Bull (Dixie Reapers MC 4)

by Harley Wylde, Jessica Coulter Smith

  “Angel, I want you to have everything you need, and that includes getting you the things you want. You deserve nice things, even nicer than what this store has to offer. And I want to give them to you.”

  “The things here are nicer than anything I’ve ever owned,” she said in a near whisper. “I’ve never had anything new before.”

  “I want to take care of you, Darian. Stop fighting me and buy the things you like. Will those jeans make you feel pretty? Will they make you happy?” I asked.

  She hesitantly nodded.

  “Then as far as I’m concerned, you need them. So buy them. Buy three or four. Hell, buy every pair in your size. I promise I can afford it.”

  “All right,” she agreed, then picked the jeans back up and placed them in the shopping cart before selecting three other similar pairs.

  She started to walk off, but I snagged a few more pair of jeans in her size that were priced a little higher and tossed them into the cart too. She gave me the side-eye but kept going. Some shorts were added to the pile along the way, but I noticed she picked the cheapest ones she could find. I noted the size of the shirts she was putting into the cart and added more of those too. I had no idea if she’d actually like any of the things I put in there, but I figured she could try everything on and see what worked and what didn’t. Women did that kind of thing, didn’t they? I personally just grabbed whatever was my size and ran to the nearest checkout.

  On the way to shoes, she stopped in the intimates department, and her cheeks flushed bright pink as she browsed the panties, bras, and sleepwear. Picking up a purple thong, I waved it under her nose.

  “I think these would be hot.”

  She snatched them from my hand, hung them back up, and kept moving. “I’d prefer not to have things up my butt all day.”

  “But on occasion is all right?” I couldn’t help but ask since she’d left herself wide open for that one.

  She gasped and stared at me wide-eyed. “I can’t believe you just said that in here,” she said in a loud whisper.

  She was cute when she was all flustered and blushing. I decided not to tease her anymore as she finished making her selections, but I did toss in some sexy nightgowns we had passed. I’d actually prefer it if she just went to bed naked, but since she was tossing in matching pajama sets I was going to assume she’d prefer to be clothed.

  When we reached the shoes, I insisted she try on at least a dozen pair, and even then I could only convince her to buy four. I didn’t know much about women’s shoes, but if the movies were to be believed, then shoes and purses were a necessity. But then I led her over to the selection of purses, and she stared at them like she’d never seen anything like it before.

  I frowned. “You do have a purse, right? I don’t remember you arriving with one.”

  She froze and stared at me, fear flashing in her eyes. “I left it at the party. They have my license and my bank card. Not that there’s much in my account, but they could overdraw it, and then I’d be stuck with tons of fees.”

  “We’ll take care of it when we get back. You can call your bank and tell them you haven’t seen your wallet since last night. Maybe they’ll reverse any charges if there have been any. Do we need to arrange for your things to come from Georgia? Birth certificate or social security card?”

  “Both of those things are in my apartment.”

  I nodded. “We can call your boss when we get back to the truck. Maybe he’ll be willing to ship them to you.”

  It took her damn near an hour to try on all the clothes we’d shoved into the cart, and I didn’t like that I couldn’t see them on her, but I waited patiently outside the dressing room. When she came out, she tried to only put a handful of outfits back into the cart and I held out a hand for the rest.

  “It’s too much,” she insisted. “I don’t need all this.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You do. Stop arguing, woman, and let me do something nice for you.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze before nodding. I stuffed everything back into the cart and then pushed it to the furniture department. Nothing in my bedroom matched, but it didn’t seem to bother Darian. It’s possible she hadn’t gotten a good look, but from what I’d learned of her past, I figured just having something new that was just hers would be exciting. She didn’t seem like the type to care if things matched or not. I found a five-drawer chest that was in stock and close in color to the furniture I already had, then tossed it onto the bottom of the cart. She gave me a questioning glance, but I knew she’d need someplace to put all this new stuff.

  I headed to the front of the store, hunting for a checkout line that wasn’t ten people deep. When it was our turn, I did my best to distract Darian so she wouldn’t freak out over the total, especially as it climbed into the hundreds. I had a feeling that was probably more she’d spent on clothes for an entire year before.

  I paid and placed the sacks into the cart, then pushed it out to the parking lot. Once everything was loaded in the backseat, I helped Darian into the truck and handed her my cell phone. While she called her boss, I headed back to the compound. I hoped her bank would still be open by the time we got to the house.

  Another Prospect was manning the gate when we got back, and he waved us through. I drove straight to the house and sent Darian inside to take care of her bank situation while I hauled all her bags into the house. I carried everything to the master bedroom and placed the sacks on the floor. Then I hauled the chest of drawers into the bedroom too and pulled out my toolbox so I could put the damn thing together. I had the back and sides screwed together when Darian came into the room, her face paler than usual.

  “What’s wrong, angel?” I asked, rising from the floor.

  “They not only emptied my account, I’m overdrawn by several thousand dollars, and that’s before the fees. The bank said they can’t help me until I file a police report since I told them my purse was stolen. So I looked up the non-emergency number for your police department, and they said they’d take my report but asked me to bring my ID, except I don’t have any now.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. “We’ll get it figured out. If I have to, I’ll get Wire to hack into the Georgia DMV and have a new license mailed to you here. I’m sure that’s something he could do. In Alabama, it’s pretty easy to get a replacement, but I’ve heard other states can be difficult. I think Georgia might be one of them.”

  “You have someone who’s going to hack into…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  I smiled and kissed her. “We’ll get everything figured out. Your boss is mailing your stuff, right?”

  “Yeah, but he’s taking the shipping fees out of my last paycheck.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to offer to add her to my account, but I didn’t think she’d go for that. Especially not if she knew how much was in there. Which meant I’d just have to resolve her current banking issue.

  “Does your bank have branches here?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It was just a small local bank.”

  “Then we’ll work on getting your issue resolved and close out your account, and when you get your ID, we’ll open a new one for you here. Until then, I’ll give you some cash in case there’s anything you need when I’m not around.”

  “I can’t take more of your money,” she said. “You’ve already bought me all that stuff today, and you’re letting me stay here.”

  “Baby, I’m not anywhere near done yet.”

  As much as I wanted to shower her with gifts, I knew I’d have to take things slow. She’d need a car, for one, but that could wait while we sorted out the other stuff, like her bank and identification problems. Even though I was getting to use one of the trucks, the vehicle wasn’t just mine to use all the time. I had every intention of putting money into an account for her each month, whether she protested or not. While I’d kept her from meeting Ridley and Isabella earlier, I knew it wouldn’t be
long before they showed up on my doorstep. And I had a feeling they would welcome Darian and befriend her. I was counting on it.

  My house wasn’t as large as some of the ones in the compound, but it was a three-bedroom, two bath, with room to grow. The way it was set up, it would be easy to add another room or two if we ever needed to. I had an unfinished attic that had windows already in place. It would just be a matter of putting sheetrock on the walls and completing the flooring, then adding some walls. Nothing I couldn’t handle, especially with some help from my brothers. It had a full staircase off the closed-in porch off the kitchen. I smiled a little, thinking about Darian pregnant with my baby.

  Right now, I had a guest room, and the other bedroom was set up for my grandkids when they visited. I usually kept Farrah overnight once a week, and after Mariah was a little older, she’d come stay with me too. It gave Ridley some time to breathe, and I loved getting to spend time with my sweet girls. But if Darian was pregnant, I’d have to either get started on those extra rooms upstairs or change the guest room into a nursery.

  I pulled away from those thoughts and focused on the woman in my arms. Even though I was so much taller than she, she felt perfect in my arms. Darian snuggled against me, rubbing her cheek against my shirt, and she sighed a little. I wanted to give her the world, and it was an odd feeling since I’d never really cared about a woman before, except my daughter and my granddaughters, but that was different. They were blood. Although I knew that didn’t always mean something. Ridley’s mother had tried to sell her, and Darian’s parents had tossed her away.

  “Do you know anything about your parents?” I asked.

  Darian shook her head.

  “Have you always lived in Georgia?”

  “I think so. My social worker said I was put into the system when I was three, and the woman who left me claimed to be my mother. She was living outside Atlanta at the time. I don’t really remember anything before foster care, though.”

  “What about your dad?” I asked.

  “He was never mentioned. My birth certificate says his name was Damon Crosse. My mom was Lilian Porter.”

  That name triggered something in my memories, but I couldn’t place it. Had I met a Damon Crosse at some point? The club had some dealings with other MCs in the nearby states, but I’d never personally been to Georgia before. If that’s where Darian was from, it was doubtful I’d ever met her dad.

  “If Wire can do a little digging and get some information on your parents, would you want to know more about them? Even if your mom gave you up, maybe your dad didn’t know anything about it. He could be looking for you,” I said. I know if Ridley had vanished I’d have gone looking.

  “What if… what if we find him but he never wanted me?” Darian asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “Angel, if you don’t want to look for your parents, then we won’t.”

  She bit her lip. “I think… I think my mother was a, um, working girl. I don’t know for sure, but it was just the way my social worker spoke about her one time.”

  “Only one way to know for sure, honey. But it’s up to you. I won’t put in the request if you don’t want me to.”

  “Do you really think he looked for me?” she asked softly.

  “If I didn’t know what had happened to my daughter, I’d have torn the world apart trying to find her. There’s also the possibility that he never knew your mom was pregnant. The man might like to know he has a daughter as sweet as you.” He winked. “And gorgeous too.”

  “I’m nothing special,” she muttered.

  I lifted her chin with my finger and stared down into her eyes. “To me you are.”

  She looked up at me a few minutes before nodding. “Okay. Ask Wire to find them. If I understood why my mother got rid of me, then maybe…”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t feel so abandoned?” I asked.

  She nodded again.

  “I’ll send him a text, then finish putting your furniture together. When I’m done, we can get some lunch, and then you can put your things away.”

  “I could… make lunch?”

  “Are you asking me if you can make lunch, or do you want to make lunch?” I asked.

  “I want to,” she said.

  “Honey, this is your home now. You can do whatever you want. The kitchen is fairly well-stocked. I’ll eat whatever you make. Just don’t ever try to feed me raw fish.”

  Her nose crinkled. “That sounds gross.”

  “Then we’re agreed. No sushi. Ever.”

  I swatted her ass as she turned to walk away, and she gave me a saucy smile over her shoulder. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I shot off a message to Wire with her parents’ names and asked him to check into things. I also asked if he could do something about getting her another license, without me having to drive her into Georgia to get one. I’d asked her on the way home if she remembered her license number, and the look she’d cast my way had been kind of cute.

  “Seriously? You think I memorized my driver’s license number?” she’d asked.

  Maybe it was only guys who did that sort of thing? Heck if I knew. I’d never really bothered to get to know a woman before. Hadn’t ever been tempted to know them longer than it took to fuck them, until now.

  With that task done, I focused on the furniture again. I even had to put the drawers together, which was a bitch. It definitely wasn’t a quality piece but it would work for now. Maybe with all that money sitting in my account, I’d buy a new bedroom set for us. Something that matched. Someone at the compound would be happy to take the used items. One of the Prospects would probably jump at the chance to get their hands on my king-size bed and mattress. I’d seen the way the duplexes were furnished, and they didn’t have much. Torch may have set aside two duplexes for the Prospects to share at the back of the compound, so they would be nearby whenever we needed them, but he hadn’t given them much in the way of comfort.

  Hell, with more and more of the patched members moving into homes on the compound, there wasn’t a reason the Prospects couldn’t use the rooms in the clubhouse. Torch, Venom, and several others, myself included, had given up our rooms there. Maybe I’d bring that up at the next meeting. They were small rooms with just a dresser, bed, and tiny-ass bathroom. They hadn’t been used for much except sleeping or fucking club sluts anyway. Until we’d started moving into the homes on the property, none of us had spent much time alone. The Prospects wouldn’t really need more space than the rooms provided. Not until they’d earned it. To me, the duplexes should be reserved for patched members who wanted their own space. But what the hell did I know? I wasn’t in charge of shit, and that was fine with me.

  The smell of tomatoes hit my nose as I set the finished chest of drawers against the wall, and I headed for the kitchen to see what Darian was making. She looked cute as a damn pixie standing in front of the stove stirring some red sauce in a pot. She’d pulled her hair up on top of her head in some sort of messy knot with little, escaped strands clinging to her neck. At some point she’d kicked off her shoes and rolled up the hems of her jeans until they were partway up her calves. One strap of her tank top had fallen down her shoulder. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I snapped a picture of her before making my presence known.

  “Baby, if you were hot, you could have changed into one of your new outfits,” I said as I moved closer and settled my hands at her waist.

  She smiled at me over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I didn’t want to get in the way while you were putting that chest together.”

  “That doesn’t smell anything like the jar of sauce I usually buy,” I told her, sniffing the air.

  “Because I added some chopped garlic and onion I found in your pantry, then I browned the ground chicken I saw in the fridge and added it too. The noodles are already finished, so if you’re done working, we can eat,” she said. “If you’d had tomatoes, paste, and some other herbs, I could have made the sauce.”

  I kissed the side of her neck. “Sounds good, honey. I
’ll get some drinks for us.”

  While she dished up the food, I took two sodas out of the fridge and grabbed two forks from the drawer near the sink. I didn’t have fancy napkins, but I did pull some paper towels off the roll and put them on the table. Darian set the plates down, then started digging through the fridge.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Parmesan. I thought maybe you’d have some since you had like four jars of sauce and half a dozen pasta boxes in your pantry.”

  “It’s in a plastic container on the second shelf.”

  She pulled it out and stared at it. “This is like… real grated parmesan?”

  “Yeah. It costs more than the canned stuff, but it tastes a lot better.”

  She got out a spoon, then sprinkled some over both our plates before returning the cheese to the fridge. If she hadn’t ever had real parmesan before, I wondered what else she’d been missing out on. I should have known with the way she was living that she probably had eaten cheap meals if she’d eaten at all. My stomach knotted as I thought of her homeless and starving.

  I took a bite and winked at her. “This is really good, angel.”

  “It’s not much.”

  “You know how to cook from scratch?” I asked.

  She bit her lip then hesitantly nodded. “I can do a little. In theory. At one of my foster homes, they had three kids who were their actual children. The grandma would come over and cook with them sometimes, and I’d watch. She made her own pasta and everything. I’ve never actually tried to cook anything but boxed meals before, or ramen, but I think I could cook something if I tried.”

  “Next time we buy groceries, you pick out whatever you want. Experiment as much as you want, and if something doesn’t turn out quite right, we can always order pizza or something that night. Would you like some cookbooks?”

  Her eyes lit up, and she flashed me a smile. “I’d love that.”

  “My daughter goes to the bookstore every chance she gets. Sometimes Isabella goes with her. I can either ask them to pick up something for you or…”