“You’re pretty,” he said as he moved even closer.
His big body was now close enough that I could smell his scent, which sucked because he smelled a lot like Zach.
I felt bile rise in my throat as I tried to skirt away, but found that I was blocked seconds later when my hips hit a rolling cart full of polished rocks.
“Um, thank you,” I said, trying to go the other way now.
That way was blocked by him, though, when he slid forward.
I felt my stomach tighten and was about to start screaming when I heard a menacing growl from behind the big guy.
“Step. The fuck. Back,” Zach ordered harshly, his voice brooking no room for argument.
It was either the guy stepped back, or Zach was going to make him, and I had a feeling that the guy wasn’t going to like how Zach accomplished that.
The guy stepped back, putting him closer to Zach and taking himself farther away from me.
I took a breath, feeling the burn of my lungs as I did.
Holy shit, that was scary.
Granted, shit probably wasn’t going to happen when we were in the middle of a store, but the guy had been huge, and he could’ve squashed me like a bug.
Though Zach was tall—six-foot-three—the guy that he was now facing was taller, just as bulky, and had fists the size of dinner plates.
He also looked cowed as he stood staring at Zach, who was so pissed that I could see a vein throbbing at his temple, just below his hairline.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Didn’t know she was yours,” the guy that’d just been intimidating me said.
“You didn’t mean to scare the shit out of her?” Zach asked, sounding even and calm, but his vein throbbing said anything but.
The man looked at me, blanched, and then looked at Zach, a look of pleading in his eyes.
“Didn’t realize it was that big of a deal, either,” he promised. “If I knew that I scared her, I would’ve backed off.”
Liar.
The guy knew that he was scary.
I could tell that just by the way he’d blocked me in the aisle.
Zack was pissed at his lie, too, and calmly started to explain as he pushed his way past him and came toward me.
“You need to learn to read fuckin’ body clues, man,” Zach growled, reaching forward and hooking his finger around my belt loop.
The guy nodded once then skirted away, avoiding the piles of patches on the floor that I hadn’t realized had fallen until right that moment.
“You okay?” he asked.
I swallowed hard, looking at Zach, and felt a wave of calm roll over me.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”
His hands cupped my face, and I didn’t even comment on the slight dampness to them because I could see something strong and worrisome crossing his features.
“Would kill a million people just to make sure you don’t get a single scratch on your body,” he murmured, then pulled his hands away.
I felt emotion welling inside of me, but just before I could reply he said, “And that’s not pee on my hands. They didn’t have any paper towels in the bathroom.”
I burst out laughing, then threw myself into his arms, hugging him tight around the neck.
“Are you even real, Zach Caruso?” I asked into his ear.
He winked. “As far as I can tell.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to wipe my damn cheeks on his own.
He laughed and hooked me around the waist, tugging me closer.
“Did you find anything to eat?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t eat anything here. The diet program I’m on is fairly strict. I looked for nuts, but they’re all salted.”
He sighed. “You have the willpower of steel. I can’t believe that you’re able to go from eating what you want, to such a strict diet regimen, in such a short amount of time.”
I shrugged. “Years and years of practice, I guess. It’s something that I’ve always done, and slipping back into the routine is fairly easy for me. But, just sayin’, after my long run tomorrow, I’m going to expect food. I hope that your parents don’t mind when I shovel it into my mouth like a Shop Vac.”
He chuckled as we walked hand in hand out the door to his bike.
It was when we were walking up to it that I realized his bike wasn’t alone any longer.
It had two other bikes parked next to it, one actually using the gas pump that Zach was still parked at and leaning on his bike.
“Your bike’s a piece of shit,” the man doing the leaning on Zach’s bike called out.
I blinked in surprise.
The man was old. And when I say old, I mean olllllld. Like, he could be just about to keel over, old. He likely once resembled a very jiggly old man with a white beard. Now he was losing that volume. His clothes were slightly swimming on him, but the most obvious part of how he’d used to look was in his motorcycle cut. The massive black cut looked like it hung on his smaller frame.
His shoulders were slightly rounded with age, but his eyes. Those eyes were sharp, and his hands still looked strong.
“Them’s fightin’ words,” Zach drawled, walking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I hear you been in prison,” the guy drawled.
“Yep,” Zach chirped, his tone easy and his hand in mine tight, but not too tight. “Went down for murder.”
The older man’s head tilted slightly, and his long white beard brushed the top of his belly.
“Was it worth it?” he asked.
I hissed in an angry breath, words forming on my tongue before I could stop them.
I growled. “It’s none of your freakin’ business.”
At least I hadn’t said fucking.
The old man’s head tilted with amusement, and the hand around mine squeezed lightly. “It’s okay.”
“That one’s got teeth,” the man teased.
I was getting angrier and angrier the more he spoke.
“She does,” I growled. “And if you don’t stop asking him about that time in his life, I’m going to shove you backward over that motorcycle.”
That’s when there was a dark, husky, rusty chuckle from behind me.
I stiffened even more, turning to find another man behind me.
This one much different looking than the one in front of me.
I now saw where Zach got the ‘tall, dark and deadly’ from.
His father, Cleo, was an exact replica of him.
In twenty-something years, if this was what I had to look forward to when it came to Zachariah Caruso, then I’d be living the dream.
I felt my cheeks heat as I offered the man my hand. “My name is Crockett Archer.”
Cleo, Zach’s father, walked forward and took my hand, his eyes intense as he said, “Cleo Caruso. Nice to meet you.”
He didn’t bother with any more words as he jerked his head toward the road.
“Let’s go.”
“I don’t know if I can ride with a man that isn’t wearing the Dixie Warden colors,” the old man continued.
I glared at him, still not very happy with how he’d teased Zach earlier, even if it’d all been in fun. Even if the man had practically helped raise him.
Zach still wasn’t ‘all right’ with that part of his life. He was coming to terms with it, yes, but I could still tell that his actions for a woman that hadn’t appreciated it bothered him. He’d lost his career, part of his life in prison, and she’d dumped him like the selfish cow that she was.
To make matters worse, she’d come back months later trying to reconcile with a man that just wasn’t the man that she had left behind any longer.
“First you have to heft your ass off that bike and mount your own,” I found myself snarling. “Can you even do that by yourself? Should you be riding a bike at your advanced age?”
“Oh, fuck,” Cleo said from behind me. “Your mother is going to love her.”
I didn’t know what had gotten into me.
I was not acting correctly.
But the man just got on my nerves.
Maybe it was because he reminded me of Murphy. Maybe it was because I knew that I was going to be starting my period any second, and that usually made me way bitchier than usual. Or, it could be that I had wanted a goddamn candy bar in that gas station, and I’d walked out without one.
Whatever the reason, I needed to be nicer.
But I just couldn’t.
“I know.” The old man patted his belly. “And yes, for your information, I can mount my bike. The moment I can’t, I’ll probably be dead anyway.”
I tilted my head.
“Dixie,” Zach said with amusement lacing his tone. “This is my girl, Crockett. Dixie is the oldest man in the Dixie Wardens MC. He’s actually part of who this club was first named after. Another founder, Warden, was club president. Warden died a long time ago. Dixie’s obviously still kickin’… and spittin’.”
I looked at Dixie. “Dixie is an unusual name.”
He shrugged. “It was actually Dixon once upon a time. My wife shortened it to Dixie, and then it all went to hell from there.”
I tilted my head. “Why Dixie?”
Zach groaned. “Don’t answer her.”
“It’s actually a two-part name.” Dixie’s old eyes gleamed.
“Drop it,” Cleo grumbled as he walked toward the bike that didn’t look like it was made for an older man. “Trust me.”
I hurried after him, but the man of the hour continued to talk as if Zach hadn’t even spoken.
“Come on.” Dixie stiffly walked toward the three-wheeled bike that was beside Cleo’s bike. “I need to go sit down in my chair. My bones hurt from riding this far out. If you ever get curious about the name, though…”
I was curious.
Even despite both Zach and Cleo saying to ‘leave it be.’
I was never one to leave it be.
I was curious by nature.
“What’s the other name?” I asked before I could stop myself.
The older man’s eyes gleamed as there was a collective groan from the two people that looked so alike it was eerie.
“Dixie. Dixie Normus.”
That’s when I burst out laughing.
Dick’s enormous.
“Oh, my God.”
I was still laughing when we arrived at our final destination.
My legs felt jittery as we pulled up to Zach’s parents’ house.
And it wasn’t wholly because I’d just spent the better part of three hours on the back of Zach’s bike.
It was partly due to me not having ever met parents before.
Especially not parents that belonged to a man that I was in love with.
Though Cleo seemed cool, I had a feeling that he hadn’t approved of me quite yet.
And wouldn’t until he got his wife’s opinion of me.
I should not have been worried.
Because the moment that I met Rue, all that self-doubt flew out the window.
She came running out of the house like her feet were on fire.
She flew down the stairs, down the length of the path, and went directly for her son that was just climbing off the motorcycle from in front of me.
I put my hand up against Zach’s back when she hit him, helping keep him steady when he took a step backward in response to her exuberance.
Once he got his footing, I let him go and stood up myself, stretching out sore muscles as I did.
When I turned around, it was to see Cleo staring at his wife and son with a look of… devotion in his eyes.
His eyes flicked to me, and something passed between us.
He knew that I loved his son, because the same look he was wearing was in my eyes, too.
He nodded once and started forward, wrapping both of his people in his arms and dropping his forehead to rest on top of his wife’s.
They were like that for a couple of long seconds before Rue wiggled out from between the two hulking figures and twirled around until she found me.
“So you’re it, huh?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m it.”
• • •
“I would have thought that he would’ve gotten the same type of greeting from his father.” I paused. “But then I think about how Zach didn’t ever say a word to me for six months, and then I see it.”
Rue looked at me with laughter in her eyes. “They’re out there bonding right now. They just show it differently than the rest.”
I watched the two of them standing next to the grill, beers in hand, looking at the meat sizzle.
They weren’t turned toward each other, but they were shoulder to shoulder.
Standing like they were, you couldn’t see a difference in their ages due to their dress.
Cleo had a black ball cap on his head, hiding his salt and pepper hair. Zach had a shaggy red one that had seen better days.
Clothes covered them from shoulders to feet, and from the back, you could only see their identical heights, their identical builds, and the way that they held themselves.
They looked like twins.
It was actually kind of cute.
The only difference was that Zach was wearing a cut that declared him a Souls Chapel Revenant, and Cleo was wearing one that denoted him a Dixie Warden.
“They look so alike,” I found myself saying.
“They do,” Rue confirmed. “I thought when he was a baby, he resembled me a lot. But then he grew into the exact replica of Cleo. I sometimes wonder if my genes are half his, and not wholly Cleo’s only. Their looks. Their mannerisms. Their personalities. It’s eerie how freakin’ similar they are.”
Cleo reached forward and cut a piece of bratwurst in half, spearing one end with a knife.
He handed that end to Zach before spearing the other half back on a knife and taking an instant bite.
Zach and he both took huge bites, then did that mouth breathing thing as you dance around when you realize it’s too hot. But you don’t want to spit it out and waste it.
It was hilarious because as they did it, they looked exactly the same.
Mouth breathing and jigging and all.
CHAPTER 17
Optimal amount you should spend on your bottle of wine: 30 minutes.
-Crockett to Zach
CROCKETT
Zach’s parents were… great.
There were no other words.
Though Cleo, Zach’s father, was a little gruff around the edges, and possibly scary as hell if he wanted to be, he was still so good to Zach that it made my heart hurt.
After dinner, when Cleo had seen Zach, he’d ignored me entirely and pulled his son into a bone-jarring hug that made me smile wide. As if he was still surprised to find him in his home.
And then Zach had moved near his mother and me to chat, and Cleo had just looked on as if his heart was finally where he could keep an eye on it.
Now, a couple of hours later, we were in Cleo and Rue’s kitchen, and I was sitting at the bar top with Rue while Zach and Cleo cleaned up from dinner. I’d just changed into leggings and a comfy t-shirt because I was still stuffed to the brim.
“So you’re a runner?” Rue asked me.
I licked my lips, having to practically force my eyes away from the man show in front of me, to turn to his mother.
Her eyes were shining with mirth, knowing what it had cost me.
“Yes,” I felt my face flush. I wasn’t sure that it was a good thing that she knew just how much her son did it for me. But it wasn’t like I could control my reaction to the man. “I used to run a lot in high school but fell out of it when I was in college. Your son encouraged me to start running again. I’m not sure if I like him yet for it or not.”
Rue started to giggle. “How far are we talking here?”
“Twenty-six point two miles,” Zach called over his shoulder. “A full fuckin’ marathon.”
“Language,
” Rue snapped at her son, then turned to me. “Are you sure that you’re sane?”
I started to giggle then, liking the way that she’d brought me into her family without so much as a hiccup.
“I am sane.” I paused. “At least, I think I am.”
Cleo chuckled at my answer, his dark eyes coming my way from where he was replacing the now-clean cast-iron skillet on the stove. “I think everyone thinks they’re sane, whether they are or not.”
That was true.
And my smile agreed.
“It was never my intention to start this life out running,” I said. “But when my mother died, I needed an outlet for the pain. So I started running for real. Before, it’d just been a hobby. Schoolyard fun. Signing up to run in class. Track meets and all that jazz. That first year, I signed up to do a memorial run for people that died of cancer. It was a breast cancer awareness one and a race that draws thousands—runners and walkers alike. Anyway, I had to find my own way there, so I’d already run/walked about three more miles as I arrived at the half-marathon. And I not only won my age group, but I won the entire women’s division. On tired legs.”
“Wow,” Rue breathed. “That’s impressive. I can run… it’s something that I’ve really picked up later in life. But I can’t run like that. When did you run your first full marathon?”
“About two months after that race I just spoke about,” I said. “And my coach for the high school long-distance team happened to be there. He saw me almost win it, and then took a more substantial role in helping me train. He got me a nutritionist, and that’s when I started training for the Olympics.”
“The Olympics!” she cried. “How fun! It’s sad that you didn’t go that far, though. But I think it’s admirable that you’re going to do it now. Or, at least try. Do you think that you still have it?”
“Mom,” Zach chided his mother.
I grinned and waved him off. “It’s a legitimate question. And yes, I believe I still have it. At least, I feel like I do.”
“She does,” Zach said. “She can run her recovery run, which is about seven miles, faster than I can run my regular run.”
“Well,” Rue looked excited. “If you need a partner to run with you during a long run, or just someone to hand you waters as they ride beside you in a golf cart, I’m totally there.”
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