan love the grilled cheese Benedict.”
I don’t know why I added my older brothers into the mix—maybe a subconscious effort to needle him—but the old man noticed.
“I don’t guess they’re big fans of me, given the paperwork my lawyer showed me. A job at your shop is probably out of the question.” His words lingered over our booth in a way that made my skin itch. His words weren’t aggressive, but something about the way he said them—his slightly snide tone—didn’t sit right.
My brothers and I might fight like cats and dogs on occasion, but I’d gladly stand between any one of them and a bullet—like Austin had done for us so many years ago. Austin had been the one to protect us that night when everything had changed. Austin had hidden us all in his bedroom closet, standing between us and the door. Or so Nathan told me. I’d been too little to remember.
I stared down at my phone on the table and gave it another spin. Everything about this felt wrong. What the hell was I doing here?
Dylan slapped the menu down on the table.
Right. I was here for Dyl.
Dylan sighed. “Yeah, working at the shop isn’t gonna happen. But I can put in a good word for you with a couple auto shops I have connections with around town. Mostly autobody places, but we’ll see what we can do.”
I raised my eyebrows but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be part of the “we”. And I was kinda surprised that he’d use his industry contacts to get this man a job. But Dylan had visited the old man a time or two in prison, so maybe he knew something I didn’t know.
It was a relief when the waitress showed up to take our order. Quickly followed by another moment of awkward silence.
Dylan cleared his throat. “So uh, are you into regular mechanic work? Have you done any body work? Like I said, most of my auto contac
ts are with the body side of the business.”
The old man replied, but I lost track of the conversation when my phone vibrated across the table with an incoming text.
Unknown: Apparently Goldie talked some crap about us with the guys at the club. My dad found out. You should avoid the clubhouse and anyone affiliated with them for a while.
Obviously it was Hope. I took a few seconds to enter her info into my contacts while I thought over what she’d written. Her dad was obviously pissed. What the hell did Goldie say? I didn’t like the thought of anyone talking smack about Hope. She was sweet and kind and so crazy hot. Besides whose business was it if we had sex last night? Given what I’d seen go down in the clubhouse at parties before, why would they care about what we did behind closed doors as two consenting adults?
And anyone affiliated with them? What did that mean? Was she implying that she didn’t want to see me either? Fuck.
I didn’t know how to reply to her text. I had so many questions. And I didn’t want to look like a needy guy the night after begging to see her again.
Was there any way to reply to her text without looking like a fool?
Fuck. I hated this part of dating.
“Problem?” Dylan asked with raised eyebrows.
I shot him a look and tilted my head toward the old man. “Nothing critical.”
Meaning nothing I wanted to talk about with an audience.
After another awkward beat, the old man slapped the table top then pushed to his feet. “I’m gonna go drain the snake.”
Charming.
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked as soon as the old man had cleared the room.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Ry, I know that look. Last time I saw it was when we got that eviction notice. The day after your crazy party, remember? Spill while we have some privacy.”
I heaved a sigh. “You were right. Apparently Hope’s dad isn’t thrilled that she took me home last time.”
“I told you.”
“I know. I know. She uh, doesn’t think it would be a good idea if I show up at the clubhouse or bump into any Kings for a while.”
“Holy shit.” Dylan exclaimed before hunching over the table and whispering, “Did he put a hit out on you? Who the hell is her dad?”
I shrugged.
“You don’t know?” Dylan’s eyes widened. “How the hell don’t you know? Did it not come up last night?”
“Seriously? How many chicks do you ask to see their family tree before you fuck them?”
“Hey, this isn’t on me. You’re the one who said she wasn’t a club chick and that she’s a biker brat.”
“We didn’t dig too deep into our backgrounds. I’m not one to pass judgement on someone’s family. Look at what we got in ours. We’re not exactly a Norman Rockwell painting.”
“Fuck me. Seriously?” Dylan paused and gave a fake smile to the waitress as she passed out coffees and waters.
She smiled brilliantly back and bent extra low to give Dylan his coffee. And a bonus view.
Not that he noticed.
I glared at my brother. “We have a shitty father, so who am I to judge hers?”
He turned back to me and hissed. “Not the fucking time or place, and I’m not gonna let you dodge the fucking conversation.”
“Do you guys need anything else?” The waitress drawled.
“No,” Dylan bit out.
Her eyes widened before she hurried away.
“Come on, Dyl. I know you’ve spent more time with the old man than I have, but there’s something not right about him. He says all the right things, but he’s skeevy.”
“I’m not talking about that now. What are you going to do about the Kings? They’re our biggest client. Nathan signed them for another build after you left. You can’t dodge them forever.”
And Dylan didn’t even know the worst part. There was a chance Hope and her MC family could be in my life for a long fucking time. Not that I could tell him that. It might not happen after all. Especially since Hope probably didn’t want to see me again anyways.
Besides, the old man was heading this way.
“You need to figure it out. And make it right. Just think what’ll happen if Austin gets wind of this.” Dylan said before noticing the old man standing at the end of the table.
“Everything okay with you boys?” He looked between our tense faces. “I can always go grab a cigarette if you need another minute.”
Again, he was saying all the right words, but something about the way he said them…
I shook my head. “We’re good.”
It wasn’t like I wanted to rehash all the ways I’d fucked up last night.
Because if my luck held, this was just the tip of the iceberg. And I’d always had shitty luck.
Chapter 8
Hope
Two weeks later
I stood in the women’s health section of the pharmacy, uncertain of my choices. This one promised results three days early. That one swore it was 99% accurate. Ugh, how did I pick? Technically I was only a day late, and I felt that heaviness in my pelvis that always came with my period.
But I wanted to know for sure.
I grabbed one box with three tests inside at random and headed for the register. I’d purposefully driven into Midtown to a store outside my neighborhood so I’d avoid running into anyone I knew.
But then I was never that lucky.
Standing at the first register I went to was Dylan. Ryan’s brother. Eff my life.
I swiveled to make a quick escape when I slammed into someone else.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where—” I broke off with a gasp when I looked up into Ryan’s face. Ryan. The reason I was at this store in the first place, Ryan.
I hadn’t heard from him in the two weeks since his short and sweet, Thanks for letting me know, text after my warning about my dad’s wrath. I hadn’t spoken to him or my father since. I was kinda surprised about Ryan’s defection. But despite how sweet and amazing he’d been with the broken condom news, he’d shown his true self with his silence. I should’ve known.
“Hope, I, uh…” Ryan looked from me to his brother standing behind me then back to me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I squeaked as I whipped the pregnancy test behind my back. Swallowing hard, I tried and failed to figure out what to say to my one-night stand and possible baby daddy.
“I, uh, didn’t expect to see you.” Ryan rubbed at the back of his neck. His arm flexed, showing off the bulging muscles and colorful tattoos beneath his short-sleeved shirt.
And I really shouldn’t be noticing things like that. We were a one-night stand that was over two weeks ago. We had nothing now. Unless this test came back positive… I shifted my weight and tried to think of a suave way to side step this awkward conversation and get out of here with some of my dignity still intact.
A chime pinged and he grabbed his phone out of his back pocket with his other hand. His brow wrinkled and he frowned down at me. “You’re holding a pregnancy test?”
“What? How did you…”
Ryan tilted his head and looked over my shoulder. I swung around to glare at his brother standing behind me. Dylan shrugged and tucked his phone away.
I sighed and turned back to Ryan as I pulled the test from behind me. “Yeah, I uh, wanted to know for sure.”
“You think you might be?” Ryan’s face paled.
“I’m a day late.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I didn’t know what to say to him. What did you say to a guy in this situation? I’ll let you know. Nice to see you. Ugh.
Ryan gestured to his brother. “We were going to have a little barbecue tonight. Cook up some burgers and ribs. Do you, uh, would you like to come over?”
“Oh no. I just…have a test I need to study for.” I waved the kit in a weak attempt at humor. “But I’ll—”
“Please. We live just around the corner
. We can eat and you can study for your test.” Ryan smiled blindingly down at me. “And then we’ll both know.”
I had to look away from him. My knees literally felt weak. When he turned on the charm, he really turned on the charm. The man was dangerously charismatic.
“You’re coming.” Ryan grabbed the pregnancy test from my hands and tossed it onto the conveyor behind me.
“I thought you wouldn’t care,” I mumbled as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Of course I do. I told you I’d be there for you—whatever you choose to do.”
“Really?” I tilted my head, annoyed that he was taking that stance given all that hadn’t happened. Namely him showing up again. Ever. “I kinda assumed that was a line. After you got my text, you never once hit me up.”
“Oh.” Ryan bent his head to rub the back of his neck and I swore his cheeks pinked. “I thought your text meant you didn’t want to see me.”
“What? I told you that my dad was angry. What did that have to do with me not wanting to see you?”
“You said I should stay away from anyone associated with the Kings. I thought you were implying you didn’t want to see me either.”
I blinked. “What? No. I meant the guys and people like Goldie.” It made sense now. He’d gone MIA because I’d all but told him to. “I never meant… I don’t play games like that. If I didn’t want to see you, I’d come right out and tell you.”
Ryan’s charming smile returned. “I’m sorry I assumed. Next time I won’t.”
I couldn’t help but smile back at him as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Next time? My sigh was shaky as I thought about that meant. We’d wasted two weeks. He’d wanted to see me after all. He wanted to see me now.
And then the register behind me beeped, tearing me out of my temporary fog. My stomach sank as I remembered. I was late. There was a test lurking in one of those plastic bags, waiting to decide my future. This could all go batshit crazy in the blink of an eye. My dad. The Kings. Ryan.
Fast: A Pregnant by the Bad Boy Romance (Burns Brothers Book 2) Page 6
