Wreck & Ruin

by Emma Slate

  I shook my head. Colt dropped his fists and then asked, “Didn’t you go to bed in the guest room?”

  “I did.”

  “Then how did you wind up down here?”

  “Woke up in the middle of the night with a throbbing wrist. I got up to take some Tylenol. Sat down to give it a minute to work and fell asleep on the couch.” I heard clanking in the kitchen and looked at Colt. “Someone’s here?”

  “Zip. Coffee’s on if you want some.”

  “I didn’t even hear the doorbell ring,” I murmured.

  Colt smiled. “You were conked out.”

  I followed Colt into the kitchen, wondering if I should’ve taken the time to put on real clothes.

  “Mornin’,” Zip greeted as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning.”

  “This guy treating you right?”

  I smirked at a stoic Colt. “He’s a gallant host.”

  Zip chuckled. “Yeah, I bet he is.”

  “What brings you here so early in the morning?” I asked Zip, blowing on my coffee in hopes that it would cool down faster.

  “Business,” Colt answered for Zip but didn’t elaborate.

  “Learn to be more succinct, Colt, really.” I set down the coffee cup and went to the refrigerator.

  “Succinct?” Zip asked in amusement. “Someone went to college.”

  With my hand on the fridge door, I peered behind me at the two of them. They were staring at one another, conversing without words like leather-wearing cavemen.

  “You certainly seem comfortable here. That didn’t take long,” Zip commented.

  “He fed me steak last night.”

  Zip grinned. “Did he now?”

  “With salad.”

  Colt made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded very much like a growl.

  “Don’t mind him,” Zip stated. “He’s just a grump.”

  “I noticed,” I said with a laugh.

  “Is that any way to treat the man that feeds you?” Colt taunted.

  Shaking my head, I went back to looking in the fridge. “I rescind all claims that you’re grumpy. You’re generous and thoughtful, and when I’m in your presence, I have to stop myself from swooning.”

  I took out an individual yogurt container and closed the fridge with my bottom.

  “Wow, she gives you as much shit as your sister,” Zip noted. “I like it.”

  “I don’t,” Colt huffed.

  I saw a humorous twinkle in Colt’s eye and bit back a grin. I turned my attention to the yogurt container and struggled with the foil.

  “Need some help,” Zip asked.

  “Please.”

  “Bring it here. I’ll do it,” Colt ordered, shooting his second in command a surly look.

  It only made Zip smile wider.

  Clearly Zip enjoyed goading Colt, and he was using me to do it.

  I began opening drawers, looking for a spoon, and then brought the yogurt to Colt who peeled off the foil in one move.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the container back. Instead of sitting, I leaned against the counter and spooned in some yogurt.

  “What did you major in?” Zip asked. “In college.”

  “Who said I went to college?”

  “Didn’t you?” he pressed.

  “Yeah.”

  “I love being right. It happens a lot.”

  I let out a laugh, but then sobered. “I’m a semester shy of my undergrad degree in accounting.”

  “Accounting?” Zip asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “What would you have guessed?” I asked in sheer curiosity.

  “Dunno. English, maybe.”

  “Nah. I had no interest in sitting around reading the works of a bunch of dead guys. No appeal whatsoever.”

  “Makes sense to me. I couldn’t sit still in school. Don’t know how I made it through high school. Unlike this guy.” He gestured to Colt.

  I looked at Colt. “You did well in school?”

  “I did okay,” he replied.

  “Yeah, if you call Valedictorian okay. He’s got a photographic memory. It’s easy for him. Had a free ride to University of Edinburgh and turned it down so he could work with his hands. He can put an engine together faster than anyone. He’s just good at everything. One of those guys.”

  Colt’s face was passive, but I saw the tick in his jaw. Finally, he seemed to unfreeze and then he shrugged. “Mom wanted me to go to college, but I didn’t care that much about a degree.” He pinned me with a stare. “You plan on going back and finishing yours? Seems a waste not to finish if you’re only a semester away.”

  “Eventually. When things calm down, I think.”

  “Why’d you drop out in the first place?” Zip asked. “When you were so close to finishing.”

  I looked down at my yogurt when I answered, “Because my grandmother got sick and I dropped out to take care of her.” I coughed. “I only have some basic requirements left, actually. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

  I chucked my empty yogurt container into the trash and said, “That was a joke of a breakfast. What does a girl have to do to get a real meal around here?”

  “I’m gonna run,” Zip said, standing up from his chair. “Mia, ask Colt to make you eggs.” He slapped Colt on the back in a show of male affection.

  “You don’t want to stay and eat all my food?” Colt asked with a wry grin.

  “Nah. I’ll leave that to Mia. Something tells me she’s got a healthy appetite.” He winked at me.

  “Subtle,” I muttered, my cheeks flaming.

  Zip laughed and then left the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door closing. Colt and I were alone.

  “How do you want your eggs?” Colt asked as he stood.

  “You don’t have to make me breakfast. I can have cereal or something.”

  He sighed. “Babe. Eggs?”

  “Poached, please.”

  “Good choice. I make damn fine poached eggs.”

  He got out all the breakfast fixings and then filled a pot with a few inches of water. I sat at the kitchen table and sipped my lukewarm coffee. There was something really sexy about a big, tatted, muscled biker making me food. Sure he was cooking because one of my wrists was injured, but the fact that he knew his way around the kitchen made him irresistible.

  “Did you learn how to cook from your mom?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah. She was a dynamite cook.” He threw me a grin over his shoulder. It was open, natural, and came easily. “She used to be in charge of all the Blue Angel barbeques and potlucks.”

  He shook his head and turned back to the stove. “Deviled eggs.”

  “Huh?”

  “Her deviled eggs were fucking delicious.” He cracked an egg on the side of the pot and gently eased it into the water, not breaking the yoke. “What about you? Do you cook?”

  “I can. I don’t usually though. I’ve been living off of takeout for a while. My best friend is worried I’m not getting my veggies.”

  He chuckled. “Why haven’t you been cooking? Too busy?”

  “No busier than anyone else, I guess. It was just something Grammie and I used to do together, you know?”

  “And she’s not here anymore and you don’t want the memories.”

  I paused and then admitted, “Exactly.”

  “Bread’s by the toaster. You mind putting two slices in?”

  “I think I can handle that,” I said, getting up. “Then I can pretend I actually helped.” I untwisted the tie holding the plastic bread bag closed. “Colt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why didn’t you go to college?”

  “Because I wanted to work with my hands, just like Zip said.”

  “You really expect me to buy that explanation?”

  “Everyone else does.” He fished out an egg from the pot of water and gently slid it onto a plate.

  “I don’t think everyone else knows the real you. I think you hide it.”
/>   “Thought your almost degree was in accounting, not psych.” His tone had hardened and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

  I took a deep breath and powered through. “I saw the photos of you on the wall. It doesn’t take a genius to see the evolution of your smile. I thought I was closed off, but you—you’re something else.”

  “Why do you care so much?” he demanded. “You don’t know me. You’re just crashing here until you can get your truck and get out of here, remember?”

  I recognized insurmountable walls. I had a fortress of my own. But there was something about Colt…

  His curt attitude masked a great pain.

  So I waited, not rising to the bait, not taking his tone or accusations personally. It would’ve been easier to let it go. To walk away and let him suffer in his own silence. But I thought of Joni and Zip; both had said something about Colt acting differently around me. Maybe they’d been trying to open him up for years, and he’d remained steadfastly clammed shut.

  The toast popped and he grabbed the two slices and settled them on the plates.

  “It was Dad,” he finally said.

  “His death?”

  “No. I mean, yeah, partly. But it’s what happened before he died. He found out he had lung cancer, right? Except his was treatable. His case wasn’t terminal.”

  I looked at him.

  His brown eyes bored into mine as he waited for me to put the puzzle pieces together.

  “Wait,” I said slowly. “Are you telling me your dad refused treatment? Treatment that would’ve saved his life?”

  He nodded, his jaw clenched.

  “Does Joni know?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ve never talked about it. Not directly.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s a pretty big thing not to have discussed.”

  “Thanks for your opinion on the matter. I definitely remembered asking for it.”

  “Well, why did you tell me, then?” I asked in exasperation.

  “Because you are relentless,” he replied.

  I pointed my fork at him. “No one else challenges you, do they? Mr. Biker President with a fierce scowl and a mean disposition. You’ve been left alone for too long. You’ve gotten comfortable in your isolation and you didn’t expect anyone to have the wherewithal to get in your shit.”

  “You wanna talk about getting in someone’s shit?” He leaned over so his face was close to mine. “You’ve been here one day, Mia. And you’ve got a lot of opinions about how things are. You don’t know shit.”

  I smiled slowly. “I scare the living crap out of you, don’t I?”

  He scoffed and reared back. “Scared of a woman? Please.”

  “Then why are you so prickly?”

  “I’m not prickly. Men don’t do prickly. Eat your eggs before they get cold.”

  I did as he commanded, thinking I’d provoked him enough for one morning.

  “What do you know about Richie?” Colt asked when I was halfway through my plate of food.

  “Why are you asking about my boss?”

  “Humor me.”

  “I don’t know much about Richie,” I admitted. “He wasn’t around a lot.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he would come and pick up each night’s receipts and cash and do the bank drop. But mostly, he was an absent owner.”

  “Were the Iron Horsemen ever at the bar? Lurking around or hanging out?”

  I shook my head. “Not until a few days ago. I was shocked to find Dev in the back with Richie. Dive Bar isn’t a biker bar—which is why I was confused as hell when you and Zip showed up. Why did you show up there?”

  “Good brews. Good burgers,” Colt said.

  I stopped chewing mid-bite to look at him. “You’re kidding me, right? You appeared out of the blue and a few days later Dev was in the back with Richie.” The more I thought about it, the more I realized there was something going on that I didn’t know about.

  “You know what Richie was up to, don’t you?” I pressed.

  “I have an idea.”

  “Care to share that idea with me?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Club business.”

  “Is that the excuse you’re going to give every time I ask you a question you don’t want to answer?”

  “Let’s get one thing straight.” He leaned toward me again. “You’re here because I allow it. You’re not family. You’re not a Blue Angel. If anything, you’re a pain in the ass who walked into trouble—the only reason you’re safe is because I took pity on you and let you stay in my house.”

  The last bite of toast sat in my mouth partly chewed before I swallowed.

  He wanted to make me feel small and inconsequential because I’d gotten close to him—close enough to see behind his mask.

  I pushed back from the table and took my empty plate to the dishwasher to load it.

  “I’m going to go take a shower,” I stated, pulling my shoulders back and standing tall, despite the fact that I felt cut off at the knees.

  “I’ll wrap your cast for you,” he said gruffly.

  I arched a brow. “I don’t need your help.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  It turned out I did need Colt’s help if I wanted to wrap my cast, but I found a way around the issue; I took a bath instead.

  It wasn’t relaxing and it didn’t help me work through the conversation I’d had with Colt in the kitchen.

  How had we gone from swapping very personal history to Colt telling me to mind my own business, and that I was nothing more than a charity case he was stuck with?

  I quickly finished my bath and drained the tub. I gripped the edge of the counter and finally let out the tears. I cried silently, wishing Grammie was still alive. Not because misery loved company, but I just wished there was someone on this earth who’d once loved me unconditionally. I had Shelly, but it wasn’t the same.

  When I finally felt in control of my emotions again, I swiped at my cheeks, making sure all the tears were gone. My eyes were red and the scratch on my face was noticeable, but I was a warrior. I’d survive this too, just like I’d survived Mom dying, just like I’d survived watching Grammie get sick and die, just like I’d survived everything life had thrown at me. I’d get through this mess with the Iron Horsemen and then I’d leave Waco—and Colt—behind, forever.

  I opened the door with the intention of walking out into the hallway. I didn’t open the door with the intention of running face first into Colt’s chest.

  “Ow.”

  “Shit,” Colt muttered, his hands reaching out to steady me.

  My nose had crunched and I gently reached up to touch it. “That really hurt. What are you made of? Granite? And why were you loitering outside the bathroom door?” I tilted my head back to glare at him. “Why is this becoming a habit? Do you like to lurk outside bathroom doors? Do you like me running into you?”

  He was smiling down at me, his eyes filled with tenderness. It instantly gave me pause.

  “I own this bathroom. It’s not loitering if you own it,” he explained. “I didn’t mean to give you another injury to add to your list of bruises.”

  “My nose is fine.”

  He clearly didn’t believe me because he reached up and gently touched me. His large hands cradled my face as we stared at one another.

  I remembered I was wearing nothing but a towel and made a hasty grab for it to ensure it didn’t open, but my body hummed at the idea that it might fall.

  Colt dropped his hands from my face but made no move to step away. “And I—ah—came up here to apologize.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was an ass.” He ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. “I haven’t lived with a woman since Joni. I’m not used to having someone in my space, not used to having someone ask me a bunch of questions.”

  I looked down at the ground so he wouldn’t see the emotion that was still lurking just below the surface. “I’m sorry too.”
<
br />   “What do you have to be sorry about?” he asked, his tone turning gruff.

  “It was presumptuous of me. Just because you told me things about your past doesn’t make us friends. It doesn’t make us—well, anything more than what we are.”

  “And what are we?” His voice was whisper soft now and I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine.

  “Two people who can’t stand one another.”

  His low chuckle caressed my skin. It took all of my courage to look up and meet his gaze.

  “I think that would make us both liars, don’t you think?” His mouth slammed onto mine, holding me prisoner. His tongue was demanding and needy and it stroked against mine with insistent yearning.

  He lifted me up and pushed me against the wall. I tried to open my legs, wanting to cradle his hardness, but the towel got in the way. He tore his mouth from mine, but only so that he could draw in a ragged breath, and then his lips were on my neck, biting and nipping.

  My core throbbed and I was ready to lose the towel and beg Colt to take away the ache between my legs, to fill me up so I didn’t feel lonely.

  I ran my fingers through the hair at his nape, marveling at the silky feel of it.

  “Colt,” I whispered.

  “God damn, Mia.” He pulled back. “Shit, did I hurt you? Your wrist.”

  Shaking my head, I licked my lips, wanting to get his shirt off him so I could trace his ink with my tongue. I’d start at his knuckles and work my way across the entire canvas of his body. I wanted to spend hours drawing the lines and patterns, getting to know what made him tick, what made him lose control.

  His eyes were glazed with desire and I was sure mine looked the same.

  “I don’t pity you. You get that, right?”

  “Hard to get that straight when you make me feel like a charity case,” I told him.

  “Christ, I’ve wanted you since the moment I walked into Dive Bar and you sauntered your ass up to me, wearing those jeans that left nothing to the imagination.” He grinned. “It took all of my willpower not to lift you over my shoulder and cart you out of there.”

  I could picture Colt doing just that and I found I really enjoyed the fantasy. To be handled by a man like Colt. To be treated like a woman—and to be the one who bore the brunt of his pleasure…