by Naomi West
“This is ... a friend of mine,” Halley said, clearly uncertain. “Um.”
I swung off my bike, parking it there but not bothering to pay for the meter since they were sitting right there. “You still haven't called me,” I reminded her. “So why don't I invite myself to lunch with you? My treat.”
Halley looked lost and uncertain, but she nodded and pushed out one of the extra chairs at their four-person table. “Okay,” she agreed.
I sat down and reached for the menu, but then I noticed how rigidly she was sitting, how uneasy she seemed. Jesus, she probably didn't know what to think, and as angry as I wanted to be, I could also tell that she was practically petrified that I might realize the kid was my son. I had to feel for her.
I reached over and caught her hand, lightly squeezing it. “Hey,” I told her, looking deep into her green eyes. “It's okay. Trust me.”
Halley gulped and nodded, even though she still clearly wanted to ask how much I realized about the kid. I didn't want to broach that subject in front of him, though; I recognized that she may not want to introduce me as a father to the kid when we weren't sure how long … well, I just wasn't really father material. Having grown up an orphan and then fucked my way through my teenage years and early 20s, I couldn't say that I really knew the first thing about having a kid.
“What's your name?” the kid asked me, putting his fingers in his mouth.
That seemed to jolt Halley, who quickly began to look normal again. “Hey, honey, remember, we don't want to put our fingers in our mouth like that, especially not right before we eat.”
“Sorry, Mama,” the kid said. But he kept his eyes trained on me. “What's your name?” he repeated.
“I'm Jake, buddy,” I told him, wondering if we were supposed to shake hands or something. Eventually, I decided against it. But I did reach over and tousle his hair a little. “What's your name?”
“I'm Cole,” the kid said proudly. “I'm eight!”
“Seven,” Halley corrected, and his face fell.
“I'm seven,” he mumbled, glancing over at his mom.
I couldn't help laughing, still unable to tear my eyes away from the kid. “So, you're in school?” I asked him. “And wow, you must have just moved back from Louisiana, right? How's your new school?”
“'S better than my last!” Cole told me excitedly. He went off on a whole explanation of how much nicer his new teacher was and all of the friends that he was meeting and the fact that they got to go outside “for, like, all of the day before they go inside for math!” and so on.
I realized I was still holding Halley's hand and I gave it a light squeeze, smiling over at her. She gave me a wan smile in return, but at least she didn't look ready to jump out of her skin anymore. I wanted her to be at ease, I realized. More than I wanted to be angry with her, I wanted her to be at ease.
But at the end of the lunch, I caught her wrist while Cole was in the bathroom. “We need to talk,” I told her, and she ducked her head, looking nervous and chagrined.
“I know,” she whispered.
“I'm not mad,” I clarified, just in case that was what she was worried about. “I just have a lot of questions. Why don't I take you out for drinks tomorrow night? Can you leave Cole with your parents and meet me downtown?”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay,” I echoed.
Chapter Seven
Halley
Tiffany practically squealed when I told her about the date, at least, until I told her about the whole lunch debacle. “Ouch,” she said fervently. “I mean, I did keep telling you that you should talk to him sooner rather than later or else you'd probably regret it.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, ducking my head a little. I bit my lower lip. “But he was surprisingly cool about it. I'm guessing he probably just didn't have time to process things really, but...”
“Well, it helps that he's not Brian, remember,” Tiffany said gently. “He's not apt to fly off the handle like—”
“I don't want to talk about Brian tonight,” I interrupted. I was nervous enough without thinking about what the consequences would be if my still-technically-husband someone found me there and out on a date with another man. Another attractive man…
“So what are you going to wear?” Tiffany asked excitedly. “Oh, this could be so good for you, hun. It's so exciting! What if you and Jake really hit it off? What if he wants to be around for you and Cole? What if—”
“Let's just figure out what I should wear,” I interrupted, opening my closet and staring at its contents. It was overwhelming at the moment, and I took a deep breath.
“Well, it's going to have to be something sexy, of course,” Tiffany said, tapping one long fingernail against her lips. “Because you're going to be telling Jake, 'hey, I'm a momma' — but you also kind of want to be telling him, 'hey, I'm a momma that you'd love to fuck'.”
I blushed brilliantly and folded my arms over my chest, feeling insecure. Tiffany just laughed at my antics. “Come on, Tiff,” I said. “Be serious.”
“I'm being totally serious!” she retorted. “Come on, no one could tell from looking at you that you had a kid. I mean, okay, your hips are wider now than they were when you were eighteen. But hey, so are mine, and I definitely did not have a kid, as far as I remember.” She grinned crookedly at me. “You've got a fantastic figure, and any guy would be lucky to have you, kid or no. This date's just perfect for you because he's the father of your kid and, let's face it, Jake Ryce is hot.”
I couldn't help grinning a little at that, some of her excitement wearing off on me the more she talked. “He is pretty hot, isn't he?” I sighed and stared at my closet. “But what should I wear?”
Tiffany reached in and pulled out a slinky, metallic silver dress. “What about this?” she asked. “The ruching will make your curves look–”
“No,” I said, before she could even finish. I held up a hand to halt her protests. “I have one rule for all of this, and that's that whatever it is that I'm wearing, I want it to be something that Cole could see me in, without me getting embarrassed or feeling like I was showing a little too much skin. I'm telling Jake that I'm a mom, and I want to look the part. Just a sexy mom, like you said.”
“What's wrong with this?” Tiffany asked, squinting at the dress. “I mean, it'll hug all your curves, sure, but—”
“My boobs would be practically falling out of that,” I told her frankly. “And it would barely cover my. ladybits down below.”
Tiffany laughed a little. “All right, fine,” she said. “But then I'm keeping it.”
“Fine by me,” I said.
“How did you even get something like that in your wardrobe?” she asked, already looking for the next option. “With as conservative as your parents are, I would have thought...”
“I honestly have no idea,” I said, laughing a little.
When I finally made it to the bar and laid eyes on Jake, I was glad that Tiffany had managed to doll me up into something sexy, because Jake was smoking hot that night, in a pair of black slacks and a navy blue shirt that really made his eyes pop. He had the sleeves of the shirt rolled up so that his tattoos were still on full display, and the whole effect was…
“Hey,” I said breathlessly, hopping up on the barstool next to him, still not able to peel my eyes away from him.
But he was eyeing me with just the same level of interest, his eyes skimming my curves, noting the way my silky red-and-white dotted shirt hugged my breasts and disappeared into the high-waisted black pencil skirt. I crossed my legs daintily, and he watched the movement with hunger, his eyes skimming my toned calves and the black stiletto heels that I had borrowed from Tiffany at the last minute.
“You look fucking amazing,” Jake said succinctly. “Like, my first instinct is to not even buy you a drink and instead just throw you over my shoulder and take you home with me.”
“That might be a little embarrassing for me. This skirt's pretty short,” I blurted out
. Then, I blushed. Was that really the only thing about that image that I felt like protesting?
But it got a laugh out of Jake, and I wanted to make him laugh again and again. I grinned a little, ducking my head. But, it was time I came right out with the real reason we were meeting there. “I’m sure you've probably realized this, but Cole's your son.”
Jake stared at me for a long moment. “How?” he finally asked. “I mean, I used a condom, and you were on birth control, right? I mean, I know these things happen, but on a one-night stand? Are you sure you're not mistaken?”
I couldn't meet his gaze. “I mean, if you want to know how much my luck sucks … that was my first time. And only time, until after I'd had Cole.”
Jake was gaping at me. “That was … you were a virgin?” he asked, but he didn't sound disgusted. Instead, he sounded kind of guilty. “Jesus, I didn't realize that or I never would have taken you home. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but, of all the people you could have had sex with, why the hell did you pick me to be your first? Some random stranger? Aren't you women supposed to...”
“The opportunity was there,” I said simply, shrugging a little and looking away from him. I tried for a bit of humor. “And in case you weren't aware, you're pretty damn attractive.”
Jake shook his head and suddenly made a motion to flag down the bartender. “I need a drink,” he told me.
“Me too,” I admitted. “I really shouldn't, but I could definitely use one.”
“Are you pregnant again?” he asked, sounding scandalized, and I could help but scowl at him.
“No!” I said exasperatedly. “But at the end of the night, I have to go back home to Cole, and I'd prefer not to stink of booze when I do that. Especially not given that Cole's dad…” I broke off, blinking a little. “I mean, not Cole's dad, because you're obviously his dad. But my, um, husband.”
“You have a husband,” Jake said flatly. He stared at me for a long moment and then threw his hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, then, woman what the hell are you doing here? You swoop back into my life as though you want me to fuck you again or something, and then I find out that we have a kid together, but oh yeah, you've already got a husband — who's been there as Cole grew up, right?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, barely able to be heard there in the bar. I felt a couple tears slip down my cheeks as I rubbed at the inside of my wrist. “Look, I'm sorry. I know you're upset and that I probably should have told you about Cole before, I was just ... I was scared. And my parents sent me off to Louisiana to live with my grandparents, and things were just difficult. Scary and difficult. And I really needed some help, and that was when I met Brian. But I couldn't ask you to leave your whole life.”
“Because you had to do the same?” Jake growled. “What the hell kind of a man do you think I am? I would've stepped up, you know. I would've made sure that that kid had everything.” He took a deep breath. “I'm an orphan, you know. I had a pretty fucking shitty childhood bouncing from home to home, and I moved out on the streets when I was fifteen. Trust me when I say, I would have given that kid everything, everything that I never got to have.”
I was fully crying by now. I just wanted to fall into his arms, to look to him for comfort, but I also knew that I didn't deserve that. “You have every right to be angry with me,” I sobbed. “What I didn't wasn't fair to you. I just thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I didn't think that you'd ever want to see me again anyway, and especially not when I had a kid growing inside of me. And my parents were already so furious. They're so conservative, and I can only imagine what would've happened if I'd brought you home. They'd probably never have spoken to me again. I thought I was doing what was best.”
“Hey,” Jake said softly, pulling me into his arms and cradling me gently against his toned chest. “Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to make you so upset. I mean, I'm upset too, don't get me wrong, but we'll figure it out. You just have to tell me what you're actually here for.”
“I want you to get to know Cole,” I whimpered, clinging to him. “I want you to be his dad.”
“I hear he's already got one of those, though,” Jake said patiently.
“Not for much longer,” I told him. “Brian and I are in the process of a divorce. Things just aren't working out. That's part of why I moved back here; I had to get away from there. But I also. wanted you to meet Cole finally.”
Jake was silent for a long moment. “All right,” he said finally, pulling away from the hug and making me instantly regret losing the feeling of his arms around me. But he kept an arm looped around my shoulder, keeping me there close to him. “You were drinking cosmos, if I remember correctly. And then I vaguely remember something about whiskey neat.”
I wrinkled my nose but laughed a little. “Good memory,” I told him. “But I was only drinking the whiskey to fit in.”
Jake laughed and shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “You, my dear, are never going to fit in with a crowd of biker chicks. And I mean that in the best way possible.”
“So, what exactly are you doing here?” Jake asked when we both had drinks in front of us — mine a gin and tonic and his a whiskey sour. “And if it's just that you want me to meet Cole, then why now? You're going through a divorce, okay, but what else is there?”
I sighed, stirring the ice around in my drink and playing with the wedge of lime, dunking it under the liquid over and over again as though that were the most fascinating thing in the world.
“I need your help,” I finally admitted, barely risking a glance up to see Jake's answering expression. “My husband is not a very nice man. He's an alcoholic, and he gets ... abusive.”
“And what, you remember me knocking out that guy who was getting handsy with you, and you thought that—”
“No,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “I mean, honestly, I don't really care about it as far as I'm concerned. I can deal with all of it; I have been for years now. But Cole...” I swallowed hard. “I just can't bear to think that something would ever happen to Cole. I don't think he's safe with me right now, and I know that you're part of a biker gang and I just thought...”
“A biker gang is no place to raise a kid,” Jake snapped.
“I know that,” I said, desperate to make him understand. But the trouble was, I didn't even really know myself what I was asking. “Isn't there some way that the gang could keep us safe, though?” I asked.
Jake was silent for a long moment and then looked away. “I'm not sure what I can do,” he finally said. “I'll ask Frank, our top dog, and see what I can do, but I may not be able to help you.”
“Okay,” I said softly. “Okay. That's all I'm asking, really.”
Chapter Eight
Jake
I was never this nervous to see Frank, not even when I messed up a mission, not even when I'd flunked out of that class that he insisted I take to learn some business skills. Of course, it didn't help that I'd had a little too much coffee that morning, after a little too little sleep. I was practically buzzing by the time he was ready to meet me for lunch.
And he recognized it as soon as he stepped out of his office.
“I knew it was strange for you to call and schedule lunch with me, rather than just showing up spur-of-the-moment and dragging me off for lunch, but I didn't realize it was this important,” he said, frowning at me and eyeing me from head to toe. “So. Who have you got pregnant?”
I gaped at him, wondering how he just knew. “How—”
Frank swore and shook his head. “Jesus, that was just a joke,” he said. “You actually got a girl pregnant, didn't you? Is it one of ours?”
“If it was one of the other Devil's Route bikers, I wouldn't be this nervous,” I pointed out.
“True.” Frank's eyes narrowed. “We'll talk about this over lunch, then, but at least tell me she's not a member of the Holy Flames.” The Holy Flames was one of the other biker gangs — that would have been like a modern Romeo and Juliet story, if that had been the case. B
ut with probably more deaths on either side.
I grimaced. “It's not that bad,” I said. “She's not even a biker. It's just...”
“You're not sure you have it in you to be a dad,” Frank said sagely, and I nodded. That wasn't really what I wanted to talk to him about, but I figured that at least would give us a jumping off point. “Let's go get lunch,” Frank said with a sigh, clapping me on the shoulder. “I'll tell you everything that I know.”
“Her name's Halley,” I told Frank over burgers and beers at our favorite local greasy spoon. “I met her at a party eight years ago.”
Frank raised an eyebrow at me. “Have you been keeping her a secret this whole time?”
“No!” I said. “Look, we had a one-night stand and then she moved to Louisiana. I resigned myself to the fact that I was never going to see her again. But she's back in town. With our son.”
