“Yeah.”
“She givin’ me the whole story?”
I snort. I have no idea what Jenna told him.
“Jenna can hold her own. That skinny body holds a bit of a tomboy believe it or not. She doesn’t need assault charges followin’ her around though.”
“Dealt with it,” I grunt.
“She said that too.”
I snort again. I’m not sure why he’s calling me if he already knows all this.
“She okay today?” he asks with concern in his voice like I’ve never heard from the rough biker. His woman’s got him by the balls and the heart. Dangerous.
“Yeah.”
“You lookin’ at her now?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s she wearin’?” he deadpans.
“Nothin’.”
He barks out a laugh before telling me, “For someone who doesn’t talk, you’re a funny motherfucker.”
I don’t respond.
“You know anything about the coffee chick?”
“Some.”
“Way Jenna tells it, Emily’s got herself a stalker.”
My entire body goes stiff from head to toe. Just the mention of it makes me see red.
“Spent about three minutes talkin’ to the woman and I’m fuckin’ pissed. Jenna’s worried so I’m really fuckin’ pissed. And apparently, this motherfucker lives in your town and comes around often so now I’m furious. Puts Jenna at risk because Emily’s her new best friend or some such girly shit. It’s good for my woman so I can’t tell her to cut ties. You got anything for me on this?”
“No,” I lie. I don’t want him and the MC involved in this. I’ll deal with Adam if the need comes.
“He’s got you beat?” he asks shocked that I wouldn’t know someone across the street from me was being stalked. In truth, Adam did have me beat until Emily filled me in. He doesn’t come in the shop. He didn’t come in while they were together this summer. He waits until she’s alone. Probably afraid of Jordan. He should be after the dark gaze I saw darting from his eyes at Sarah this morning. I’ve only seen the laid-back, light-hearted friend he is with Emily. Today I saw a lethal edge that reminded me of the same image I see reflected in the mirror every morning.
“No,” I growl.
“But you got nothin’ for me?” he asks trying to figure out my angle. “You fuckin’ the coffee chick?”
“No.”
That’s met with silence.
“Somethin’ happens to Jenna, I’m steppin’ in,” he dictates.
“Won’t happen.”
He’s quiet again before changing the subject.
“You doin’ the Fall Festival thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Ridin’ back that day. Hopin’ to make it and calm my woman down. She’s cranky without her man around,” he says through a chuckle.
I don’t really want to have a heart to heart about his woman’s emotional state.
“Gotta go.”
“I’ll be in touch. Good lookin’ out.”
“Later.”
I hang up before he can respond.
I hate phones. I despise texting, which has taken over the world since I went away. You lose a lot when you’re behind bars. Technological advances are at the top of that list.
I’m just not a fan of communicating. It’s overrated. People talk all the time and say absolutely nothing. Sarah’s kind are the worst, using words to try to manipulate and control. That shit doesn’t work on me. Not anymore. Never again.
Emily’s different. She rants and raves when I’m around because I set her off kilter. But as she rambles on, her words are important. The first day she was in my shop, I learned a lot in a few minutes.
She’s intuitive. Emily knew Adam was cheating on her without any proof. She never had sex with him because she trusted her gut, which means she’s smart. I learned she doesn’t cuss often enough to come up with appropriate terms like douche bag when the moment calls for it. That kindness isn’t a front, she can barely form an insult for someone who deserves more than that. There’s a fire in her that burns bright when she’s angry. But, it fizzles quickly because she’s a genuinely happy person. And when she threatens to physically assault someone, she means the words, but she’d never follow through.
See, I learned a lot while Emily lost her shit. Her words matter.
She hid from me yesterday.
If I didn’t find that concerning, it might make me laugh. I spotted her in the checkout lane before she saw me. And when she did, Emily fell to her knees and peaked around the edge of the magazine rack with the covert abilities of a five-year-old. By the time I got to her, she was panicking. The contact lie almost got me. I almost laughed in her face when she pulled that one. I was too annoyed to let the humor sink in.
Then she started talking again and I listened again. She eats alone. I hate that for her. Emily’s got a lot to give people and that shouldn’t be wasted. I eat alone every night because that’s the solitude I crave after eight years of packed prison dinners. I would gladly share a meal with Emily though. It would be entertaining.
The most important thing I learned about Emily is that she wants to do the right thing. I’m in awe of her devotion to that, but she takes it too far. She said she wanted to call Adam. Why the fuck would she call him? He should be the last person on her list for conversation whether it’s to tell him off or not.
She also didn’t like me paying for her. It wasn’t the right thing for her so she tried to argue. But when she thought her arguing displeased me, she stopped. Again, trying to do the right thing. Then Sarah showed up while I held Emily’s perfect body against mine. She tried to do the right thing again, leaving and paying me back.
Emily won’t get a restraining order because she doesn’t think it’s the right thing to do. Doing the right thing is going to get her hurt in this situation. I’m not willing to let that happen. She may not be mine, but I’ll continue to protect her until Adam goes away. And he will go away. One way or another, he’ll go.
Twenty-seven times. He’s called twenty-seven times tonight.
I had to get off the phone with my dad because the call waiting beep was too distracting. The house phone ringer has been off since the first call. I don’t give him the chance anymore. I don’t trust turning my cell phone off. If there’s an emergency, I need it on. So I silenced it when I begrudgingly got off with my dad, not telling him why.
If my dad knew what Adam was doing…I can’t imagine what he’d do. It wouldn’t be good. Gerald Garner is not a man to be messed with. He doesn’t suffer fools. That’s what he told the high school boys I dated. He usually had his rifle in his hand when he said it. I love my father for that.
Adam left a message. That’s new. He usually just calls over and over again. I shouldn’t listen to it, but I do.
“Em,” his typically strong voice cracks. “Please. I know I’m acting crazy, but I’m goin’ insane without you. I can’t live my life without you. I can’t do this, Em. How can I do this without you? Please. Please.”
The message ends and my breathing is labored. I’ve never heard Adam like that. He’s always commanding and confident. The man who was just speaking was broken, shattered.
Hot tears trail down my cheeks. I can’t help them. I didn’t do anything wrong leaving Adam. I did the right thing. But darn it if the right thing doesn’t feel completely wrong now.
I push the call button and wait for him to answer.
“Em?”
“I need you,” I sob into the phone.
“I’m coming.”
He hangs up before I can say anything else. I continue to cry, as I wrap myself in a mustard-colored chenille throw. I cuddle into my couch and wipe my snot on my sleeve like a child. I feel like a little kid right now. That thought makes me miss my mother and I cry even harder. I’m crying so hard I don’t hear him come in the house.
Strong arms collect me from my fetal position and place me in a firm lap. I nuzzle i
nto his neck and cry even harder as the smell of his leather and tobacco soothes me. My best friend in the world.
“Em, you gotta calm down. You’re scarin’ the shit outta me,” Jordan says, stroking my hair away from my face as he forces me to look at him.
His blue eyes are wide with concern and a little anger. He’s not mad at me, but he’s mad that I’m upset. His blond hair is a mess of curls, sticking out every which way. I look down and realize he’s not wearing a shirt beneath his leather jacket, only pajama bottoms. He raced out of his house to get to me.
I start sobbing again.
Jordan presses a long kiss to my forehead and sweeps tears from my cheeks, whispering, “I need you to tell me, honey. I need to know what’s goin’ on. Did he hurt you? You gotta tell me, Em.”
“I…broke…I broke…him,” I heave out, struggling to catch my breath.
His brow furrows trying to figure out what that means. I reach over to the side table and grab my phone before calling my voicemail. I hand the phone to Jordan and watch him as he listens. His jaw ticks. His hand almost crushes my phone. Jordan’s eyes hood with fury as he ends the call and chucks my phone down on the couch.
Jordan grabs my cheeks and speaks firmly, “You didn’t break that motherfucker. He’s outta ideas so he’s comin’ at your good heart. Don’t give him that, Em. He doesn’t get in there again. You did the right thing cuttin’ his ass loose. You did, not one thing wrong. You’re gold and he treated you like tin foil. He’s finally figured out he had the best thing this world has and he lost it. He’s scared. He’ll be fuckin’ terrified when I get done with him.”
“Don’t,” I croak. “I don’t want that. You know he’ll press charges. I refuse to let you get hurt because of me. It’s not worth it.”
“You’re worth it,” he growls, pulling my face into his neck and my body tighter against his chest.
I lay against his frame and try to calm down. I focus on my breathing first. Once it’s more even, I concentrate on stopping trembling. It takes a long time and Jordan just rubs my back in silence the entire time. He won’t leave me. He’ll hold me all night if I need it. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“I miss Mom on nights like this so much,” I mutter into his skin.
“I miss my old man on nights like this too, honey,” he says with an edge in his voice.
“Jordan.”
“Don’t, Em. Just don’t, okay?”
“’Kay.”
I’ve made him upset and protective.
“I love you,” I say, sitting up to look into his eyes.
“I love you too, Em.”
The fury fades from his big blues before I press my lips to his cheek. Jordan stands up with me in his arms and carries me to my bed. He slides me in between the sheets, turns to my dresser, tosses me one of my (Adam’s) sleeping T-shirts and then walks out of my room. I can hear him turning off lights and locking the door as I pull off my clothes and yank the over-sized shirt down my body.
Jordan comes back in the room wearing only his pajama pants and flips off the overhead light. If I didn’t love Jordan like family, this would be awkward. He’s stunning standing before me with bronzed skin stretched taut over rippling muscles. I appreciate the view, but it does nothing for me. He’s more than that in my life. The woman who gets him in the end will be so dang lucky.
He turns off my lamp and slips into bed with me. Jordan gathers me up and places me against his chest, rubbing my back again.
There’s comfortable silence as I let the emotional exhaustion take me over.
“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I need you to know that, Em. You’ll carry no blame if that happens. It’s my choice. But if Adam does anything to you, I’ll kill him,” Jordan states seriously.
I pop my head up and look into his face as best I can in the dark. He doesn’t look tense or perturbed. He looks calm, resigned.
“I can’t lose you,” I whisper.
I don’t know what else to say.
“Never.”
He guides my head back to his chest and pulls more of my body against him before his breathing evens out. I should be scared of what Jordan said, but I’m not. I’m comforted by his words. They’re words my father would speak. They’re words my mother would have been proud for her husband to speak. They’re words that make me feel comforted as I fall asleep against my best friend’s chest.
“Rise and shine, sleepy head,” Jordan mumbles into my ear.
I groan as I stretch before I roll over and cuddle onto his chest. He rubs my back and I start to drift again. I could stay in this bed all day and just feel comforted by Jordan. I can’t, but it would be really nice to give myself that break.
“You’re takin’ today off,” Jordan informs me. “I called Beverly and Arlene to cover for us. They were happy to do it. So let’s get up, go bake, come back here and lay around in bed all day.”
I love this man so much I can’t express it in words.
“’Kay,” I respond in a sigh.
He kisses my hair and sits us up. We don’t do much to get ready since no one will see us at four in the morning. It’s a good thing I won’t be in the shop today. My face is still puffy and red from my hysterics while my eyes look like I have the hangover from hell.
With sweats on and my hair piled on top of my head, I leave the bathroom. Jordan’s outside smoking when I get in the living room. He’s still in his pajama bottoms, but I spy a shirt beneath his leather jacket.
“Ready?” he asks stubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his boot.
“Yeah. Where’d you get the shirt?”
“Found it in my saddle bag. It doesn’t smell great so don’t get too close,” he warns with a smirk on his lips. “Let’s take the bike.”
“Okie dokie.”
I open the closet and grab my leather jacket. Jordan helps guide it on and waits for me to put on my leather gloves. I follow him to the bike and he straps my helmet on before putting his on. He always has my helmet with him. I don’t know if he always carries it, or if he just knows when to grab it. But it’s always here when I need it. Just like Jordan.
Jordan climbs on and I slide on behind him, laying my head against his back. The bike roars to life and I tighten my grip on his ribs. I enjoy the rush of being on here with Jordan. I feel free with the wind in my face, a flightless bird getting a glimpse of the heavens.
We’re behind the shop in no time and baking even faster. I usually bake alone so having Jordan here makes the work easy and quick. We finish before Beverly or Arlene show up. Jordan sets up the display case while I get the register ready. Once we’re done, we lock up and leave. Arlene and Beverly have keys and know the drill. I have no worries as I take in the sunrise.
I hang onto Jordan and stare into the warm orange glow over the horizon. Breathing deeply, I feel peaceful. Jordan squeezes my hands with one of his before speeding up, driving us further into the hills. He’s giving me a chance to take in the beauty he knows is so important to me.
We don’t ride for long. It’s not as cold today as it has been, but it’s still chilly and I’m starting to shake when we pull in my driveway. I made extra goodies this morning for us to snack on today. Jordan unloads them from his saddlebags as I go into the house.
He follows closely, stripping out of his smelly shirt at the same time as his boots. I go to grab it from him to throw in the wash, but he shakes his head at me.
“You’re not doin’ laundry. We’re layin’ in bed, watchin’ movies and eatin’ like crap today. That’s it.”
“Awesome,” I respond through a smile.
He hustles me toward my room and we set about doing exactly what Jordan planned. We don’t get out of bed other than to get food and drinks when we run out or use the facilities as necessary. I nap. Jordan naps. We talk and we don’t. I cry a little and he soothes away my tears. I talk to Jenna, letting her know what’s going on when she calls concerned. She threatens to nut punt Adam into next week. We laugh for a while
before she goes back to writing a paper.
The afternoon falls into the evening as Jordan and I wake up from another nap. We eat delivery pizza out of the box in the middle of the bed. We laugh most of the time and never bicker. No bickering today.
When the credits roll on Superbad, Jordan sits up and reaches over to hoist me out of the pillows I’ve cocooned myself in. We sit cross-legged, facing each other. Jordan’s face is serious and I see a flicker of anger behind his blue eyes before he talks.
“Somethin’s gotta change,” he says quietly, grasping my hands in his. “I can’t do this anymore, Em.”
“How can I make it easier?”
“Let me go after him.”
“I can’t, Jordan. You know I can’t.”
“Then I’m not askin’ you right now. I’m tellin’ you, I’m goin’ after him. It’s been almost three months and he’s still comin’ around. I know you’re not tellin’ me everything and the shit I know is bad enough. He’s gonna hurt you, Emily. I know you think he won’t, but he will. He’s gettin’ desperate.”
“What do you plan on doing?” I ask in a resigned tone. Jordan’s made his mind up and I can’t change it. But maybe I can lessen the wrath.
“Beatin’ him until he can’t remember who you are,” he responds seriously.
I get up on my knees and shuffle closer to Jordan, cupping his handsome face. Then the color drains from my cheeks and every hair on my body stands on end. Somebody’s watching.
“Em?” Jordan questions with concern.
My eyes dart to the windows as my breathing picks up.
“Somebody’s watchin’ us,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.
Jordan leaps off the bed and drags me off under my armpits. He rips open the bedside table and retrieves his gun. He didn’t tell me it was there, but I knew. He racks the slide and grunts at me to hide in the closet.
I don’t argue.
I bury myself in the deepest corner and hold my breath. I’m shaking from head to toe, rattling the clothes above me. I try to figure out what’s going on while I wait.
I’ve never felt like someone was watching me before. Adam has shown up here many times over the past months, and every time he’s knocked. He’s not the type of man to hide in the dark and peer through windows. I don’t even think he has the guts to approach me when Jordan’s around. Adam knows Jordan’s bike.
Mugs of Love Page 8
