by Joanna Wylde
“That’s not fair,” James said.
“Wow, thank you for pointing that out,” I snapped. God, he annoyed me. I understood that Mom had left Gus for a reason, but seriously…this guy? “But there’s a part of me that’s kind of glad it’s not finalized yet. Something could happen. The sale could still fall through.”
“It sounds like it’s a done deal,” Mom said. “Doesn’t matter if the papers are signed. The decision has been made. I’m not surprised, either. Like I said, there’s a lot going on there. The Reapers will want Eli in charge. Wouldn’t matter how much you offered Gus.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, then closed it again. Could she be right?
Gus had given me the bad news right after he finished meeting with two club presidents. I hadn’t really questioned that because I never questioned what the club was doing. That was how I’d been raised.
Suddenly, it seemed painfully obvious.
Gus wasn’t the only one involved in this decision. The Reapers must have something to do with it, too. Mom widened her eyes at me as if she knew what I was thinking and gave me a don’t-say-it look. I shot a quick glance at James. He’d pulled out his phone, apparently fascinated by whatever was on it.
Fucking robot.
“Mom, you think you can help me in the kitchen?” I asked pointedly. She nodded, gently nudging James to the side so she could stand up. He hardly seemed to register the movement.
We passed from the living room through the large, formal dining room that’d always seemed too big to me, and then moved into a kitchen so perfect it could’ve been in a magazine.
The house was beautiful, but it had no soul.
Just like its robot master…
I leaned back against one of the countertops, ready for some answers.
“Why are you so against me buying the bar?”
“I’ve never wanted you to buy the bar,” she said, clearly confused. “I’ve told you that all along. Since you were ten years old.”
“Yeah, but you never told me why. And tonight, it sounded like you knew something. Something about the Reapers.”
Mom took a deep breath, clearly considering her answer carefully.
“Seeing as I shared a bed with Gus for many years, it’s safe to say I know a great deal,” she finally said. “I know you care about him. You trusted him, and you counted on him. But ultimately, Gus couldn’t be the man either of us needed. He failed both of us. That’s the reality you’ve never wanted to hear.”
The words hit me with physical pain. My eyes started to burn, and I knew they had to be getting red. Mom sighed, and I could see her eyes getting red, too. Absently, she raised her hand, taking a drink from the can of pop she’d brought with her from the living room.
“Why did you marry James?” I asked softly. “Were you just looking for someone who’d be the opposite of Gus?”
Mom’s eyes went wide, and she choked. Her shoulders started shaking.
“Mom?” I asked, concerned. She made another choking sound, holding up her hand as her lips pressed tightly closed. Now, her whole face was turning red. I needed to help her, but I had no clue what was wrong.
A drip of Coke escaped her lips, running down her chin. She wiped at it, still shaking.
That’s when I figured it out. Mom wasn’t choking. She was laughing. Laughing with her mouth full of pop, trying not to spray it across the room.
Not the reaction I’d expected.
Her eyes caught mine, dancing as she held her fingers to her lips. I felt my own giggle starting. Apparently, that made it worse because she made sort of a smothered squealing sound, then turned away, stumbling toward the sink.
My giggles turned into full-on laughter as she sprayed out her drink, gasping for breath. Then we were both laughing. I still wasn’t quite sure what was so funny, but it didn’t matter.
It’d been too long since we laughed together.
“I looked up the property parcel and ran some more numbers,” James announced, wandering in from the dining room. What the fuck? For some reason, that seemed even funnier to me, and a fresh burst of laughter exploded.
Mom gasped for breath, wiping her mouth with the dish towel that’d been hanging next to the sink.
“Would those be the panty sales numbers?” Mom asked, which set me off again. James looked between us and gave a deep sigh.
“No, those would be property values on the Starkwood Saloon,” he said. “It’s very good. The price Gus offered you, that is.”
“James, stop right there,” Mom said, her voice sharp. Ouch. Clearly, we were done laughing. “It doesn’t matter what the price is. Eli is buying the bar. Peaches can’t afford it.”
“Of course, the price matters,” James replied, seeming almost confused. Mom and I froze, sharing a look. I waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
“Why does it matter?” I finally asked.
“Because that’s a very lowball offer,” James said, giving his phone another glance. “It’s worth nearly that much just in the land. If he’ll sell it to you for that price, you need to buy it. No question.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mom burst out.
“No, I’m not ‘fucking kidding’ you, sweetheart,” James said, and he sounded funny. Not the usual, boring robot voice… No, this was almost flirtatious.
My stomach turned.
That was weird. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t tease, and he didn’t play games. James was a robot.
“Peaches, I’ll back you,” he continued. “In fact, I’ll even give you some room to negotiate. You can go as high as four hundred thousand. We can hammer out the details later, but if they haven’t signed papers, now is the time to move. You should call Gus right now.”
“No,” Mom said, her eyes darting between us. “James, we’ve talked about this. You know why I don’t want her there.”
“I know why you left,” he said, his tone gentle and very not-robotic. “And I know that you don’t want her at the Starkwood. But she’s already there, and has been for years… If Eli takes over, he’s making her the manager. She loves the place, and she’s not going to leave anytime soon. So, the real question isn’t whether Peaches is going to stay at the Starkwood, it’s whether she’ll be working for herself or for someone else.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Clearly, James had paid a lot more attention to my life than I ever realized. Not only that, I knew he was smart. He had money, too. Money he’d made in real estate.
Hell, that’s why most people thought Mom had married him.
“Thank you,” I finally managed to say, still stunned. “But, why?”
James raised a brow. “Because it’s a good deal, Peaches. That’s how I’ve always worked. I watch, and I wait. That way, I’m ready when a really good opportunity crosses my path. That’s how I got your mother, you know. Took me three years to convince her to go out with me, but when she finally said yes, I was ready.”
“He was,” Mom said, smiling at him. “That was the most romantic date I’ve ever been on. He thought of everything…”
James set his phone on the counter, then caught my mom’s hand, pulling her toward him. She reached up to cup his cheek, even as he leaned down to give her a soft, sweet kiss. Then their mouths opened, and shit got real.
Jesus Christ.
Mom and James were making out like horny teenagers, right in the middle of the kitchen. The whole damned world had gone crazy, clearly. I looked away, uncomfortable. There was a wet, smacking sound, followed by a soft moan.
“Um, you need to stop now,” I said, shifting my feet awkwardly. The smacking noises continued. Turning my head, I stole a peek at them. Holy shit, was James’ hand reaching for Mom’s butt?
“Stop!” I said, horrified. “I can’t do this. I can’t watch you guys make out in the kitchen. What the hell is wrong with you, Mom? I’m your child.”
She pulled away from James just slightly. “You’re nearly thirty, baby
. I know this may shock you, but I’m not dead. I still like to have sex, and this is my husband. It’s allowed.”
James wrapped an arm around her, tucking her into his side. She sighed happily, and I threw up a little in the back of my throat.
“You’re disgusting.”
“We’re in love,” James replied, the words sounding incredibly weird and wrong in his robot voice.
Mom laughed at the look on my face. “You know how you asked me earlier if I married James because he’s not like Gus?”
“Mom!” I hissed, wondering what the hell she was thinking, saying that in front of him. She laughed again, and this time, the sound was deeper.
Sensual.
“I married him because, deep down inside, he’s the man I need him to be,” she whispered, and I realized that James was right.
They were in love.
My wild-ass, crazy mom was in love with an accountant who’d told me once that he didn’t like motorcycles. Because they were too dangerous.
“Go talk to Gus,” James told me, giving Mom another squeeze. “Make the deal. We’ll figure out the details tomorrow. It’ll be fair.”
“Um, yeah…” I said, backing slowly away from them. I couldn’t process this right now. That’s okay. You don’t need to understand what just happened to take advantage of it. Just leave the house before they start making out again.
“Peaches?” Mom said, catching my attention. She’d wrapped both of her arms around James again, resting her head on his chest. “There’s another reason I married him, you know. The thing is, he’s really good in the sack. I’ve always had a high sex drive, you know.”
I turned and ran out of the room.
Chapter Six
~Peaches~
“Kinda desperate, coming here on your night off,” Eli said as I walked up to the bar. “Usually, girls just text me when they want a booty call.” His lips quirked up in a smirk.
“Go to hell,” I replied absently. Where was Gus? The place was mostly empty, just a few of the Reapers hanging out in one of the corner booths. Megan was wiping down tables, and Eli was the only one behind the bar. I frowned, boosting myself up onto one of the bar stools. “Oh, and can I have a rum and Coke?”
Eli leaned forward on his elbows. “Too late. I already did last call for the night.”
“It’s hardly past eleven,” I said, surprised.
“Slow night.” He shrugged. “Decided to close early.”
“I’ve been trying to convince Gus that we should close earlier when it’s like this for the last three years.”
Eli’s mouth quirked up, radiating smugness.
“Gus isn’t in charge anymore.”
My stomach dropped. “Does that mean you signed the papers today? I thought they weren’t ready yet.”
Eli raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t give me a direct answer. Instead, he grabbed a couple of shot glasses and set them out between us. Then he grabbed a bottle of Crown Royal from the shelf behind the bar.
“Eli, did you sign the papers?” I asked again, feeling nervous. He filled the shot glasses. This was starting to look like a celebration, which didn’t make sense.
They weren’t supposed to finalize things until next week.
“Got them today,” he said, and I heard the triumph in his voice. That fucking bastard… It wasn’t enough for him to take the bar from me. Nope. Now, he wanted me to celebrate with him. This was about him winning. Again. “Already looked everything over. We’ll sign them tomorrow morning at the title company. Grab your drink, Peaches. It’s time for us to make a new start.”
Eli caught my eye, raising his glass in a toast.
I briefly considered throwing the shot in his face because I’d be damned if I would concede defeat. If the papers hadn’t been signed yet, I still had a chance to make my offer. Eli didn’t need to know that, though. So, I gave him a strained smile and forced myself to give his glass a token tap. Together, we downed the shots.
He reached for the bottle and started pouring again.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked, wondering if he had a deeper game. “Because I stole bottles of this shit all the time in high school. It’ll take more than two shots.”
“Not true,” he said. “You always went for the crappy vodka. Easier to water down. Cover the crime.”
He had me. I’d totally done that.
“You liked it mixed with Dr. Pepper,” he added, lifting his glass again and grinning at me over the top of it.
“How the hell do you remember that?” I asked, startled. Eli held my gaze, and for once, he wasn’t challenging me. He looked almost…friendly. Not luring-me-into-a-false-sense-of-security-so-he-could-destroy-me friendly, either.
Friendly for real.
It freaked me out.
“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” he said. “I’m just feeling good about things. It’s been frustrating, waiting to take over. I’m ready to have it settled. I know you’re not happy about how things turned out—”
“Understatement.”
“I get it,” he continued. “The situation wasn’t fair. But we have a chance to start things over again. Do it right. Both of us love this place. You’ve been working here for seven years. And starting tomorrow, you’ll be the manager. Do you really want to be at each other’s throats for the next ten years? Don’t you ever get tired of fighting?”
I didn’t know what I’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. I grabbed the shot, downing it quickly. The first one hadn’t done much, but this one set my head spinning.
Or maybe that was just the sound of Eli being reasonable.
“Let me ask you this,” I said carefully. “If I’d won, would you be willing to celebrate with me?”
Eli didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Yes, I would,” he said. “But this wasn’t about winning.”
I raised a brow.
“Peaches, do you really think I want to take your dream away from you?” he asked. “I didn’t plan for you to get hurt, but Gus promised me this bar a long time before he ever talked to you about it. I have dreams, too.”
“What you mostly have is money,” I said, feeling my frustration and anger rise. “Money you didn’t even earn, for the record. I’ve spent the last seven years busting ass, and we both know I’ve been managing it for a long time. And don’t tell me this was your dream. Nobody made you go to prison, Eli. We both know you didn’t kill that guy. I was your fucking alibi. And yet, for some reason, you chose prison over staying with us—”
Horrified, I snapped my mouth shut, wondering where the hell that’d come from. Eli studied me, one of the little muscles in his jaw tensing.
Then his gaze flicked toward something behind me before he caught my eyes again.
“Let’s talk in the office.”
Sliding off the stool, I turned and saw that Gus had just walked through the door. Gage was with him, along with more club members.
Eli rounded the bar, catching my arm.
“Office,” he repeated, tugging at me. I took a moment to consider. I’d come to see Gus, not Eli. But this many club brothers all together, right when the bar was closing…that struck me as odd.
“Are the Reapers having a meeting tonight?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “We need to finish this conversation. Privately.”
Gus caught my eye and offered a casual wave before turning back to Gage. A couple of the prospects started sliding tables together.
“You’re done for the night,” Eli said, and I blinked, confused. I thought he wanted to talk some more.
“Don’t you need someone to serve the bikers?” Megan said. I hadn’t even noticed her walking up to us. I swayed a little, realizing that those shots were hitting me a little harder than they should have…
I hadn’t eaten dinner. Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten lunch, either.
“I think Gus and I can handle drinks for the club,” Eli told her. “Peaches is here if we
need help.”
“What makes you think I’m willing to help?” I said, tugging at my arm. His fingers tightened, and he pulled me toward the office.
“You don’t need to help,” he said as we walked down the hall. “I was just getting rid of her. Now, let’s finish that talk.”
He opened the door, then pushed me toward the couch. Part of me wanted to argue with him, just out of habit. But I also wanted to hear what he had to say. So, I sat down, crossing my arms over my chest. Eli settled next to me, right in the middle of the sofa. Typical. He had a whole damned piece of furniture to sit on, but he had to take the spot right next to me. Making himself comfortable, he leaned back and turned toward me.
“You know what the club is,” he said. “Right?”
“I know all about the club,” I replied, wondering where he was going with this. “I grew up with the club. I lived in Gus’s house before you, remember?”
“Jesus, why do you always have to bring that up?” he asked, clearly frustrated. “I was a little kid. I needed a place to live, and that room was big enough for both of us. Where was I supposed to sleep? The kitchen? Your bedroom was where they put me. I did what I was told.”
“Did they tell you to kidnap Lemur?”
He blew out his breath in exasperation. “I was ten years old, Peaches. I’m sorry I took your stuffed animal. I’ve apologized about a thousand times now, but I don’t have a fucking time machine. I can’t fix it.”
“You cut off his tail and kept it as a trophy,” I hissed.
Eli looked away. “That was shitty. Ten-year-olds do shitty things.”
“You hung it on your rearview mirror in high school.”
He shifted. Clearly, the guilt had gotten to him. I paused to savor the moment.
“Eighteen-year-olds do shitty things, too,” he admitted. “And if I remember correctly, you stole that car. Smashed one of the fenders.”
“It was a rescue operation,” I pointed out. “I had to retrieve Lemur’s remains and give him a dignified burial. The car was just collateral damage, something that never would’ve happened if you hadn’t desecrated his corpse.”
